The delivery was awesome. Many of you followed on Twitter as I took my geekishness to new heights by tweeting one of my family’s most personal and dramatic moments. It was such a great way to keep our family updated all at the same time. I’m glad we did it but I’ll be deleting the tweets and moving them here so as not to leave a permanent record of Baby Wanda’s birth date up on the interwebs. (yes I know it will still be up there somewhere but I’d rather not have it on my active Twitter page.)

So, from some “mystery” date a while back, here are my birth tweets:

- 11:12 PM: No baby yet but my mom’s here to play. Get to start calling and begging the hospital for induction tomorrow. This should be fun.
- 6:20 AM: No room at the inn yet. Call back in an hour.
- 7:14 AM: AAAAHHHH!!!!! Headed to the hospital.
- 8:33 AM Just signed the forms that say “I may die here but I don’t mind.”
- 8:36 AM: Wearing the bracelet my friends made me with beads and good wishes given at my shower.
- 9:57 AM: Came in dilated to a 2 and 75% effaced. Waiting for petocin. Suddenly busy here so we’re napping till it’s our turn.
- 10:22 AM: Petocin started. It’s go time.
- 11:19 AM: Listening to old CarTalk podcasts and watching Wanda’s roundhouse kicks. No major contractions yet.
- 12:22 PM: Moved on to This American Life. Contractions picking up.
- 12:24 PM: Nurse must read same parenting books as us. I asked if I could have pudding. “Sure,” she said, “As soon as you have the baby.”
- 1:23 PM: Nurse just came in to check ma vitals. Said “Oh dear” at one point for apparently no reason. Back to CarTalk. Aye! Contraction!
- 2:25 PM: Oww. Mom. Very slow progress for the ouchiness. At least the nurses are cool.
- 2:49 PM: West Wing Season 1 is like a warm blanket to my heart. The epidural coming in 45 mins will be like a warm blanket to my uteris.
- 4:12 PM: I should have gotten that epidural two months ago.
- 4:25 PM: Water hath been broken which is normally painful but it’s okay because it feels like my lower body has taken a bath in Anbesol.
- 5:20 PM: Gonna push soon! Will update when baby is here!
- 7:04 PM: Thick dark hair, 8lbs 10oz, 20″, 15 mins pushing, so gorgeous!
- 8:27 AM: Here she is un-blue. So sweet. Slept all night (unlike the rest of us) and is eating well. Still no real name

The delivery went really smoothly. After the epidural and the water breaking, I went from a 4 to complete in less than an hour and it only took 15 minutes of pushing before she was born. She came out fist first, our little Ninja, causing us to briefly add “Norris” to our list of names in honor of his venerable Chuckness.

The doctor said, “I’ve delivered an arm,” and I said, “Oh good. Her head is out?” And he said, “No, just her arm.” But her head came out next and then the rest of her and that sweet squawky little cry and she went from being a bulge in my abdomen to a living breathing person whom I get to love, take care of and repress most cruelly for her own good for many years to come.

We did pick a name before we headed home from the hospital, put it on the birth certificate and everything. Here’s a list of the names we were mulling over on our giant spreadsheet in the hospital. You were all so good to share your ideas with me. This list includes all the names we seriously considered at some point during the pregnancy. One of them is the name we chose. So if you’re looking for baby girl names, have at it.

Anne, Jane, Ivy, Josephine (Finn), Eve, Lucy, Adele, Violet, Eden, Ruth, Gail, Estelle (Stella), Lynn, Daisy, Jean, Nina, Kathryn, Robin, Susan, Ruby, Amelia, Nora, Sally, Jill, Leah.

She is gorgeous and sweet and we love her, an amazing sleeper and a champion nurser.

There have been a few little things to work out, as there are with any baby. First, I’m working to find my emotional happy place, working with my people to get me to where I need to be mentally. It’s not the most fun but not nearly as hard as it was with Magoo when I didn’t know what was going on.

The emotional transition to third-time motherhood was complicated by the fact that 2 days after birth she developed some moderately bad jaundice and we were set up with a light box in our house that we needed to keep her strapped into whenever she wasn’t eating. A nurse has been out here every day since to take her blood and check her vitals.

It’s amazing how something seemingly small like that can send everything out of whack. Just watching her lay there on the florescent lights and not being allowed to pick her up or comfort her when she cried unless it was time for a feeding was much harder on me than I would have guessed. I guess I got the smallest taste of what it’s like for mothers whose babies end up in the NICU and they don’t get to bond with them in the typical way.

Holding and cuddling Magoo was one of the only ways I could soothe and calm my anxieties during his early life and sitting next to her light box, smoothing her hair while she screamed had just the opposite effect.

They also asked me to wake and feed her every two to three hours, take her temperature each time and record how many minutes I fed on each breast, what her diaper looked like and how many minutes I had her off the lights. They also wanted me to pump after each feeding and then give her a supplementary bottle for dessert, which meant I then had to wash and sterilize all the pump and bottle parts before going to bed before the next feeding, so sleep was rough.

My mom and Dan are here and doing everything they can to help but I want them to be at least somewhat fresh to make things seem normal for Laylee and Magoo during the day as I lay around and heal, nurse, and question my every thought, feeling and emotion to determine whether or not I’m “O.K.”

But today Wanda’s blood had improved a ton and the nurse called this afternoon to tell us we could take her off the lights and hold her as much as we wanted. This was good news, sort of tears-of-joy ecstatic news. This gives me hope for more restful nights and emotional calm in the coming days. I still plan on waking her up every three hours to feed just to make sure she’s pumped full of enough to get all the bilirubin out of her system.

So that’s where we stand. Newness, weirdness, sweetness and family. Everything feels very fragile and every minute very important. Her squirks and squeaks fascinate me and her gassy smiles melt my heart the same as if they were real smiles. I can’t get over how soft she is or how much her siblings adore her. I can’t get over how vulnerable she seems or how scared I am that I’ll never be able to keep this little person safe through adulthood. Suddenly the other two seem so fragile as well. There’s nothing like bringing a new baby into the world to make you wish your world was just a tiny, well-padded, time-proof bubble.

Rain is pouring down on our new roof but we’re safe and dry. The big kids are asleep. The baby is passed out on my mom’s chest and Dan is puttering on the computer. Ours is a good little bubble. Here’s to hoping you’re all staying dry and warm in yours.

Today I went to the pool and tried to Michael Phelps the baby out but she didn’t fall for it. 30 minutes of hardcore lap swimming left me tired and did manage to cause one contraction but I hardly think I can justify driving to the hospital and telling them I’m in labor based on just the one.

Magoo started preschool. So cute, so proud, I tell you. He clutched his little backpack straps and was all business as he went in and came out of the school. Normally when he goes to a play date or his little church class, I cannot drag any details out of him. Today he was all about the details, what they did, what they ate, what playground equipment they have, which kid misbehaved. He is BURSTING with excitement.

Or course it’s no surprise that Laylee’s SO happy to be back in school.

I’m thinking of Tweeting updates when I go into labor, whether I go on my own or get induced. It’s mostly for my family. I think the majority of people living on the interwebs do not care about every single living detail of my birth process but my family will appreciate the updates and if you care to find out, you can hit refresh on my site and watch under Twitter Updates or you can go to my twitter feed at Twitter.com/KathrynDaring. It’s very likely that the updates will be – “Headed to the hospital” and then I’ll forget to post anything from my phone and then “Had the baby two days ago. Must sleep.” But that’s something, right?

For now, I’m livin’ large with Dan and the peeps and waiting for Wanda to get squished out.

No, I didn’t go into labor on Labor Day — although that would have been downright adorable of me — but I did spend the day laboring with Dan and the kids. We spent the whole weekend working our butts off and now that we have no butts, we are ready to plunge full-force into the school year. [read more at Parenting.com]

Today I wrote that one post, the one at the end of pregnancy where you’re actually considering removing the baby yourself by any means possible. It was 3.5 pages single-spaced in Word. It was whiny and self-indulgent and I meant every word of it. However it was also annoying and insensitive to all sorts of people who have actual serious life problems so I’m not going to post it.

Basically, my OB told me today that although I’m scheduled for an induction at 39 weeks due to the large size of the baby and how Magoo’s 10 lbs. 8 oz. did such a number on my body, it probably won’t happen because I’m not considered a priority to the hospital.

He said to be a priority you need to have the body of a woman, you know a body that’s capable of going into labor, all female-like. You can also be considered a priority if you or your baby is dying or showing signs of imminent death, if your blood pressure spikes or you suddenly grow a tail (this last part was not actually stated). The last way to become a priority is to go weeks past your due date. Since my mom’s coming to help with the baby a week early (because of my “scheduled induction”), if I go 2 weeks over, she won’t even get a chance to see that baby. What she’ll get a chance to do is push my pregnant butt around in a wheel chair and mop me up off the floor every couple of hours while I wait and cry.

I don’t go into labor, see? I don’t dilate. I don’t efface. I stay pregnant until someone at the hospital has mercy on me, which apparently is not likely. I’m having some of the worst pain I’ve ever had in my life and I’m discouraged, exhausted, ungrateful and not a little wenchy. A month from now I’m sure I’ll be over it but tonight… I’m not so much over it.

I’m not much for cleaning these days. I’m much for eating and sleeping and going to water aerobics with elderly women. Because I don’t feel like cleaning, I rarely make the kids do it either. When they clean, it basically means I have to clean and coax and supervise them while they whine about the difficulties inherent in being born a Thompson.

[Read More at Parenting.com]

Magoo thinks we should remove the baby via “foot-section.” Laylee doesn’t care how we get it out as long as we let her witness the carnage.

[Read more at Parenting.com]

We sat down to eat some lovely Mexican lasagna for dinner when I decided I COULD. NOT. EAT. IT. without sour cream. I left the family sitting at the dinner table and ran to the grocery store to pick up that one thing. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Time me.”

Well it’s a good thing that Dan laid down on the couch and decided to time me with the inside of his eyelids (not the most accurate of timing devices) because I completely lost all track of the time while pillaging the aisles of the grocery store.

Sudden cravings for anything unhealthy and remotely appealing took over my body. Along with the sour cream, I picked up yogurt, bagels, bread… frozen pizza, sherbet, popsicles, Jones soda, Cheez Whiz, sugar cookies and other things I haven’t purchased since probably college.

I sheepishly unloaded my purchases at the counter.

“I’m pregnant.”

Serious look from the cashier.

“Sometimes I just need things.”

Serious look followed by some sage advice, “Don’t eat it all tonight, okay? And when you’re done, go back to vegetables and other healthy foods.”

“I’ve only gained 4 pounds so far this pregnancy.”

Serious look.

When I got home and started unloading, Dan asked how my trip was. “Fruitful,” I responded. The Chief Cookie Buyer in our household stared at my haul with wide eyes. “Certainly was.”

Smart boy did not offer any sage advice. He mustn’t if he ever hopes to see another morsel of HFCS, Trans Fat or food coloring enter the house again.

I bought nectarines too, sort of to camouflage the rest of it. It was by far the most expensive and unhealthful tub of sour cream I have ever purchased.

We’ve got 2 months left and we still have no name for this little chica. We’re getting more and more creative with our names. We look for them everywhere. Movie credits are fertile hunting grounds for names, especially if you want to name your kid something like Ishi Tomahachigok Thompson or Matt “The Mutt” Thompson.

Driving back from our vacation we looked at road signs and business names. Wendy, Denny, Schwab, and Chevron could all be possible candidates. At one point I read aloud a sign that said, “Stay Off the Median.”

“Meedy-Anne,” I suggested, “That’s not a bad name.” Dan gave me the shifty eye-roll. Well, it’s better than “Rest Stop” or “Bump.”

Lately I’ve been referring to her as “the protuberance” although for no splickable reason I pronounce it “protRuberance.” It just sounds better and everyone knows what I’m talking about.

“I can’t push my stool up to the computer because of the protRuberance.”

“The protRuberance makes it difficult for me to cook without burning my navel.”

“My protRuberance is going nuts. Just look at it wiggle and jump!”

I work so hard to choose names for my kids that are beautiful to me but not popular in the general population. I want to be unique without being crazy. I’ve realized lately that almost everyone is trying to do the very same thing so if I find a name that’s really unusual and beautiful, chances are it will be THE name 3 years from now and my little Adeline will join a sea of Adelines heading into elementary school in the next decade.

What I should really do is stick to names that were so over-used during my childhood that none of the moms in our generation want to use them. Then my kid will be totally unique. Or I could just name her Protuberance. It has a nice ring to it, sort of like Constance only more visually evocative.

Since I don’t drink and rarely do anything that requires me to be over the age of 16, I have very few opportunities to be required to show identification. It generally only happens if I’m pulled over for speeding or if I’m at the grocery store buying wine for cooking.

Well yesterday I bought some wine for a risotto I was planning to cook and for the first time in history they didn’t ask me for ID. Maybe it was because the cashier knew me. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that I was toting 2 children along with me and waddling, very obviously pregnant with a third. I choose to believe that I’m starting to look as distinguished as befits my 30 years of age, despite the fact that this pregnancy has me breaking out like a preteen after a chocolate binge.

Then later that night Dan and I went to see the new Harry Potter movie, mostly to enjoy the air conditioning while cuddling child-free. When I purchased the tickets, the boy at the counter asked to see my ID.

“What is this Harry Potter movie rated?” I asked incredulously.

“PG-13.”

And I’m thinking, “This kid really questions whether or not I’m over the age of 13? From the way I feel at this moment, the baby inside of me is practically 13.”

“And you’re carding me to get into the movie?”

He looked confused. He stared at me in a way that only a 15-year-old boy can when confronted with the prospect of carrying on a conversation of more than two words with an adult woman.

And then it hit me as he handed back my credit card. He was checking ID to make sure the card wasn’t stolen. “You need the ID for the credit card, huh?”

He nodded uncomfortably, looking sort of down and away.

So yeah, if you want to get into a PG-13 movie anytime soon, pay cash or have your ID close at hand.

So I’m pregnant and I know a guy, a guy (well gal) who works with Maggie Maternity and wanted to hook me up with some maternity clothes to review on my blog. The clothes looked gorgeous and more expensive than I’m used to paying for maternity clothes so I said, “Sure.” Besides, on their site they mentioned that Angelina Jolie was seen wearing their tank top at the Cannes Film Festival and I thought it would really do her self-esteem some good if she found out she was wearing the same clothes as me.

So they sent me their summer box and I was a bit skeptical because everything in it was black. However, I know black is slimming (which I need) and decided I’d try and wear it mostly in air-conditioned locations or on overcast days (which we have a lot of here).
I was pregnant with both of my other kids primarily during the winter and nearly everything I have is dark, thick and long-sleeved. When I wear it, I boil.

That is not the case with these clothes. Despite being black in color, they’re very lightweight and breathable. They really are perfect for summer. The fabric is a Spandex/Rayon blend and feels amazing next to my skin. These truly are the most comfortable clothes I have ever worn, maternity or otherwise, including pajamas.

I decided to do my serious testing of “the box” when I was running our PTA fundraiser. The event lasted for 4 days and I spent much of my time on my feet working with kids and walking around the school. For 3 days I wore at least one piece from the box and felt like I was walking around in my most comfy PJs. The best part was that I got compliments on everything I wore. Words like “elegant,” “classy,” and “why are you so dressed up?” were thrown at me.

I felt super cute when I wore them and again, you can’t beat the comfy. After my 4-day test was over, it had sort of become a tradition to wear them… every day. I wear at least one piece almost daily. I wear them to church, to the park, to dance recitals and just lounging around the house. When we leave for summer vacation, they’ll be the first things I’ll pack. I’ve washed them all several times and they are holding up great. The look of the fabric has changed slightly but they haven’t balled or pilled.

They are machine washable but should be laid flat to dry. I hang them on a drying rack. I love them. Honestly I’m a very cheap person and I look for bargains in maternity clothes because you wear them for such a short period of time, but if I get pregnant again and my size has changed, I plan on buying another set of these in my current size. Because they’re so versatile, you wear them so often that it makes them worth the price. The sizing is a bit generous. I was wearing a 14/16 when I got pregnant and I got the biggest size they make (4) which says it’s a 12/14 equivalent and if anything they’re a tad on the large size.

The pants are probably my favorite piece because of the way they’re designed. You can wear them folded over at the beginning of the pregnancy but then pull them up as you get bigger or to avoid showing a waistline under your shirt. They work well as take-your-kids-to-the-park pants or you can dress them up with a classy top and wear them to the ballet and no one knows that you secretly feel like you’re wearing nothing on the bottom. The skirt is a close second favorite. It looks great and is cooler for summer weather.

If you’re pregnant, plan to be, or know someone who is, you should check out the site. For now, leave me a comment on this post and I’ll enter you to win a $100 gift certificate to Maggie Maternity. I’ll chose a winner on Thursday at noon PST.

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