— At my last appointment, I was gaining 2 lbs/week. I promptly informed my husband that we were no longer taking nightly trips to Dairy Queen for my Oreo blizzard. I also started walking more. Well, yesterday, despite those efforts, I’m still gaining 2 lbs/week. So, bring back the Dairy Queen!

— Sienna has officially dropped. All the way. In our birthing class, we learned about ‘stations’. For example, a “floating” baby who has not started to descend is at “Station -5”. A baby completely out of you and born has just passed “Station +5”. Station zero means baby is fully engaged and won’t get any further without pushing. Sienna is at “Station -1.” According to my doctor, who emphasized he does not give that position lightly, Sienna will not get any further down until I start pushing. I think she’s been down for a while, because I’ve noticed it is much more difficult to walk, and man, I pee a LOT!

— Dr. commented that Sienna is still very active and “excited.”

— He opined she’d weigh about 7 lbs “if” I got to my due date. (Apparently, a baby typically doesn’t drop as much as she has until about 2-4 weeks before delivery. I’m just outside of 4 weeks away).

— Tygh and I came up with our birth plan. We understand we need to write it down and the hospital will place our birth plan on every clipboard of every nurse, doctor, etc. who comes into my room. So we knew we had to have a good birth plan. I told our doctor our birth plan. It is this: “Get. baby. out. safe.” Seriously. That’s our birth plan.

— A cute Brae story. Brae generally is aware that there is someone — or thing — that people call ‘Sienna’. He knows there is pink stuff around the house and people refer to that stuff as belonging to ‘Sienna’. He knows that when people ask him where Sienna is, they want to see him point to my belly or kiss it. But then, well, at other times, he’s clueless. For example, the other day, he and I were playing basketball. He threw up his basketball and then he couldn’t find it (it was behind him). He was looking all around for it (except behind him). He’d say, “Mommy! Where’s my basketball?” with a confused look on his face. I’d say, “I don’t know. You have to keep looking.” Then, slowly, he’d get a little angry. His face started to scowl. His eyebrows started to furrow. Then, he looked accusingly at me, and pointed to my belly. “Mommy…..” he said, clearly implying I had hidden the basketball under my shirt.


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