After all my moaning and groaning about how I couldn't take it anymore, it turns out my mom is right -- no woman has ever been pregnant forever!
So here are the details about our little Mr. Noah Damon Gulli!
I'll give you all the painful and hilarious details as soon as I can. In the meantime, I've got a hungry, grumpy baby to go feed ...
Hi all, it's Joan from Only in York County, guest-posting with some big news:
Amy had her baby! Noah Damon was born at 2:15 a.m. Christmas Day, weighing 7 pounds, 12 ounces.
Got any good wishes for Amy, Noah, Damon and Sam? Leave them as comments and I'll pass them along!! I'm also going to visit next week, along with Kara, our business editor, so we'll try to get some photos posted, too.
Let me answer some of the questions I get asked about 10 times a day right now:
Haven't you had that baby yet? Nope. See this giant round thing in front of me? That's the baby, still inside me.
Are you still hanging around? Yup, still hanging around. I'm like a homeless puppy with an obvious broken leg who just won't go away and stop trying to elicit your sympathy.
The hospital suitcase is packed.
The baby's room is ready.
The baby clothes are washed, dried and folded in the armoire.
The diaper supplies are in place, both upstairs in his room and downstairs beneath the bassinet in the living room.
All feeding supplies are in place, though they still need a run through the dishwasher to sterlize them.
I'm at 37 weeks and 6 days. My left hip is so sore (and my abdominal muscles so out of commission) that I actually couldn't get myself off the couch last night; my husband had to pull me up.
It's time now, right? I've got all my major stuff done. The baby's been full-term for almost two weeks. I've been getting plenty of Braxton-Hicks.
So what's he waiting for?
I tried talking to Noah last night and explaining to him that if he really wants to stretch out his legs and turn himself around -- which he tries to do at least three times a day night, much to my pained dismay -- then he needs to come out now. I don't care how much he asks and just tries to keep doing it anyway inside me -- the answer is no. You want more space to wiggle around, buddy, you gotta come out. I'm not growing anymore.
My stern speech didn't work. It just gave him the hiccups.
I can't concentrate on anything right now. I just want to sit in the nursery and rearrange stuff and play with baby toys and rub soft baby clothes against my face and sniff the teeny travel bottles of baby lotion.
Work? Oh, wait, I'm still supposed to show up for that? Crap.
Grocery shopping? Yeah, right -- do you know how big that store is? And do you know I can make it to about aisle 4 before I've gotta sit down?
Pay bills? That would require me to stop looking at the Babycenter Web site and getting last-minute labor tips.
Mostly, I just want to hold him. I want to see him. I want to meet our little boy. I want to see Sam's face when she gets to meet him.
How did you survive the last few weeks of your pregnancies?
My body has been completely overtaken.
Let's start at the top and do an inventory, shall we?
Head
Remember the post that was a letter to my brain? I neglected to mention the part where it took me a week just to remember to post that note. Really. A whole freakin' week. To remember. To post an entry about not being able to remember stuff. And I'm looking back on those few weeks as still in the "good time" of my brain function.
