Despite all evidence to the contrary—I have found myself going into a bit of hermit mode, and not being all that good about returning emails, calls, etc.—the first week with three kidlets has gone pretty smoothly. I suspect that this is not at all due to my expertise as a mommy, though, and has more to do with the fact that 1) I spent Friday night through Sunday morning in the hospital (my parents and the Husbandlet tag-teamed watching the older kids), 2) we went to church Sunday morning (Ngaire and Liam were entertained in children’s church and the nursery), 3) the Husbandlet took Monday and Tuesday off from work, 4) I swept the lot of us off to my mom’s house for half of Wednesday, 5) some friends kidnapped Ngaire and Liam for a me-and-Rhiannon-free playdate on Thursday morning and my parents repeated the favor that afternoon, and 6) we went to my parents’ house and nearby playground this morning, and my dad just came by to take Ngaire and Liam out to play this afternoon (which is how I’m writing this). Oh, and 7) our church family has been bringing us meals.

All that combined with #8 (Rhiannon is still in first-week continual sleepage mode) means that I don’t think I’ve really begun to experience what life is like with three children.

Ngaire has adjusted pretty smoothly to the new sister … she’s been down this road before. Indeed, I think she’s a bit more interested and a LOT less jealous this time around. She even shows evidence of finding Rhiannon a bit charming, especially when the baby makes funny faces or noises. Because Ngaire has been so good on the whole, I have to keep reminding myself to make a point of giving her extra hugs and reading time, or at least not shafting her in this regard in my attempts to be sensitive to Liam.

Liam has always loved babies, and he’s been really cute, wanting to climb up next to Rhiannon and pick her up and kiss her nose. This morning, during family snuggle time, he got in bed next to her and spooned with her while patting her head. He seems concerned when she cries (“Baby cry!”) and aside from one especially rough head-patting incident, hasn’t demonstrated anything like hostility to her. At the same time, he has been a bit more emotionally fragile than ever before; he didn’t want many hugs from me when I first came home from the hospital, and he’s taken his mischief-making to new heights, dashing from one mischievous act to another (leaving parents in his wake trying to right the chaos from his last endeavor). However, a week in, I can definitely say that his transition to big-siblinghood has been infinitely smoother than Ngaire’s was when he was born. For me, it’s a bit odd to see Liam in the new light of my middle child. I also feel myself getting frustrated with him more quickly and lastingly than I did before Rhiannon was born … probably partly because I’m trying to manage feeding her and keeping her asleep at the same time that I’m peeling him off the walls.

Branching off that, we’ve decided to have a fourth child. Somehow, the idea of one Liam in the middle seems a bit lonelier than Liam and Rhiannon doing the middle-child thing together.

Me? I think the main thing I’ve learned this week is: Jordana, eat a midmorning snack. If I don’t, then my blood sugar crashes right around the time I’m trying to get everyone fed and down for naps. And that is bad.

However, I suspect that most of you have made it thus far only in the hope of actually reading something about the new one. Rhiannon is absolutely adorable. She’s so sleepy still that it’s hard to read her personality, but so far she seems very sweet and gentle. She’s happy for Daddy to hold her, she loves to snuggle and nurse, and she has also (hallelujah!) been sleeping in a crib for her naps. With no one touching her. All by herself. Did I mention, sleeping without continual physical contact with another human body, preferably Mommy’s? May it continue. (I think Ngaire’s infancy, while delightful at the time, made a Big Impression on this mommy.) When she sneezes, it’s often six or seven times in a row, and she will screw her face up as if for a big scream, and then emit the tiniest of “Eh’s!” We’ve got her in bed with us at night for now, which I think is helping her get over day-night confusion quickly … she sleeps at least five hours at a stretch and has been getting better about going right back to sleep after a mid-night feeding. All in all, we’re quite satisfied with her. I think we’ll keep her.

(I will upload a picture sometime when my Internet is a bit faster …)

Here I am at 39 weeks exactly (we remembered!):

For the sake of comparison, here I am at 39 weeks pregnant with Liam:

But for what may constitute the final persuasive argument for using contraception, here I am at 40 weeks 3 days pregnant with Ngaire, complete with pemphigoid gestationis rash:

Anyway, here I am at 39 weeks 2 days, with Rhiannon Rosemary, who was born last night at 11:27 p.m., after a 2.5 hour labor (her first name is pronounced ree-ON-in):

We are both dozing there, because it turns out that if you deliver close to midnight, it will be close to 2:30 a.m. before you even get to begin the period of trying to sleep whilst various nurses come in to impale you with needles, prod your uterus, etc.

It was a fast and furious delivery … I had had my usual non-regular, light contractions throughout the day. At 9:37 p.m., I realized that I had just been hit with two contractions in a row that required labor-style breathing, and when I clocked the contractions after that, they were 4 minutes apart. The Husbandlet went off to take a shower while I moved around a bit to see if the contractions stopped. They didn’t; I called my parents and doctor, and by the time the Husbandlet got out of the shower, the contractions were 2 minutes apart and I was experimenting with different positions to get through them. We handed the metaphorical baton to my incoming parents and arrived at the hospital around 10:30. I was a stretchy 5 cm dilated; the amniotic sac was bulging, and the triage nurse said I would deliver within the hour. We moved to a delivery room, and I could tell by my general feeling of queasiness and dizziness that I had probably hit transition. The baby’s heart rate gave the nurse some concern, so she told me to lie on my side to see if that would make a difference. It did. It also made me need to push almost immediately … the Husbandlet went out to retrieve the nurse, who had left for a minute, and came back with a small army of medical personnel, including the doctor. This surprised me, because for some reason I was convinced that they were going to tell me I wasn’t allowed to push, that I was only 7 cm or something. As it happened, Rhiannon was born three contractions later.

She weighed 7 pounds 1 ounce, was 19.2 inches long, and has very black hair. So far, she seems pretty mellow, though that may just mean “sleepy.” We’re spending an extra night at the hospital because I’m a strep B carrier and she was born too quickly to get the required doses of penicillin through my IV. Also, she seems to be having difficulty breathing through her nose, especially when nursing. I’m feeling great, on the whole … a tad sore, but I didn’t tear. And I have a beautiful baby girl.

I’m fond of my other kidlets as well …