Ian turned two last week. We went in for his two year check-up. It went fantastic. Sort of. Ian sat perfectly still, and followed all of the doctor's/nurse's instructions. The doctor kept making comments like "wow, if only all the children were this good for their check-ups", "what an easy-going kid", etc. Then he asked Ian a question. Ian stared at him blankly and gave no response.
doc: how is his talking?
me: oh, he talks really well. he was talking in sentences at 18 months.
doc: so, how many words can he say...at least 50?
me: oh, yeah. hundreds. he says everything. he talks almost as well as my three-year-old.
The doctor proceeded to ask Ian a slew of questions. He stared blankly. No answer. I prodded him to say something. And nothing. Not a peep. The doctor looked at me with a skeptic smile. I assured him again that he really does talk and we moved on with the exam. After he left the room Ian exploded into conversation--"that's a nice doctor mommy...he sat on that stool mommy...did he listen to my heart mommy?...are we at the doctor's mommy?..."
While he is a very talented talker, coordination is not his strong suit. Yet. He is pretty klutzy. And spills a lot. Yesterday he grabbed my piping hot cup of pero and spilled it all over himself. He came and found me, calmly pointed out the saturated spot on his pajamas and said "uh, I just got burned mommy." Today we had chicken soup for dinner. He made such a mess that I took his shirt off. But then he wanted seconds. He dripped everywhere. When he noticed a drop of soup sliding down his stomach, he looked at me confused and said "uh, mommy...my tummy is crying!"
Ian is hilarious. He is a peacemaker. He is easygoing. He is very affectionate. He eats everything I make and always asks for more. He sleeps great. In many ways he is the perfect child. In other ways he is very much a terrible two. He keeps us on our toes and makes us laugh. We are so glad he is part of our fam.
I have the strongest baby on the planet. Yesterday I propped her up on my bed to take some pictures and she did this. No lie.before
after
Not bad for two weeks.
I abhor mustaches. I think facial hair in any form is gross, but the mustache is probably my least favorite. Perhaps that's why J-P didn't ask me if he could grow one. Normally I would pitch a HUGE fit (don't worry, i pitched a small one), but this appendage to his face has a purpose: raising cancer awareness. Sigh.
Luckily for me, all I ever see is his forehead anyway because he is always looking down at his iPhone. Here's to hoping November goes by quickly. Read about Movember HERE.
Week one was WILD. We had our bags packed so we could check out of the hospital as soon as possible. The baby is required to stay 24 hours, and we didn't stay a second longer. J-P basically dropped us off at home and then drove to the airport to catch his red-eye for North Carolina.
It was a long week.
I got to do things that I have never done before, like change meconium diapers. The day or so after I got home from the hospital (it's all a blur), I got stung by a scorpion. On my birthday. I can officially say it was the WORST birthday ever. After spending time on the phone with poison control, I decided not to go to the ER (against my mother's wishes to rush me there). Instead, I laid on the couch in tears as the pain intensified for six hours. The pain/numbness SLOWLY subsided over the next 3-4 days. Between the scorpion fiasco (which left me unable to walk), 48 hours of no sleep, and toddler meltdowns, my mother and I were totally and completely frazzled. My dad flew in to rescue us, and arrived just in time.
Ava weathered week one like a champ. She is SO sweet. She rarely cries, nurses with gusto, and gives the sweetest hugs. She had a rough first few days coughing, gagging, and gurgling up the gulp of amniotic fluid that she inhaled on her way out, but is doing much better. She is growing FAST. Her cheeks are growing exponentially. I'm curious to see how much she has gained...we'll find out tomorrow at her two week appointment.
We woke up at 4:58, two minutes before we were supposed to be at the hospital. Whoops. I was dilated to a three and having strong contractions about 4-6 minutes apart when I got to the hospital. After explaining to the nurse that I am in painful false labor for the entire last month of my pregnancy, they gave me prostaglandin gel. Within seconds I was in hard labor. Very hard. I wanted to go get in the Japanese soaking tub, but I collapsed in pain after taking about three steps. I endured another couple hours of intense pain (including sciatic nerve pain which I had never before experienced) before giving in and getting an epidural.Epidurals are the best invention ever. The combination of pitocin/having my water broken produces deadly pain. I'm pretty sure I would have died from pain if I didn't abandon my hopes of a natural birth during Max's delivery. Anyway, I was progressing at a couple of centimeters an hour. When I got to a six the doctor broke my water. Assuming that it would be another couple of hours, the doctor left, my nurse took her lunch break, and J-P went to the cafeteria to get lunch.
Fifteen minutes later a different nurse walked in because the baby's heart rate was dropping. As she started to put the oxygen mask on my face I told her that I was feeling a LOT of pressure. Then she checked me. I saw her eyes open wide with panic as she said "you're at a 10...DON"T PUSH!" I felt the urge to push so strongly (even through the epidural) that I couldn't stop. I started screaming and told the nurse that I couldn't stop. She turned my epidural all the way up and soon I felt nothing. Neither J-P nor the doctor answered their phones. J-P walked in as they were paging him. The doctor (luckily) decided to come check on me just in time. The page to come came through on his phone as he was sewing me up.
Upon first glance she looked just like Max, only white. Really white. Her vernix was very thick and everyone commented that she had to be more than a week early. Her apgar score was a 9.9, only because they "never give 10's".
arrived oct. 237 lbs 3 oz20 3/4 inches(see more pics HERE)
At my appointment on Wednesday the doctor stripped my membranes before I told him that J-P was going out of town for a week, without much possibility of making it back in time for the birth (should it happen while he is gone). Stripped membranes, coupled with a baby dropped "as low as it can go", and being dilated to almost a 3 is, according to the doc, a recipe for going into labor at any second. He said that if J-P wanted to be there then we should induce before he leaves. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I never actually go into labor on my own, I just took him up on the offer.So, today is my last day of being pregnant. I'm a little sad. I love being pregnant (aside from yucky medical compression nylons). I love little babies more though, so it's an easy trade. Wish me luck.
My sweet little ava-lu is a month old. In the past month I have: 
Ava is a much different baby now. She rarely sleeps for more than 5-10 minutes at a time during the day, unless she is being held. She also prefers to be held while awake. Which makes it almost impossible to get anything done. She is very much a GIRL. So much more sensitive and dramatic than the boys. It's amazing to see the distinct gender differences that are present even from birth. She is starting to smile a little, and is very alert and curious. 
