How time flies

I am in my third trimester. Today I am 27 weeks and two days pregnant. I can hardly believe it. This pregnancy has just flown by. Perhaps because I spent the first half positive something would go wrong and not wanting to get too attached. Then the last couple months have been filled with kids, work, home, and all the other things that make up your day.

When I was pregnant with Q, that fact pretty much consumed my reality. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I spent my days reading week-by-week descriptions online and researching the best Pac n' Play.

This time we have everything (except for a wardrobe of pink things). I know what to expect for the most part, though you really don't ever know what will happen. I am just too busy to think much about it.

I do try to slow down and savor the inner drumming of tiny baby feet and the look of folded pink onesies in the dresser drawer. There is a good chance this will be our last baby, and I want to enjoy the good parts of pregnancy.

Right now the bad parts are the most prominent. I bought a maternity swimsuit yesterday for our upcoming beach vacation. That is a humbling experience. I tried to get one that was somewhat fitted because those billowy swim dress things are just too depressing. My maternity clothes that were still loose at the end of my first pregnancy are already getting tight with three months to go. And my Braxton-Hicks contractions are ridiculous. I have them every couple minutes. Though they are not usually painful, they turn my belly into a basketball-sized rock making it difficult to tie my shoes or even put on my seat belt.

I get these contractions early and often in every pregnancy. I guess it is within the realm of normalcy. They are considered "practice contractions," but why does my uterus have to practice so damn much? Haven't we been through this twice before?

So life continues at a frenetic pace. We are trying to decide whether we should buy a house (though we still own our old one unfortunately). If we do buy, when should we move? Should we stay in our crappy, rented townhouse longer though the neighbors are unbearable and the commute is about to drive me over the edge? Should we try to short sell our other house?

There's just too much too think about. But by this time next week we will be basking on the beach joined by 40 of my family members. I am picturing reading and relaxation, but the reality will probably be sand in diapers, sunburned bellies, and tantrums at the airport.

--MM

Weekend Work Trip

I am back at work after a tiring weekend work trip. Not the best time for a work trip obviously, but I actually wanted to squeeze one in before I am banned from the friendly skies for being too pregnant.

I flew south on Thursday to West Virginia, met up with a couple co-workers, and drove to Ashland, Kentucky. We were greeted outside of our hotel by two guys drinking beer from a cooler. The next day, I was up at 4:30 a.m. (3:30 a.m. Central) to get to the hospital for a 6-6 shift. I was assigned to the Labor & Delivery, NICU, Nursery, and Mother/Baby units. They had just "gone live" on some new parts of our software, and I was there to help and call in to the "Command Center" if we ran into problems.

Some nurses and doctors were a little grouchy with me if they thought the software made their jobs slower or more difficult. Most people were friendly, and I learned a lot. I got to see a lot of just-born babies, which never gets old and made me so excited to see my own new baby in three months.

By the end of that 12-hour shift, my pelvis was throbbing, and I craved my king-sized hotel bed. The next day was mercifully nine hours long, and I added the Heart & Vascular Surgery and Step Down Units to my rotation. The cardiologists there were unexcited with doing electronic charting. I certainly felt for them as they waded through dozens of prescriptions while doing Medication Reconciliation. I could not believe how many diagnoses and drugs some of those patients have! Craziness.

At 3 p.m., we were back in the car on our way to catch a plane. It was a quick trip, utterly exhausting, but very educational.

Sunday I was back with my boys and poopy diapers, spilled juice, and fights over toy tractors.

--MM

Cars, cars everywhere

Traffic is the bane of my existence. If I could change one thing in my life, I would banish traffic jams. Granted I don't live in LA or India, but you would be amazed at the traffic I have to deal with in my small Midwest city.

I work 30 miles from where I live. I have to go on three highways and various side streets to get there. So does everyone else in a three-state area apparently.

Now if I actually left my house at 7:00 every morning, I would probably miss the bulk of the traffic, and still be 15 minutes early. That would definitely be nice. But it hardly ever happens. Little things like children, pets, and breakfast get in the way.

So, I inevitably am flying out the door at 7:20, tossing my bag into the passenger seat, and careening down the road. Only to run into a wall of traffic as soon as I hit the highway. It is endlessly frustrating as I watch the minutes tick up on my GPS and gnaw on my fingernails. I hate the lack of control. You are just stuck there, and there is nothing you can do. I do pound my steering wheel and say, "Come on!!" but surprisingly, it doesn't help.

Almost every day I see flashing lights in my rear-view mirror, not pulling me over of course, because I am creeping along at two miles an hour, but trying to squeeze through the rows of traffic to access the latest fender bender. Every day there seems to be an accident on the Beltline, as we call this horrible highway. Traffic is backed up for three miles because someone has a dent in their bumper. I hate these people. Why must they get in these annoying accidents and slow me down even more?

I am often in the car an hour before and after my nine-hour day. It is frustrating. I want to live closer. We are exploring our options to see if there is any way we can move to a decent place in between where T and I work. Of course this is complicated by the fact that we still own a home in another state.

So there is no immediate and easy solution. I can't plow my way through all the stopped cars. I can't drive over the top of them like a monster truck as much as I'd like to. I guess I am stuck with getting out of the house earlier. Sigh.

--MM