I was pouring myself a glass of water from the Brita pitcher we keep in the fridge. Magnolia was cradled in one arm, and Cora was sleeping. The water was chasing a peanut butter bar. They are a weakness of mine, and this is the second batch since Tracey has been here.

Have I mentioned that my hips are about two sizes bigger at the moment? They are. This didn't happen after Cora. I don't know if it's just from weight gain, or if it's a side effect of a vaginal delivery. You know, pushin' a baby through rather than having her lifted out of my abdomen. At any rate, peanut butter bars and water it is...and the 6 pecan pancakes I ate for breakfast at The Original Pancake House.

When I placed my empty glass on the counter, I looked up and saw a name tag from my days as a teacher. Did you know I was a teacher? I was. A high school English teacher. I call it my life before I became a mother. I have a magnetic name tag to prove it, and it lives on my refrigerator. I wore that with pride and seeing the word "Teacher" with "Northwest Classen High School" written underneath it brought a wave of bittersweet.

I love that place.

I love those kids.

My freshman are going to be seniors in the 2010-2011 school year. Wow! Time flies. I'm so thankful we'll be back in Oklahoma City. I'd been trying to figure out how I could get there for graduation with two kids and Jake in school. Now I won't have to worry about it.

Teacher/Mother - With the exception of having to get dressed in the morning - they're very much the same.

Northwest Classen "Knights"

Lesson Learned

Jake and I were lying in bed talking last night. We were both nearing extreme fatigue, the kind where you can fall asleep in the middle the sentence you're uttering. I saw a dark spot on the wall near the top of our closet door. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but I turned the light on to have a look.

"Jake, there is a huge cockroach on our wall."

It took a second longer than it should have for my sentence to hit his ears and register in his mind. He turned, reached for his glasses, and went to work. Killing cockroaches has become routine in our apartment for the last few weeks. This must be their season.

He came back with flip-flop in hand. And after a few minutes of trying to figure out the best approach, including a few test swats to see if he could reach, he made his move. He missed. And instead of scurrying down the wall (we've never seen any that weren't on the floor) at break neck speed...

It Flew.

In thinking with a few expletives and disbelief at what I was seeing, I heard Jake.

"It's on you."

I'd been standing on the bed to spot the bug if it got away. Apparently, cockroaches fly to the next tallest thing in the room. It was instant terror and turning and screaming, and getting the sheets wound around my feet.

I asked if it was still on me, he said he couldn't tell, I calmed down for a split second, and then it flew off of me down to the floor. Jake's flip flop when to work. Cockroach flushed - thrice.

Are you still stuck on the flying part?


After reading the comments people have posted about my last post, "Piles," I thought I might need to clarify something:

Not all piles are bad things.

Sometimes even the combination of all good piles in our lives can seem overwhelming. And being overwhelmed isn't always bad either. I love it when I feel overwhelmed by love and kindness, overwhelmed by my own emotions. It's a little adjustment to go from normal, every day feelings, to ones where you know, without a doubt, your life has changed.

Maybe I should have categorized my piles for my readers' sake. I couldn't have expected anyone to completely understand my late night, sleep deprived ramblings. But just to categorize a little: My piles of family and feedings and tears (the kinds from my eyes - not the rips down below), and even stitches holding things together - I am grateful for. Really grateful. Even if contacting everyone in my family includes lots of phone calls and lead following (My grammy moves around a lot these days).

The biggest pile that I could do without, seriously without, being sick. Sick is frustrating no matter when it happens. But I'm getting better.

Magnolia greeted me this morning with lots of sweet smiles. And then she pooped. And of course, it was the cutest thing ever. I don't see any smile dimples. but her smile is so ridiculously contagious. Watch out. You'd better be prepared to smile non-stop when you're around her.


Just in case you haven't heard, Magnolia Jane McInnes was born on June 10th at 4:08 in the morning. She weighed 6 pounds, 1 ounce and was 19 inches long.

Instant. Overwhelming. Love.

I haven't been able to get my thoughts together enough to write about everything. I'm a little out of sorts at the moment. The day we got home, I got sick. I think I'm on the mend. I've mostly been thinking about the piles all around me.

Piles of bags and pages from the hospital.
Piles of stitches holding a tear together.
Piles of tissue and handkerchiefs [Cora is sick, too].
Piles of coughs and sneezes that make me feel like I'm ripping stitches out.
Piles of toys.
...of burp cloths.
nipple cream.
tiny socks.
diaper rash.
old lady walking.
things I must do every time I go to the bathroom.
sitz baths.
Piles of tears in my baths when I think about the amazing thing that just happened. [I don't know why I always get teary in the bath.]

I can't wait to write all about it. It's big. I'm both humbled and proud. For now, I'm just trying to get well. And hopefully I'll be able to sort through all of these sortable piles soon. Like the piles of doctor appointments. Cora and Magnolia both have one today in different places. 2 hours and 15 minutes a part. Wish us luck!

37 Weeks

My membranes are stripped. I'm dilated to a solid 4, though some might call it a 5, according to Dr. Hampton. I've been having contractions since the exam, but I'm trying to not get too riled up about them. I came in to take a nap, but a construction crew just entered our yard.

Perfect timing, as usual.

And so we wait some more. C'mon, water, it's your turn. Break. In a big way.

Pop Quiz

What do you do when you're having contractions every 2 minutes?

Go to the hospital?


They hook you up, give you fluids, oh, and a shot to stop contractions. If it's real labor, after all, the contractions will calm down right after the shot, but pick up again.

I got the shot. My contractions stopped. I had my second exam in an hour, still dilated to 3 cm. They give me the green card to go home, unhook me from the monitors, and my contractions start again. So here I am at home having contractions every few minutes.

When should I go back to the hospital?

Who knows?

I'd like to think it's when my water breaks. When the contractions become more intense? They were more intense tonight. Even the doctor and nurse were at a loss. I am atypical.

"Do you have any questions?" they ask.

Nope, I'm pretty much an expert on preterm labor. I cried tonight. I try not to in front of medical professionals. It seems to complicate things. They automatically start referring to the pain scale.

"On a scale of 0-10, what would you say your pain is?" I never know how to answer this question. I think it's terrible. What are we comparing this to? Someone else's pain? Right now I would call the contractions I'm having a 6, compared to the "4 or 5" of earlier. Everyone experiences pain differently.

But I did cry. In front of Cynthia, my nurse. I asked her if she had children. "Yes, two."

"Did you ever have to go into a hospital and leave without having a baby?"


She was sweet and gentle, and I'm thankful for that. Now it's 12:30 AM, and I'm awake. And blogging. I don't even care that I'm not having a baby right now. These false alarms are getting so frustrating...especially since almost everything about them is textbook real thing. Tonight I understood why women just have their babies at home. (I've understood before, but tonight I thought I might like to join their ranks.) Even if I still wouldn't know when my baby was coming. Maybe Jake should become an OB, so he can deliver our babies, and then I would never have to worry about whether this is it.

Tracey got here today. She was sucked into this craziness on her first night. I'm glad someone is here to be with Cora. When I came back down to the lobby of the hospital, she [Cora] ran up to me with open arms. It made my heart happy. I love her so. I can't wait to meet her baby sister.


I went to the doctor today. She wasn't going to check me until next week, but I told her about the sporadic contractions and the weird pain shooting down my thigh while at a funeral last night. She decided to take a look.

She said it was the kind of exam where if she stripped my membranes, I would go into labor.

But she didn't strip my membranes. That will be at next week's appointment. If I make it, which I'm counting on. Though she's not counting on me making it to full term.

The biggest thing for me is that I have progressed. I've said it before, no progress is hard news for a pregnant woman to hear. Here are today's stats:

3 cm dilated
70% effaced
-2 station

My cervix is in a good position, and my bag o' waters is soft. Cool.


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