Even as I sit here and type in my living room (surrounded by baby gadgets, bottles, blankets, and an overwhelming sense of the color pink) … I can hardly believe that I have a daughter.  I am someone’s mother, and that someone happens to be a beautiful, perfect and all-around pretty amazing baby girl.  Today marks her one-week birthday, and there doesn’t seem to be a better time to make the official progression from my pregnancy blog to WORDS ABOUT WAVERLY – an official online record completely devoted to her.
After 10 months of pregnancy (I am still trying to figure out why it is referred to as a nine month journey … ), I was MORE than ready to meet my baby girl.  As I previously posted in my pregnancy blog, I really did enjoy being pregnant.  However, during that “tenth” month – every twitch, mild cramp, or food craving I had was attributed to the on-start of labor.  Needless to say, that was never the case, as my due date came & went as I was still sitting in the recliner in my living room with a rather large belly.  And although (as most preggers probably do) – I anxiously aniticipated the excitement of my water breaking in the middle of Target or waking up in the middle of the night with piercing contractions … I was perfectly content with the plan when my OB-GYN scheduled an induction for the Tuesday after I was due to give birth. 
My husband and I walked into the hospital at about 8 PM on the day I was scheduled to recieve Cervadil overnight to help me dialate.  I had my bright floral suitcase and a huge smile on my face, already securing a place in my head for baby girl’s birthday for the following day.  I was clearly oblivious of what was to come.  I was immediately attached to multiple wires and pretty much tied to the hospital bed to monitor me and baby. The Cervadil did not work, so I was hooked up to Pitocin the following morning.  And although the IV did it’s job in jump-starting some pretty intense contractions, after multiple checks by several different nurses and a visit from my OB-GYN, I was still hardly dialating at all.  We finally made the joint decision to take me off the Pitocin and try again the next day, although I was still to stay in the same hospital room that I had originally thought would be a short pit stop before meeting my baby girl.
The following morning, I was instantly put back on the Pitocin. This time, the contractions were even more challenging than the day before, most likely even more mentally than physically as I was so frustrated from my apparent lack of ability to dialate, even after all of the pain.  I gave into the Epidural after about three hours that morning, and the relief it brought was more than welcomed.  However, as we said good-bye to nurse after nurse, as their shifts were changing, and had multiple updates of little to no progress, it was certainly clear that this journey was going to be a long one.  By 5 PM that evening, there finally seemed to be an end in sight.  A final check was set for 6:30, and with the most likely result of a continued lack of advancement, a C-section was our final route. 
Our baby girl certainly seemed to have a mind of her own, and perhaps it was at this point that she decided it was finally time to make her fashionably-late debut..  With what seemed to me as a small miracle, that final check indicated I was 9 centimeters dialated and could push within the hour.  And although the final “pushing” stage of labor was what I had been most nervous about all along, the thought of an end to this 48-hour journey (and beginning of a new one with our daughter) was enough to motivate me. 
I pushed for about 45 minutes and will never forget the experience, even though I don’t know that even just one week later I can recall the actual feeling of it all.  I know that my husband was right next to me the whole time and I couldn’t have done it without him, that the first time the nurse mentioned sight of my daughter’s head I was more determined than ever, and lastly, that any modesty I had ever had was out the window. 
At 9:01 PM, Waverly Maye Brickner was born (7 lbs., 8 oz. & a full head of red hair!).  The entire process, starting at when we found out we were pregnant back in November to the last few minutes in the delivery room before she was born, was all a blur and all that mattered was that she was here.  From that moment … as my husband & I smiled at the sound of the lullaby playing through the hospital & the cheers from our family in the waiting room, while gazing at the beautiful baby that we had created … I knew that my life had new meaning and nothing would ever be the same. 
 In fact, I am not sure how life existed before Waverly Maye.

     
  

Well, we made it.  Today marks officially 40 weeks … Little Miss Brickner is officially “fully” cooked and we are sooooo ready to meet her.  The nursery is completely complete (I mean, we really couldn’t fit another PINK-themed item in there if we wanted to), the house has been cleaned top to bottom (including a steam clean on the carpets and a visit from the pest control), and my bag has been packed for approximately a month and a half. 
All we need is our little girl.
This countdown is different from the one for the wedding, for many reasons.  Although we looked forward to (and prepared) for both through months & months, and we knew both events would mark a change in our lives (obviously one more than the other, especially since we have been dating for almost half of our lives now) … the wedding had a definite date.  This time – it’s all up to her.  So the waiting game continues.  And it looks like she is going to have a love of fashion, and be fashionably late, like her mother.  At least we know it is getting close ………

Without a doubt, it is official – I have become an impatient & overly anxious mom-to-be.  I really didn’t think this would happen.  Honestly, (apart from a few minor details such as a lack of sleep & absence of a glass of wine), I have enjoyed my pregnancy.  I have welcomed my baby bump and embraced a new fashion sense, thouroughly enjoyed feeling Little Miss Brickner’s movement in my expanding waistline, relished in the new foods I have been indulging in without guilt, and obviously have not minded the extra attention and foot rubs from my husband.  So I thought that I would have no problem waiting until my July 22nd due date to meet my daughter. 
Well, I was clearly wrong …
I’ve mentioned previously that these last few weeks have brought on much anxiety – and this week I have hit the peak.  I now feel like a ticking time bomb, one that could have its water break or contractions hit at any moment, bringing with it a whole new life and sense of normalcy.  OR, none of the above could happen and I could be forced to keep on waiting. 
Which is where we are currently at …
Not the easiest place for my Type-A, always-planning personality.  BUT, I know I need to take advantage of these last moments of freedom by resting and preparing (possibly mentally?) for all that is to come.  So that is just what I will do.  There is a deadline, right?!


As previously posted, I do love a preggers doctors appointment.  Any insight into how Little Miss Brickner is progressing is MORE than welcomed & even the most standard of appointments (tummy check & a heartbeat monitor) tend to brighten my day.  Well – now that we are into the 38th week of pregnancy, my monthly appointments have turned into weekly ones.  And with the craziness of a holiday week, my doctor had the day off for my Friday appt., so that quickly turned into a visit back on Monday. (No complaints here … )
On Friday, I had my first non-stress test, to make sure that our baby girl wasn’t in any distress in my tummy.  Although a little sleepy, she passed the test and we were able to enjoy what could have been our last weekend without child with no worries.  I must admit that Monday’s appointment was the one I was more anxious for, as thoughts that I could finally be dilated or that my doctor would mention an “induction” danced in my pregnancy brain.  Unfortunately, no dilation yet and we were ordered to patiently wait another week for our next visit. 
So that is what just we will do.  Wait, wait and wait some more.  I am trying to enjoy my last couple of weeks with lots of sleep and relaxation, but I just can’t help longing for the moment I get to meet my baby girl.   Official countdown is 13 days until due date.  Come onnnnn baby girl! 🙂

Even though the dates on my blog make it clear that I just updated on Week 36 yesterday, I had fallen behind (as a result of all that was Week 36) and therefore am already well into my 37th week of pregnancy.  Before I was pregnant, during my first trimester, and even well into my second … I didn’t think I would be that anxious for delivery at this point.  OF COURSE I knew that I would be more than ready to meet my little girl, but assumed that any of my natural fears of pregnancy and last-minute tasks that needed to be completed would help ease my immediate need for labor to begin. 
Apparently, if the last few days are any indication, I was wrong.  Ever since we made it through the final hurdle of my last shower, maternity photos, and first anniversary trip … I have felt more than ready.  And my appointment/last ultrasound this past Thursday only sealed the deal.
Thanks to my What to Expect While Expecting Book and other maternity reading gifted to me by my mother over Christmas, I knew that Week 37 marked a great milestone – that a baby born at this point would be considered full-term.  So once the ultrasound technician confirmed what I already knew, and shared that, by her calculations, she is already 6.6 lbs. – I knew I was officially ready for her to be here.  That, and the mini sneak peek at her precious face, with chubby cheeks, a button nose, and full lips.  Not that my “readiness” changes anything …
So the waiting begins.  Every twinge, cramp, and abnormal feeling I currently experience causes me to think I am in labor.  And the thought that my big belly seems to be DROPPING,  brought on by both my mother and mother-in-law, is certainly a good one.