I just have to get this out . . .

I've spent the last week feebly trying to get my house ready for all the company that will be here for Quinn's blessing next week. You really can't tell that I've done anything. One of the big projects was getting the girl things put away so you could see the floor in Quinn's room.

Let me start by saying that I love my son and wouldn't trade him for anything. Yet as I was putting all the girl clothes away, I was kind of sad. I don't know how to explain it. Going through the clothes and remembering how I felt when I was pregnant with "her," I started missing her. It's not that I wish I had a daughter rather than a son, but I think that because I thought my baby was a girl for five months, I became attached to that idea. That is who my baby was.

When Quinn was born and we had a boy, I wasn't bothered at all. I love little boys and didn't really think about my girl again until this week. Now my little girl's existence fits in a 45"x35"x7" vacuum sealed bag and it's a little hard to take. It's not that I'm really mourning over her, but in a small way maybe I am.

Strangely enough I feel like I had two babies. I have a hard time associating my pregnancy with Quinn. When I think of the ultrasound pictures I don't think of Quinn, I think of my girl. It's really weird because that girl never existed, but packing up those clothes and writing about it now, I'm kind of sad--maybe the best way to say it is that I wish I had both my babies. This probably sounds super strange and I don't think anyone will really understand me unless you've been there, done that, but I wanted to record how I felt. This is my official goodbye to my girl.

Prego Pics

I finally broke down and bought a new media card, so here are the late belly pics. I think I was 41 inches around the week before delivery.

He's Here!

That's right folks, our baby girl is a baby boy. And we are loving him!

Quinn Randall Peterson was born Sunday, January 17 at 11:56 a.m.

8 lb, 5 oz 20.5 inches

We went to the hospital Saturday evening for induction. Of course I hadn't slept much the night before and even though I didn't start feeling contractions until 4:00 a.m., I didn't get much sleep that night either. After pain, puking and passing out, by 8:30 I had my epidural (probably the best thing ever invented) and an hour and a half later I had diliated 4 more centimeters and was ready to push. Then things got tricky. They started pitocin to get regular contractions for pushing, but the baby--she at this point--didn't like it and the heart rate dropped. Troy got really worried but he hid it very well. Once they gave me oxygen his heart rate immediately recovered and I was so tired that I didn't think it was a big deal at all.

Once they had me start pushing, it became clear that this baby wasn't going to get here without help, so the midwife they originally called in to deliver attached the little suction thing to help get him through my pelvis. I thought it was simply a matter of me just not knowing how to push, but he was really stuck. No matter how hard she pulled there was no movement (keep in mind that I'm pretty oblivious to all this as it's happening). So they called in the actual doctor (hooray) and his yanking (that sounds so scary) didn't do much either. Troy said that at this point he and everyone else in the room was sure we were headed to the OR for a c-section, but they decided to give the forceps a try. Once the doctor figured out how to use them (they hardly are used at all anymore), our baby finally squeezed his way into our family.

Learning we had a boy really wasn't a shock. At our appointment a couple weeks before the doctor wasn't sure he was seeing a girl, but because he's not the ultrasound pro, couldn't say for sure. So we spent the next week and a half worried that we had an intersex baby on our hands. Let me tell you, it was a rough time. So when they said we had a boy, Troy and I weren't upset at all. Sure, we had pink clothes, but that is easy to handle.

I was then wheeled off to the OR to get stitched up and Daddy staying with the baby as they did all the regular testing. Quinn even got an x-ray to make sure his head wasn't damaged from the forceps delivery.

The worst part of the whole thing was waking up from the stitch-up. Between the epidural, general anesthesia, and having just delivered an 8 pound baby, I was miserable. The shaking was the worst, then the pressure from the swelling, add all that to running on seven hours of sleep in the last 54 hours and I was not in good shape. I remember being so overwhelmed by it all that I actually thought, "I know lots of people that want babies. I should just give this one to them." How awful of me! Now that it's over I think it's funny. I'm sure that's pretty normal because of all you've been through, but at the time, I really considered doing it. Thank goodness I didn't. He's bruised and a little yellow, but for the most part he's healthy and very happy.

I'm sure I'll have much more to say on the subject later, but for now, enjoy these pics of our little boy!

"Tanning" to keep jaundice at bay.

His standard "I'm full so leave me alone" look.

Making faces like his daddy.

We were sure he'd have obviously blue eyes, but they are VERY dark. It will be interesting to see what happens.

Baby Update

We should be parents by the time the weekend is over!! I report for induction at 7:30 Saturday night. Is that weird? Why don't they have you go in in the morning so you can (hopefully) start with a good night's sleep, rather than not get things started until it's time to go to bed? Oh well, better late than never (ha ha).

I'm still hoping she'll decide to get the show on the road earlier than that. Tomorrow would be nice. Actually, I'm really not that uncomfortable at all. Other than my legs driving me crazy when I try to go to sleep, I could handle being pregnant indefinitely. But having the baby on a long weekend is convenient for Troy and my family. And although I could be happy being pregnant for a while, Troy is not handling the waiting well. Today he informed me he was pouting because we had to wait until Saturday rather than have her tomorrow. We'll see if he's equally anxious to have her around when she's crying at 2:30 in the morning.

I've got the giggles

I have discovered one really strange side effect of pregnancy--things are really funny. In just the last week, these are a few of the things I've found hilarious: (unfortunately I can't find videos of any of them to post) a referee falling down in OT of Sunday's Cardinals/Packer game, Carmelo Anthony getting a basketball in the face when he missed a pass from Keynon Martin, PTI anchor Mike Wilbon's expression of disgust as he looked at the camera when discussing how much money Randy Jackson has, and Michael Scott's face as he sings "Two Tickets to Paradise" in anticipation of his upcoming trip to a Sandals resort. All very silly things, but simply hilarious. I had noticed that I seemed to be laughing more a few months ago, but this week Troy noticed it and now thinks I'm crazy. Oh well, it's a good side effect to have, I guess. I keep hoping that one of these laughing fits will put me in labor, but no such luck.

The no-pics excuse

Okay, I know I really should put belly pics up, but my current excuse is that they are all on my cell phone and I have no idea where my mini SD card is, so they are stuck there. Hopefully I find it. Otherwise, I'll try to get the ambition to take one with my regular camera and post early next week. If it doesn't happen, don't worry, it's not because I don't love you, it's because my belly really isn't that interesting. :)

One of the ladies I visit teach is trying to convince me to be her guinea pig and let her take prego pics because that's the only type she hasn't done. I'm thinking about it. Is that weird?