It is 8:32 pm on July 14th. I am 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant, which is 5 days more pregnant than I ever was with Caroline and 5 days less pregnant than I ever was with Evan. That’s a nice balance. Good symmetry. Seems like the perfect time to have a baby.

Unfortunately, my baby does not seem to agree.

I’m not technically overdue yet (TOMORROW), so I know the complaining about STILL being pregnant is annoying. Plenty of people have been much, much more pregnant and I could end up being one of them. (I REALLY REALLY HOPE NOT.) But unfortunately I let myself think “Oh, I am totally having this baby early!”

It’s not entirely my fault. My doctors all said I was in danger of early labor because of my high fluid levels. I’ve had tons more Braxton-Hicks contractions than with any other baby. This baby has been measuring big for two months and I basically LIVE at the hospital between non-stress tests and scans and regular appointments. My children can literally walk into the ER entrance and get themselves to the maternity ward.

But I should not have gotten my hopes up. People warned me. I just did not listen.

WHY DIDN’T I LISTEN????

I swear if it was ONLY my comfort (or uncomfort) level that I was worried about, I wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer to meet my baby. I never went through this end part with Caroline (I was induced unexpectedly after super surprise pre-eclampsia) so I would probably still be anxious, but I would be OK.

Unfortunately, due to E’s work schedule, I’m on a deadline. If I go a week overdue, he won’t be here for the birth. The moment where we finally find out together if baby #3 is a boy or a girl just…won’t happen. I’ll have to send an email he probably won’t get or a Red Cross message that at least 3 other people will read before him or just wait until he’s home again. He won’t be here to hold my hand or cut the cord or change a single diaper. I won’t be able to scream “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?!” as I push out a gigantic baby.

I don’t want this to sound TOO dramatic – he’s not going to be gone for months or years. His current work schedule is crazy and unpredictable but it’s not a deployment. He might be on a submarine under the ocean but he won’t be At Sea for more than a couple weeks at a time. The baby certainly won’t remember that he missed the birth but I know E will be so, so sad about it I won’t even be able to give him a hard time for “abandoning me”. I’m still not exactly EXCITED about it.

It would sort of suck to be in the room with just my nurses and the doctor. My mom – who’s here to watch the kids, in theory – has said she’ll fill in and I have friends who would take the kids if I really needed them to, but I’m not thrilled with that idea either. Mom watching the kids makes me being in the hospital much more relaxing. I don’t have to worry about whether or not they’re being terrors, she has to deal with it and love them because they’re her grandkids. Leaving them with someone else would mean lots of worrying instead of soaking up brand-new baby time.

We knew this was a possibility. As much as we tried to plan this baby around the Navy’s schedule, the testing that E’s doing now was supposed to be done in December. The command actually said “Plan your vacations for July and August, since that’s when we’ll be around”. Every time it got pushed back I thought “Ugh, this could be inconvenient” but until literally THIS WEEK I refused to consider E really truly not being here. Right now things are just slightly difficult – he’s not reachable by phone anymore so I have to call some office and they have to get a guy to run down to the pier and find him and then he has to get someone to cover for him and drive back up here to the hospital. But his boat is still tied to the dock, which is good!

I have a non-stress test in the morning (9 am, so possibly as you are reading this) followed by a regular appointment where I’m going to strongly suggest I am interested in them getting the baby the hell out ASAP. I feel like I’m breaking a bunch of birthing rules by even considering an elective induction. Admitting that on any of the pregnancy message boards will get you called a zillion things, none of which sound like “good mother”. But this isn’t my first time around the baby block and I did have a good experience with my last induction. Plus I have tried every single other possible thing to make labor happen on it’s own*** and nothing is working.

Why couldn’t this baby just COOPERATE, YOU GUYS?

Please send me lots of outside baby thoughts and keep your fingers crossed I’m so close tomorrow the doctor says I’m basically IN labor already and that my husband’s boat stays just broken enough that they stay in port and he’s right there with me when we find out if our Team Green baby is a boy or a girl. And so I can yell “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” as I push out what is probably a truly enormous baby.

I’m scheduling this to post at 7 am on Tuesday. Let’s hope that right now I’m already in the hospital having my baby and posting boring Instagrams of my IV all over social media (soon to be followed by adorable baby pics!)

*** The only things I haven’t tried are castor oil and black/blue cohosh. I’m not sure I can handle the side effects of castor oil and even Googling cohosh makes the internet freak the hell out about safety. But if my OB says “Sorry, one more week before we’ll talk about induction” I see a castor oil lemonade in my future.

On Wednesday, I wrote a hundred words of a boring, nothing-to-see-here baby update before I lay down on the couch with a pillow over my head and screamed swear words into it until I worked up the energy to go to the Emergency Room.

Pregnancy is fun.

Let’s start this extremely long and health-detail related story at the beginning! At my regular check-up on Tuesday, I mentioned to the OB I didn’t feel great. Nothing was HORRIBLE but I just didn’t feel well. I said I had a vague pain in my left kidney and with my history of stones it made me a little worried. She offered to send me up for an ultrasound, but I said I’d rather just do a test for an infection and see if it got any worse. I spent the rest of Tuesday doing nothing and went to bed early with a headache, but no other symptoms and no more pain.

Wednesday morning I woke up feeling totally fine. I made breakfast! I cleaned (a little)! I bought end-of-the-year teacher gifts for Caroline’s teachers! After school I got both kids to the dentist (where I lied straight to the hygienist’s face and told her I would try to only let Caroline snack once a day) and then we went to swim lessons. Right after I got both kids into their suits and turned them over to their instructor my left side started to hurt. It felt like I was being stabbed. Sitting comfortably in the pool chairs is hard when you’re pregnant, but sitting comfortably in a pool chair while you’re pregnant and being stabbed in the back is impossible.

I got up and paced. I sat down. I leaned forward. I leaned back. Half way through class Evan needed the potty, so I took him upstairs where I leaned against the wall and moaned. Being in pain discretely is hard – I didn’t want anyone to think I was in labor (I knew I was definitely not in labor) – but I managed to have several conversations where no one freaked out and asked if I was OK, so I think I pulled it off. “Why yes, we have greatly enjoyed swim lessons! No, no, I didn’t just lose consciousness for a second, I’m definitely paying attention to you!”

Because I had promised the kids Panera to celebrate the dentist AND the last day of swimming, we went to Panera. I’m guessing I ordered lunch and paid for it, since the cops didn’t show up at the house and the children look well-fed, but I don’t remember any of that either. We made it home. I ate a turkey sandwich but immediately threw it back up, which was when I realized I should probably call the OB.

The OB’s office suggested I just go to the ER to be evaluated, since they had an ultrasound machine and good drugs and could give them to me a lot faster than if I was admitted straight to L&D. I messaged a friend who said she could come over and watch the kids so I didn’t have to take them (THANK GOD) and made it to the hospital, which is luckily less than a mile away. The lady at the check-in desk took one look at me and paged four different people to come help. I got a bed and some water and a nice male nurse who I couldn’t pick out of a line up right now if my life depended on it because SERIOUSLY it hurt SO BAD I don’t remember anything.

I was expecting I’d have to live through a lot of poking and tests before they were willing to give me anything for the pain, but as soon as the ER doctor saw me he said I was crazy for not asking right away. I’ve seen enough medical dramas to know asking for morphine is a good way to get labeled a drug-seeker (Because TV is TOTALLY the same as real life!) and I didn’t want anyone to threaten to call CPS on me (I am not entirely rational when I’m in pain) so I resisted for about 20 seconds. Then it hurt so bad I threw up again and begged for drugs.

10 minutes after the first dose the nurse said “It’s amazing how fast Dilaudid works, isn’t it?” and I said “Are you $%&*ing kidding me?” It took three doses before I felt any better.  It also made me feel totally drunk and loopy and dizzy. I’m extremely surprised I never fell over. I did get rolled down to ultrasound where the tech said she could see stones in my kidneys (both of them, because why half-ass kidney stones?!) but couldn’t see a blockage where I was complaining about the pain. Surprisingly, never once did anyone say “I guess that means you’re OK! Go home!” They ran some more tests that said I had the beginnings of an infection and there was blood in my urine, so in addition to the narcotics I got pumped full of fluids and antibiotics.

At some point I messaged another friend (I didn’t have cell service in the ER but they do have free wifi!) who got a hold of my husband at work and told him I was in the ER. He showed up after the ultrasound but before they admitted me. It turns out extreme kidney pain, probably stones and elevated blood pressure (due ENTIRELY to the pain) at 35 weeks pregnant automatically gets you admitted.

I don’t remember the timeline for any of the rest of the night very well. I do know I couldn’t keep any water down so they gave me zofran (useless) then something for nausea through the IV. It took two more doses of Dilaudid and some heartburn medication but I finally, FINALLY, passed out at 2 am.

I spent all of Thursday lying in bed feeling better and waiting for the urologist to come check me before I lost patience and asked to go home. My nice OB agreed, since if I was feeling well enough to give up the IV drugs I was obviously OK. My kidneys on both sides still hurt a little, but not enough to waste a Percocet. The current plan is to wait out the pregnancy and see if the rest of the stones pass/clear on their own (we’re assuming the one that was stuck last night did)(they’re also assuming I had one, even if it didn’t show on the u/s)(because my doctors are nice and my history supports that theory). If I have more pain or any signs of an infection I have to go back in.

The whole thing is just a terrifying deja vu of what happened with Caroline, except I had NO IDEA what was causing my pain last time and it took almost a full DAY before anyone believed me enough to give me something. I’m going to be careful about drinking more (and then more and more and more) water and avoiding things that make my heartburn so bad I break down and take a Tums. I would also say I’m going to take it easy but there’s just no way. Maybe I’ll put off painting the nursery but I’ve been “putting off” literally every household chore for so long now I have to catch up.

I also missed Caroline’s last day of preschool yesterday. They didn’t do a graduation or a show or anything, so all I REALLY missed was dropping her off and picking her up one last time (and giving her teachers their gifts, which E assures me made it to school but were unfinished so weren’t quite Pinterest-worthy). But I didn’t get to take her last-day picture on her actual last day and I didn’t get to thank the school headmistress for taking care of my baby for the past 2 years. I’ve got 16 more last days before she leaves for college (OMG ONLY 16 MORE LAST DAYS) and hopefully I won’t be in the hospital for any of those.

Today is Evan’s kindergarten orientation where we both get to see his new school for the first time. It’s very Time Marches On, since Time obviously doesn’t care that I’m not READY for kindergarten yet and could he please just take an extended summer vacation for a few months so I can have this baby and recover and THEN I can think about sending my first baby to full time big-kid school. I CANNOT think about kidney stones anymore though, so I fingers crossed I don’t have to.

While I was at Mom 2.0 at the beginning of May, I ended up in a bunch of photos. And since this is 2014, some of those photos ended up on Facebook. And because it’s Facebook, I ended up tagged, which meant all my friends – from my 4th grade classmates to the girl who lived on my floor in college to my mother’s second cousin who lives in Sweden – saw them.

I did not like it. They were not flattering. They were candid, and that is what I look like in candid photos, but they made me sad.

**insert literally 1000 words I wrote then deleted about how being fat sucks here**

You know what’s a huge waste of my time? Being sad about being fat while pregnant. I feel a compulsive need to mention my doctor is unconcerned – I don’t have high blood pressure or gestational diabetes or any other weight-related complications – so all my sadness is purely vanity-related right now.

I do a lot of maternity photo sessions and my clients are always GORGEOUS. Because that’s who wants maternity photos – people who look adorable even at 8 months pregnant. People who look like me spend 5 minutes on Pinterest and realize no lacy dress and oversized sun hat will ever change the size of their arms or shape of their face. But this is what I look like. This is what I look like right now while growing baby #3 and walking around in the world and there is nothing wrong with wanting photos of myself OR with showing those photos to other people.

It’s like that meme about how to get a bikini ready body: Buy a bikini, put it on your body. Done.

Here’s how to take plus size maternity photos. Be pregnant in front of a camera, get someone to press the shutter button. Done.

I owe my husband a huge thanks for helping with these. He very patiently posed for all my pictures so I could adjust the manual camera settings and then I had to explain exactly what I wanted – “The sun should be shining behind us to make haze but not TOO much haze and don’t get the sun actually in the picture and try to get the focus point right on the kids and tell me if my bra is showing [it was ALWAYS showing] and does my arm look OK like this or should I hold it differently?” – and he did all of it standing in the buggy, snakey orchard without complaining. He doesn’t really understand WHY I wanted 400 photos of myself standing in an orchard, but he knew it was important so he helped. He’s a good guy.

I am sitting on the couch eating the last of the giant marshmallows I bought “for s’mores”…even though I didn’t bother to buy chocolate or graham crackers. Today was my 30 week appointment for this pregnancy and – pardon my french – but shit is about to get real.

I was at Mom 2.0 Summit last weekend. It was really, really fun. Because you probably don’t blog and probably weren’t there I am not going to write a super long, super inspirational post about everything I learned and name drop all the fancy people I met.

Although excuse me if I freak out just ONE more time over my photo with Jessica Shyba. Even my mom watches The Today Show and probably knows about Jessica and her adorable kid-dog-sleeping pictures. 

Besides eating way too much and drinking nowhere near enough water and standing and walking and DANCING like a crazy person and only getting 3 hours of sleep on Saturday night, it also took a couple of long flights to Atlanta and back. After E picked me up on Sunday afternoon I was so swollen and sore I briefly considered calling the OB just to make sure I hadn’t somehow given myself pre-eclampsia.

Instead I drank a TON of water (and some Diet Coke because caffeine is a diuretic and that makes it legit) and lay on my left side and took a nap. By Monday morning I was only half as swollen and by Tuesday I could wear my shoes again. We even went for a family walk and I didn’t think I was going to die on the way home.

But today was that OB appointment and they broke some news: despite the fact that my sugars are normal (no gestational diabetes to see here folks!) and my blood pressure is still excellent and I’ve had no signs of labor and both my previous pregnancies went to at least 39 weeks and my water has never broken on its own…they Have Concerns. Concerns that mean I am going to be at the hospital a lot from now on.

Don’t get me wrong, I am VERY VERY glad my doctor is on top of things. I am glad the midwives at the practice reassured me everything looks fine. I am glad no one is freaking out and we are “just being cautious”. But I’m also not looking forward to bi-weekly non-stress tests or weekly ultrasounds to watch my fluid levels.

I’ve also lost the ability to totally block out the fact that a) I’m having a baby soonish and b) there’s always a chance something IS wrong and they just haven’t seen it on the scans or tests. The phrase “as long as it’s healthy” has never felt so much like a threat instead of just something people say because it’s something people say.

There’s obviously nothing I can do about it now. I’m in third-trimester limbo until either something happens on its own or we decide the baby would be safer out than in.

To be clear, as of right now, there is NO REASON to think the baby isn’t perfect. Well, no reason besides the unexplained high fluid levels that makes it hard for the nurse to keep the baby on the monitor for my NST and makes me look and feel ENORMOUS. But as far as anyone can tell with the baby on the inside, we’re still good.

I’d be more annoyed with the whole thing if there wasn’t any reason at all for the monitoring. But my doctor explained that in some cases – very rare cases – so rare he has never seen one in person – high fluid levels can compress the umbilical cord so baby doesn’t get enough oxygen. That is enough of a reason for me to keep my eye-rolling down to a “OK, I guess I can bring the kids and the iPad in twice a week for checks” instead of elevating it to “UGH. WHY DO I HAVE TO BE HERE???” There’s also the chance that it’s something in baby’s digestive tract or kidneys that isn’t working correctly. Or that it’s a facial or mouth deformity that can’t be detected via ultrasound.

But we DON’T KNOW, so thinking about it – or Googling it – is pointless. I say that to myself at least 20 times a minute while I’m on the internet. So basically 24,000 times a day.

I don’t want to be the person who freaks out over a healthy pregnancy, a third baby when many people struggle to have even one, someone who is ungrateful and annoying and everyone dreads running into. But I also miss my first pregnancy, when everything felt new and exciting and was so, so, SO very average and I had no idea how fragile pregnancy could be or how many things could go wrong. What To Expect might be terrifying for first time moms but it’s got NOTHING on almost 6 years of the internet.

So for approximately 10 more weeks I am going to live at the hospital being assured that no one really knows anything but they’re trying.

I will spend about 50% of that time pretending I’m not even pregnant so why would I need to buy a crib and the other 50% staring at cribs on the internet to find the perfect one for the nursery we haven’t started yet.

And also 100% of that time being punched in the lungs and/or cervix by a baby who has made so much amniotic fluid I basically have an olympic-sized swimming pool inside me.

Oh hey, want to hear about my pregnancy?

It’s good! I am ready to officially say it’s good.

In fact, I have absolutely nothing unusual to report. Hurrah for a totally normal, boring baby!

This is the first time in a while I’ve felt able to write much about it, for fear of jinxing things. At my 19 week ultrasound the tech was a little concerned. My placenta was lower than they wanted to see and I had high fluid levels. Apparently that’s a soft marker for a lot of birth or genetic defects, so they wanted to get me in to a level 2 ultrasound soon. Unfortunately “soon” was a full 3 weeks later.

It wouldn’t have been quite such a nerve-wracking three weeks if the doctor hadn’t made a super casual, off-hand remark about how if something WAS tragically wrong we’d want to know sooner rather than later. 3 WEEKS IS NOT SOON. If she had just left out the part about the teeny, tiny chance of a fatal or life threatening problem I could have just complained about my heartburn and sore hips and never-ending morning nausea. Instead I lay in bed every night and thought about…possibilities.

I DID keep myself from Googling though. Mostly since “high fluid levels” turns up way too many results to process, let alone freak out about.

ANYWAY. At my level 2 ultrasound the tech and the special high-risk doctor both declared my baby perfectly fine. My placenta moved up and my fluid levels are only on the high level of normal, not actually high. The baby looks healthy and my screenings came back with very low chances of a genetic issue. I am extremely relieved.

I didn’t want to talk about any of this until I was sure – or as sure as you can possibly be before the baby becomes an outside baby – that things were fine. Plus also, thinking about what MIGHT be wrong reminded me of how many things COULD go wrong and what a crazy delicate thing pregnancy can be. Tomorrow I am 24 weeks, which is viability (technically). So now I am ready to complain about all the trivial stuff.

That might take FOREVER, so let’s start with the big one.

OMG MY BUTT. Not, like, the delicate unspeakable parts. All of it, from my back down to my thighs. The internet says the horrible stabbing pain is sciatica, but I had what I thought was sciatica with previous babies. This is WAY worse. This is like the difference between a paper cut and having a finger chopped off. The other thing the internet says is that the best ways to treat it are “stretching” and “resting” and “maybe some acupuncture”. I have no time for this “resting” thing and I can’t spend my days in child’s pose, so at my next OB appointment I guess I’ll be asking about alternative treatments. I feel extremely lucky I can spend a lot of time on the couch or lying down when it gets too bad, but until the children can do the grocery shopping and errand running themselves there are going to be painful days.

I’m just hoping I don’t get SPD on top of it. That’s the one where you feel like you’ve been kicked in the crotch with a steel-toed boot. Even rolling over in bed is enough to make you cry, so THAT on top of THIS would probably land me on a motorized scooter for the next 16 weeks.

And now, some blurry, generic ultrasound photos I took pictures of with my phone!

Based on no actual info besides those pictures, I’m currently predicting “girl”, since the profile looks just like Caroline. Both kids are on team girl but E is swearing it’s a boy. Oddly, I am not in the least bit tempted to find out anymore. I’m SUPER excited about waiting until the delivery room and being surprised along with everyone else.