Trepidation and tiredness.

You ever sit there and wish? Wish and wish and wish? Wishing for the days to pass quickly so that the day you're waiting for will hurry up and get here? I've done that. And now that the day is just a (broken) sleep away, I'm nervous.

In fact. I'm down right terrified of what's going to happen next. We will start the ball rolling with waiting for appointment dates I suppose, and yet that just leaves me wondering what the heck is going to happen next. I no longer fear that something is so very terribly wrong with Dinky, but I do know that something is still off with him. It could be the fact that he's just lone tone and we cannot expect a pro football player out of him (which is good, I don't like football!), but I do hope for him to have a little more... more to him. Who knows. It could be wishful thinking that there's nothing majorly wrong with him. There could be. I don't know. I hope not, but if there is...we will learn how to handle it.

He's a few measly days away from being 9 weeks old. I'm crossing my fingers really, really hard that he's finally up to 9 lbs. 9 lbs would be a small celebration! Which is sad really. He wasn't preemie. In fact, he wasn't anything but trouble right from the start I guess you could say. And I always said, just because he knows he's our last one, means he's going to act like a giant doodoo head. So I suppose I brought this all on myself.

How you ask? Such an innocent baby cannot possibly be a doodoo head. Oh you bet your right foot he can be. Dinky is what they call my rainbow baby. A baby after loss. Everything happened so quickly. Tink was born 10/12, we got pregnant 06/13, got married 8/13 and then diagnosed with blighted ovum at 14 weeks 9/10/13 and then the D&C 9/12/13. D&C. Always reminds me of Dust & Clean. Which is pretty much what they did. The bundle of deceased cells never progressed any farther than 5.5-6 weeks yet I was happily carrying on and advancing like I was in fact pregnant with a viable fetus.

#3 will never be forgotten. I remember the bone-shattering heartache and agony. The rapid emotional shift. I was like a hormonal volcano. It got pretty ugly. I let myself deep grieve for a few days before and after my uterus was free from a renter that didn't want to leave. I was allowed and entitled. We followed the doctors orders and he said that I wouldn't cycle out for at least 6-8 weeks while the hormones regulated themselves.

LIAR!

Men. What do they know!? 5 weeks after my procedure I got my period. Exactly 5 weeks. How do I remember this? To the day? ...I decided to go and slice my hand open. With a knife. And by slicing my hand open I really mean I tried to skin myself. Exactly ONE month to the day of my D&C. So. 10/12/13 rewarded me with 12 stitches, a skin graft and still a foggy understanding of how exactly a knife went through my skin while I was putting it away. Explain that one!

And then... somehow we got pregnant. About 10 days AFTER my period. Tops. So #3 graced us with #4 rather quickly. What a whirlwind!

The beginning stages were fine. I felt fantastic. I worried, of course. I was anxious. I was nervous. I was going to be a mum to 2 under 2. What had I we done?! Yet we were completely overjoyed. We found out we were having a boy at 20 weeks. And he was always so lazy and sleepy during the US. All of them. Little goober! Enter in 28 weeks. Still very few movements from him. I knew he was in there doing his thing thanks to a trusty Doppler. Cue US. Aaaaaaaaaaaand enter Polyhydramnios.

Thank you very much. I now have stretch marks on stretch marks and I'm sure my ass will never be the same again! Weekly US/NST and doctors appointments. Booooorrrrrrrring. At our 38 week US, Dinky decided he was going to be breech. On Thursday. Monday we go in for consult for C-Sec and he was head down. Thursday was eviction day. Whether he be Sec'd our induced, Dinky was coming out! Little turkey decided he wanted to be inducted. The end.

Insert birth story here.

Annnnnd that brings us to 9 weeks later. Low muscle tone, head lag, weird hand posturing and the sloooooooooooowest weight gain. Oh. And his head plates still haven't shifted either. Add that to the list of things to talk about with the pediatrician tomorrow. ...and I need to remember to discuss the leaking feeds. Dinky doesn't puke. He just leaks.

While I'm dreading tomorrow I'm also embracing it. I shall try and find the silver lining in this situation. Like...

He's in his clothes for longer so we get more wear out of them. That's fair!!

Now for the haha...

Husby forgot to put dinner into the oven. An hour later go to check on it and it was ...on the counter

The Beginning

...and hopefully not a sudden ending.

If you are reading this, then welcome.

Let me open the blog with a short introduction.

We have 3 children:

R2D2 is 7, working his way to 8. (he'd like the nickname!)
Tink is (going to be) 2 this month
Dinky is 2 months

Husby is 33 and I'm pretty much 29 so we shall call it that.

We live in a small town in the middle of nowhere. A place where winter comes early and tends to linger longer than it should. Summer can be a hit or miss season -- either torrential rain or drought. So summer means we can either be flooding or on fire. There is no happy medium.

Life is full of twists and turns. Lots of tears (whether they're from joy or not is to be determined).

I am a horrible blogger. Good intentions tend to fail when it comes to writing things down. I love spending hours browsing and pouring over food blogs, family blogs, blogs about hardship, trials, tribulations. Strength and weakness. I embrace them all.

Which is pretty much what you're going to find here. A detailed (fingers crossed at least) look into the life we live with the chaotic mess we call children.

So without further ado... welcome to The Adventures of Threedom.