5 weeks, 3 days.  Till the section.  Another check up tomorrow.  Is it really going to come to an end, after all?  And, after doing this 3 other times, I’m still all superstitious, or whatever you want to call it, about washing all the little clothes and blankets and burp pads "too early".  What is too early, anyway?  And when I stop this silliness, what is the prefered detergent these days for tiny clothing?  Dreft?  Ivory Snow?  Something organic?  Why am I acting like I’ve never done this?

Today.  The realtors came by.  School starts Aug. 17 in this county, and people with families (and we have a family home, whatever that means) want in NOW.  We still have days, nay, weeks of work to finish to put this place on the market.  If we wait till we’re done, we’ll miss the big summer real estate window.

However, if don’t wait, and show it as is, we most certainly won’t get what we have to have to break even on this house, much less make a buck.   Who wants to pay top dollar when there’s Tyvek still wrapped around the newly added mudroom, and studs showing?

And I’ve felt more sick today.  

And then my stomach got all upset.

So how did I handle this?  Called my mama and daddy, and crawled in bed for a good cry, moaned about how I feel guilty for feeling ill, and we should have waited on this baby (so Mr. 4Tops could just chide me and say no way), griped about how there’s so much work to be done (so Mr. 4Tops could tell me I’m doing the most important part by just continuing to breathe and eat), and then take a big nap.  He even said this is an opportunity for him to remember who’s in control, and rest in that peace, when the rest of everything seems to be up sh*t creek.  No paddles in sight.  The Lord knows, and carries us.

The Remodel Emergency Crew (my folks) will be here in the morning with tools in hand.  That made me cry more.  That they would just drop their lives and come to our rescue.   I may cry typing it, we’re so blessed and lucky.  And the fact that I feel sick, due to the amazing gift of a baby?  I should be so happy.  Oh, good grief.  I am starting to cry again.  Gotto go find that paint brush and suck it up.

More signs, so I do think I’m healthily ovulating…I think.  We shared a little lovin’ last night and the night before (sorry for TMI), and the official O date should be tomorrow or Friday, so this month, it won’t be for lack of trying if there is another BFN.

And sweetly enought, this month, I’ve not been the initiator.  We’ve just sort of, well, needed eachother, in the midst of the chaos surrounding our frenetic home repairs, resigning from jobs, people being ticked we’re leaving, parents and niece in town, etc. etc…somtimese, it’s just re-stabilizing to be close.

Just for the sheer beauty, if not inspiration, check out this slide show, of a homebirth.  It is simply  one of the most glorious things that the Lord can give us.

Have a wonderful Wednesday, as we clear the hurdle and head into the weekend.

Peace. 

Let the hanky panky begin.  3 days til prime time, and the signs are beginning again.  Hey, we’re taking the baby back to Georgia, we could do it this time, huh?  Whaddya think?

I think…I think it’s going to be a busy summer. 

No matter what happens, or doesn’t, with another baby…we’ve got a house to finish remodeling and sell, a new job to start, a move to make, and another home to find.  And three beautiful children to do it with.  Blessed, but busy. 

What husband doesn’t like a little appetizer of delight when he comes home for lunch?!?  And I’ve still got that pinching…

He was sooo unsuspecting…silly, silly man.

And this, my friends, is yet another reason we can’t completely toss the television.  All I had to do was say cartoon, and the 3 kids were glued to the sofa.  The house burning down wouldn’t draw them away from Tom and Jerry.  And I, I got my man.  Ha ha.

A-hem.  A less grumpy husband, a little early morning hanky-panky. Recovery coming along nicely, and things looking up for the possibilities this month.  Now, I just have to wait, wait, wait. 

In the meantime, should I stop my evening bottle glass of wine?  What are the indications of wine and conception, I wonder?

Grumpy, irritable, post op husband.  Not sure this month will be a go.  So far, most of my sweet little backrubs, and kisses on the neck, have been met with growling.  Or absorption in the computer.

I know this is post general anesthesia junk.  This is not him, at all.  Hope it wears off soon.  Or, I’ll get cranky.

It does seem that the hollow gagginess comes after I take the current prenatal sample.  But, it didn’t seem to cause this feeling till 2 days ago.  So I’m not sure what to make of that.

My appetite does seem a bit down today, but I could have talked myself into that.  Nothing really sounds good to eat.  Again, could be psychosomatic. 

I can’t say my breasts are fuller, or sore, but then, the only time I got that symptom was the first time, with our son.  Lord knows I prayed each time after for that full, maternal top.  But, alas, I didn’t get it til I was nursing, and then, they tended to be just for the baby.

I’m kind of tired, but hell, I’m always kind of tired.  

I’ve never had a positive HPT.  I always had to get confirmation from the doc, as my positives registered negative on the EPT (so much for error proof).  I want one.  I want to try to wait, to be able to sit in my bathroom and see the lines appear before my eyes.  But I’m not sure I can wait a whole 13+ days.  I am soooo impatient.   

Child very ill with yarf bug.  As he is moaning and wretching over the toilet, it is dawning on me that this could be me, in a few months, for a few months.  Ack.  Just thinking about it brings that lump to the back of my throat, right at the gag reflex.  Ugh. 

Hubby and I decided to drink it up the last week or so, as wine is our favorite beverage and I’m about to shift into wine in very small amounts.  Sounds alchoholic, doesn’t it?  Well, let’s just say I don’t have to have it, but boy, do I like it.  We’ve picked out a few fav vintages and labels, and are thoroughly enjoying it.  Through Sunday evening.  Then, weekends only, and in real moderation.  Can’t be yanked for a couple of weeks and not know I’m pregnant.  I don’t think that’s recommended in the countdown to conception books.  Aaahhh.  I’m missing it already.  So sad.

In other arenas, I’ve become practically obsessed with infertility blogs.  And now I’m getting all freaked that I’ll have this struggle too.  That I’ll miscarry.  So why am I torturing myself?  It’s just that these women (and men) have so much passion about what their pursuing.  A child to love.  It puts our ease with having the three we have into such perspective.  I see the blessing and fortune more clearly.  I realize better how little we knew about what some people struggled so deeply with, as I was bitching about back aches and nausea.  Which I’ll probably do again, but I’ll also consider these women, and hopefully, get my whining under control in short(er) order. I don’t think I’ll ever gripe about worrying that we’d get pregnant when we didn’t want to again.  I see with much more clarity now.  And for those who have fought to have a baby, and are pregnant now?  Their experiences are so special and filled with joy, apprehension, the knowledge of how blessed they are, and enthusiasm, that it’s got me hooked.  And it’s fun to share the enthusiasm and waiting with someone else.  I just hope they won’t mind my lurking around, while so far, getting pregnant has not been an issue for us.  I would never mean to seem insensitive. 

Time for another popcicle for the sickie.   

I’m 35, right?  Wanna be in the best shape I can be if a baby is on the way soon.  Lose this last 8 pounds I’ve been trying to lose since the last baby, 5.5 years ago.  Been walking.  Already lost 5 pounds.  Watching what I eat.  Tried a yoga tape this morning. Oh, the agony.  And I don’t mean the exercise.

Breeeeathe (in a near whisper).  Feeeeeel your center.  Open from the hips.  Lengthen your croownnnnn.  Doesn’t that feel gooooooood.  Feeeeel the yoga.  Looooove the yoga.  Feeeeeeeeeeeeel your inner self opening.  Now lie down on your mat.  Thaaat’s right.  Feel your feet anchored, they’re rocks.  Rest your head lightly. Oh God.  Is that a pack of chicken nuggets under the sofa?  Just Breeeeeeathe.  When was the last time I vacuumed under that chair?  Shift your hips to the right.  OUCH.  The coffee table.  There is no room in here for this.  The dog is licking my hair.  Now, move fluidly and effortlessley into the dancer’s pose.  The children are laughing at me.  Shut up.  At least I’m trying.  At lot of 35 year olds are in muu-muus by now.  Reeeach for your toes.  Gack.  Just look at my feet!  My nails.  The huge hunks of callouses.  Oh this is awful.  Maybe I’ll just stop and peel that off right there…Don’t you feel wooonderfullll?  No. I. do. not.  Center yourself at the core.  It’s all about the core.  Feeeeel your abs tightening.  Strengthening.  I feel my belly flopping over the top of these yoga pants.  I can suck in all I want, and there it is.  Just hanging there.  What the hell is she talking about.  Now, we’re aaaaalmost done, breeeeathe in and out your nose.  There’s a dust bunny in my nose.  Sit up right, assume the lotus position.  Streeeeetch through your crown.  What is my crown?  How does she get her legs all twisted up and together like that?  Now, aren’t you glad you spent 20 minutes of your day on just you, centering, aligning, oooopening for the day?  Nope.  Pretty much feel like a hippo.  A big, tight, uncoordinated, awkward hippo. 

I pretty much don’t think I’ll be doing that again.