Buell Family Christmas

Our household's submission to Bonnie's annual Christmas letter. 

Brandon’s Family –


Grandpa Chuck said that this year each household is responsible for its own annual update, in my house I drew the short straw. First off, allow me to introduce myself, I am the follically-challenged young lady in the front row, my name is Brynn Alicyn Buell and I was born on July 26 after my strong mommy pushed just three times. My brave daddy held her hand and said “push” and here I was. Before I arrived Mommy (Lunchbox) and Daddy (Driver) were very busy. They turned their office into my room; it is pink and brown and has pretty curtains and a T.V., helped landscape Uncle Jordan and Aunt Holly’s new house and built and landscaped a patio at our house. They spent the last few days waiting for me enjoying fires in the fire pit and cooking on the grill. When I arrived, I already had a big cousin, Finnegan, he is very fun. I hear about my wonderful, Great-Grandpa Sam, who had to go to Heaven before I got here. I know I love him and that he loves me.

Since my arrival I have been busy traveling. When I was three-weeks-old, I visited the Montana Buells. I rode the whole way there in my car seat. I had a fabulous time playing with cousin Matine, she is also a very calm, and smiley baby and I miss her so much. While we were out West, I went to Yellowstone Park, Mount Rushmore and Wall Drug. I am also busy learning some trades, my Glamma is letting me apprentice at the cheese store, and I assist my daddy as he does real estate sales and appraisals. Most recently, I went to Michigan to visit Mommy’s sister, on October 30th she had a baby boy and now I have a little cousin! As you can see I am very busy with some of the best folks a gal could hope for. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Love, Brynnie

The birth story - Welcome to the world and our lives, Brynnie!

Okay, so if you were queesed out by the water breaking story this may not be your cup of tea . . .
My due date was July 24, 2009

At birth, I weighed 9 lbs. 13 oz. and was 21 1/2 inches long - a pretty big baby to say the least. In fact, my mother was instructed to feed me formula with cereal and fruit when I was just 1 1/2 weeks old, as nursing wouldn't be enough for my big body and appetite. (This was 1977, so no doctors are being blamed for any suggestions, I'm alive and very healthy.)

At my 38 week appointment (my appointments landed on Tuesdays and my weeks changed on Fridays) my doctor decided to help things along by "sweeping my membranes" (Google if you want the science behind this treatment) to help me avoid delivering a 10 pound baby myself, this being mid-July and me wearing feet the size of watermelons, I was game to get this process moving!

Indeed I did get some more regular contractions and felt more activity in my nether region. Since the night my membranes had been swept, I would be up for 3 1/2 hours in the middle of the night with VERY regular contractions, when morning would come, they'd taper off and I'd go to work.

That Thursday (July 16) I was at work, feeling funky, and the contractions picked up that afternoon and lasted about an hour and a half. I timed them at 2 minutes apart, called Brandon and told him that we were at code yellow and to get into the "ready" position. Apparently Baby Daddy didn't like my non-emergency approach to this labor activity and called our doctor's office, who in turn called me at work and told me to get to St. Mary's to be checked. (Remember I had been to St. Mary's before and been sent home sans baby.) Being scolded by the nurse didn't make me too happy, but I had been "in labor" irregularly for a week now, so I went. We waddle into L & D (labor and delivery) triage, get hooked up to the monitors, get checked by the resident, my cervix is changed to 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. Not enough to get a room at St. Mary's so I am sent away to "labor at home." If you've ever been given this diagnosis, it's about the most boring and disappointing news a 9 1/2 month pregnant woman can be given. I call into work and talk with Boss Tom, he tells me to stay home and they realize I'm having a baby and not to worry about work - this helps my mind rest at least, but now what would I do to keep busy?

For the next two days, we help our brother and sister-in-law landscape their new yard. I was told some activity would help regulate the contractions and may get Baby Buell here. Also, Brandon wasn't letting me out of his sight, so to the landscape party I went. (He was very well-intentioned, but watched me like maybe the baby would fall out and without his ever-present watchful eye, my lackadaisical self wouldn't notice nor let him know.)

The weekend came and went with no baby. We would have been smart to change our outgoing voice messages to reflect that, but our family and friends love us and it was nice to get to chat with EACH AND EVERY ONE of them.

Monday July 20 arrives. After landscaping Jordan and Holly's house, we figured we may as well finish up the landscaping on our new patio. In June my wonderful dad, Rusty, and Brandon had totally remodeled our small deck into a two-level deck with patio; complete with a dining area and fire pit. This must have done the trick, or so I thought, because for 8 hours that day; at 5 minute intervals, I had fairly strong contractions! I wasn't going to jump the gun and go screaming into St. Mary's, so I gave the contractions 8 hours before calling the nurse. Of course, with that information, I was instructed to head to St. Mary's and "good luck" as it sounded like Baby Buell would be joining us soon! OH BOY!! We're really going to have our baby this time! We get checked in, checked out and settle in for what we think could really be the big event. Again, my cervix checks out at 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. I'm instructed to walk the halls for 2 hours to see if that makes me dilate more. Around 11:30, I'm checked again and I haven't changed at all, still 2-3 and 50-60, I'm sent home, but given something to help me sleep since by this point, I've been awake for about a week. I cry a bit on the way home. Maybe I'll be pregnant forever.


I did some drawings and Dad and Brandon turned them into this great patio! Brandon built the rails, which turned out really cool.









At my 39 week appointment, (at which, I was technically 39 1/2 weeks) I was still contracting and was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60 % effaced. Dr. Clevidence (God bless him; truly) decides that enough is enough and he calls St. Mary's to schedule an induction. They have availability that coming Saturday (as they don't want to do anything until someone has actually reached their 40 week mark) at 11:3O a.m.. So that was it, it was set; we would have our bouncing baby girl sometime on July 25. Much relieved we spent much of the rest of that week on our new patio talking with neighbors and imagining our life with our new family member. What would she be like? Who would she look like? Would she get my red hair? Brandon's face? My jokes? Brandon's negotiation? We even helped our dear friends, the Hermsmeiers, paint their living room - hey, if I did enough activity to have that baby on my own, I wasn't completely opposed to it.
Friday, July 24 (our actual due date) we finish up our wills with our attorney (our future was much clearer to us now, and caring for our progeny took a more prominent place in our minds), go out for dinner, and make all the necessary phone calls about tomorrow's big events.
Saturday morning comes! You know we didn't sleep at all that night, we get up early and get going, we're almost giddy!! We leave our house in Cottage Grove and make plans for a big circle around town to get our errands ran and can make it to the hospital by 11:30. (Brandon and I need things to do to keep our minds busy.) We stop off at Oregon to drop our dogs off with Jordan and Holly who will be babysitting our furkids while we're at the hospital. We continue further west to pick up my mom's ring from being repaired at the jeweler. She asks, "what are you guys doing today?" As nonchalantly as I can, "We're having the baby." She said she'd never been told that before. I suspect that she's telling the truth. From the jeweler we go to Denny's for some breakfast, since I'd been told that I wouldn't be able to eat anything once I was checked in at the hospital. We hit the beltline and are minutes from the hospital. Brandon and I look at each other and giggle, we're having our baby today!
My cell phone rings. It's the hospital. Too many women went into labor the night before (it had been a full moon) and they don't have enough beds, would I mind coming tomorrow morning? I could have 5:30 or 7:30. I pick 5:30, I hadn't been sleeping at night anyhow, so what was a couple of hours AND if they were in the habit of making bump calls, I was already going to be there! So what to do now? Cry for a second and head home. We order Chinese, play farkle on the patio and then answer the phone; "no, we're home, there was no room at the hospital, no really, no we're not kidding, yes we go tomorrow at 5:30, no, we're serious."

Sunday, July 26, 5:30 a.m. we're checked in at St. Mary's labor and delivery department. They had been expecting us; finally. We get into our room, my folks show up - they had committed to spending the entire day with us, so they could finally meet their first natural grandchild. About 20 minutes to 7, I get my first dose of misoproxil (I am a candidate for this procedure over a pitocin induction because I was in labor, but my cervix wasn't changing) after 4 hours I will be checked for any changes and the next course of action will be determined. I had several wonderful nurses, with whom we chatted and got to know while we waited. One, who seemed to be familiar with a misoproxil induction knew about the 4 hour rule, and discussed with me the options at the end of the first dose; a second dose, a different drug, being sent home to labor at home. I figured she had to be kidding! I think I politely said, "I'm not going home." She was kidding right? I looked at my mom, who saw that idea was almost too much for me and smiled in her way. In the back of my mind I comforted myself with the idea that Dr. Clevidence wouldn't support that plan, that's why I was being induced in the first place, right! She had to be mistaken and hadn't read my whole chart.
Around 11 a.m. I am checked again, would you believe I was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60%? A second dose is administered, they also placed an I.V. in case they needed to administer medication to me in a timely manner. This second dose intensified the contractions and I start to feel really uncomfortable. I used the birthing ball, wandered the halls, sat in the tub, anything I could do to maintain comfort and stave off the use of an epidural. I figured I was tough enough to do this without an epidural and if I could keep myself comfortable, I would. Halfway through this second dose, I had contractions every minute, my mom would come watch them on the monitor and point out to me when I'd have them and how strong they were. (I knew.) At this point I received a shot of pain medicine through my I.V. which helped me to relax my muscles and breathing between contractions. I figured we'd be at go time soon and that thought kept me occupied enough that I was confident that when my cervix was checked at the end of the 4 hours I would be at the magical 10 c.m.
3 p.m. arrives, I'm almost excited to be checked, I had been enjoying such strong contractions, I just knew I'd be complete. Guess what! 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. No, I'm not kidding. The nurse calls Dr. Clevidence to see which course of action he thinks we should take. He suggests breaking my water. So at about 3:30, he breaks my water. It feels like the biggest warmest pee accident a person could have, now I know my time in the tub is up, all I want to do is wipe. They look at the clock, tell me it takes about 1 hour to dilate 1 centimeter and I should be having the baby yet that evening. They show me the call button and to let them know if I needed anything and that they'd go out to let me rest up for a while and they'd check on me in a bit. We all breathe a sigh of relief, she'd really be here sometime today! My folks decide that since they have 7 hours they'd go for coffee. I joked and told them, I'd hang out in my room 'til they got back. After about an hour I realize the difference in the contractions I'd been having and what BIG contractions were. WHOA - this was some pain. I glance at the clock, 4:30. I squeeze Brandon's hand and tell him, through my teeth, "I am giving up, I can't do this for 6 more hours, I changed my mind, I am not being tough anymore and I want that epidural! NOW!" He looks in my eyes and sees that I'm serious and dashes out the door to find my nurse.
After a bit he returns with my nurse, Amy. She is fantastic, really knowledgeable, I like her and trust her. She says "I need to check you before we can give you your epidural." She checks, looks at me and says she'll be right back. Where could she be going? What was wrong? Could I still be at 2-3 c.m.?? She returns with the resident, she checks me as well. She tells us, that we'll be having a baby that day. We thought that seemed like silly news since that was our whole plan for that day anyhow. She tells us, she'll be right back with Dr. Clevidence. Now I worry. What was wrong? Was Baby Buell in trouble? Did some hidden male parts show themselves? Did I poop? They get Dr. Clevidence, he gets his gloves almost on and they lift the sheet so he can see what was going on. Nurse Amy gets in my sight line and says, "guess what? You're going to get that natural childbirth you wanted, you're complete, it's time to push."
Whoa! That's what all the pain was. I changed 7 c.m. in an hour. She was already crowning, Brandon took a glance and confirmed that information. Here's the good part about taking 7 hours to dilate 7 centimeters; you "stretch." The good news about taking 1 hour to dilate 7 centimeters is, you dilate 7 centimeters in 1 hour. The bad news, you do less stretching and more tearing, like in all directions, the pain I had felt was actually my vagina being torn by the baby as she was making her way south. OUCH!
The nurse places the birthing equipment under me, they wheel in the surgical table and Dr. Clevidence almost gets his coat on when I scream, "I want to poop!" They say that's good and to try, I push 3 times. With the first 2 Brynn is out, the placenta followed with the 3rd. Brandon watches and reports up to me the progress each one brings. "Her head is out!" "She's perfect!" I confirm that it is indeed a girl. It is. They place her on my chest. I try to hold her, but my muscles are jello from adrenaline and pushing and I fear that I'll drop her. Brandon asks if I want to hold her some more, I said, "take her to my mother" I could hear that my folks had tried to come into the room with their coffee, while I was pushing and Brandon yelled, "it's not a good time!"
From the door I could hear when my mother saw my baby, "She looks just like Bridgie!" and my dad started snapping pictures. They already liked her, strike that, already LOVED her.
While I was being sewn up and getting the chord blood collected, which took an hour, Brandon volleyed from my folks to me carrying our precious bundle. He was smiling so big, he looked like he'd been carrying a baby everyday of his life and she was totally comfortable with him.

I couldn't believe it, I had a baby girl, she was perfectly healthy and she looked just like me.
Here's what I knew for certain: I was in a hospital bed, holding a miniature version of myself. A perfectly healthy, darling who belonged to me.
She took a look at me and knew that I was hers. Within a few minutes she'd figured out how to nurse. She made me look like I knew what I was doing. She didn't cry, she watched the activity around her, held my finger and owned everyone around her. She was wiped clean, weighed and placed back in my arms.

We got wheeled to our room for the rest of our stay, where Brandon's family met their newest family member. My mom and dad headed out so they could get some rest, I was looking forward to doing the same and just holding and looking at Brynn Alicyn Buell who finally came to the world on July 26 at 5:05 p.m. weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 20 inches long. After being there nearly 12 hours we'd arrived a twosome and were now a threesome.
How could any day compete with that? We had the love of our lives in each other and now with each other. Despite my shortcomings, I was blessed beyond measure.

Was that my water?

We're at 33 weeks now - things are moving right along, and that's good. I would guess I'm at the, "I'm tired and uncomfortable all the time" stage of pregnancy and getting anxious for Brynn to make her debut.

I'll put a disclaimer right here - the post you are about to read is graphic and honest. If you don't want some personal information about me and pregnancy, stop reading now. Okay, fair is fair; you want to read and I want to write, we're in agreement you will now be privvy to some privy.

Last week Thursday, June 4, I noticed on two occasions that my pants were wet. Not dripping like I just exited a pool wet, but wet. I am 31 years old and I know what it feels like to urinate. Not having the typical, "I just peed" sensation and noticing the wetness I thought maybe this was the "my water broke" moment I'd seen on TV and in movies so many times. Which as you know is followed by 10 minutes of contractions and a woman screaming and then they're holding a clean, lovely baby.

Upon leaving the ladies' room, I polled a couple co-workers. "What was it like when your water broke?" "Mine never broke, I had a c-section." "I had contractions and went to the hospital, they broke it for me." Hmm, this was information, that although generously offered, gave little insight. What next? Let's ask my old friend Google. Let's just see what they had to say on the topic of water breaking. Hmm, more ambiguity. I sent a text to Baby Daddy, "wet pants water broke?" He wrote back suggesting I call the doctor. Not wanting to be the lady who thought her water may be breaking and didn't call the doctor, I did. They said, "get to St. Mary's." Apparently the symptoms I described over the phone sounded like water breaking to them. So I call Baby Daddy and my mom and give them the update, my water may have broke and I'm on my way to the hospital. I drive to the hospital in a panic. "Oh no, I don't have an overnight bag, I don't have a car seat, oh no, oh no, what will we do, what if she comes and she's way too little? oh no, oh no." You know all those things that run through your mind, when you feel completely unprepared for something. Not one reassuring thought came to me.

I get to St. Mary's and check in at OB triage two minutes before Baby Daddy (Brandon) arrived.
Once settled into our room, I get a fetal heart rate monitor and contraction monitor attached to my belly. The heart rate is really regular and the nurse said it was just how they like it to be at this stage in the game. She also noticed that I didn't seem to be having any regular contractions, so that was good too. I explain to her that, I felt a bit foolish, but didn't want to really be experiencing labor and not to have gone to be checked out. She told me that was what they had the whole OB triage center for, and that it was better to be safe than sorry.

An hour or so goes by and heart rate and all other vitals still seem to be fine. Nurse explains the test we will be having to know for sure if we are indeed leaking amniotic fluid. A long cotton swab is to be inserted near the cervical opening, held for one minute, and then placed in a solution that will test for amniotic fluid. Hey, being pregnant you get to enjoy more than one encounter of new people and things with your cervical opening (which is just another name for vagina), so this long slender cotton swab didn't seem to pose too much threat.

WHOA!! Hold on a minute! The kind nurse, who works in OB triage, who, I thought, would be more than capable of this cotton swab test - I mean everyone who comes in shows their "goods" right? She goes in for the collection portion of the exam and misses!! I don't know what she hit, my guess had always been that I had exactly 3 holes, but the space that she insisted on poking that swab was not one of them, oh and not just poke but leave there for the requisite ONE minute. I said, "ow!" She said, "oh, there are so many folds."
So many folds? What does that mean? Do I have an abnormal number of folds? Should I be calling the Guinness people? So many like, 7? or 2?
Instead of replacing the swab, we leave this one here and watch all 60 seconds tick by. When she opens the vial of reactant to place my swab in, it's empty! No reactant solution! We need to repeat the swab part of the test! Yay - you can imagine my excitement for the re-test. This time she double checks beforehand and indeed there is reactant in the vial. She also finds the right "spot" with the swab - as I suspected when in the right spot, the swab didn't cause any pain.

I'll mention here that for several days following the poke heard 'round the world, that using the bathroom was quite uncomfortable. Also, I asked Baby Daddy, if indeed my fold situation was unlike others he was familiar with, in his limited experience, and how he was able to locate the appropriate place with such a high degree of accuracy. We determined that at worst he was shooting 60% and the OB nurse had scored 1 out of 2 times, therefore acquiring an overall score of 50%.

So when all was said and done and the swab was placed in the test vial, it did not react and therefore was not amniotic fluid. Which is a relief, because as anxious as we are to meet Baby Brynn, we didn't want it to be quite this soon.

So what was going on? Another 45 minutes go by and the Resident comes in and explains the wetness in my pants may have been an increase in vaginal secretions OR that as baby is getting ready to come out and has moved lower in my pelvis, she can actually hit my bladder, sending pee out that I don't feel as urination. Great, so I peed myself without the sensation of peeing myself. Gross. Will I start shatting myself without the sensation of shatting myself now too? UGH! I am so ready for this to be over, Depends undergarments and back up pants are not something I want to be toting around for the next month.

So while we are still "lost in the folds" ahem, of pregnancy, I'll be updating more of my journey. I hope I've not shared too much or that if I have you've related and chuckled along with me as maybe you or someone close to you has had the same experience.

The Placenta Monologues no. 3

May 24, 2008
Oh boy, oh boy! Hear that Centa? We're going to a wedding! I love weddings, the people, the love, the flowers, the cake, and of course DANCING!!

Gosh, Centa, Ma sure is spending a lot of time trying to make herself look and smell pretty. Too bad she still looks like she lost a fight with a bees nest and is all swollen and poofy. Poor thing . . . I'm sure with our help she'll be looking better soon. I mean it can't get much worse!

So, the part of the wedding at the church was okay, the bride looked so pretty and her flowers smelled so nice. After that I got McNuggets at McDonald's 'cause Ma got real hungry and didn't think she'd last 3 hours without food, which was okay with me, since I really really like nuggets.

The next part of the day was at a really pretty building near Lake Monona. There were all kinds of people there all dressed up. Then we went into a room were we ate chicken and then it was time to DANCE!! I love to dance, I mean it is so fun, I just bounce around, kick my feet, wave my arms and swing my cord! Apparently, Ma is one heck of a dancer too . . . I overheard a surprise! While Ma was out on the floor shaking it big time and doing a cross between disco and the running man, the DJ said, "That baby's gonna be a rock star!" Did you hear that, Centa? A ROCK STAR! I am so excited, not decided yet on guitar, bass or vocals, but a rock star none-the-less!

The Placenta Monologues

May 1, 2009
WHOA Centa!! I can see you a bit more clearly now and no offense, but you're ugly!! I thought you were a toy. Granted, the most boring toy ever, but something for my amusement none the less, you are ugly and not a toy at all!!
You're soft and warm, but oh yuck, Centa have you looked in a mirror??? I've got bad news, our living arrangements suck and now this, not a toy, not a blanket, no t.v. no facebook . . . I hate it here.
My room is dark and damp, it's like living in a basement and Ma's upstairs. She'll probably start charging rent soon . . .
I hope she see's that guy with the low voice soon, he's so nice and usually takes us somewhere.

The Placenta Monologues

Brandon (Baby Daddy) and I have fun pretending what Brynn is doing in utero. In fact we've made up a few situations that make us giggle, so I thought (until I get bored, distracted or otherwise just don't think it's funny anymore) I'd share here a number of posts called, "The Placenta Monologues."

Let me set the stage for you, Baby Daddy and I are both highly social, talkative people with short attention spans. Please do not use that against us or doubt our integrity, work ethic, or intelligence, it is just the case that we never run short of things to chat about. We suspect that with that kind of "skill set" coming from both genomes, our daughter will be a chatterer as well. She may even be holding conversations with her only companion right now, that companion is of course, Placenta or "Centa" as we imagine she's so familiar, she's given the placenta a nickname.

April 24, 2009
Centa, I'm glad you're here. I'm very bored and "you know who" is hardly ever paying attention to me. I hear her over and over, "Hello, this is Bridget at the Lottery." What does that even mean? Sometimes she pokes into my room and I try to reach her, but these damned fingers are good for nothing, so I just smack a fist at her.
Centa? Have you been here this whole time? Remember back to the holidays? Those were fun, so much going on and new places to stop and use the bathroom at. I was not cramped in here at all. Now it seems like she just sits. I hope tonight she sends down another one of those root beer floats. They really make me burp, but are they good . . .

Yes I'm pregnant, no you may not.

So, I realize I don't write often, sorry.

I'm sure anyone who reads this, who has ever been pregnant will find some truth to my rantings, my husband; however, thinks I'm just being angry.

Okay, so as "beautiful" as pregnancy is (and catch the hint of sarcasm here) it's personal, happening to some one's body, and EACH of us who has been born lived in a pregnant person for some point in our lives! As for the beauty aspect of this procedure, anyone ever pass gas while pregnant, or belched and had food come out, or acquired a new bodily odor, or developed super greasy hair or complexion, or had their feet look like baked potatoes, or leaked anything from anywhere or developed dark circles? You get my point, it ain't so "beautiful."

So, pregnancy is not that uncommon actually, look around, see anybody? They were born and therefore had 50% participation in a pregnancy. Why then, do people who you don't know, don't care about, don't speak to, don't respect the opinions of, offer anecdotes to you, offer you information on any topic under the sun and/or insist on touching you? I apologize here to any "well intentioned" person who falls into that category, but I've been doing my best to let all those "well intentions" roll off my back, but I've had a rough week and am feeling like addressing the feelings I'm experiencing - after all they are part of this miracle called pregnancy and everyone feels that my business is now their business right?

Okay, so the topic of breastfeeding, why is it anyone's business? Why would anyone care? Why would anyone have any interest, what-so-ever, in what I do with my ta tas? Why do you think I care about what you do with your ta tas?

I found it interesting the first few times I was asked, but by now I'm just plain old sick of the topic. You're pregnant, either people can see that or they've been told . . . why is the VERY NEXT question, "are you going to breastfeed?" I personally was shocked as Hell to learn I was expecting and it took a while for me to process that information alone, I did not need to be dragged into a discussion on what to feed the baby once it got here! I am not for or against breastfeeding, I don't really care, so WHY is it the topic everyone is dying to discuss?

Yes, I get the benefits, I can read about them all day if I want. I don't need your dissertation on the subject. Also, I understand the negatives and those too can be read about ad nauseum.

Pumping, nipple calluses, colostrum, milk storage, nipple preparedness, latching, side-switching etc. not topics for work, not topics to be discussed with your supervisor, not topics for me to discuss with hardly anyone! Let me share with you what my supervisor (yes my boss) shared with me yesterday and I'll let you know that this conversation came right on the heals of the Governor's speech on cutting my pay and possibly my job! I may not be 100% sure of what I'll feed the baby once she arrives, but if mommy's got no job or health insurance it won't much matter!

Preface - this conversation took place in the office, in my work unit; not in a private area like a conference room or a restroom. "Bridget, you're going to breastfeed right?" "I'll try, I'm not committed one way or the other." (My first unsuccessful attempt at "not your business, boss.") "Oh well you'll have to the first couple days while you're at the hospital anyway." "Oh." "What you've got to do is; and my daughters told me I was right after they had their babies and didn't do it is, when you're in the shower take a washcloth and really rub on your nipples, it'll really hurt and be sore, but you need to start getting a callus. Start doing it now, you're already 7 months." I don't say much at this point, but my jaw has dropped. "Oh are you using butter?" "What? No." "Cocoa butter, on your belly so you don't get stretch marks?" "Oh yes I do use the cocoa butter, I don't have any marks, my belly is just pale white, but smooth." "Oh and know where else you need to use it? Your boobs and your butt, my boobs look like a road map now." She pulls down her shirt so I can see, obliging I raise my shirt and show part of my smooth pale belly. She continues, "Yeah my husband jokes about my nipples now, they're huge, my kids had a mouthful." "Oh," I put my head down and walk back to my desk.

Why did I need to have that experience? I don't know, but I promise you this, dear reader, unless you ask specific questions about my pregnancy, I will not offer you unsolicited advice.

Oh yeah sure, it's just part of my body, go ahead and touch.

I've seen a number of men with protruding stomachs, a large percentage of non-pregnant women have them too. I've never run up and felt their bulges or stared for long periods of time at the parts of their structure that go past their skeletons. You get pregnant though, and the one thing that you're supposed to be protecting and keeping healthy is now property of the world. I don't let just anyone touch my dogs or come in my house, why would I welcome your grubby little hands to investigate my person. Until I was in "the family way" I just didn't realize how real of an experience the belly touching phenomenon is, I thought those women were simply exaggerating their encounters, not so. Strangers and non-friends are the first groups to grope.

I have been asked by very considerate, but curious people if they could touch the belly or feel the baby kick. To them, I give an enthusiastic, "Yes, sure, let me help you feel where she's moving the most." To other people, with whom I feel comfortable, I offer, "Would you like to touch the belly?" Or, "She's moving now, do you want to feel?" In these instances, I am very happy to share my experiences, and to experience something very personal with you. It is exciting that she's moving around in there and getting bigger and stronger all the time.

I wish that Brandon could have more of the "female" participation in this. He would really enjoy the special bonding time and being around for all of those kicks and movements. In addition to his being more parental than me, he's taller with a longer torso and wouldn't look quite so much like a baked potato.

Here is a recent shot of the belly and Brynn's room, it's nearly complete!

Bridget, Brandon, Michael and Samantha.

Brynn's crib (thank you, Mimi and Grampy!), bookcase and the rocker Grandma Hud gave us.

Brandon did all the painting and my Grandma Hud and I made the drapes.

So what is it?

Our minds are still reeling from the 7 weeks we've known we'd be having a baby, even though we're at week 22. You'd be in a jumble too. Most expectant couples spend those first 2 months sharing an intimate secret, picking names, dreaming about what the misses would look like with a baby belly, thinking about how they'd tell their parents that soon they'd be grandparents, and all those plans that people make. Instead of 2 months, we had 2 days of those secret plans before my belly popped and the "world" knew we were pregnant. Not that I'm making excuses, I'm just saying there's been a lot to digest in a short period of time with an even shorter period of time to get ready for baby. We hit the ground running, we're like the Marines of pregnancy, we not only just jumped out of a helicopter, but there was no parachute and we're landing in a rice pattie full of Charlie.

So when you find out you're pregnant at week 17, and have a 20 week ultrasound where the sonographer can determine the sex of your baby, you figure you might as well know, right? I mean since you're now into knowing things the more the better, and people are going to ask.

So we're excited now because all that waiting had been killing us, 3 whole weeks to find out if baby Buell is a boy or a girl!?
Have you had an ultrasound? Have you been told about this "full bladder" business?? Have you tried to maintain even the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder? Have you ever tried to maintain the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder while you've been 5 months pregnant? This is like sniper training, if the rest has been like being in the Marines. So, Brandon picks me up to make our appointment with the sonographer, I've now had 2 - 16.9 oz. bottles of water and a 12 oz. bottle of juice to ensure that indeed my bladder is good and full as they require. "DON'T DRIVE CRAZY!" "DON'T HIT ANY BUMPS!" We make it to the clinic. Brandon drops me at the door and I waddle in, he parks the truck and meets me inside. "There will be a short wait"; perfect. We take our seats across from and older gentleman sitting by himself. After a failed attempt at reading 'National Geographic en Espanol', Brandon finds himself looking around the waiting room, he sees a restroom and uses it. I hate him with every ounce of my being for that. Once Brandon returns, the older gentleman strikes up a conversation with us. Topic of this conversation - his colonoscopy. Right now discussing someone else's trips to the bathroom are near the bottom of my list of things to discuss, particularly with a stranger. Not that I don't have compassion for my fellow man or the polyps they've found in this man, I just needed to keep my brain away from discussions involving toilets, bowels, frequency, etc. I've been holding it now for about 20 minutes, to alleviate the stress on my bladder I stand up. I now have the attention of the entire waiting room crowd, including the receptionist who makes a face at me like, "oh no, please don't let her be a terrorist." I grimaced and said with my best, trying to be quiet but still moving my lips voice, "I just really have to pee." She, looking relieved, started up a tutorial on how I could maybe use some trick . . . the door opened and the technician called me back. Whew! Boy was I excited to get this appointment moving! I hop up on the table and the sonographer starts the exam. "Whoa, your bladder is too full. You need to get some of that out." On the screen is a BIG BLACK BLOB underneath that, a tiny shuddering fetus. "Is that my bladder?" "Yes, take this cup and fill it twice, then I'll be able to see your baby better." She hands me a 12 oz. styrofoam coffee cup. I fill it twice and come back to the exam feeling much relieved. She starts again, with what she had described as a 2 hour exam. "It's still too full, go fill the cup twice again." I'm not one to brag, or maybe I am, but it required some pretty mad ninja skills to stop peeing after two cupfuls the first time, but if I had 2 hours before I'd be "going" for real, I took a stab at filling that cup for the second time. Success! Again I get back up on the table for the exam. STILL TOO FULL, she tells me just to go and empty my bladder until I am comfortable. (Remember, you and I have been told that a full bladder is of the utmost importance in getting a good ultrasound picture.) Now I go to the toilet and, nothing. My body had decided that this was some kind of evil torture and to hold on. After 5 minutes I finally started to pee and got it all out.

Back up on the table for the 3rd time, we start the exam. Brandon and I keeping our eyes intent on the screen for a glimpse at what could tell us, boy or girl. The technician was very interested in measuring the head, it seemed like she measured and re-measured the size of baby's head for an hour. As much as we want all parts to be "normal" and functioning, the head was not really the body part of intrigue today. She keeps measuring and remeasuring things, time ticking away and no big announcement. Instead, after like an hour and a half of looking at the "head." She calmly says, "Well, I'm not seeing a penis." Brandon and I look at each other and both say, "but isn't that the head?" "No that's not the head, that's the abdomen." Relieved we both say, "good because we wouldn't want one there. So what are you telling us?" She says, "I think you're getting a pink one." (Secretly that's what we wanted and were delighted out of our skin, but wanted to maintain our "we're really glad so long as it's healthy" faces.) I want to know just how confident she is with her guess. "I work at the Lottery and do a fair bit of explaining odds, tell me out of how many total guesses you've been correct." She says 99%. Good enough for us. As we leave the clinic we call all the grandparents and aunts and uncles to tell them the news. We were particularly concerned with Grandma Buell as she had instructed us to have a girl.

So that's the story, Brynn Alicyn will arrive sometime in July.
Now the fun part - shopping!

You'll shoot your eye out.

I'm 18 weeks pregnant now and these past few days have been eye-opening. No, I probably won't shoot them out they're open so wide, but what you've heard is true, you can pee your pants. I'd heard it before and thought, "losers, I'm fully potty-trained, I ain't gonna pee my pants no matter what."

He he he, life will smack you in the head, I mean read my previous post if you want to see about life and collisions with my head.

So Monday night I'm getting ready to leave the house for a music class and decide I'd better use the bathroom before I'm stuck in the class for a couple hours, on my way to the bathroom, I sneeze three times. "Achoo, Achoo, Achoo, I peed!" Brandon follows me on my run to the bathroom, where we survey the damage and both laugh until we cry.

Today at work, I giggled and you guessed it, more pee. I use pantyliners now. I guess I'll be relying on them until July.

I hate being pregnant.

Telling your husband he's a "baby daddy."

So if you've read my blog before you probably get that I'm not a huge "baby person", nor has it been my life's dream/plan/vision to make babies. That being said, it's actually a pretty humorous story how we find ourselves in the boat of expectant parents.

If you go back to my nose job post http://rantsandcommentswithbibi.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-nose.html, that takes us all the way back to October. At that point in time we tossed around the idea of baby makin', but because I'd be having surgery we waited to "try" until after I was free and clear of the surgery and pain meds, besides looking at those pictures I was, "none too sexy." We make an "attempt," I have a negative pregnancy test and what I think is a period a couple weeks later. Whew! Scary, but looks like we're in the clear! Besides the holidays are coming and I've got traveling to do and that massive Thanksgiving meal to prepare, I don't have time to be pregnant and I wasn't 100% on that plan anyhow.

I have some weight gain and a couple pimples, but who didn't put on a little weight over the holidiays? In addition to recovering from my surgery and "taking it easy" I added a bulging disc to the equation and could barely walk, so exercise took a back seat. Now those extra pounds and sleepiness don't seem completely out of the norm.

Holiday parties commence and just to be sure it's safe to partake in the free-flowing booze I take another pregnancy test just to be sure that's not the reason for the weight gain. Again, negative. So I live up the holiday season adding a squishiness to my middle, but writing it off as my back problem and the holiday eating. I've had 2 negative pregnancy tests by now and not really a "missed" period. Yes the periods were "different," but not non-existent.

Here I'll tell you about my sister. I am the older sister by 15 months. For my entire life, I've been strong and healthy. In recent years I've endured some interesting health situations, but nothing life-threatening or chronic. Two years ago my thyroid went crazy and I had what is called, Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. This is a temporary thyroid condition that allowed me to experience EVERY POSSIBLE thyroid symptom. I went from being very hyper-thyroid to very hypo-thyroid. Insomnia, diarrhea, hair falling out, constipation, weight loss, weight gain, falling asleep in the middle of the day, skin rashes, holes through my fingernails, and a bunch of other symptoms that came and went over the course of the year that it took my body to re-regulate and correct itself. With that in mind, those "pregnancy" symptoms that most people pick up on, I was able to dismiss, especially since I didn't suffer any type of morning/day/night sickness, and the few days I didn't feel great were during cold and flu season and everyone seemed to not feel "awesome." My sister on the other hand, has suffered numerous breast and ovarian cysts, she's even had surgery to remove these from her body. When I described an "ache" in my side to her (an R.N.) she seemed to think that I too could now be suffering from an ovarian cyst.

We're now into January and a few weeks ahead of my expected January period. My sister said to keep an eye on it and call my doctor if the ache persisted. I wait a few weeks, take ANOTHER pregnancy test (also negative) and call the doctor. They agree that my symptoms do sound like a cyst and that some Ibuprofen and my period (when it comes) should take care of it. Well that period never came. I take another pregnancy test - you guessed it, NEGATIVE and yes, I used my pee not Brandon's or the dogs'. That's 4 negative pregnancy tests, so I call the doctor and say I really should get in for an appointment, because in addition to this pesky cyst, my throat is sore and I should get a strep test too. So on Thursday, February 5, I get into the doctor. I pee in a cup so they can see if there's a bladder infection or something else going on causing my abdominal pain. Naturally, the doctor decides to perform a pelvic exam to get a handle on this cyst. So picture it, I'm up on the table, feet in the stirrups, doctor "in there", nurse holding my legs and a knock at the door. I say "everybody come on in", I mean who would want to miss this party, I'm doing my big show after all? The voice at the door belongs to the laboratory technician and she says, "it's positive." Now there are eyes at me. I say, "what's positive, I haven't had my strep test yet." The faces attached to those eyes realize that I have no idea what they are talking about, how they all got it so quickly I don't know, but I'm pretty embarrassed by my ignorance. The nurse, so sweet, says "congratulations, you're pregnant!" I don't think I blinked through the rest of the appointment. The doctor continues the pelvic exam takes a guess at 10-12 weeks along and schedules me for an ultrasound so we can pinpoint my real due date and when this "blessed event" occurred. The doc also checked, and no strep either.

Those home tests, can be wrong - very wrong. The doctor told me that in addition to testing too early, you can test too late. Apparently so, since I was about 12 weeks for the last test I took.

Still in shock, I leave the clinic and call Brandon. "Where are you?" "In a meeting in Cottage Grove for another 20 minutes." "Okay, come home when you're done." I could wait for 20 minutes to tell him that his dream was coming true, right? The dream that he's had since we met that I did not share, but figured we could have a happy life without despite that. I'll be honest and tell you that we've often talked about divorcing so he could pursue a life and a marriage that could provide him with his life-long dream of fatherhood. Don't hate me here, I was trying to provide an out for him if a life with me didn't truly make him happy. I would be perfectly happy living to a ripe old age never pushing a person out of my body, and then raising said person to a level of competency that would allow them to grow up, and one day make me into a grandmother. After all those discussions, we decided to pursue our life together and look into other avenues to satisfy that parenting instinct.

So 50 minutes later (if you know Brandon, 20 minutes is just an initial negotiation point) he finally gets home. I meet him at the door with the camera and say, "I don't have strep, we're having a baby."

I think within 24 hours he'd told everyone we'd ever met.

The Saturday after we found out we we're expecting, (2 days later) I had to buy maternity pants, as the belly literally popped out. I had gone up two pant sizes in the previous 4 months and was relieved that I wasn't just getting fatter.

Whew! That's the story of how we found ourselves here, pregnant, not knowing for all that time (at our ultrasound that next week, they determined that we were 17 weeks - and indeed that "try" that we'd made back in October had took. This is the speediest pregnancy ever. We find out we're pregnant, get a cute "belly", and at our 20 week ultrasound next week, we find out if it's a boy or a girl.

Oh and in case you're interested, here's a copy of the email I sent that Monday to my co-workers announcing my pregnancy.

Bridget M - DOR
Sent: Monday, February 09, 2009 8:13 AM
To: DOR DL (LOT)ALL
Subject: Mmmmm doughnuts

Hi there,

Firstly, I want to express my sincerest apology to those of you who, over the past 3 months, may have experienced one of my many mood swings or have been trampled by me on my stampede to the ladies' room. Secondly, I'd like to express appreciation to those of you who may have noticed an increase in acne or a pronounced weight gain and didn't feel the need to point it out to me. (Trust me, I'm aware of it.) My guess is that over the next 6 months the weight will continue to increase and in addition to acne and trips to the restroom, I may experience a whole host of interesting symptoms.

So in honor of you and your patience and understanding there are doughnuts in the tel-sell lounge. Please help yourself.

Sincerely,
Bridget and Belly

Type O Hero!

So yesterday we had our first appointment with our doctor - actually not the first time we've met him. He's been our "regular" doctor for about 8 years now. Now he's just putting on his OB hat; and I'm putting on weight and maternity pants. They took blood, pee and measurements. I'm told that this is standard operating procedure from here on out. I guess so far, so good. Our doctor, thankfully, is taking the "it's not a problem, unless you make it a problem" approach to our pregnancy; and since we didn't know we were pregnant until we were 4 months in, this will suit our personalities just fine. We are now scheduled for our second ultrasound (the first actually determined our due date, which is; drum roll . . . . July 24) and at this second one we should be able to learn the gender of what we've been referring to as "Belly." I will tell you that we're hoping for a girl, and I'll also tell you, "that a boy would be fine", because I am supposed to say that. Truthfully, so long as all of its parts are where they belong and "Belly" isn't predisposed to riding the short bus, we'll take what we get. It's just that all of our friends have just had boys and our sister-in-law is expecting a boy in 6 weeks; and it would be fun to shop in the "pink" section.

Oh so the "Type O Hero" thing - I have the rare blood type of O-. I know, you can hold your applause until I say something truly spectacular like this, "I am donating my cord blood" so if someone should need healthy cord blood from a healthy type O- gal it will be saved. Okay, that's all about that, but I am excited because it seems pretty space-age to me. The website of the company that will be preserving my cord blood is kinda cute about it, I'll paint a mind picture for you. Now that you're registered and you have your information kit, Step 1 - simply call us when you go into labor. We will prepare storage for your donation. (happy couple in car on way to hospital.) Step 2 - call us when you have delivered the baby and we will dispatch our courier service to pick up your donation (cute mother holding infant, while on telephone in hospital room.) Step 3 - our courier service brings your donation to our state-of-the art cryogenic facility (smiling man in van and then a picture of a stainless steel refrigeration unit with frost rolling out.)
That's it - you may have saved another life! Ta da!

A bun in the "proverbial" oven.

After careful planning and consideration, we're pregnant! Okay, so you "get" the messy details, and you know the kind of considerate words my husband was whispering or panting . . . ipso-facto, boom a baby B is on the way.

So anywho . . . we'll be celebrating our 9th wedding anniversary before baby arrives, we've had discussion after discussion, and feel pretty confident that we're as freaked out as the next guy. If teenagers can do it and the woman from California can have 14 - ahem, we'll NOT go down the road of how we feel about that, we suspect that with all the thinking, talking and "research" we've done, we'll be able to parent in our own unique and successful way and can mess up a kid with the same level of skill as those who haven't pre-thought . After all, you've never seen a pair of well-adjusted, kind, intelligent dogs like ours.

We are the kind of people that will put a fair amount of prayer in, leaning on our parents (after all, look how nice we turned out), and plain old shooting from the hip. If we can make a marriage work, we can do this. Right?

I guess this explains my fascination with Sonic Drive-In.
From here on out I'll try to get you the latest on the baby. First ultrasound is Friday the 13th! We'll know our due date then.

First Sonic Opens in Wisconsin!

Alright - I'm going to just put this out there. I am not a "fat" person, but I am a girl who eats and I was uber excited about the new Sonic opening in town. By the by, I'd love to see some comments on this post - have you eaten at Sonic, seen the commercials, recommendations . . .

Okay, so for probably 6 years now we've had T.V. commercials for something called Sonic. Never being at an actual Sonic, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why those people never left the parking lot (it makes sense now knowing it's a drive-in.) Also, the mere mental image of something called "cherry limeade" was enough to send me in to a frenzy. I mean what could be more delicious? You've got cherries - my favorite Kool Ade flavor, and limeade - hello! Key Lime Pie is my favorite thing on the planet, I even packed bottled key lime juice in my suitcase the last time we visited the Florida keys, just so I could continue to devour them at home. (I was ignorant to the fact that Nellie and Joe's Key Lime Juice was available at EVERY supermarket in the country. You know that now, don't make the same mistake I did.)

Okay so where was I??? Oh yes, Sonic . . . You all remember Hurricane Katrina? Well, my dad who is a hero of mine, went to New Orleans and lived in a camper for nearly 3 years after the tragedy, doing clean up to one of our nation's most interesting and historical cities. During that time, the rest of my family made several trips to the Crescent City to see him and to be together. One such time was for my 30th birthday, ahem, that's the last birthday I'm counting, FYI. Lucky for us we flew out of the now open New Orleans airport. The first few trips down were driven as they had not opened their airport yet. AND LO AND BEHOLD, what restaurant is in the New Orleans Airport???? SONIC!! My husband and I could hardly contain our joy - this place, this wonderful place that had tempted us and inhabited our dreams for 1/2 a decade was now within reach!! We could barely contain ourselves - what to choose??? Of course we want as broad an education in the fare available at this place as we could get at 9 in the morning! Is it breakfast? Is it lunch? Should we just get things from both menus?? Okay, we did and we washed it all down with cherry limeades - ahhhhh! I think breakfast burritos, fries and limeade is like traveling to 3 international countries for lunch. We were both pleased with our meals and were anxious for future opportunities to dine Sonic style again.

Drum roll please - rrrrrrrrrr Wisconsin's first Sonic opens in Madison, January 26, 2008!!! All week I've been out of my mind trying to get the perfect plan in place for visiting the holy land. It worked out for my schedule and my husband's and a friend of ours that Thursday would work for dinner at Sonic, by studying the traffic pattern, menus and folklore surrounding the opening of a new Sonic we felt we were best prepared to operate a successful dinner after just 3 short days of operation. The plan: leave for Sonic directly from work (4 p.m.), pick up our young friend and drive the 13 miles to Sonic, thus putting us into the "Sonic Staging Area" at 4:45. Perfect! We were the second car in the pattern. In addition to the 3 humans, we were going to allow our faithful pooch, Buster, to enjoy a bit of Sonic magic as well. Nothing warms the heart of the folks with walkie talkies working out in the cold like a fluffy little dog with a waggy tail.

FINALLY! It's our turn to leave the staging area and head down the block to the restaurant. (Really we didn't have to wait very long, because of our excellent planning.) We pull into the parking lot and wait for an open drive-in stall. Managing the traffic in the parking lot we're greeted by another man with a walkie talkie, who introduces himself as Paul Frautschi, owner of the new Sonic. We chat business for a bit and he suggests we wait for the 2nd open drive-in stall as a superior employee will be working that one and we'd receive better service!! How about that??!! Royalty? We felt like it last night at Sonic.

Because I'd been studying the menu for the past few days, I was fairly comfortable in placing my order, but my companions took a couple of moments to make their choices. Brandon selected the extra long coney dog combo with onion rings and sweet tea, and our friend chose the chicken strip basket with fries, onion rings, and a cherry limeade. Our food arrived quickly and was intoxicating us with the smell - YUMMMMmmmm! Only missing was our friend's onion rings which were quickly brought to us by "Smiley" our server (she lives up to the name Mr. Frautschi gave her.)

Commence Devouring.

We all shared portions of our selections with the others in our group and of course, Buster got to try a variety of things. He's particularly fond of the plain fries. Salty, hot, but not too hot.

When we'd finished our meals we decided that the dessert menu had better be made to pass inspection as well. Our friend and I had the $1 sundaes, mine with Oreos and hers with M&Ms, Brandon got the banana shake. Smiley brought them to us quickly, but forgot to charge us for them. Of course we gave her money to cover them and a bit for a tip.

The whole ride home was filled with laughter and reminiscences of our first trip to Sonic. Oh we'll be back, we're anxious for the breakfast menu and to sample the rest of the goodness served to you right at your car by the quickest and friendliest staff in town.

-dreamy harp music-

a quickie about work

Okay, so it's Thursday afternoon, I've just refilled my water cup, located some hard candy, and now my blood pressure is coming back down. I know you don't know where I work or what I do, but here's something that's just about to put me over the edge.

I work in phone sales. I and the other 9 people in my unit all make about 100 outbound calls daily. In addition to that, there's an inbound hotline that adds anywhere from 50 to 100 more calls to the day's workload. That's a pretty busy day - like, I'm sure, your work day is. On Fridays we have new products that are available. Some stores have signed up to receive new products automatically, "autodistribution" if you will. In addition to those store receiving new products the day they're available; the stores we call on Friday also have first dibs at new product. Today is Thursday. There are no new games today; however the people who pay attention and know that there are new games or would like more packs than their autodistribution is set for, when Friday morning rolls around, we can just send them the additional packs for delivery on Monday. This is a pretty basic service, our customers appreciate it and we ship additional product. Win - Win, right?

Okay, so you see my point here that telling those people when speaking to them today, Thursday, to go ahead and CALL BACK tomorrow, Friday, just to get those games, seems asinine. Talk about a shitty way of doing business and a "make tomorrow even busier than it needs to be" move.

I'm a big picture person and I understand sales. Let's say that person decides not to call back or gets too busy or whatever - now they've been without that product even longer, the customers didn't find it at their favorite location and it turns into a negative situation with hurt feelings and resentment? Let's just send them the packs.