But one day I realize that I'm worn out. Hard to get out of bed. Just want to sleep. Oh, and my period is overdue. Could it be? Ah, no! I HATE diaphragms! Yes, I'm pregnant again. After a visit with the doctor, we determine that I'm due sometime in December, toward the middle.
I am not happy. I feel miserable. No nausea, but just a general feeling of malaise. I keep repeating "If this isn't a girl, I don't want it." "If this isn't a girl, all this misery just isn't worth it!" I am SO tired.
One of the neighbors gets a group of her friends together for a baby shower, and it's all girly and pink. Yeah, this better be a girl!
This time my husband is going to be with me during labor! We take Lamaze class together. No excuses. None of this "Oh, it'll be hours before she delivers." Huh-uh, not this time. He's going to be with me even if he has to take time off from work.
Other than this unremitting fatigue, the pregnancy is going well. Blood pressure fine. Hemoglobin fine. Baby growing fine. But, oops, doctor decides that baby probably will arrive on or about the 20th of December. Well, remembering that it took me a little more than five days to "get back to normal" with the previous births, I decided the baby was going to be born the EARLY part of December so I could do something for Christmas.
My doctor refuses to induce labor, but he did say I could take some castor oil. If the baby's ready, it'll come. If not, well, I'll just have to wait. I'm shuddering at the recollection of that castor oil. Aaaackkkk!!!
Well, I take the castor oil, and I can't tell if the cramps are from the castor oil or the beginning of labor. Around 6:00pm, I decide it's .... BOTH! So Stan called the doctor and said we were going to the hospital. We're ensconsed in a room, and Stan is reminding me to breath (puff-puff), and this is OK for awhile. Then I tell him "Shut up, dammit, it hurts!"
Now this is the third delivery, and the first time I've actually hurt. Damn that cstor oil! A nurse comes in periodically and checks me, and all of a sudden I'm being wheeled into delivery. Fathers at that time weren't allowed in the delivery room, but at least he was there during the labor.
I get a little whiff of gas, and all of a sudden I hear a wail. Is it a girl? Is it a girl? It's girl. Oh, joy! Stan and I have gone though books of baby names, and finally came to an agreement. Megan is born. At 10:30pm. On December 2.
The next morning I gotta go to the bathroom and RIGHT NOW! The castor oil seems to be still working. Later in the afternoon I ask the nurse when I can go home. She says I have to have a bowel movement first. I told her I already did. "When? There's no record on your chart." I told her it was early this morning, and I couldn't wait for a nurse to answer the bell, so I went by myself. That didn't go over too well with her, but we did go home that afternoon.
So we take the new baby home, and present Stevie with his little sister. Now you're not going to believe this, but I swear I'm telling the truth!
"Stevie, here's your little sister."
"Take her back. It's too late now."
When was the last time I did anything to please that child?
Next: a new home.