Testing...Testing....Is This Thing On?

I know you're out there, I hear you clicking. Not one comment? The birth story? It was too long, wasn't it? (Well, yeah, that was sort of the point). No one wants to read that much detail about someone else's labor. Ah well, at least I have it written out now for A's scrapbook. Maybe I'll leave out that part about spreading my legs for the janitor. And stabbing the midwife. Nah, he's going to have to find out someday that his mother is a smart-ass.

In other news: I have had a fundal height of 34.5 for the last 5 weeks. What gives? I don't mind small babies, I mean, it's not like G and I are huge people. But no growth at all? Why am I still pregnant if he's done growing? What does he think this is? Kaiser San Rafael?

So we had to do an ultrasound last week to check the fluid and measurements, which looked good except that the technicians couldn't figure out how far along I was supposed to be (I guess my repeated reassurances that I knew how pregnant I was didn't hold much water). So I'm not sure how they could compare his measurements with what he was supposed to be if they didn't know what he was supposed to be. But hey, that's why they get the big bucks.

We get to do a NST tomorrow. Last time, when I was overdue, they did those and blasted a bullhorn thing against my belly if the baby was asleep. Personally, I think that's why I didn't go into labor. If someone blasted that thing at me while I was all nice and snugly asleep, my inclincation wouldn't be to come on out and enjoy this noisy intrusive world, either.

All pregnancy, all the time. You'd be exactly the same if you were 39 weeks and holding.

I do have an A. story: Because G. likes to come to the doctor's visits and we don't have a babysitter or grandma nearby, A. comes too. He's taken to saying, "That was fun!" as we leave the exam room, which makes the staff laugh. He knows the doctor's name and says, "That was fun - Doctor Gusta - Kaiser Permuh-ente." When he hears the heartbeat on the doppler, he yells, "Baby Brudder!"

He's also taken to pronouncing parts of the house, like the shower, the tub and his bedroom, "Mine!" So I think he does understand that something's about to encroach on his territory. With much head shaking and concerned face, he told me Baby Brudder can't ever sit in his high chair because he "doesn't fit." I agreed, for now. Hopefully by the time he's like, five, he won't want the high chair anymore.

He's still very attached to my breasts. "I like boobs!" is a common phrase used by my son as he pats and nuzzles against my chest. I don't hear that phrase from his father anymore because he knows it doesn't get him anywhere -I usually say something to both of them like, "Look, if I could take them off and give them to you, they'd be yours." I've begun explaining to A. (and his father) that when baby brudder comes, he's going to be using my boobs a lot. A. gets this very resigned look on his face and says, "Boobs for Baby Brudder. OooooKaaaaaay."