Adventures In Parenting--Taking Pictures, Part 2

Continued....

We have finally arrived at the portrait studio and they are ready for us, right now. We, on the other hand, are not ready for them. I get Darcy's dress on her and am grateful to see that the dress easily covers up the hole in her stocking.

Until this point, Reagan has been quietly sleeping in her carrier. The Burger King lady was amazed that Reagan never made a peep while we were there. "Now" is a different story. Since it is time to eat, she is beginning to peep. If I attempt to dress her without feeding her, the peeping will morph into caterwauling and pictures will be over. What to do?

Our friends at Sears generously offer the use of the other camera room so that I could feed Reagan with privacy. Four years ago, I would have never even considered feeding my child in public. Period. Privacy or no privacy. End of discussion. Not in any form of public. Ever. But here, on this day, I agree. I know in the long run, it will be easier and I will be more comfortable.

We move in. Literally. Between the bags (4 in all), the carrier, my jacket and the dresses the girls wore there, we needed a porter to get everything in the room and arranged. I find a chair and do what I do best: feed children. I try to be discreet, but Reagan does not want anything covering her face. She does not have to suffer this injustice at home. I do the best I can. Brian had the great and terrible task of watching the other girls which was like herding a basket full of kittens. I know it is great and terrible because I had to watch all three while he went to the bathroom. The balance of power could shift at any moment.

When it comes time to burp and switch sides, I hand Reagan off to Brian and in the interim, try to do something with Lily's hair with our new, expensive hairbows. When I purchased the hairbows, I did not examine to see what kind of barrette or clip was attached. I am now finding that it is the junkiest, crappiest barrette ever. Not the French barrette that I was expecting, but one that was going to be a pain to deal with. This thing was going to be a problem. All the curling of Lily's hair hadn't done much for the waves we'd hoped for, but they did give her hair some volume and it looked right nice down and to the side. Brian decides to try his hand with Lily's hair [he's actually better at half ponytails] and I take Reagan back for Round Two.

After Brian is chastised (by Lily) for pulling hair, it is unanimous to forgo the bow and leave the hair down. I'm ready to flush all hairbows, everywhere, down the toilet.

Reagan finishes and we begin the process of dressing her. Brian is holding her and she is wearing her adorable stockings and her diaper cover. Then the worst thing that could happen to a cream-colored dress, happened.

It started out with a strange sound....a cross between a gurgle, a rumble and another sound I can't identify. As soon as I asked, "What was that?" I was able to see what it was.

Out of her diaper, like a science experiment gone terribly wrong, was lots and lots of poop. It was just bubbling right out of the top. I guess with Brian's arm right there, it didn't have anywhere to go but up. And up it went. I jerked her diaper cover off, saved that from being ruined. I grabbed the cloth diaper that we use for burping and tried to "catch" it, so to speak. Except more kept coming.

And coming.

Finally, Mount Saint Reagan stopped flowing.

When we got there, the photographer was talking to us about what kind of pictures we wanted. She suggested "naked pictures" since this was Reagan's first official picture. She called it "Newborn Pictures". I vetoed Naked Newborn Pictures. Although, after this part of our adventure, I thought we were going to be forced to have Naked Pictures. I was scared to put her dress on at all. The stockings were ruined so she didn't get to wear her shoes, but the dress managed to escape all damage. We changed her on the floor. Thank goodness diaper bags come with little changing pads or someone (probably me) would have had to haul her all the way to the bathroom holding her out at arm's length. It was bad enough that we had to shove all the nasty things back in the diaper bag and carry it home with us. But thank goodness for that little plastic pouch. Those Carter's people are pretty smart.

Although, I think pooping so much put Reagan in a good humor and she was thrilled to have her picture taken multiple times. She even allowed them to capture some of her open-mouthed, gummy smiles. And miracle of miracles, there was at least one shot where everyone was smiling and looking at the camera at the same time.

We finally finished with pictures at 4pm. The waiting room was filled with people....waiting. We had thrown the whole operation off. Way off. Our whole day was shot, too. There was much to be learned from this experience. But hey, it's okay. After all, this was our first real adventure with three kids. I think the learning curve on this thing is pretty steep.

Adventures In Parenting--Taking Pictures, Part I

Before Reagan was born, I bought a fancy-pants dress for her so that she could have her picture made with her sisters. We have done this every Christmas since we started having children. As fast as Reagan is growing, much longer, and the dress wasn't going to fit. The dress was definitely too expensive to let that happen so I scheduled an appointment for Saturday at 11:15am at Sears, which is an hour away. I was so proud of myself: I had even remembered to pick up tights for everyone.

Brian and I made no plans on how to fix Lily's hair for the picture and so we were scrambling on Saturday morning. Hot rollers were out; Lily screamed that they were too hot. (They were pretty hot.) I got the curling iron out and curled all that hair, which remained curly for about 25 seconds. In the midst of playing beauty parlor, I realized that Brian and I had 45 minutes to get ready and drive somewhere that was over an hour away.

Brian rescheduled the appointment for 12:30pm. We might make it after all.

I had intended to make hair bows for the girls to match their dresses, but in the busyness of having a baby, I just didn't get to it. Darcy and Reagan had bows that would match their dresses, but Lily needed something for her hair. I knew of a children's boutique in town that would be open and would gladly charge me $10 or more for a hairbow. We stopped on our way out of town. Lucky for me, they were having a buy-one-get-one-free sale on everything in the store. I bought 2 bows. No time to look at anything else, but I'll be back before the sale is over.

We are loaded to the gills. We have brought all the girls' dresses with us, I have Reagan's diaper bag that is full of everything we could possibly need for her, another bag of hair stuff (water, comb, ponytail holders, hairspray), my purse and the bag the hairbows are in. We also brought the girls.

Finally, we are on the road...

At the halfway point, I realize that we are still going to be late. I place a call to the studio and tell them that we are having the worst time getting started this morning. Our appointment is rescheduled again to 1:30pm.

About this time, I ask Brian what Darcy is doing...it's awfully quiet back there. She's been busy...she has created a massive hole in her tights. Right in the thigh. I didn't bring a spare pair because I never believed anything like that would actually happen. I stare out the window wondering what else can go wrong.

Since there was no way in the world that we had time to make lunches to take with us, Brian thinks stopping at Burger King will make me feel better after this latest setback. He actually lets us eat inside. Don't we look wonderful, our little chorus line of girls holding hands with Brian and Reagan bringing up the rear. He finds a table and gets everyone settled while I scurry around getting drinks and our food together. We eat and quickly load back up. (Quickly, in this case, means it only took 15 minutes.)

We're back on the road...running late.

When we finally pull up outside of Sears, it's 1:40pm. Brian instructs me get out and take Darcy with me. I've got the diaper bag, my purse, 2 dresses on hangers, the "hair" bag, the hairbows and Darcy. Brian changes Lily at the car and brings her and Reagan inside.

To be continued....

Political Observations From A Reformed Feminist

I watched portions of The Debate on Saturday. I don't usually follow politics, but Brian has such a huge interest that I must this season so that we'll have something to talk about. As a reformed feminist who spent my senior year of high school wearing a T-shirt that read: A Woman's Place Is In The House or The Senate, I am interested in what happens with Hilary Clinton. What I don't know or haven't figured out yet is if she is trying to fit in as man in this man's world and/or is she hoping to garner women's vote only on solidarity.

All that to say, I couldn't believe how unfeminine Hilary Clinton appeared wearing a black pants suit, green blouse and low heels. That's not what I would wear. I don't have a problem with the black, but how about a skirt? Suits with long skirts (with a modest slit to the knee) are feminine and yet, professional. I'm 5'10" and I'd be wearing 3-inch heels. I would want to look these guys in the eye.

Then I heard her speaking and she sounded like a mean, old bulldog snarling and barking at everyone. I told Brian, "Man, she is tough." This certainly was not some dainty woman. Then I remembered that she was a lawyer for years and years long before this. Those ladies have to be tough.

And the unthinkable happened....Hilary cried.

Yesterday morning, George Stephanopoulous and Diane Sawyer (or was it Charles Gibson?) had an interesting chat about Hilary's chances in New Hampshire. I don't think this is an exact quote, but "slim to none" was what I heard. In fact, Georgie-boy had a graph with a big red "X" on the next few states she was not going to win: Nevada and North Carolina (or was it South Carolina). Things were not going to turn around for her until Super Tuesday.

Later in the morning, I tuned into The View. This is not my usual fare, but I did get a commentary on Hilary's emotional display in a greasy spoon somewhere in the New Hampshire 'burbs.

It was pretty interesting. First of all, among the combatants, it was pretty universal that a man choking up over the rigors of campaigning would be labeled "weak". If being on the campaign trail is emotional and draining, well, that's just too bad. Nature of the beast and all. Live with it. Being President is tough work. But for a woman? Well, she finally showed that she's got a heart. She's really a woman. Isn't that wonderful? Women can relate to this.

Apparently, that's the case in New Hampshire because when all those women got off work and were on their way to soccer practice with dinner in a bag from McDonalds, they stopped off at the local elementary school and voted for Hilary. Because she understands what it's like to be a woman...blah, blah, blah. When the polls started turning for her, I called her victory as a result of the emotional incident. Then! I was vindicated on National TV by George and Charlie. Women came out in droves to show their support for a woman who is finally not acting like a man.

Brian thinks it's a political ploy, this crying. He's jaded and doesn't know the first thing about the emotional highs and lows that women go through. I'm taking the high road because I have been there. Not on a national campaign trail for President, but I have been overloaded and stressed and I have cried....at work. Now it wasn't in front of million of people and then replayed on YouTube, but it was humiliating enough.

But I have realized in the last year, God did not make women to hide their emotions or it wouldn't be so hard. If I am in a situation (like an office) and it's not appropriate to show my God-given emotion, then perhaps I'm not in the right environment. He made us emotional. It's okay. Really. How else can we be the heart of the home, like He intended?

First, we actually have to be at home not running the streets at every opportunity. What a concept!

Women are shirking their responsibilities at home and in the meantime, looking for validation that it's okay. But it's not and no amount of pandering is going to change that. The more we turn away from what God intended for us, the more trouble we have. If Hilary had been at home crying about the kids being out of control, or her burned dinner or being tired from taking care of 3 sick kids, her husband, her protector, would do just that: protect her. Or at least he should. Not leave the whole country to wonder if it's okay to a woman to cry, if it's okay for a man to cry and whether those tears were real or contrived and how that bodes for a Commander-In-Chief.

I have said before that since America doesn't seem to be ready for a woman anchor on the Evening News, then we're not ready for a woman President.

I fear for our families if I am wrong.

Six Weeks In

I am finding myself unusally frustrated today. I am very nearly sure that it is directly proportional to the amount of continuous sleep I am not getting. This is a fairly new phenomenom because Reagan was doing really well...up until Friday night when I realized she had caught her sisters' cold.

Friday was a very long day....it started at 6am and it did not stop until 2am Saturday morning. After a call to the doctor on Saturday morning (a call that woke the doctor up...the doctors here actually return those after-hours phone calls), it seemed like Reagan was getting better. I think it's just a cold, not anything more substantial than that, which is a relief. Both Lily and Darcy were hospitalized for RSV before they were six months old. Reagan is still eating, albeit from a bottle, and the only coughing I hear seems to be a result of the drainage from her nose. She's been sleeping in her bouncy seat in her bed with the humidifier on and I've been attacking her nose with an aspirator before nearly every meal.

And I don't think it would be so bad if the other 2 weren't getting over their own colds and trying to kill each other and screaming bloody murder every time my back was turned. Right now, everyone is in their separate corners, including me. I could not take any more screaming and crying because one wouldn't let the other put her cookie in the oven. Or the fact that Lily was nearly concussed by a princess shoe for some slight that has yet to be determined.

I do have a schedule that I try to adhere to, but with an infant, it is downright impossible. At this point in time, utilizing FlyLady's 15 minute principles is ridiculous at best. I can hardly get Reagan changed in 15 minutes, espeically after she poops in the brand new clean diaper or spits up all over everything and I have to change her clothes twice in the process. That's usually the time that Child A will come running in tattling on Child B and in dealing with that, I realize Child B needs a spanking and a diaper change. By the time this is all finished, Baby C is asleep and is nowhere near interested in finished her meal. Rinse. Repeat.

On an up note, I am thrilled to death with myself for preparing dinner every night. Since December 1st, we have only been out to eat twice. Once for our anniversary and once to say goodbye to our babysitter and favorite waitress at Chili's. (How dare she move an hour away!) For our family, that is absolutely amazing. Brian and I have always been eating-out people. The main reason is....we are too scared to bring all the children out in public, especially in coat-and-hat weather. It's just too much trouble and not worth it. If nothing else, it has certainly served our budget well.

My next goal will be to do something with this house. I'm so busy giving emergency baths and keeping the blood flow and knots on the head to a minimum that I haven't gotten the chance to do anything but keep the kitchen clean in the last six weeks. Wait...I think I swept the kitchen once. It's a process, I think.

A Baby Story

Things are starting to settle down into some semblance of normalcy...if that can actually be defined with a newborn in da crib. Literally.

Reagan Elizabeth was ushered in, a week earlier than planned, two weeks earlier than was due, on Monday, November 26, 2007 at 4:58am. As was suspected, she weighed between 9 and 10 pounds at 9 pounds, 7 ounces and was 21 inches long.

I went into labor on Sunday evening, with contractions 3 minutes apart for over an hour. I was reluctant to go to the hospital being nearly sure that the contractions would stop. Like they usually do. When the nurse actually captured 2 of them on the monitor, I felt validated. When the nurse told me that I was dilated to a 1, I was ecstatic. I had never been dilated before! This meant that my body was doing something to prepare for the baby...and I wasn't crazy. Unfortunately, my team of medical professionals would not be doing anything to stop this labor. I would not be going home without a baby. At 9:30pm, we were told that we would either have a baby "now" or first thing in the morning.

I was in a dead panic. We (read: I) were not prepared to have a baby. What about the girls? My doctor was not on call. I didn't have any clothes. I couldn't even think of what I might need. I was supposed to get a pedicure this week. My swanky nursing pajamas hadn't arrived yet.

We alerted the media. My parents, scheduled to arrive the following Sunday for a birth that was to occur on the 3rd, would not be able to come until Tuesday. Of Brian's parents, scheduled to arrive Saturday before the birth, only Gran was able to come, and not until Monday afternoon.

For the current problem of what to do with the girls all night while we wait for a decision to be made by those in the know (because I wasn't going anywhere), thank God for Ashlee, our babysitter. She was not working at her regular job Sunday night and was able and willing to come and stay all night with the girls while Brian stayed with me. She even offered to skip her classes on Monday, in case we needed her.

From 8pm until 3:30am, we waited and I contracted every 3 minutes. After hours and hours of watching the clock and trying to rest, my nurse barged in the room and threw on the overhead light. Within 30 minutes, all parties would be there to start the surgery. After hours of "hurry up and wait", their efficiency was nerve-wracking.

The nurse anesthetist showed up and yes, I actually asked her if she was well-rested. I had no problem having a baby during normal business hours, but I've read too many scary medical stories in Reader's Digest about after hours procedures. (And this is not a big city hospital...all these people had been sleeping snug in their beds.) She said she'd had about 3 hours of sleep. In my opinion, that's not well rested. Personally, I can hardly make coffee when I've had only 3 hours of sleep. Honestly, this was my 3rd baby, my 3rd set of doctors and my 3rd surgery and she was by far the best anesthetist of them all. She had very kind eyes, the only part of her that I could see. She had me facing away from all the "equipment" to keep me from being anxious. She had the drape as far away from my face as could be managed and told me that I could have my hands loose. When she saw me using those loose hands to scratch and scratch, she gave me a shot of Benedryl. I never got nauseous, much less threw up. She even held the baby so I could kiss her.

Recovery is always fun...I never know what is going on even though I try earnestly to pay attention. I do remember hearing it took over 2 hours and many, many sticks to start Reagan's IV. Actually, I don't remember much of the first day. People came to visit and later when I tried to remember, it seemed like a dream.

Reagan was not allowed to come out of the nursery because of transient tachypnea of the newborn (TTN) which is fancy doctor talk for fast breathing. Apparently, it's a condition most often seen in big, fat babies delivered by C-section. Too much fluid in the lungs causes the baby to breathe fast. Normally, most of the fluid would be pushed out during delivery. The problem is not unusual and tends to right itself in a day or two, sometimes less. After 3 days of little improvement (and no nursing....could be too stressful for the baby to suck and try to breathe) our pediatrician called a neonatalogist at the children's hospital in Fort Worth for a second opinion. That doctor wanted her to be transferred to that hospital for an echocardiogram to ensure that there wasn't more to the problem. Apparently, fast breathing could be a symptom of an infection, a heart problem, etc., etc., etc.

Wednesday, my doctor discharged me and Reagan was transferred to Cook's Children's Hospital in Fort Worth. I tried to be strong while the doctor was talking to me...but I was in shock. Just the night before, he assured us that there was only a 10% chance that she would need to be transferred. When the sweet nurses asked me how I was doing, I started crying. Something was wrong with the baby, no one knew exactly what it was and I was all alone. Brian hadn't made it in from the plant yet. Then the transport team showed up with the contraption they use to transport those sick babies and I was inconsolable. It's a gurney with an incubator and machines and leads and oxygen and scary medical stuff. They assessed the baby and took her to Fort Worth. Brian and I went home to get some clothes and things. We had no idea what to expect when we got to Fort Worth.

Reagan was re-routed to Baylor All Saints. The NICU there was spectacular. Everyone from the department head to the baby's daily nurse went above and beyond. The doctor was the same one there every single day. When we weren't there and called to see about her, the nurses never acted like it was an inconvenience to answer our questions.

All tests indicated it was TTN and little by little, her respirations were slowing down. On Thursday, the neonatalogist finally let her nurse and she did great. Until then, they'd been feeding her pumped breast milk and formula through a tube in her nose. Brian and I were driving back and forth to Fort Worth every day to visit her and then coming home in the evenings to Lily and Darcy worn to a frazzle and emotionally exhausted. Thank God for my mother-in-law who stayed with the girls and fixed dinner every night. I don't know how I would have coped.

After another brutal day of driving back and forth to Fort Worth and sitting by Reagan's bedside, I came home to find a large box in the living room. It was a Shower-In-A-Box from our friends back home. That was absolutely the most amazing thing. At a time I needed to know it the most, God used our friends to show us in a very tangible way that people were thinking about us, cared about us and were praying for us. It was exactly what I needed at exactly the right moment.

The next day as we were preparing to go visit Reagan, her nurse called and told us that she would be discharged the next day if we'd like to "room-in" that night. I jumped at the opportunity. We ended up in a tiny little room in the corner of the NICU for nearly 24 hours. I got an extremely uncomfortable twin bed and Brian slept on a chair that folded out...standard hospital fare. No meals were provided. At least we did have a TV. I thought we'd end up playing 20 questions all night. I understand why they do this rooming in thing, but Brian thinks it's a racket. They charged us another day's room and board even though we did all the work and I provided all the board. Brian thinks that if she's well enough to "room-in" then she's well enough to go home and save us the money. I think they see a lot of sick babies and need to know that the parents know how to care for the babies before they send them home. Some of the babies go home with equipment. It just so happens that we've done this kind of thing before.

Finally, on Saturday, December 1st, on our 5th wedding anniversary, Reagan came home from the hospital. So far, she's doing well. Her stump has fallen off and she regained her birth weight (and then some) in the allotted time period. Her sisters are interested in her and don't like her to fuss for any reason. Our next goal: sleeping through the night. Last night, she went from 12:30am until 5am so we are well on our way.

True Texas Religion

I am always surprised when evidence of true Texas religion is brought to the center of my mind. Even though I grew up in a small Texas town, a few blocks from the high school (which I attended all four years), I am still surprised that high school football has such an impact on a community. Especially this community that can actually boast of other attractions: a 4-year state university (whose football team has its own impressive record), a bowling alley and a movie theatre, a Chili's and if those don't suit, Fort Worth looms only an hour away.

But this town has a mind of its own when it comes to football. Last year, I saw little girls at Lily's preschool dressed up on game days in miniature cheerleading uniforms, complete with big bow hair. Never, in all my years of growing up in small town Texas, did I ever see anything like that. Football is such a big deal here that I wondered if I was ruining my children's lives by not dressing them up like cheerleaders and having them patrol the sidelines on Friday nights. I've been told by those in the know (okay, it was my hairdresser) that I should be thankful that I don't have boys. The pressure to play football for Mudville High School starts in 4th grade.

Earlier this season, Brian and I actually took the girls to the Hamburger Scrimmage. It cost us $1 to get in and $5 each for some very poor hamburgers and fixin's. And everyone was there. I mean everyone, including the surgeon who did Brian's hernia repair. Maybe that's not such a strange thing. I guess I just didn't expect to see him there. I figured he'd be at home on a Friday night doing "surgeony" things. But there he was...wearing his Bumblebee hat and eating his overpriced, burnt burger and off-brand Oreos. As for us, once "play" actually started, we stayed about 20 minutes. I'm not a football fan in the first place, but watching a scrimmage where the coaches were on the field on every play, there was no score and and no band, well, that was just mind-numbing. Not to mention the other part of me that was numb from the aluminum bleachers.

Everything else aside, the culmination of my disbelief was brought to its peak this week. Last Tuesday, people lined up outside the high school for hours to buy tickets for Friday night's football game. One of the men who successfully purchased his 3 tickets said he's been attending Bumblebee games since 1966! On Friday, the Mudville Gazette reported the Athletic Secretary's "stunned" reaction to having nearly 500 tickets remaining. It seems that those 100 people who waited five hours outside the school only purchased 300 tickets. There was a reason for this: the powers that be put a limit on the tickets at 3 per customer. But all was not lost...tickets would be sold at Thursday's JV game as well. Thank goodness.

I am not completely heartless; I will concede that the tickets were for the district championship game and the Mudville Bumblebees are undefeated, but still...high school football?

Well, they were undefeated.

There was no joy in Mudville after about 10:15pm, Friday night. The Mudville Bumblebees lost their quest for the District Championship in overtime, 31-28. All is not lost, however. They are still have a playoff seat and will be trying to go the distance again this year.

The September issue of Texas Monthly had an article touting the top twenty Texas high school football programs of all time. Schools were assigned ten points for each championship and five points for being a runner-up. To reward consistency over the years, three points were awarded for each district title using overall wins as a tiebreaker. This formula yielded the top twenty teams and helped ensure that a small program had just as much of a chance as a big one, since schools play in classes that are based on enrollment.

Weighing in at Number 19 of the top 20 programs of all time.....the Mudville Bumblebees! Texas Monthly had this to say about them:

Known as the state's most prolific quarterback factory, [Mudville] has produced nine top recruits for Division I-A college programs since 1989 (including Jevan Snead, who bolted from the University of Texas last year to play for Ole Miss). Much of the credit for this talent goes to former head coach Art Briles, who led the [Bumblebees] to all four of their state titles. The best known quarterback of the crop, Kevin Kolb, followed Briles to the University of Houston, where he started for four straight years. He was also the thirty-sixth overall pick in the 2007 NFL draft, taken by the Philadelphia Eagles.

This year's star quarterback has already verbally agreed to play at Oklahoma State University and become a Poke. I have been told, by a very dear friend and former alumna, that I am not allowed to call them the Slow Pokes.

I know a guy who transferred his son to Mudville High School so that he would have an opportunity to play for this team. I actually laughed out loud when he told me this. That was definitely the wrong response. He assured me that this football program was top in the state and even if I hadn't heard of it, he was sure that Brian had. I told him that Brian and I both come from 5A schools and that I would guarantee Brian hadn't heard of this Podunk 2A group. That was an even worse thing to say...Mudville is, ahem, a 4A school. Who knew? I am laughing to myself right now recalling this very serious conversation. This family has been nurturing this child's athletic abilities, apparently since Day One. I think they believe that if their son plays for Mudville, he might have a chance to go all the way.....all the way to the Cowboys. And we're not talking about the Slow Pokes.

And then I really have to laugh. Because there is this very wicked part of me that wants to stand up wherever I see men gathered...especially when the Cowboys are playing...and say really, really loud: The Cowboys Suck. Just to see what would happen.

Preparing For Baby

We now have less than a month before the newest arrival to our all-girl collection.

We've been adding meals and meat to our freezer, stocking up on long-sleeved onesies and warm jammies and perusing catalogs to get Christmas shopping done without leaving home. (Shopping becomes problematic when the closest mall or even a Target is an hour's drive away.) I've ordered my cradle set, a case of diapers and a 300 oz. bottle of Dreft. We only lack a bouncy seat since our previous canine companion ate the one that was purchased for Darcy.

Another ultrasound last week verified two things. First, we are still having a girl. Even with my limited medical training (read: none), I was able to identify the parts as female. After finally accepting that we are going to be a family of all girls (at least for now), I would really be put out with medical science if I had to return all my newly acquired girly purchases for flannel shirts and overalls. Secondly, there is only one baby in there. I was reasonably sure of this, but it is a popular question that I get asked when I venture out in public.

I've been limiting my public appearances of late. Mostly, because I feel like a freak at a side show. My shirt and pants don't match up very well and everywhere I go, people point and whisper. Some people don't even bother to whisper. I am constantly harangued by women I refer to as "old wives". They believe I should already be in the hospital, know it's a boy, and assure me that I'll never make it to December. They tell each other that I must be about to pop or I've got twins. They even speculate on the actual weight of the baby at her birth. One clerk at Kohl's predicted 8 pounds and 5 ounces.

According to my latest ultrasound, the baby currently weighs 7.5 pounds. With a month to go. The doctor (whose opinion I actually value) is predicting a baby in the 9-10 pound range...and he doesn't seem alarmed. As for me, I was a little alarmed, especially when I realized that this baby could gain a pound a week for the next 4 weeks. Yikes. However, I'm scheduled for a C-section on December 3rd, so I guess it doesn't really matter how big the baby is. Except I'll be carrying her around between now and then and honestly, she's starting to get heavy.

I'm just grateful it's not the middle of summer. And I have a reasonable expectation that I won't have to evacuate the week before this baby is due. In fact, hurricane season will officially be over before this baby is scheduled to arrive. And that is a relief. Now, if I could just get that bouncy seat.