baby factory

The Secret

2011-10-25T15:18:00.001-04:00

I think that most baby guides and articles and websites are made for those parents who need answers. "My baby won't stop crying, what should I do??" or "What is that weird thing on her eye?" Those usually sleep-deprived, weary, desperate people need advice and they need it now... And thus there is a wealth of information just a Google away! It's sometimes conflicting, but it's comforting. It's an "okay, well, at least we're normal" kind of thing. And even though the answers sometimes don't actually help you DO anything about it, it's good to know you're not alone.

However, there is a secret... There are babies out there who don't need anything, and their parents don't spend every available moment Googling or calling the pediatrician. So there's a secret group of us who are afraid to say anything at all, lest we seem like we're bragging!

James is one of those "good" babies. The whole few weeks (!) of night feedings went by like a breeze. He let me know when he wanted to eat at 2 a.m.:

JAMES: zzz.....Eh....
ME: zzzz
JAMES: EH!...
ME: Okay, I'm up.

And I would feed him and we'd go back to sleep. We didn't even wake Craig most of the time. (Except when James got the hiccups -- exceptionally loud, but cute, hiccups.) Compare this to newborn Claire:

CLAIRE: zzz...AIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
ME: Augh! I'm awake! I'm awake! Stop screaming!
CRAIG, DESMOND, SHIVA, THE NEIGHBORS: OMG!

I was afraid to go to sleep most nights with Claire because I knew I'd be awakened in a couple of hours by the screaming.

What we didn't know is that spontaneous, endless screaming isn't exactly normal, but "colicky." And that she would eventually develop reflux, which would make it worse. But somehow all the internet research convinced me that this is what some babies do, and we'd make it through it. And we did. But it was HARD.

James is EASY. He can be asleep on my shoulder in the living room with Claire having a full-on, meltdown, DEFCON 1 tantrum in the same room. Now at almost 3 months, I'm finding it a little harder to get him to sleep as easily, but it's still not a major challenge. I can lay him sideways on my arm, give him a paci, and he'll be out in a few minutes with a little bouncing. Conversely, how many HOURS did I spend rocking Claire to sleep in the rocking chair? Weeks worth.

He's not very interested in the paci either. He much prefers his hands. From the moment he came out he had them in his mouth, so they must have been his special friends on the inside. I didn't have the heart to even try swaddling him up with them in there, but fortunately he didn't really need it. He doesn't startle himself awake all the time the way Claire did either.

But lest we think I'm all down on Claire right now, she's becoming an amazing little person too. Her vocabulary is awesome, she remembers EVERYTHING you tell her -- or that she hears, sometimes to our detriment. She's strong and healthy, and growing like a weed still. And I love her to death. But this post isn't about Claire...

It's about how good my baby James is, and how much fun I'm having watching him grow. I spent all of September with him as my constant companion because Craig was working all the time. And he's exclusively breastfed (who knew I could do that?!) so he's literally attached to me constantly. And now Craig and Claire are sick, so we're avoiding them. And he's just my little buddy! He always has a smile for mommy! Especially when it's time to change his diaper; he loves that.

So the next post will be about Claire, but I wanted to get some love for James down here before I forget these things. He's cute and special and just perfect, and he's all mine. I couldn't be happier with him!

Welcome James!

2011-08-18T00:19:00.001-04:00

James Jordan
Born August 16th, 2011
An amazing 8lbs 14oz (a big baby, yes, but nowhere like his sister!)
20.5" long

He is a sweet, peaceful angel, and as predicted, I adore him.

He's perfect, and beautiful, and just the best baby to ever be a baby that I've ever seen. He almost never cries. He is just so...GOOD. God knows what he's doing by giving me this baby, I just know it. (Especially after "high needs" Claire.)

More soon...

It's a...boy?

2011-06-11T00:00:00.008-04:00

WHAT?! As in, "Why does that girl on the ultrasound have a penis??"

Let me preface this by saying it has taken me at least ten weeks to be able to come to terms with everything I'm feeling enough to write this post. Let me warn you, fair reader, that this is an ugly post. It's full of guilt and sadness and lots of negative things to cope with. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

With that said, I am also going to let you know up front that anyone who attempts to make comments here about what a horrible person I am, how guilty I should feel, how dare i, how ungrateful or selfish I am, or -- I should just be glad that..., or look at the bright side... Yes, I know. I've thought of all that.

So remember, you can comment, but it will be moderated. The worst I can threaten you with is that your comment won't get posted. If it's bad enough, and I know you, I will seriously re-evaluate our friendship.

That said:

The day of our "big" ultrasound was April 1st. Ha ha ha, April fools!

At the 12 week ultrasound in February, the tech made a guess. She said, "If I HAD to make a guess right now...I'd think..." and she poked around a bit... "boy."

My heart faltered a bit. Really? A boy? She has to be wrong. There's no way. I don't WANT a boy. What about all Craig's crazy chemo-sperm? There's no boys in there, right? It's too early to tell, right? She's got to be mistaken.

That lady has not been wrong yet. Why would I think she'd be wrong that time? Regardless I scoured the net for any information I could find. I found studies of the inaccuracies of ultrasound from one week to the next. Was it just too early? I looked for statistical information. I pored over other people's ultrasounds. I said maybe, maybe there was hope. It had to be too early.

And I cried. A lot.

Fast forward to April 1. I'd filled Craig in about my apprehensions and all the mixed up feelings I had about the possibilities, and he read the blog post prior, so he knew how I felt that morning. Still, I tried to be really upbeat and not just sickly nervous. We brought Claire with us because of course Craig wanted to come see too.

So we got back to the ultrasound room, and I got all set up, and Craig was holding on to Claire because she's a little bit nuts, and she's like, "WTF is going on?? Mommy??" And she tried to cling to me while I was on the table.

The first thing the tech asked me was if we wanted to know the gender and I said YES (though I tried to say it not too emphatically!) So she went wiggling the transducer around and got it to where she needed it and said, "Looks like you've got a boy! Congratulations!" And oh yes, it was obvious, even to the untrained eye.

You know that feeling you get when your boss calls you into his office unexpectedly, and he doesn't sound happy? Or the feeling of that moment when you see the blue lights in your rear view mirror? Or the dizzy feeling you have when you stand on a precarious ledge looking into a deep ravine? Combine all that "I am in serious trouble!!!" feeling into a single, sickening moment.

I lost my breath from the huge lump in my throat. Craig grabbed my hand and squeezed it because he could see I was in distress. I tried REALLY hard not to cry because Claire was there, but that just made it worse. My brain was screaming NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I couldn't hear anything anyone was saying for a few minutes.

The tech asked me, "Are you excited?" And I said, "No."

I feel terrible now for saying such a thing, but my emotions were pretty raw.

She could tell I was upset. She started going on with the rest of the exam, checking for heart, brain, lungs, kidneys, umbilical. But I hardly heard any of it. I have a DVD of the whole 20-minute affair, but the details now are such a blur.

Craig tried telling me it was going to be okay, in between wrangling Claire. Claire was mostly interested in wanting to go wash her hands in the bathroom sink (my little baby Howard Hughes) so he took her. The tech asked me if I was going to be okay. I couldn't answer. She asked me how Craig felt about the news, and I said he was really hoping for another girl too, but honestly, he will be happy with any baby because that's just...Craig. She said she had a couple in there earlier that day where the husband really wanted a boy, and they found out they were having a girl. She said she thought the guy was going to lose it -- he was ANGRY.

Craig and Claire returned just around the time the tech was looking for the heartbeat. Claire responded to that sound with her, "'Gain? 'Gain? 'Gain?" plea! (So we heard the heartbeat twice more before we left, of course.)

And through all that my mind was just RACING. What am I going to do? What are we going to do? No. What? No. It can't be. I just wanted to cry but there was no way I could let it out there.

We finished up and got our "souvenir photos" (which I stuffed into the diaper bag) and went on to see the doctor. That whole part of the day is really a blur because it was the three of us, plus the doctor, plus a nurse in that tiny exam room, with Claire swiftly losing patience. She was busy going apeshit, with Craig trying to hold her, while I talked to the dr/nurse, but of course I couldn't pay close attention. The doctor asked why I was so upset and I told him. He tried to make me laugh by reminding me it was all Craig's fault! ("Thanks a lot!
said Craig.) I remember telling him I would be okay eventually because what choice did I have? None. I would just have to come to terms with it because there was no other option. Both the doctor and the nurse tried to tell me that it would be okay, but I just couldn't hear it.

Driving home was rough. While it's a skill I thought I had perfected, driving and crying is not recommended. We put Claire down for her nap, and then I was inconsolable. For hours.

Of course everyone who knew where we were going that day wanted to know the result! Craig messaged his family, and I finally got it together enough to do the same for mine. I wanted to talk to my parents so badly but they were on a cruise in Central America somewhere. Thankfully, I didn't have to actually call anyone to tell them. The feeling I had was almost like...shame? Like I couldn't bring myself to even tell anyone we were having a boy. It was such disappointing news to me, it just felt...yucky to have to admit it.

And I have spent the better part of the last two months trying to come to terms with all that yuckitude. I will admit I've had horrible thoughts. The most horrible you could think of, harming anyone and everyone to try to "fix" this situation. I'm not proud of it, but I put it here because I know it's something others have gone through, and I'm not alone. Google "gender disappointment" -- It's very real, and it even has degrees. Disappointment like mine is typically rated "extreme."

WHY? Why, I hear you ask. I hear it loudest from those of you who have boys. I'm sure they're lovely. They're your boys. But for starters, I just don't like little boys. I never have. I've never once sat and thought, "Oh, it would be so nice to have a son."

Wait, I take that back. When I was about 17, I came up with a name for a boy that I thought, "If I ever have a son, that would be a nice name." And that's the last I thought of it.

Let's start shallow and work our way to deep. Wade into it, so to speak.

Majorly shallow reasons:
-- Boy color scheme is ugly. I hate combinations of primary colors. Blue, bleh. Green, guh. Yuck.
-- Boy clothes are not cute. Everything has a stupid collar. If I wanted my infant son to look like a preppy douche, I would...well, that would never happen, so it's irrelevant. There's just an abysmal selection of colors and styles.
-- I'm not interested in: sports, construction vehicles, astronauts, or war toys. I can feign an interest in dinosaurs, zoo animals, puppies and safaris. Maybe I could get into the rock star thing. But those are all my big "theme" choices, as well as a wide swath of toy choices.
-- Little boys are not as cute as little girls. Purely inexplicable personal prejudice. I just don't think they are.

More complex thoughts:
-- I can raise my girl to like "boy things." Claire is fairly gender-neutral in her toy selection and preferences. She likes airplanes and trains and animals, but also her baby dolls, sometimes. It is MUCH harder to employ the same equality with a boy.
-- Boys are rambunctious and aggressive. Don't get me wrong: Claire is a bundle of pure, unbridled energy, and has been ever since she learned to roll over. But she is not actively aggressive. I really think it's the lack of testosterone. Boys just have that gene/hormonal balance that makes their brains work a certain way that girl's brains don't. They hit and bite and want to whack things with sticks and jump off of everything. So we can try to make him a "nice boy." But probably try as hard as I might to fight it, I fear society will just sweep him back their way.
-- Penises. Peeing standing up. Peeing on the floor. Raising the toilet seat. Peeing at diaper changes. Random erections. Touching it in public all the time. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Downright worries:
-- CIRCUMCISION. More about penises. To snip or not to snip? Will I be scarring my child for life, or making things easier? Does it make a difference one way or the other? I've got my mother in one ear telling me she thinks it's "barbaric" and a whole mess of other things in the other ear. This is such a complex argument, it makes my brain hurt to even consider the path of this decision. So I'm not going into it here. You get the idea.
-- COST OF "STARTING OVER". Do you remember me mentioning all those boxes and boxes of clothes I had? 90% of them are useless now. Whee. Our whole swing-high chair-stroller-play yard-car seat theme is wrong now. I think we can replace the covers for a couple of those pieces, but while cheaper than new stuff, it won't be cheap. They can't share a room, so we've got to renovate a new nursery out of my art room. Fortunately books and toys are mostly gender neutral, but otherwise... I don't make that kind of money.

Stupid emotional goulash:
-- We are only planning on two children. This is it. I have no other chances. I will only ever have one daughter. (This thought hurts. A LOT.)
-- I wanted Claire to have a sister SO badly. Especially one that would be close to her age. The sister-sister bond is probably the tightest there could be. While she will hopefully be close to her brother anyway, everything I hear is that it is just not the same. (And how could it be?)
-- Two little girls = AWESOME CUTENESS. Boy/girl combo? Not so much.
-- Girls tend to grow up and stay close to their families. Boys do not. Men follow their girlfriends and wives. I hear I should start praying now for a daughter-in-law who will allow me to still be as closely involved in my son's life as I want to be (obviously without REAL intrusion or anything.) This thought is disturbing.

Deep rooted crap:
-- As this is our final child, I get what I get now. Maybe we shouldn't have gone down the road of having a second child if I couldn't handle this possibility. I actually find myself thinking that a lot, more when I'm feeling especially guilty. It's not just the fault of finding out the gender, I also have this thought when Claire is being particularly difficult. Like maybe we should have stopped at one. (I have a feeling I am not the only one, nor will this be the last time(s) I have this thought.)
-- I have two sisters. I've always loved how we are "the girls." Even my dad says he's one of the girls. It's cute. I know all about little girl things. I understand little girls. There haven't been any boys in my family...ever. WTF am I going to do with a boy?
-- I will be the first to admit, I have lots of REAL problems with men. I'm not sure why. I don't have daddy issues; my dad is someone I love and respect and would be an excellent role model for any man. Maybe I've never placed much value on attention from the opposite sex. Maybe because it seems so easy to get. And that's why I gave up early on trying to get it. No challenge in it.

I can probably count on my fingers the number of men I really, truly respect and like. The rest? Some only have a few shortcomings, and those are the ones I count as friends. But the majority? Ugh. On the other hand, how many women do I respect and like? SO many. And while it's openly biased, I value some of the same individual qualities more in women than I do men. For example, bravery can mean two completely different things in the context of gender. Brave women are generally more impressive to me than brave men. I cannot say why for sure.

So in the last 10 weeks, I've had a lot of these thoughts in my head all the time. I am prone to major depressive episodes, and I'm pretty sure I'm in the midst of a bad one right now.

I've done nothing to prepare for this baby, and he will be here so soon. I feel like we haven't bonded at all, the way I did with Claire. He kicks away at me all day, and I'm only mildly amused sometimes. But it still seems surreal, and sometimes I wonder if it won't be real at all until he's here in the world.

I've realized that I am not sad I am having a boy. I am sad I am NOT having a girl. I've thought on it long and hard, and there's a very significant difference.

I realize so much of this is really unfair to a baby who has no say in the matter. I know.

I know I'm lucky to be able to have a(nother) child at all.

I know I'm lucky that he's healthy.

I know it would be nice to have one of each.

I know that gender doesn't necessarily determine personality or intelligence or any of a zillion other traits.

I know that as soon as he's born I will love him until the ends of the earth. I know that somehow I will be able to love another baby as much as I have already loved Claire. I know he will be the cutest thing I have ever seen and I will want to snuggle him and bite his toes. I know a lot of this will seem petty and simple and irrelevant in retrospect.

But right now I am still mourning the loss of the little baby girl that I won't get to have. Somehow she was very real in my head, and it feels as though she's died and gone forever.

My next 10 weeks I will continue to struggle with that until I've cried my last tear over it. Until I've put out of my head all the little girl things I wanted to save and do and look forward to. I will work on coming to terms with all the things I see as negatives. I will try not to feel sick every time I realize how little time is left before I have to welcome this boy child with love and really mean it.

And I think, for the first time in my life, I will be actively seeking therapy. I can no longer do this on my own, and it's beyond my husband's ken and capability, and it's not fair to my family to rely on them any longer. I feel weird about it after working for YEARS to manage things on my own, but I feel like I can't afford not to.

Claire's First Knock Knock Joke

2011-05-13T13:57:00.001-04:00

Claire runs over to fridge and knocks on the door and says:

"Knock knock...who's there?...Claire!"

So I say, "Claire who?"

And she says, "Boo Boo." (Which is one of my little nicknames for her.)

The comedy stylings of Claire Collin, everyone!

Mommy Guilt Starts Early

2011-03-28T01:23:00.001-04:00

Here it is: This Tuesday I'll be 20 weeks pregnant with our second child, and I have yet to even mention the poor thing here!

I feel guilty about it, believe me. I'm concerned because I've barely had time to think about him/her. I haven't bonded the way I did with Claire. By this time in the last pregnancy, I was really comfortable with the fact that it was starting to show. Now, I've started showing earlier, and because in my brain the pregnancy hasn't sunk in "right", I just feel fat. I went to meet my boss uptown the other day, and the night before, I went through every decent outfit I could put together, and I settled for the one that made me look the most pregnant and the least like a big fat bear. Not a good attitude!

I have concerns about the way he/she is growing. I've been sick twice this pregnancy. I'm 20 weeks, and I've only just started feeling the flutters. I've been stressed out beyond belief. My job is super-busy. Claire is a handful and a half right now. Craig is critical or in a bad mood 85% of the time. His job is making him miserable. The house is a disaster. Don't get me started about money. Shiva won't stop barfing everywhere. We haven't done our taxes yet. We need to buy a new car, but I don't even know where to start. I can't seem to accomplish half the things I need to in the time I have. I stay up late to get work done and don't sleep nearly enough. I'm wiped out. This can't be good.

We're going to get help though. We've been posting for and interviewing someone to come to the house and watch Claire for the first half of the day. I'm going to hire a cleaning service to come bi-weekly, and maybe we can get the dust under control. I've been using the grocery store online shopping to save time having to go to the store, and now I can plan some meals so we eat out less. The crock pot has been a lifesaver.

But if one more thing breaks, throws up or has a tantrum around here, I am going to lose it.

So all that bitching was to illustrate the point that I WANT to be so happy about the new baby, but I just can't get a grasp on it. I feel like I'm drowning most of the time. I just don't know how to pull my head above water yet. Once I do, I think I can really feel much better about the whole thing.

OMG HOW AM I GOING TO HANDLE TWO KIDS?!

We have our "big" ultrasound scheduled for this Friday, April 1st. April Fool's Day. Seems sort of fitting, doesn't it? A big step for me will be finding out the gender. I know it's important to Craig too, because he hates saying "it" and "him/her" is just so awkward.

We have something like 15 totes of girl clothes in storage right now, so I don't think you will have a hard time guessing which I'm hoping for. I would also LOVE for Claire to have a sister. And I totally know how to take care of girls. It would be a piece of cake, comparatively. And I could use that right now.

But I feel guilty about that too. I feel bad that I have such a strong preference about such a seemingly arbitrary thing. And poor little baby has no choice of what it is, but still needs a mommy to love it. I'm just scared I'm going to harbor some kind of disappointment or even resentment if the baby turns out to be a boy. Don't get me wrong: I know I have the capacity to love the baby no matter what it is because it's mine, and I'm not worried about that part. I'm worried about how I'm going to feel when it's the middle of the night, and the baby is peeing everywhere because I took his diaper off, and it's just NOT like it is with a little girl where it's nice and contained, that sort of thing. Random gender-differential situations like those. I know it sounds stupid. I know it makes me sound like a bad person. But I'm sick just thinking about it.

But 5 more days and we'll know for sure.

I've lost touch with my friends. I hardly talk to my family, except the usual conversation with my parents once a week. I've pretty much lost all my hobbies and interests, if for no other reason than lack of time. I've essentially lost my sense of self, which is what I hear happens, sometimes, when you become a mom. But I'm hating all of it right now. I spend a lot of time jealous of childless friend's lives. It would be so much easier if we had a way to take a break once in a while. We don't even have a person who can come over once in a while so Craig and I can go out to dinner together. We're struggling.

So I'm sorry, little baby. I love you, but I've got to get it together for us people on the outside right now. I'm going to have a lot to make up to you once you're out here with us, I know. But I promise you I will do my best.

July? Really?

2010-12-15T23:30:00.004-05:00

You say it's what month now?

I feel like I've been in some kind of alternate universe where time slips by unnoticed, and one day I'm going to zip back, and no time will have passed in the real world.

The days themselves are unremarkable: an endless litany of everyday activities. But they are marked by moments of brilliance that always come in a little 3 foot tall package, and they explode in a shower of giggles and love and warmth, and sometimes they are the only thing that makes me smile or laugh that day. The good news is that they are delivered every day. Every. Day.

Sometimes I just sit in the quiet dark at night and think about how amazing Claire is. I would scare the bejeezus out of someone if they turned on the light because I'm lying there in the dark and grinning maniacally to myself! (I wish I were exaggerating.)

Every single day she grows in some way that makes us so proud of her. Teaching her sign language was truly the best thing we could have done. She knows around 75 signs now. Her frustration level is typically about 0 because she's able to tell us all about what she's seeing and thinking and what her needs are. She rarely has a tantrum, and if she does, it's because we took something dangerous away from her, and then it's over in a second. (Especially if you just sing the "Dangerous" song to her.) We give her something else to think about, and she's immediately there, on to the next adventure.

Her imagination is growing by leaps and bounds. For example, she has a little teapot set that she got for her birthday. She understands all about how to pretend to pour and drink tea, and makes believe that she's eating the tiny plastic petit fours, and gives them to us to watch us pretend to eat them too. Of course, now she sometimes pretends to eat some of the real food I give her to eat too, but she thinks she's being funny. Or she knows that it makes me mad when she drops her food on the floor. So she will pretend to do it, even if there's nothing on her tray, to see what I do. Wise guy.

Or, we got new carpet in the living room so we moved all the furniture into the dining room while they installed it, including our big, black Ikea Expedit entertainment center. While Craig and I were sliding it down the hall back into the living room, Claire toddled over and started signing "train!"

Or there was the day she wandered into the room, carrying something she had swiped from Craig's desk. She looked at it, looked at me and signed "cracker." It was a white Post-It note.

There are so many ways in which she makes bridges to things with signs that she knows. I've been playing Picross on my DS for a while, and one day to amuse Claire, I showed her a completed puzzle animation of a polar bear diving into the icy water. She thought that was hilarious and giggled at it over and over. Once she realized the way to open and close the DS, she now signs "bear book" to tell us that she wants to see it again.

One day Claire led Craig out of the office signing "bird." She brought him over to the living room window, and Craig assumed she had seen a bird outside the window. When she pulled back the curtain, she revealed to him a giant spider on the carpet instead! (Yes, in NC you can make that comparison given the size of the spiders here.)

It's stories like these that I need to sit down daily and record in a blog. But there never seems to be enough time at the end of the day after all the work and housework and cooking and just spending time with the other people who live here... I'm hoping we can keep enough of an oral record to remember the ones I'm not writing down.

So, some things I want to remember:
Claire's favorite food is raw tomatoes. Which is so hilarious given how hard I craved them while I was pregnant with her! But she will stuff handfuls into her mouth and still sign "more more more!" I can't keep them within eyesight of her high chair.

Her favorite Yo Gabba Gabba character is Brobee. She sees him on the screen and says "BEEBEE! BWEEBEE!" (We're working on it.) Consequently, I'm pretty sure her favorite color is green. It's the one crayon color she picks consistently, and the one color sign she gets right almost every time.

Speaking of coloring, Claire loves to color! Not just scribbling all over the paper. (That is so three weeks ago!) She now wants you to draw things for her so she can color them in. And her accuracy (for a one year old) is really, really good. You don't know how happy that makes her art-school mama!

She likes to watch some things on tv, but only if they have lots of music. Too many words and you lose her. I think it's good that we've exposed her to some tv, because she seems to ignore it if it's on (unless it's something that draws her in with a song.) And when she does watch it, she doesn't sit there like a zombie. She interacts -- with us, looking to see if we're laughing at the same thing she is, or dancing along, or signing and pointing at things she knows.

Desmond is Claire's buddy now. She tries to play with him, and he circles her feet looking for attention. One day this week, we went to get Claire up from her nap, and who wanders out of her room when we open the door but Desmond! Apparently he wanted to take a little cat nap with her too. Craig told me this week that Desmond was lounged out somewhere, and Claire went and laid her head on him and made a happy little "hmm" sound. He proceed to clean her hair (as best he could given its length.) Love. :)

Claire is thrilled that it's Christmastime. Lights are her favorite right now. We put up the tree and turned on the lights, and she did a crazy little hopping dance around it saying "Preee!" (pretty) She wants to count every one of the lights on the tree (and pretty much any lights she sees anywhere,) one by one. She will get angry if you don't count with her!

She is currently obsessed with counting and knows the numbers 1 through 5 well. She also loves to find the letters o and e everywhere, and knows how to sign c, z, and w too.

Claire onomatopoeia: moo, baa baa, jingle, beep beep beep, meeeooww, arf arf, growling, and a bird sound I can't even imitate because it literally sounds like whistling, but it's somehow made with her throat.

How the Other Half Lives

2010-07-30T23:30:00.000-04:00

Craig is in DC for work this week, so I took a week's vacation at work to play stay-at-home-mom. I figured taking off work would be the best idea because we have no way of knowing how Claire is going to react to her daddy being gone all week, and she should have as much of my time and attention as I can possibly give her.

So I get to see what it would be like to be a SAHM.

What will complicate this experiment is that I am also combining it with the experience of being a single mom. And I don't know if there is such a thing as a single, stay at home mom. Unless one came into some kind of big settlement or was somehow independently wealthy, that would be a tough one to do... So it may skew the view a bit, but we'll see.

DAY 1

I decided to take it a little easy today because I didn't sleep much last night. Craig had to be up at 3 a.m. to leave for the airport at 4, and so I couldn't sleep well either. So even though I tried not to work too hard, it was still pretty tough on very little sleep.

Craig and I have our days worked out to a solid system, down to the objects we get together for naps and bedtime, and the whole bedtime routine. And having that expectation already set and organized made it a little easier. However, the system only works really well if there are TWO people. Otherwise, it takes a long time to get everything prepped, and to add in things like...eating. Or showering. Etc.

I am now comfortable with peeing with the door open in front of Claire! ("Pee pees! Hooray for Mommy!") She thinks it's a riot because she's not normally allowed in the half bathroom downstairs, so it's like a forbidden wonderland to her. I have to remember to keep the blinds in the office closed though...

I got really anxious at bed time because I was afraid that was going to be the one time Claire would truly notice her daddy wasn't there tonight. When she goes up to her bath, she climbs the stairs and Craig is usually at the top encouraging her. I'm pretty sure she was looking for him tonight. On an ordinary night, before she gets out of the bath, I start rinsing her off, and say, "Let's call Daddy!" and she goes, "Da da da dd ddaaddeee!" Then Craig helps me get her into a towel. Tonight I only asked her if she was ready, but she still called out and looked for daddy. It almost made me cry.

Otherwise she went right to sleep! And then it took me an hour to clean everything up. Ugh.

But the house is weird when I'm here by myself. Every noise is amplified, and I'm just anxious about everything. I never used to feel like this in my apartment, but the house seems so big and empty and, well, scary. Having the alarm set makes me feel better though...

DAY 2

Okay, I totally need to quit my job and be a SAHM. My stress level is just about zero. The only thing giving me any stress at all (and it's minor) is trying to keep Claire on a schedule while getting everything done by myself. But we even managed TWO trips out of the house today: once to the vet to get Desmond's medicine (where Claire got to meet [and sign] doggies!), and then to the grocery store.

BTW, Claire LOVES going in the car. She's like an excited little dog when you say, "Want to go for a ride in the car?" She frantically signs CAR! and makes a beeline for the garage. It's pretty cute.

So we did all that, and now I'm just spending the rest of my night cleaning up. The monkey wrench this evening is that garbage has to go out to the curb for tomorrow, but I'm not marching out there in the bug-infested jungles of Charlotte at midnight to do it. So I'll get it all together and just take it out in the morning.

If Craig were home, my life would be a piece of cake. Three things I realized:

1. I bet a lot of people put their kids to bed at 6 or 7 pm just so they can get things done in the evening, and spend time together as a couple. (Also, I realize, if the kid has to get up mega-early for daycare. Slugabed Claire doesn't wake up until 8-ish.) If I were a SAHM, I might do the same. I don't like early mornings though.

2. If Claire wasn't in an inflatable tub inside the big bathtub (which we do for safety reasons) post-bath time would be an easy cleanup. (Also, she was more splashy tonight than I've ever seen her. She must've spent a good 10 minutes just splashing her hands around.)

3. I wish cats liked to eat people food off the floor. (aka, I wish we had a dog.) That would definitely save some time.

DAY 3

I'm desperately thinking of ways to replace my income so that I can take care of my baby full time instead of working. I'm even considering buying lottery tickets.

Claire definitely got up on the cute side of the bed today. How did people as goofy looking as me and Craig make such a beautiful, awesome kid?!

Claire and I are running out of things to say to one another at meal time because there's no Daddy to provide running chatter, but I'm improvising.

I've come to the conclusion that stay at home moms that say they're bored must just be boring people.

DAY 4

I will start buying weekly lottery tickets this weekend.

DAY 5

Not even worth typing up a whole thing about it. This week has been completely awesome, and probably the most fun, interesting week I've spent in the last year.

I am totally in the wrong line of work. Hell of a time to realize it though.

The Signing Pitfall

2010-07-28T17:30:00.003-04:00

Today Claire was sitting on the floor with me, and I was trying to show her the sign for "I love you."

I said the words, and showed her the sign and said the words again. And she studied my hand and my face, as she does when she's trying to concentrate hard on what I'm saying and doing.

And then she looked at her hands, and looked at me and signed...

CHEESE.

I love you too, cheese.

Sometimes you just gotta go with what you know, I guess!

Happy Birthday, Claire!

2010-07-23T23:30:00.002-04:00

I feel like a bad mommy for not writing this sooner. But then I realized that I've not written this sooner because I've been so busy taking care of you! So I can't be that bad a mommy, I guess...

Well my sweet girl, you've made it through your first year! Or more specifically, we've all made it through your first year together!

Your daddy and I can't believe how much you've grown. We look at how big you are and how you just go bombing around the living room on your own and we can't believe you're that same little bundle that used to fit on my forearm! That tiny baby with the big eyes and the even bigger appetite! When we get ready for bed at night, I sit and look at you, and remember wistfully how I used to hold you, and how the soft music used to put you to sleep. And then I'd carry my tiny sleeping bear up the stairs, being so careful not to wake you on that creaky 7th step, to lay you down gently and send you off to Slumberland. Now, the best I can do is tell you it's "night night time" and get you to give me that paci-grin before you rest your head on my shoulder as I carry you upstairs. (And that's on a "good" night!)

You're learning things by leaps and bounds, and you amaze me with something new every single day! I love to watch how your brain works as you puzzle out a new toy, or hear the little giggles that erupt when you figure something out for yourself. You're learning ASL signs that we haven't even bothered to try to teach you, and when we do actually point one out to you, you pick it up in an instant. And then you show us again and again how you know it now just to prove a point. (You try so hard to show us how smart you are, but we already think you're just brilliant!)

We are already so, so proud of you, Baby Girl! I'm so excited for this next year to see the many other ways you will astound us. I can't wait to see the little girl you are only now hinting at becoming. I can't wait to have talks with you and more time for us to do things together. I love you so, so much, and I know that every day I will continue to love you more, just as I have every day until now. I never knew so much love was possible, until you showed me. As much as I am helping you grow, you are helping me learn new things about myself every single day.

God bless you and keep you always, and Happy Birthday, my sweet, sweet baby.

Love with all my heart,
Mommy

HAH!

2010-06-26T17:47:00.006-04:00

I only lapsed two months this time!

Claire is back to sleeping like a champ! It happened only a few days after that last post. And we only changed two things...

First, I changed her crib sheet. I had a theory. Claire likes a paci to get to sleep. I usually put another one or two in her crib in case she wakes up in the night and feels the need to grab one. However, at the time she was having all this wake up trouble, she had a busily patterned crib sheet. There's a good chance that it was too dark and the pacis were camouflaged by the sheet pattern so she couldn't find one to get back to sleep with. Because seriously, as soon as I changed that sheet she slept almost all the way through the night that very next night!

Second, I realized one night (after a couple of good ones post-paci-incident where I could get some sleep and think more clearly) that we can't always rush right in there. I realized this because my pants were missing. Usually I keep a pair of pajama pants by the bed that I can throw on to stumble down the hall to the nursery in, because otherwise that rocking chair is a little cold and hard on the rear at 3 a.m. But one night I forgot to put them out. So Claire started crying, and I woke up. I realized I had no pants, so I tried to find them, but it was dark. After about 5 minutes of trying to scrounge around in the dark while not disturbing Craig I found a pair, put them on, and went out into the hall.

It was quiet.

That was almost MORE alarming than the crying, but I decided to wait a few minutes anyway. After I didn't hear anything more, I slipped into the nursery, and Baby Girl was completely sacked out.

So the next night she cried, I intentionally waited and watched the clock. I determined that I would let her cry no more than 5 minutes before I went in there, but I was going to give her a chance to work it out. At about 3 minutes, she started crying less. By 4 and a half she was just muttering to herself. And then she went to sleep! It's been like that ever since. She almost never cries more than a minute or two now!

I really think, in retrospect, that all the sleeping problems were also mostly teeth related. She now has 7 teeth showing! That's huge for just a few months.

What else exciting has happened?

SHE'S WALKING. I mean full-on walking. I mentioned that she started taking some steps around the time of my mom's birthday. Less than a month later she was pretty comfortably toddling from one piece of furniture in the room to another. And now, she's goood at it! She can even step over small things, and when she trips, she often recovers her balance without much trouble. I'm so proud!

On the other hand, that lends itself to a whole other slew of complications. A fully mobile child is just plain more difficult to manage than one who crawls to get to stuff. She's becoming a full-time job. It's about time Craig and I started looking for some help. A part-time nanny, or a sitter or someone like that. I don't think we're ready for day care yet. Claire would probably be fine; us, not so much.

Since Miss C has mastered walking, she's now burst forth with learning many other skills.

Words Claire recognizes and shows she understands when you use them:
water
eat
ball
dog
kitty
Desmond
daddy
blankie
paci
Night night
nap
and phrases like
Come here
Do you want...?
Where's...?

She's trying to say them too. Right around Father's Day, she conveniently learned to say "Daddy", which sometimes comes out like "Gah-ghee" or "da da da da" but we know that's what she's trying to say. "Kitty" is "yee-eee", and her new one, "blankie" is "bwah bee" or something similar.

And she's SIGNING. We've let her watch some of the Signing Time and Baby Signing Time videos at meal time, and she LOVES them. We also do the signs for her every chance we get to use the words. And it's amazing how fast she's picked it up! The first one she learned was "more", but she really didn't get the concept. (I think she's starting to now, though.) Then she got "milk" and "cheese" (which she performs close to the sign, but not exactly, though we know how to interpret it.) And now she's trying "bird" and "dog."

But the real kicker is that she learned a sign we didn't even try to teach her! In the theme song, Rachel repeats, "It's signing time with Alex and Leah" and does the signs for "signing time" while she sings. Claire picked up the "signing" sign (rolling your hands inward) and now it's her way to tell us she wants to watch the video while she eats!!!

Every day is something new and exciting with her. I love to call my mom and dad and tell them all about what she's done today and the new things she's experiencing.

And now someone is up from her nap, so I have to go, but I'll try to get in one more time before HER FIRST BIRTHDAY. (omg!)

Unintentional Hiatus

2010-04-21T23:00:00.001-04:00

I can't believe it's been 3 months since I've updated this blog, but it's been a total whirlwind! In an effort to catch up again, let's break this down by month...

February:
Claire learns to crawl, and makes her first real trip across the room on Feb. 19th. Here's a lovely video!

From Claire - Feb 2010 - 7 months

That music you hear is the sound of our impending doom... We soon learn that the only reason she wanted to be able to crawl was so that she could crawl TO things and pull herself up! Since that day, she's been non-stop cruising around the furniture and frantically crawling after Desmond and Shiva! She also learned to climb the stairs.

At the same time, her reflux issues aren't getting any better. We go to see a different pediatrician, and he basically gets frustrated with me challenging his, "She's gaining weight so she must be okay!" attitude, and passes us off with a referral to the gastroenterologists. The GE specialists love her because she is such a big healthy looking baby, (I can only imagine the sad cases they see!) but basically they increase her Zantac dosage slighly and it totally solves the problem. Why the ped couldn't do that, I don't know, but my theory is lazy doctoring!

At this time, Claire also stops sleeping through the night. We hoped once she figured out crawling that she would settle down again, just like she's done with every other major milestone she's gone through, but as you will see we were terribly, horribly wrong. She starts waking up, crawling to the crib rail, standing up and crying until we come to put her back to sleep, sometimes three times a night.

At the SAME time, the very same week she learns to crawl, we see her first tooth! Just a little white spot on her gums at first, but then... Oops we're wrong -- it's TWO teeth. Both bottom front ones. We hope the end of this round of teething might get her back to sleeping through the night. But no.

March:
We decide we need to put carpet in the living room now so someone doesn't bust her lip open (again) every time she falls down. Note: It is mid-April, and this still isn't done, but we're a lot closer. The whole month of March is a wash basically because Craig and I are still waking up multiple times a night to put Claire back to sleep. During the day we juggle our jobs, and making sure she's fed, cared for, has time to play and takes some naps. Claire is trying hard to drop her third nap during the day, but sometimes she takes it. Neither way fixes her sleeping through the night. She has also managed to outgrow all her footie pajamas, so we need to transition her to the top and bottom kind. NOTE TO RETAILERS: It's still cold in March! Stock more pajamas with sleeves! We couldn't find anything with sleeves in her size. We try warm room, cold room, feeding more solids, Tylenol before bed, any and everything we can think of... No use. She's still waking up two or three times a night.

April:
Aunt Veronica comes to visit for Easter on Good Friday. Claire uncharacteristically spends the evening screaming and crying! Nothing we do makes her feel better or stop crying. I run out to CVS to get some infant Motrin. I have to ask the pharmacist whether to get infant or childrens Motrin -- am I supposed to dose by weight or by age? The cut-off for the infant Motrin is 24 lbs or 2 years old, and then it's up to the childrens' med. God bless my 9-month old, 24 lb baby! The pharmacist says use the infant one because she's still young, and she's only just at the max weight. We try to give Claire the medicine right away with the syringe, and in typical fashion, she barfs. So it goes into a couple of ounces of formula, and she gets some sleep that night.

The next day she's got a little temperature, but she only seems a little grumpy. We hope that's the end of it.

Easter Sunday she's got 101.4 fever and goop in her eyes! We have a pretty Easter dress for her to wear, but we decide she will be much more comfortable in her jammies all day -- who wouldn't, right? It's a very mellow Easter, and 70th birthday celebration for Grandma. Claire doesn't nap well all day, but is easy to put back to sleep during the night.

Her 9-month checkup on Monday turns into a sick visit instead. She's got pink eye in both eyes, they're puffy, swollen and red, and she's got an ear infection.

Claire's first real illness! Oh no!

I got through it a lot better than I thought I would. A week of amoxicilin-and-eye-drops later and it was over before I even really noticed.

To celebrate her recovery, we take her to the neighborhood playground, and put her on the baby swing for the first time. She LOVES it!

From Claire - April 2010 - 9 months

Now when we go on our evening walks, if we go near the park, she gets really excited and we know it's because she wants to go play on the swings!

Claire started taking her first steps last Sunday, and though we haven't caught them on video yet, she's still taking tentative toddles from object to person to object as often as she can. I have a feeling she's going to be walking more confidently within the next month or so. We REALLY have to get that carpet installed in the living room!

So mid-April, my 9 month old is 24lbs and 12oz, and about to outgrow a bunch of her "accessories" that have a 25lb weight limit! She's also 30.5" tall, which means she's still proportional, on the same growth curve she's always been, and >95 percentile. Crazy baby!

We've begun to decrease her formula for her two middle feedings of the day to add in more solid foods. This was working really well until a couple of days ago, when she went on a food-spitting rampage again! But she's trying more table foods -- bits of cut up fruit, cheese, crackers, etc. and it's cute because she TRUSTS when I go to put something in her mouth! She carefully watches us while we eat, and she always wants to try whatever Mommy's eating because, well, it must be good, right? Mommy wouldn't give me anything bad, she thinks! So cute.

So that's been the last 3 months or so. She's STILL not sleeping through the night. Craig and I are taking turns with who gets up with her. Except now, we've put an air mattress in the living room for the person on baby monitoring duty so they don't wake up the other. This way each one of us will get a good night's sleep every other night.

But we had a breakthrough on the sleeping thing last night, because even though I heard her wake up a few times, she put herself back to sleep!!! The only thing I changed yesterday was her crib sheet. I changed it to one that was a solid color. My theory is that now she can see the pacifiers in her crib, whereas before with a patterned crib sheet she could not. So when she wakes up, she gets fussy, but grabs her own paci and goes back to sleep! We can only hope!

Keep your fingers crossed, because I'm taking a second shift on the air mattress tonight as Craig feels like he's coming down with a cold and he needs his rest. There will be a wild celebration if this baby goes back to sleeping well!

Cry it out? Not on my watch.

2010-01-20T10:53:00.002-05:00

I read a really great blog post today about the "cry it out" method of "sleep training."

First, "sleep training?" I think the concept of training someone to sleep seems really counter-intuitive. I think it's double-speak for getting your baby to sleep on a schedule that you decide works for you. Because you know what? Babies sleep all on their own right from the time they're born without any special training, go figure. It may not be when or how YOU want them to, but tough. Newborns have their own innate schedule.

On "sleep training" methods, we got a copy of the "Babywise" sleep training book from our neighbors, and on the back it says something about being an "exciting infant management plan!"

Roll that around in your brain for a minute. "Infant management." When did we stop being parents and become "infant managers?" Have we devolved to such a level that we can no longer care for our children; we're just in the process of constantly "managing" them? My baby is not my employee! (Sometimes I kid with her that she needs to get a job, but that's different!) She's my daughter. I can teach, care for, instruct, love, guide and provide for her. But I don't "manage" her. She's not an animal. I'm not her handler.

So that brings me to the blog post. It makes me literally cry to think of the babies who are put through nights alone in the dark so that they will have a bed time that's convenient for the parents.

This post means a lot to me because it comes on the heels of a few day stint here where my ordinarily good sleeper is trying every last bit of our patience at nap and bed time! At times I have to step out of the room and take a deep breath or get Craig to go in to help her, but there's no way I could just let her cry alone in the dark. I understand the insanity you feel when the baby is crying and you just don't know how to stop it and you're so tired and you just want her to sleep because you know she's tired too! I'm not talking about having to let the baby cry to take a few minutes to catch up with your logical brain and regroup. That's normal, and actually a really good idea. But if my baby is crying it's because she needs something, even if it's just a few more minutes of being held. So I'm going to tend to her until I figure it out and she stops crying.

She's so little, and the world is so big...

She doesn't know anything about anything but what we show her. I want her to be independent and secure, but at 6 months old she has no concept of how to do that on her own. It may mean a 2 am bed time for us on a week night because she's holding out, but I try to remember that this too shall pass. One day she'll be big and I'll miss these nights of holding her in my arms in the rocker and waiting until she's taking those big sleep breaths under my chin to lay her down. There's plenty of time in life for her to be on her own, but not so much for her to be my little babe in arms...

Blog post:
Woman, Uncensored: "Just let her cry"

And that's why I can't do "cry it out." And I feel sorry for those who feel like that's the only thing that will work for their family.

Extreme Weaning: final thoughts

2010-01-08T09:52:00.006-05:00

This week has been full of real challenges, emotionally. I have been through a lot.

It started on Saturday with the overnight move to the crib.

Sunday, Claire turned six months old, and I pumped for the last time. We bought her a new convertible car seat because we knew she was about to outgrow the 22lb. limit on the infant seat.

Monday, Claire had her last bottle of breast milk, and we installed her new car seat.

Tuesday, she went to the doctor for her 6-month checkup (21lbs. 12oz., and 28 inches!) And vaccines: there were FIVE of them because they added the H1N1 and the seasonal flu because she's six months old. I always have to wait in the hall because I can't stand the sound of my baby shrieking in pain (Craig stays with her) and while they were giving her the oral one, she puked all over the nurse. Bad Mommy that I am, I forgot to bring her a spare outfit, so we had to take her home in the freezing cold in a blanket. (Luckily we live about a mile from the ped's office.)

And through all this -- Not only was there the milk weaning, and the move to the nursery, and the fact that I'm sleep deprived... Claire has decided she doesn't want to sleep in my lap any more.

Before she moved to the nursery, we would put her to bed or down for naps a few different ways. Most of the time, we could put her down in her bed drowsy with her blanket and a paci and she'd put herself to sleep. (I know some parents are cursing me right now!) But if she was having some trouble (or Mommy needed some baby time) I could hold her in my lap on the couch until she was out, or pretty close, and carry her off to bed. If she was having a really rough time, we'd sit in the rocking chair in our bedroom in the dark, and I'd rock her until she was asleep.

Now, when she finishes her last bottle of the night and gets drowsy, she starts to fight in my lap. I can't get her to want to drift off. She'll show all the signs of wanting to sleep and then suddenly start yelling and arching her back and trying to sit up. So at that point I bring her up to the crib and lay her down, and she goes to sleep almost immediately, so I know the problem isn't that she isn't ready to sleep. If we do try to put her down and she isn't ready, we get her back up and let her tire herself out for about another half an hour and try again, and that usually does the trick.

As silly as it sounds, this not wanting to sleep in my lap feels like another rejection, another separation. I miss our closeness and feel like we're so far apart from where we once were. Then there was the co-sleeper incident last night... I feel very "apart" from my baby this week, very separate. She's happy and smiling still, so I know it's not having an effect on her (God love her!) but it has been a long, heartbreaking week for me.

In other news, she is absolutely gorgeous! (New pics are up in the gallery, link to the right.) She is sitting up by herself now. And we are training her to be a nerd just like her parents, as evidenced by her Star Wars onesie.

I know this is all part of being a mom, and it will be equally heartbreaking at other milestones in her life -- when she goes to school, etc. But maybe with other milestones I won't have to tackle them all in one week.

Small Victories and Addenda

2010-01-07T23:30:00.002-05:00

The crib transition has been going well. I get up a couple of times a night to "reset" Claire. Somehow I will lay her down longways in the crib at the foot, and she ends up perpendicular at the top! So I pull her back down, put the paci back in, fix the blankets and she goes right back out. (I myself have been relying on Benadryl to get back to sleep again.)

I did have a breakdown moment last night. Craig was trying to help out so he disassembled the co-sleeper. It felt like a Band Aid being ripped off. I just wasn't ready! He had said previously we would take it down this weekend, so that's what I had in my head. I figured maybe we would take it down together, and it would help me with the reality of it all, so when he just went and did it... Ouch. I cried hard enough that he put it back up before we went to bed! (LOL)

I returned the hospital breast pump on Wednesday, and it took a 20 minute drive to the hospital for the lady to be like, "Thanks. Here's your form that says you returned it! Bye." I don't know what I expected, but it felt really anticlimactic. The dry-up hasn't been a big deal because I was down to pumping just a couple times a day anyway. I'm a little lumpy, but no big deal.

As for the "milk guilt" post, I had an additional thought. From the get-go I had asked Craig for his input on what he felt about breastfeeding and providing milk for the baby. His stance has always been, "I will support whatever you want to do." He figures he's not the milk-maker, so he's not going to tell me what to do with my body. While that's a very noble stance, it has only made the choices harder because they've had to be my own.

But because he's my husband and I know him well, I've been able to discern a subtle opinion. In the beginning I know he was very pro-breastfeeding. But he saw what a hard time I was having. I know he was frustrated every time I had to feed the baby because he wanted to help relieve some of that burden for me and he couldn't. It made him happy when he could help with bottles, so he embraced the role of "manager of the milk stores." As time went on though, and the struggle got worse, I sensed his opinion turning, and he secretly couldn't wait for us to be finished! He knows the challenges we've had with feeding our large baby and me trying to hold down a full-time job and a household while pumping out milk and what the hormones (or lack thereof) do to me. I think he's ready to have his wife back again!

So while I'm happy that he's been so supportive every way he can, and it was nice that he tried to have no stance so I could not feel pressured, it made it harder to decide what to do along the way. Especially because I had a feeling I knew what he was really thinking but wasn't saying...

The Guilt of Milk

2010-01-03T12:10:00.008-05:00

Claire is 6 months old today!

And thus marks the bittersweet day when I stop trying to provide breast milk for her.

Now, before you applaud me (or chastize me, which is what I expect from some) for making this decision, I want to back up a bit...

I knew before Claire was born that I wanted to do my best to breastfeed her. All the information in the world supports the "Breast is Best!" campaign, and God forbid you choose otherwise. You'll be dooming your child to a life of diseases, horrible health conditions and obesity! Breastfed children are smarter, taller, prettier -- you name it, someone will say that breast milk will do it. Clogged tear duct? Put breast milk in it! (Yes, I've actually heard that one.) Infection, diaper rash? Try breast milk! Lost a limb? Put breast milk on it! It will grow back! (Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it sure seems that way sometimes.)Amazing stuff, breast milk, no doubt.

I digress. I knew from the outset that I wanted to breastfeed. I had a c-section, and because I needed a few minutes in recovery from that, I didn't immediately put her on the breast the moment she was born. No problem. After my blood pressure stabilized, and the family was done ooh-ing and aah-ing and stepped out for the evening, and I stopped having the massive shakes from the anesthesia, the nurse told us we could start the breastfeeding. I said I had no experience with it, so she helped get Claire into position. Then she man-handled my boob to get it into Claire's mouth! As uncomfortable as that moment was (for more than one reason) Claire latched on like a pro. I was breastfeeding!

Then they tested her blood sugar. It was way too low. The nurse strongly suggested that because her birth weight was so high and her blood sugar was so low that we immediately supplement her with formula so she wouldn't end up in the NICU. She had seen it go wrong too many times! We agreed to it, and we started giving her a bit of formula. Within 24 hours Claire's blood sugar was stable. So from the first moments of her life, I was already playing catch-up. I put any disappointment aside because I knew I was doing the right thing for my daughter keeping her out of the NICU. My 11 lb. 11 oz. baby needed at least an ounce and a half of milk from her first few days of life. The colostrum I was putting out just couldn't cut it right away.

But eventually I caught up. We continued to supplement until my milk really came in and it seemed like I could provide for her. We were exclusively breastfeeding for a couple of months. (I continued to pump too after every feeding session.)

Then something happened around her second month. It was like Claire suddenly "woke up" and no longer wanted to breastfeed! I would just lean her back to get her into position and the screaming would start! I couldn't figure out what was wrong, or what had suddenly changed. After some consultation, we determined it was a combination of two things: First, there was too much distraction that she was now aware of, and she just wanted to look around! Secondly, she was diagnosed with silent reflux. No problem, if she didn't want to breastfeed, I could just pump and feed her. But in the meantime, I kept trying to breastfeed once a day anyway. I chose first thing in the morning while she was still waking up and calm. I could get her latched on and she would nurse for at least a few minutes until she wanted to flail and get away. I took what I could get because I figured it was better than nothing, and I wanted to have an "emergency backup" method, just in case. I also enjoyed the closeness of our quiet little moments together, and the feeling it gave me to be providing for my baby.

Then Claire got used to being bottle fed by others when I went back to work. The last week of October, I got her to have one more nursing session that was just like "the old days." She and I stayed in bed a little later that morning, and she nursed for a long time. I knew that occasion would probably be the last. I was right, as I was never able to get her to latch on again after that. And after I came back from a business trip the first week of November, I stopped trying. I decided it wasn't doing either of us any good to keep pushing the issue to the point where we were both upset.

In the mean time, I couldn't get by on just pumping. No matter how much I pumped, or how much fenugreek I took, or what I added or subtracted to my diet, it seemed I had a set limit of about 20 oz. a day. I pumped at all times of the day, early, late, added blessed thistle supplements, fennel, goat's rue... I took handfuls of supplements and tried it all to no avail. Meanwhile, Claire's food needs kept increasing! She quickly outpaced me to where she is now -- at about 36 oz a day.

So ultimately, I was able to exclusively breastfeed my baby for about two months. (I'm counting pumping-feeding as EBF.) After that, if it weren't for formula, I couldn't have fed my baby. Despite the fact that I KNOW formula isn't poison, it's baby food, I have never been able to shake the guilt attached to not being able to make enough milk to support my daughter.

And yet my goal was still to go on pumping as long as I could. I was hoping for a year, but it's such hard work. I finally compromised pushing my supply to where she would get one breast milk bottle a day, and the rest formula. That seemed to be the way for me to get the pumping in I needed to do while maintaining a full-time job, a husband and a baby and a house, and still give Claire the benefits. But eventually even that started to feel like too much. Having a constant parade of houseguests since September wasn't making it any easier. I didn't quit on my worst day; I kept going. But after much long, hard soul-searching and heartache, I decided I would draw the line at 6 months, and here we are.

But why should this decision have been so difficult for me?! I knew I tried so hard, much harder than many other women would have. Pumping multiple times a day for months on end is taxing. I know in the beginning I said that breastfeeding is hard, and I still think it is, but it's definitely the easiest method. Whip out a boob any time and feed the baby! No muss, no fuss. But I went from breastfeeding, to breastfeeding and pumping, which was harder, to exclusively pumping, which is the most challenging method of them all. People say that it's like trying to feed twins -- first you "feed" the pump, then you still have to feed the milk to the baby. Not to mention all the pump part cleaning and bottle washing all day. Whew!

And unlike other women, I was never able to "feed" the freezer either. I caught up a little at the end, when we were down to the one bottle a day, and I froze a few bags. Those have gotten us through Christmas and New Year's now with a little extra pumping to finish out the days. But somehow that empty freezer case has always made me feel like a failure.

The internet is no help. I'm not just talking about all the women who brag about making 40 oz. every day, or the ones who have "normal size" babies who hardly eat a thing so they can pump and store. "Breastfeeding support" is just sad. So many exclusive breastfeeders are SO militant and SO self-righteous, that even if you say you tried as hard as you could, there are always those that just keep pushing suggestions about how you could try harder. Rather than be supportive of your need to take care of yourself AND your baby, there are those who would call you selfish or even LAZY. It's hard to block out these voices. No matter how much I want to listen to my inner voice, the one that tells me I know I'm doing the right thing for all of us, I can't shake the nagging inner, and sometimes outer voices that make me feel like I could have done more. That now my child will be somehow deficient because I didn't keep her solely on breast milk for a year (or two, or three, or whatever the current wisdom is.)

And the guilt is everywhere. I recently watched a video about how "Nursing is Normal", part of a campaign to promote nursing in public (which I have no problem with.) And while I support the cause, there's so much pro-breastfeeding propaganda in it, that all it did was made me feel guilty and sad that I couldn't count myself in those numbers. Rather than make me feel united to their cause, I felt excluded, singled-out, marginalized. While I'm sure that was not the intent, I can't put the blame solely on either one of us for it.

But my daughter is beautiful, and healthy and strong. I am so lucky. She is 6 months old today, and growing tall and wide (and proportionally) like a weed! I know it is due in part to how much work I put into giving her all the breast milk I could. But it's also the product of much love and care. Of long hours of cuddling her to sleep, and walking the floors with her until she was calm. It's the days spent watching over her while she plays, or taking long walks with her in the sunshine. It's having a solid marriage with loving and supportive parents to give her the foundation she needs to grow up with a healthy view of the world. And for those things I am proud. I am proud of the choices I have made for her. I am proud of my beautiful baby girl.

First Night

2010-01-02T22:00:00.001-05:00

Claire slept in her crib all night for the first time last night. Up until now, she has slept in the co-sleeper next to our bed every night since she came home from the hospital.

I'm positive it was much harder on me than it was on her.

She slept like a champ! Me, not so much... She slept for 8 hours, made a few noises in the morning, so I went in and put her pacifier back. She went back to sleep for another two. I cried a lot and tossed and turned all night and got up like 3 times.

It seems the bath works wonders for getting her to realize it's bedtime, so we're going to go to daily quick baths. (I'll lotion her up extra before bed, because it's winter!) We have a little work to do in the way of temperature and light control in the nursery, but it doesn't seem like it will be too difficult. Thank God for our awesomely sleeping baby!

Now, wish me luck for night two. Maybe I need a bath first?

NOW I get it... (sort of)

2009-12-29T00:53:00.003-05:00

Back in the days before I had a kid, I used to marvel at some of the things I saw mothers do and say. My mother would give me the shirt off her own back (and has!) She has always said things to me like, "You'll always be my baby" and that no matter how I felt about her she would always love me. She also said that one day I would understand. It's starting to make sense now.

Now when I see other mothers, and other people's children, I'm much more sympathetic. Don't get me wrong: I still roll my eyes at uncontrolled brats and people who ignore their childrens' pleas for attention in favor of their iPhone. But now I feel much more understanding of why mothers act the way they do about their kids. I think, in an odd way, I even feel a little protective of other people's children now.

And the strangest things have happened to my everyday experiences. Now when I see someone on tv who is a victim of a violent crime, all I can think of is that person was once someone's baby. They raised that baby to a child, to a young adult, they went to school, had friends, and birthdays and went to the store and did all the things everyone does every day...to end up at this spot, murdered, at the end. This was the sum of all their days. Or the murderer -- they were once someone's baby, and maybe they didn't get enough love, or had a fractured childhood, and now this is where they have ended up. I find myself trying to picture everyone, from celebrities to the kid who bags my groceries, as a baby. We all started out exactly the same. How did we all grow up unique?

On the other side, there are the things I definitely still don't understand. As most of you know, I frequent quite a few internet message boards, including a couple for "moms" now. The people I don't get are the ones who use screen names like "so-and-so's mommy." It's the same way that before I didn't get the women who used screen names like, "so-and-so's wife". Is that now the whole of your identity? Who were you before you were a mommy? Did you always know you wanted to be a mom, and that's the moment you've been living up to?

Maybe it's because I didn't get married until I was 34, and I didn't have my first kid until I was 37 that I grew a whole identity around myself first. All the other things came along way after it was established. It was really hard for me to change my name when I got married because personally and professionally I had become who I am with this one name. And now that I have a baby, it is definitely a struggle many days to "find myself" in here, but I refuse to only think of myself as "Claire's mommy."

I'm not necessarily knocking those people for being who they are with that as their identifier, but I am still having a hard time "getting it."

ps... Bill and Claudia -- Did you have that baby yet?! :D

Four Months (two weeks ago)

2009-11-17T09:40:00.004-05:00

So I'm about half a month late with the four month update, but it's only because so much has been going on.

First, let's get the numbers out of the way:

WT: 18lbs 13oz (99th percentile)
HT: 25.75in (95th percentile)
Head Circumference: 17in (94th percentile)

So, she's still a giant baby.

Other noteworthy things she has been doing (if you watch the videos below, clicking on the "high quality" link at the top right of the video makes them a lot clearer!):

- She has ben rolling from back to front on her own for the past several weeks.

- She started trying solid foods last week with a fair amount of success. Sweet potatoes are her favorite so far.

- She's trying very, very hard to crawl, but can't quite get everything to sync up yet.

There's tons more and it's very exciting for us, but for most people, it's probably just going to sound like the usual baby stuff.

We've also been having quite a bit of difficulty with bottle feeding, but that's a post for a different day, suffice to say that we may have started seeing some light at the end of that tunnel.

I know this wasn't a very substantial update, but hopefully I will find more time soon!

Imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery

2009-10-28T15:56:00.003-04:00

So you may all recall my nursery design, lovingly hand-painted by a certain crazy 8-months-pregnant lady:

We got a comment last night on the blog post that highlighted the nursery completion from two random internet people named Bill & Claudia:

Hi, We came across your design, and thought it was amazing!

I hope you dont mind, we liked it so much, we copied it for our nursery. We dont take credit for the creativity, but it did take a lot of work.

We love the way it turned out. your color scheme was beautiful for a girl. We are having a boy.

you can see our room here

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bng78/4006420092/

and also a time lapsed video of the room coming together here

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bng78/4005643961/

Furniture is arriving next week.
Anyway, thanks for the design idea. you're very creative!

Bill & Claudia

I am sincerely flattered!!! (And, holy cow, maybe I really could do this for a living!)

The Continuing Adventures of Giant Baby

2009-10-13T09:05:00.004-04:00

We took Claire to the doctor last week for a weight check just to make sure everything was going okay. Here were her latest stats:

Height: 25.5 inches
Weight: 16 lbs 11 oz (!)
Head Circumference: 16.25 in

According to her pediatrician, at 3 months old Claire is the height of an average five-month-old and the weight of an average six-month-old. However, her height to weight ratio is right on, so there's nothing wrong with her; she's just developing way ahead of schedule.

Hopefully we will have more pictures and cute stories forthcoming, as Claire will be going to the zoo with her cousin Alex later this week. For now, here's my recent favorite image:

Three is a Magic Number

2009-10-05T09:46:00.004-04:00

So Claire turned three months old on Saturday. Somehow, we've already made it through the first quarter of the first year of her life without breaking her. We've fallen into a pretty stable routine by this point which Claire only occasionally manages to completely destroy.

Latest developments:

- Her face is starting to evolve into what I imagine she will look like as a toddler. She is gonna be cute.

- She has discovered that those two things on the ends of her arms, in addition to being great chew toys, can also be used to grab various objects and move them into her mouth (to be used as great chew toys).

- She is "talking" up a storm. She has periods of up to an hour where she will just babble on and on in an excited manner. We have no idea what she's saying.

- My prediction is that her first words will be "I love you". She is trying so hard to say that now.

- She is getting HUGE. We bought her a bunch of sleepers less than a month ago that she has already outgrown. When you stand her up, she looks bigger than many 1 year olds I have seen.

- She is regularly laughing and smiling when she sees her parents. This especially pleases her father, who is very insecure and needs constant validation.

- Desmond continues to be interested in her, but she continues to ignore him.

- She enjoys looking at picture books, but her tolerance is short.

- Her two favorite games to play with Daddy are the "push" game, where she lays on her back in Daddy's lap and pushes him away from her with her little legs while laughing maniacally, and "zombie baby" where Daddy holds her standing up in his lap and leans her in so she can "bite" his head or neck while Dad says "Nooooo! Save me from the zombie baby!" and Claire laughs maniacally.

There are TONS more, but the bottom line is that Claire is now fully interactive, which seems more rewarding than when she was input only (well, she always output into her diaper, but now there's other stuff coming out of her too! and not just drool and spit up).

Tune in next month (if anyone's still reading this). Who knows what she'll do next!

Expectations

2009-09-24T16:49:00.023-04:00

As we round the corner to three months, I think I'm starting to get the hang of this "mommy" thing. Claire has fallen into a nice little schedule, I'm back to work, she's sleeping through the night, she eats like a horse, and keeps the meltdowns to about 1 a day. And even if she does melt down, I feel like I can handle it now. I have enough tactical defenses in the arsenal to be able to manage almost any situation with -- dare I say it? -- aplomb.

Still, I wonder sometimes if anyone had told me it was going to be this hard, would I have gone through with it? I'm definitely past the stage where I'm daily wishing for my old life back and feeling like I made a huge mistake. And we have an "easy" baby by comparison -- it's not like she has colic, or some medical condition, or I'm trying to raise her by myself. How do other people manage and not lose their minds, (or their marriages?)

Or is that why there are so many screwed up people in the world?

One of our friends came over for a visit last week. She's a sweetheart, and we always refer to her as one of those people who prove that Southerners are not as dumb as some people like to make them out to be. She's a pretty thing, and she's got the thick country accent, but if you talk to her for 5 minutes you realize that the pretty face also has a sharp tongue and a quick wit!

But I digress... Our friend came to visit and she asked us each what surprised us the most about having a baby. I had to think about it quite a bit, and I don't think I could narrow it down to just one thing. So here I present:

Top 5 Things That Surprised Me the Most About Being a New Parent!

5. Just how much a baby who is almost 12 lbs at birth will eat!
They made us crazy in the hospital. First, when you've just given birth, you're producing nothing but tiny drops of colostrum out of your breasts. The milk doesn't really come in for about 3 days. So in our case, they told us to supplement with 10 milliliters of the formula that they provided. After two days of SCREAMING baby we realized the poor dear was just HUNGRY so we fed her as much as she wanted! We asked the pediatrician if that was okay, and he said, "Yes. Of course. If she's hungry, feed her!" They had also told us in the hospital that we should WAKE her every two hours to eat. The doctor said, "No. If she gets hungry, she'll wake up! Of course if she is going 4 or 5 hours without waking, then I would worry. But as long as she's giving hunger cues, she's fine."

So a word of advice: maybe I shouldn't trust *everything* they tell me in the hospital if I have any circumstances that seem out of the ordinary. I suppose, in retrospect, that they were telling us what to do based on advice given to people who have 8 lb babies. I mean, when do they ever see and 11.5 lb baby?! They have no experience with that. The nurses also kept remarking how fabulous I looked for a woman who just had a c-section, and what a nice patient I was. After everything I had been told, I was worried about not being able to walk around, or eat, or that I would be too sleepy to appreciate my new baby. And except for some serious aching when I got up or down, I was pretty much fine the next day as long as I had some pain meds. But I'm a really good healer. Oh well. Live and learn.

4. How excited everyone else is about this baby too!
We put all the cards from the baby shower up on the mantle a few days after the shower. Since then we've been adding to them, and adding to them, up to and including this week! That's like 4 full months of excitement. Even if everyone didn't send a gift, they at least sent a card. That said, we got an amazing number of gifts -- we haven't had to buy more than the "big things" for the most part. Craig was opening cards from relatives of his he hasn't heard from in forever. There is just so much excitement around a baby. It's heartwarming and kind of stunning. Even my "heartless" sister is showing off pictures of the baby to waiters!

3. How much I would miss being pregnant.
As grueling as the third trimester was, I'm already waxing nostalgic about it. Feeling that little life roll around in there, taking naps and having an excuse to just lay about... It was kind of nice! Everyone was so excited around me all the time. When you're pregnant, strangers smile at you, and people are courteous and understanding, and everyone's curious about how you're feeling and how the baby is doing. But now? I'm back to basically not existing! Bah! But seriously, I miss that expectant feeling, of waiting for the big moment, of the excitement to come. I hear it's not the same when you have baby #2 either...

2. Post partum depression is no joke, and actually pretty horrible.
A friend of mine told me that the first three months with a new baby are "harrowing", and I think that's the most appropriate adjective I've heard to describe the situation thus far.

I understand that some people get the "baby blues" after giving birth. That's a cute little name for a temporary bit of insanity that makes you weepy after you have a baby and realize that it's a huge responsibility and who in their right minds gave YOU a baby?! That is not post partum depression. Try crying all day at everything every day for weeks, not sleeping, not eating...and I think I already mentioned the overwhelming feeling of having made a huge, irreparable mistake.

Because I have a history of depression, I knew it might be an issue for me. At one point in my life, I went through every kind of anti-depressant known, and then all the new ones as they came out, looking for the right fit. Eventually, I "trained" myself to not need them at all, and have been living SSRI-free for several years now. But because I knew I was prone to chemical imbalance, I advised them to prescribe me something while I was in the hospital. In retrospect, because those SSRIs take at least 2 weeks to really start working, I should have started two weeks sooner.

If I had started sooner, I probably wouldn't have worried my mother to death for a few weeks (enough so that my parents went back to NJ and then came back a couple of weeks later to give us extra help.) I probably would have appreciated those "tiny baby" moments in the first week or two more, and now I wish I had, because I know they're never coming back...

So my advice is, if you know you may need medication, take the medication. It actually helped reduce my crying jags and insanity to only once a day, and now they're practically non-existent.

But the number one thing that surprised me --

1. How much love I would have for this tiny little person!
Yeah, it's cliche, but it's cliche for a reason!

Don't get me wrong, I'm good at love. I love my family, and my close friends and my pets. I've deeply loved some of my boyfriends, and of course I totally love my husband. But this? This is a whole new level bordering on obsession.

If she makes the littlest sound while she's waking up, I'm all over it like white on rice to see what she's doing because I'm just so EXCITED to see her! The little faces she makes are cuter than kittens in a fluffy cloud universe. If she's upset, her shrieks are like tiny daggers into my heart, tearing out my soul, and I would do anything -- ANYTHING -- to fix it and make her happy again! And just one "Hi mommy!" smile from her and I'm a puddle of melted ice creamy love. I had no idea it would be like this. Just one of those things that, like they say, you just don't even have the capacity to understand until it happens to you.

Would I do it all again? Yeah, I think I would. At least the second time I will be more prepared...

Two Months!

2009-09-03T09:51:00.004-04:00

Wow... if the first month seemed to go fast, the second passed in the blink of an eye. Here's what baby Claire looks like now:

And here are some things she's been doing lately:

- She now smiles and laughs in recognition whenever she sees me or Kathy, especially first thing in the morning or seeing one of us after being away for a brief while.

- She bats and grasps at objects near her face.

- She can support her entire core unassisted from the waist up while being held. She can also support her own weight, but her balance leaves something to be desired, so she won't be walking quite yet (this week, at least).

- She can push herself up onto her arms and has started to make attempts at crawling, but can't quite get traction yet.

- She "talks" A LOT! Usually happy little coos and gurgles, but she occasionally mimics something we day using her own versions of words, like baby Hooked on Phonics. Her favorite one to imitate is Daddy's "I love you" which from her sounds like "AH LAAAAAAAAH PHBBBBBBT!" using the same speech inflections and volumes as me.

- She's holding steady at about 14 lbs and 23 inches long or so, but she's eating like she's about to grow again. She typically takes in about 6 ounces of milk every three to four hours!

- She is officially sleeping through the night at this point, usually going down for 6-7 hours, occasionally as long as 8. We are obviously thrilled. If we get less than six hours of sleep on a given night, it's definitely not Claire's fault.

- Both Kathy and I are back to work now, which is why updates have been sparse. Hopefully October will find me with more time to fill everyone in on things.

If any of you are still watching our blog for updates, thanks for your support and patience! We love you! More soon... promise.

One Month?

2009-08-03T08:35:00.003-04:00

Claire is one month old today.

Wow.

I mean, really... where did the time go? It seems like literally only yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. A lot's happened, though, despite an astounding lack of blog updates.

- She's stopped screaming. The worst we get now is an occasional bout of crying which we're usually able to stop by picking her up. She gets fussy when hungry and grunty when gassy, but nothing like what we experienced during that first week.

- We went to Target! With the baby in tow. As ridiculous as that sounds, it felt like the biggest accomplishment to us after days and days of feeling chained to the house.

- She now turns her head toward the sound of Kathy's and my voices, and smiles in response to hearing or seeing us.

- She's still very regularly sleeping 4-5 hours, especially at night.

I'm sure there's more stuff, and we owe everyone an updated picture, but for now I'd say it's an accomplishment that the three of us are still alive! I can't wait to see what adventures month two holds for us.

Mother Nature has a twisted sense of humor

2009-07-18T21:22:00.008-04:00

I'm going to give it to you straight:

Breastfeeding is HARD and anyone who tells you it isn't is either deluded or just a boldfaced liar.

It doesn't help that we had an 11 lb. baby. From the get-go I've been behind the 8-ball. In the hospital her blood sugar was low so they recommended we supplement her with formula right away because colostrum probably wasn't going to do it enough to keep her out of the NICU. And since then, my poor breasts have been fighting an uphill battle.

More than one person has made the joke in the past, based on my well-endowedness in the breast area, that my babies would never starve! No one apparently accounted for the fact that I would have an enormous baby...

It's a constant battle of supply and demand.

We went to a lactation consultant yesterday though, and she said that we're doing everything right. The main concern is just to work hard to keep the supply up. So I'm trying things like fenugreek and "Mother's Milk tea" to help too.

I was able to finally buy some nursing bras at the lactation center. They are cup size "G." Yes, G as in "ginormous."

Cruel joke number two courtesy of Mother Nature:

I'm already starting to forget how tough pregnancy was, especially at the end. It's all I can do to remember the trouble I had doing chores while 9 months pregnant, scrubbing the toilet and the shower with a giant baby-filled midsection in the way. I'm forgetting how hard it was just to roll over in bed, or get in and out of the car, or, well...do pretty much anything with the world's most achy breaky pelvis. My brain is starting to think, "Oh well, maybe it wasn't that bad?"

And this is why the human race has persisted.

40 ml. to Freedom

2009-07-18T21:07:00.004-04:00

Q: How much does an 11 pound baby eat?

A: A lot. More than you think. More than you've heard. More than your friend's baby ate. More than your baby ate. More than logic dictates anything that small should eat. Way more than 40 ml. but I just can't pass up a good Sublime reference.

Here's what our baby is like (apart from being adorable, cuddly, sweet-smelling, soft and occasionally sleepy). For those of you who've seen LOST, you'll get this analogy. The rest of you can probably skip ahead a bit (as in this entire entry).

You know in Season 2 of LOST, how Desmond lives in the hatch for three years pushing the button every 108 minutes? And at the two-minutes-to-go mark, he starts getting the friendly cash register beep sound signaling that it's time to input the numbers? And at ten-seconds-to-go, the friendly beep turns into an ominous buzzer type sound? And when the clock runs out, those freaky hieroglyphics pop up and there's that something-wicked-this-way-comes sound of a horrible, horrible thing that's just about to happen? And then the world ends?

Our baby is like that. She sleeps (when she sleeps) for periods of up to four hours at a time. When she wakes up, she's all smiles, making the occasional "I need to eat" gesture. Do not let this fool you. Get as much milk or formula into her as quickly as possible. If you do not, within two minutes, the sleepy-smiley baby will turn into what would sound to the untrained ear to be a vaguely annoyed baby. You do not know how close to the end of the world you are at this point. You now have less than one minute to get a bottle into that mouth or it's

time. If you ignore the previous two warnings, she will begin to let out such an ungodly shriek, you will swear that someone has just set upon a pillowcase full of kittens with a blowtorch. If she is anywhere near your head, your ears will ring for a period of several minutes to an hour. This shrieking will continue until you place a bottle in her mouth. If you're able to get the bottle into her mouth within about fifteen seconds, the screaming may subside and you may, in fact, have bought yourself 108 more minutes of peace. If you do not, the world will end. Which is to say, you will spend the next three to six hours trying to get her calmed down and back to sleep.

I maintain that God sent us this particular baby because He thinks we can handle it. But right now, after two weeks I feel like it's already been three years. If John Locke showed up right now, I wouldn't wait to see if he got the snowman riddle correct. I'd be on my sailboat immediately.

Just kidding, I love my daughter to death and most of this entry has been exaggerated for comic effect. Except the screaming. Oh, god, the screaming. I don't think I came close to doing it justice.

It's not all doom and gloom, though. Stay tuned for our next exciting installment wherein I detail Claire's first bath and how she ended up dirtier when she came out of the tub than when she went in!

The Birth Story

2009-07-11T20:18:00.016-04:00

This is a long one, so get ready!

Thursday, July 2, we went to the doctor to have the aforementioned NST and ultrasound. We had the same ultrasound tech we had for the last two appointments, which was nice because she remembered us.

We were really excited to see Baby Girl again! It was a little difficult to get all the measurements the tech needed to make an accurate assessment of our baby's size because of the way she was positioned, but she managed. Finally she brought up the calculated results, and said, "You guys are going to kill me..." And I said, "Why?" And she said,

"I have this baby measuring at 11 lbs. 3 oz."

After we picked our jaws up off the floor, we got some printouts of the heartbeat and a one-more-time verification that we were having a girl (!) and we went to the NST. It was uneventful, thankfully. And then we waited to see the midwife.

When the midwife came in (she was the same one we saw last time who formulated a "plan" because I didn't want anyone else to try to change course) she had quite a look of astonishment on her face. She immediately stated that because of Baby Girl's size she was going to have to counsel me on having a primary c-section. Not only would it be inadvisable to try push out an 11 lb. baby, we'd have no idea if I'd be successful and if I wasn't, I'd end up needing a c-section anyway. It would also be very stressful on the baby, and could cause shoulder dystocia or other birth complications. I was okay with the c-section, and I agreed that it would be the safest course of action for all involved. After a few phone calls to the hospital scheduler, we made arrangements to have the procedure on Sunday. Finally, we knew for sure when Baby Girl would be here! The midwife checked me for dilation/effacement but said that nothing was going on still, so at least we had a plan.

My mom and dad had come to our house a couple of days before to stay with us until the baby was born, so we went home to tell them of the news. Craig called and let his family all know. We made plans and waited.

Friday morning, July 3rd, I woke up around 5:30 am (like usual) and stumbled off to the bathroom. When I wiped I discovered I had lost a large mucus plug. I had lost one on Wednesday as well, but this new one was bloody. I didn't panic because I knew that was something I could expect to happen. I felt a little crampy, like I had light menstrual cramps, but it seemed like nothing to be alarmed about, so I went back to bed.

The rest of the day, I had light bleeding, like a spotty period. And then the cramping started getting more intense. It was very low in my pelvis, and at some point I thought I should start trying to time how long it was in between moments of real discomfort. When I timed it I realized they were almost exactly 20 minutes apart. Then they were 14. Then they were 10. Then they were 15 again. Not exactly regular, so I figured I could just keep an eye on it.

I went outside to talk to mom and dad for a while on the back patio. When I got up about 15 minutes later, I had a sudden urge to use the bathroom. I felt some kind of warm "leakage" but when I checked, it looked just like a tablespoon or so of the same kind of discharge I had been having all day, or maybe just a little thinner. I thought maybe it was just an effect from sitting in the sun too long. I went and took a shower. When I got out, I laid on the bed and started timing the cramping again. 14 minutes. 8 minutes. 10 minutes...

At this point I was starting to get concerned that I hadn't stopped bleeding all day, and Craig shared my worries. But because (in typical fashion) it was after the doctor's office hours already, I had to call and speak to the triage nurse. While we waited for a call back, Craig ordered some pizza for dinner for everyone. The nurse called me back, and I explained the situation. She said she would get in contact with the on-call doctors at the hospital and let me know what they wanted to do. But in the meantime, she told me, don't drink or eat anything. So much for my delicious barbecue chicken pizza...

When the nurse called back she said that the midwife (the same one who saw us the day before) was on call and she wanted me to come down and just get checked out to be on the safe side. So Craig and I left mom and dad to the pizza, and went down to the hospital to get me checked out.

I had a hard time getting out of the car at the hospital because of the pain. They were waiting for us at the front desk, and took us to the triage room. I got undressed and into a gown, hooked up to monitors, and we waited. The nurse said, sure enough, I was having contractions! When the midwife came in, she checked my dilation (3 cm!) and said my water was broken! They did a little litmus paper-type test just to make sure, and then said, "Okay, you're having this baby tonight!"

Whaaaaat?!

And then a flurry of activity began all around me. Suddenly there were 4 or 5 nurses in the room, each doing some thing to get me ready to go to surgery! I told everyone they had to wait a minute while I called my parents so I could get them to the hospital asap. We also hadn't brought anything with us because we were expecting I would just come down to get checked and then we'd go right home. I had no cell phone reception, so one of the nurses tried to help me use the hospital phone to call my dad. Meanwhile, I had a nurse on my left trying to (unsuccessfully) insert an IV catheter in my arm. I was trying to tell my dad what was going on while she was doing it, and I'm sure it came out with a lot of "OW OW OW" in it but she just wouldn't stop while I was trying to talk! When she finally realized it wasn't working, and went for attempt number two I asked her to just hold up one minute while I finished on the phone before she attacked me again. Honestly, the pain of her trying to get that done was probably the worst thing about the whole experience!!!

With my parents called and everyone getting me ready, they wheeled me to a suite where Craig was already waiting for me. They had decked him out in scrubs by now (he looked so cute!) and he had a look of nervous excitement on his face. The flurry of activity continued around us, until the doctor came in. He and the midwife were the same team that were originally scheduled for our c-section on Sunday, so he told me I messed up because I was supposed to bring him an omelet on Sunday morning!

I looked at the clock, and it was 9:45 pm. They said they were trying to get me into surgery by 10:15 pm. The doctor explained the procedure, explained about the anesthesia, made sure I was comfortable, and went to get ready. He said in less than an hour from then, our baby girl would be here!

The nurse anesthetist came in and introduced herself, and explained what to expect from the spinal. And then we waited until they said they were going to wheel me out to the OR. My parents didn't make it there in time to see me beforehand, and the nurses told Craig he would have to wait to come into the OR until the spinal was done, but they would come get him.

They rolled my bed into the OR, and asked me if I could get up on the table myself, which I was able to do. I had to sit on the edge of the table and wait. At this point I started shaking, which they told me was normal because of the temperature of the room and the IV fluids I was receiving, so they got me a warm blanket. When the anesthetist came in, they told me to drop my head down, slope my shoulders and arch my back, and that the worst part was going to be the injection he had to do to numb the area. Sure enough, that thing burned like crazy, but they told me to count down from five and it would be done. I did, but it came out like, "Five OW four OW three OW..." And then a few minutes later I felt the slightest little nerve pinch which must have been from the spinal catheter, and then we were done! My legs started getting heavy, and they laid me back on the table.

From then on I let them put me into position (like I had a choice!) and waited for the anesthesia to work. My feet started disappearing, which was really, really uncomfortable to me because I wanted to move them so badly! They put up the big blue sheets so I couldn't see my bottom half. Then they gave me a nose tube of oxygen to breathe, and warned me that my chest would feel heavy, and it may feel hard to breathe, but that was normal. They let Craig join me and he sat by my head. I asked him to rub my hand because my fingers were tingly, maybe from the oxygen.

The doctor came in and they confirmed my name and what I was there for. He said he was pinching my abdomen and asked me if I could feel it, and I said, "No." I really couldn't feel anything! Not even pressure of what they were doing. Hooray for spinal anesthesia! And then they got started...

The rest of the procedure happened quickly, and it was kind of a blur because I felt so lightheaded. I remember them saying they saw me have an enormous contraction while I was on the table, and they couldn't believe how pushed out my abdomen got! I remember them having to get out footstools to stand on so they would be at the right angle where they could deliver baby girl. Then they asked Craig if he wanted to watch her be born, and with uncertainty in his voice he quavered, "Uh...okay?" and peeked a little over the sheet. (The nurse told him if he needed to sit, his chair was still behind him!)

And then she was out! They asked me if I wanted to see her and I said yes, so they lowered the sheet a bit and passed her in front of me. I saw a bluish, wet, baby-shaped mass fly by, and then the nurses had her.

Then I heard her! The lungs on this child! She was certainly breathing, but she was not happy about it. Craig was back and forth trying to watch them with her, and worrying about me. They let him cut her cord. Everyone exclaimed that she had a lot of hair, and they were all eagerly taking bets on her weight. Everyone knew she was no 7 lb. baby for sure!

11 lbs 11 oz! 5300g. What a big baby! I'm so glad I had that c-section!

After that I believe the nurses had gotten my dad's camera from the waiting room, so there were pictures to be taken. They put her close to my head, and Craig huddled in, and I was crying from the excitement and the relief and WOW look at that beautiful baby we made! I could hear them still putting me back together on the other side of the sheet, but I was otherwise mentally occupied...

They let Craig take her back to the room while they finished up my stitches, and then they helped me onto another gurney and told me how great I had done. When they wheeled me back into our room, I was exhausted. I was still shaking from the anesthesia, but I was ready to hold my daughter!

My family came in. My parents were there as well as my younger sister and her husband. Everyone was excited to meet our new little baby, Claire.

Welcome, Claire Marie Collin!

2009-07-03T22:38:00.000-04:00

Claire Marie Collin was born at 10:38 PM on July 3rd, 2009. She weighed in at a whopping 11lbs, 11oz and was 19.5 inches long. She and Kathy are both doing very well.

Note: we have tons more to share... when we get a free moment, there should be a few more stories forthcoming.

One more thing

2009-06-30T17:18:00.006-04:00

While Craig didn't leave me much room for writing anything less than: OMG WE HAD A BABY! (we didn't, yet, by the way) with his last post, there's a few things still on my mind that I wanted to write about...

First, the appointment we went to with the midwife two weeks ago. It was on June 18th, and it was with the same midwife we saw at the start of our first pregnancy. Oh, the surprise and excitement and confusion and elation we felt at that appointment!

The amazingly coincidental date of that appointment?

June 18, 2008. Exactly one year later to the day, we were seeing the same midwife, but this time our excitement has been a long time building, and we are still praying every day for a much more satisfying resolution...

Second, the appointment we had last Thursday. We saw a different midwife, but one we had seen before, who we like very much. She's warm, and positive, and seems to really care. She could sense my disappointment at still being pregnant, and see how uncomfortable I am, and was gracious enough to make me a deal. She said that if the baby still wasn't here by this upcoming Thursday, she would do some fetal screenings: an(other) NST, and an ultrasound to measure the baby, amniotic fluid, etc. If they determine I am carrying a large baby, like 10 or 11 lbs., we will make plans for a c-section. If she is less than that, the midwife said she is confident I can deliver the baby without surgery, but we will do some things to start the process moving along. She said she normally doesn't do that sort of thing before 41 weeks, but she'd be willing to make the exception for me at 40 weeks and 4 days! Whee!

So here we are at 40w2d, and I am mis.er.a.ble. I'm in awful pain no matter what I do. My ankles are a memory. I'm exhausted from lack of sleep and not being able to even sit comfortably. I want to be done with work and just rest until I have this baby... But no. She's "stuck" in there and shows no signs of wanting to come out. And I still have to work, and I still can't sleep, and I still have chores, and we've been doing our "homework", and WHY WON'T I GO INTO LABOR??!!

I got to thinking about it, and maybe my body just likes being pregnant. The way it hung on to the first pregnancy even though that baby didn't have a chance, and now this baby being overdue... It's got to be those sturdy peasant genes again or something.

I am trying to be positive, but I'm feeling really low at the moment. It's hormones, or fatigue, or something, but I'm crying all the time today.

Being that this is the last day of June, I suppose we are now having a July baby. Surprise!

I just want her to be here so badly I can't stand it! Come on, Baby Girl!!!

We are all packed and ready. We are just doing little things now to pass the time. Like Craig said, it's like waiting at the top of the roller coaster hill.

Eleventh Hour

2009-06-26T22:53:00.003-04:00

You know when you ride a roller coaster? That initial climb up the long, straight chain to the top of the first steep drop? The coaster creeps up, *clack* *clack* *clack* and you feel your center of gravity shift as the first car creeps over the hump and starts its decent. You hold your breath... and the car stops. You're hanging there, waiting to go, and nothing's happening.

That's where we're at right now. The nursery's done. The clothes and supplies are bought, washed, assembled and put away. The classes have all been taken. The preparations have all been made. Everything's ready for the party but the Guest of Honor. (We've even pretty much picked out a name for her... we're not really superstitious either, but we've been seeing it in a lot of places in a "good omen" kind of way. We're still not telling, though. Wait for the birth announcement!)

It's hard to keep things in perspective at this point... to remember that our due date hasn't even come yet (but soon! Sunday or Monday depending on who you ask). It feels like we've been waiting for this baby forever. And in a way, we have. With the first pregnancy, and this subsequent one, we've been working on our kid for over a year. And in some ways, it didn't seem all that long, considering. But now? Now every day seems to stretch into an eternity, and two weeks from now might as well be December 25th.

But we're still here. And we're still managing. And we still haven't had the baby. But soon enough! As my boss told me the other day: no woman's ever been pregnant for three years straight.

He's right, I know, but it sure doesn't feel like it sometimes.

Here's to the next entry being the news everyone's waiting to hear, and here's to it coming soon!

My First Peeve

2009-06-24T13:50:00.003-04:00

I think I've been a pretty easygoing preggo. I don't care if people touch my stomach. I show everyone my stretch marks. I don't care if you say I look huge, or I don't look huge, or that my ankles look like they've been injured. I don't care if you constantly ask me how I'm feeling, or if I've had that baby yet, or message me once a day at work to see if I'm still around. See? I'm laid back.

I do however mind when people ask me when I'm going to "pop."

I'm not a balloon. This is not air in here. Nor am I a blood-filled tick, or a zit. Yuk. All of those things bring up really unpleasant, Alien-movie connotations for one about to give birth, believe me. I am NOT going to "pop." I am having a baby. I can think of about 30 euphemisms that annoy me way less than "pop."

So please, refrain from making comments that remind me my abdomen looks like Jiffy Pop when you take it off the stove. (No, I will not don a layer of tin foil.)

(Final?) Nursery Update

2009-06-15T17:51:00.005-04:00

Today marks two auspicious occasions. First, it is exactly two weeks from our baby's projected due date (though between you and me, I'm still hoping she's early). It also marks my triumphant return to the baby blog. I've been busy... perhaps busier than I have been at any other point in my left, except maybe college. Wait... especially college. There's no way to BS one's way through preparing to have a baby.

Let's turn back the clock several weeks (queue the "LOST" flashback noise). I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of our crib, hoping and praying that it wouldn't be broken or defaced in transit like EVERY OTHER MAJOR ONLINE PURCHASE I MAKE EVER!

Sadly, the crib was no exception.

If I were ordering something where a flaw like the one above couldn't potentially kill my only child, I could overlook it. However, in this case, logic dictated that we order a replacement. Kathy got on the phone with the manufacturer, and eight to ten business days later, we had our replacement. Thankfully, this one was undamaged.

I set to work at once putting the crib together. By this point, we'd made most of our other baby gear purchases, so we set to work decorating it at once. Here's a fairly detailed shot of our bedding (decorative only... we know that we need to take the crib bumper and blanket out of the crib when she's born... it's only there for show right now). Ignore the crib's position in the room... it's moved a few times since then.

We also bought and installed new rods, tiebacks and curtains, which you can see on the right hand side of the next picture. The rods have little pink glass spheres on the ends, and the curtains are an iridescent brown fabric, in case the pictures don't convey that.

Also visible in the picture below are the ubiquitous Diaper Genie II Elite and one of two refinished (by yours truly) and re-hardwared dressers. This one has been re-purposed into a changing table, complete with soft pink cover. Our goal here was to keep the actual pink to a minimum. Hopefully we've succeeded.

With the help of my Father-in-law, I hauled one of our purple living room armchairs up the stairs in lieu of a glider or rocker. It's comfortable and goes with the decor, so why buy something new, right? The lamp in the background was an unexpected $19 find at Target. If you can't tell, the bulb covers are several shades of pink, mulberry, brown and white. Finally, a small shelf for nick knacks (not quite completely filled up) can be seen here.

The other dresser, the first one's longer, shorter doppelganger, resides against the front wall of the room. You can see a lamp here which matches the bedding on the crib, as well as a mirror I'm not completely happy with yet. The one thing you can't see on this wall is an old IKEA table that's been painted pink with brown legs. Once a brown stripe has been painted around it, this will be our in-room internet access... something to do when we're up at all hours taking care of the baby.

This past weekend, my awesome brother-in-law Aaron came over and helped us wire the nursery for overhead lighting (90% of the rooms in this house don't have any, an issue we're out to remedy, one room at a time) and install a ceiling fan to help protect our little bundle of joy from the oft-worried-about (by me) SIDS.

So that's basically it. Aside from hanging a few photos, the nursery is complete! It only took several months of backbreaking work, but I'm sure our daughter will one day appreciate that her parents took the time to create for her a space that she could enjoy and continue to grow into. She'd just better not let her mom catch her hanging posters on that circle wall!

More updates soon, I promise!

Nada

2009-06-12T22:20:00.005-04:00

(I'm liking the title of this post for its multiple-language meanings...)

Went to the doctor yesterday, and he checked my cervix. No dilation, no effacement! Rats. The doctor gave us "homework" to do if we want to start moving things along though. I'm also going to start using evening primrose oil to try to help. It would be a little early for my mom and dad if she came before next Sunday, but it would be okay anyway. I think we're ready!

He also said she grew when he measured my abdomen! I gained something crazy like 8 lbs in the last week! That can't all be her, but my ankles and calves are so freakishly swollen that I know I'm also retaining a bunch of water. The doctor was nice though, and said that my ankles weren't even the worst he'd seen that day (no matter how bad I feel about them.) :P

She's still moving around frequently but her movements are much less "kicky." She's making a large lump on my upper right side which I'm thinking is her back or her butt. Every once in a while she PUSHES it out slowly but hard, and I end up with a giant, weirdly lopsided tum! When she does it, it's fairly painful (I've got a whole new set of stretchmarks from it!) and we say she's "cubbing out."

In other news, our friend from the VA Board (where Craig and I met) drew this lovely pic for Craig's birthday on Wednesday:

Thanks, mb!! :)

Baby Pool

2009-06-09T19:31:00.003-04:00

Not the kind you swim in, and we're not having a water birth or anything...

It's the guessing game kind, where you can enter a guess for the newborn's date of birth, time, weight, length, and a few other features. I found a simple-yet-nice site created by a guy who was having his own kid and wanted to get his family involved... He's created it for free, and kept it free, which is pretty cool in this day and age.

The link is here, but also in the title of this post, and in the link section on the right.

So the person who guesses the closest wins! What do you win? I have no idea yet, other than bragging rights, of course, but it could be fun! Craig and I will make our own guesses offline, since we are the keepers of inside information...

Enjoy!

Terms of Endearment

2009-06-08T13:24:00.006-04:00

Ah, 37 weeks. I've carried this baby to term! Yay me! She is welcome to come out any time she likes now, except we're hoping she'll wait until after at least next weekend. We have many unfinished tasks...

My car is currently in the shop having its AC repaired. If the baby comes before that's done, we don't have a vehicle to bring her home in, as the seat belts in the back of Craig's car don't work (and even if they did, I don't think we could fit a car seat back there.) Contingency plans: we took the car seat base out of my car before taking it to the shop. Plan A is Mom & Dad's vehicle. Plan B is some other visitor's car. Plan C is rent a car.

Wednesday is Craig's birthday. It would be more convenient if we didn't have 2 people in this house sharing a birthday week. (June is going to be one hell of a month. Anniversary, Craig's birthday, Baby Girl's birthday, Desmond's birthday...)

We have a "preview" appointment at a pediatrician on Wednesday. It would be nice if we met one we like before she comes.

I have another prenatal appointment Thursday morning. (If she comes before then, obviously it won't be necessary!)

I'm supposed to get my hair cut Thursday. I would like to have "good hair" for all the pictures that will be taken post-birth.

And lastly on Sunday, I am going to the church for a pre-baptism class that they require of first-time parents. They only have them a couple of times a month, so if I didn't go this time, it would be a pain to reschedule.

Not to mention that the house is a mess, and I feel like we have so much to sort out still.

And I haven't even packed my hospital bag yet. That's a daunting task. I made lists for it though, and they are looong. You'd swear I'm going on a month's vacation. However, I just compiled it with every conceivable thing from every suggestion list I could find out there, so it will definitely require paring.

Nonevents

2009-06-02T12:39:00.004-04:00

At week 36, it seems like it's all over but the waiting, now.

From the pages of "Duh" magazine:

Babies are expensive!!!

Craig and I spent the last couple of weeks shopping for things we didn't have yet, and WOW -- have we spent a lot of money! Thank God for our nice tax return this year. I don't know how other people do it.

I tried to rationalize it this way:
Imagine if you took in a refugee who had nothing. Imagine what it would take to outfit this person with everything they needed: clothing, food, toiletries, etc. Then consider that they are a special-needs person and also require lots of specialized equipment to get around and just for day-to-day living. What would that cost? Probably more, actually, than what it costs to outfit a baby. (Baby clothes are cheap in comparison to adult clothes!)

We went to the doctor yesterday for a checkup. Baby Girl was kicking around just fine. Nice strong heartbeat, still measuring on track. They had me get in the stirrups to do a Group B Strep culture. Yes, they already found GBS in my urine at that 10 week or so exam, but he said it doesn't hurt to do it again at 36 weeks. He didn't want to check my cervix this time because he said it's too early. But after feeling my abdomen he said he thinks she's already facing downward, so that's a good sign!

My pelvis feels like it's coming apart, and my lower back is killing me most of the time. I feel positively geriatric. What was I thinking having my first baby at 37 years old?? I'm so jealous of the under-30 crowd at this point. I'm sure I would have had a much easier time if I had started earlier.

Physically, anyway. Because then the logic-brain kicks in and reminds me I was in absolutely no place financially or emotionally to handle taking care of a tiny human when I was younger. I really needed the time to figure things out about who I am and what I wanted to do with my life before I decided to have a kid. Not to mention the fact that my traditional sensibilities wouldn't have allowed me to have a baby without a decent father in the picture for her. I kept to the plan:
1. Financial independence
2. Career stability
3. Marriage
4. House
5. Baby

It just took a really long time to get there. But I'm glad I did it this way. Would I do it this way again? Probably. But I would like to have known then what I know now. I would have gotten here much sooner.

And speaking along those lines, and of nonevents...

Today is our third wedding anniversary. Craig and I have neglected to get each other anything. I think we both just sort of forgot with all the baby excitement, and it's fallen by the wayside. We'll probably just go out to dinner and have a nice relaxing evening at home. I told him his present is that I'm making this baby for him. And he says that HE made the baby. So I guess it was a team effort, and that makes for a nice anniversary gift, indeed.

Baby Shower!

2009-05-24T11:59:00.027-04:00

Ooops -- the news of this is two weeks old! LOL

My sisters threw our baby shower for us. We knew that it was going to happen, because I had to provide a list of people we would like to invite, but they didn't tell us where or when it was going to be...

My parents came into town for Mother's Day, so my younger sister, Christina, proposed that we all get together at Dave & Busters, where her husband takes her every year for (step)Mother's Day. I wasn't suspecting anything really, except that we don't usually do anything for Mother's Day, so that seemed odd. But since my parents were around, I left the mental work on it at that.

We took the drive up there, and Christina met us at the door, and led us to a back room...

(Holy crap! Am I smuggling Thanksgiving turkeys in that shirt, or what??)

We couldn't believe all the people that came -- from as close as the street where we live, to as far as 3 hours away! (*not counting my parents who came from Jersey.)

The mom-to-be and grandmom-to-be were made to feel like guests of honor:

Being that I'm part Italian (thanks Mom!) my parents decided to show off their sense of humor:

There was good food, (Mexican buffet! yum!) and Christina made this AMAZING panda cake!

Of course there were gifts:

After food and conversation, everyone got to go play games in the arcade (which, imho, is way better than the typical stupid degrading shower games!) So a good time was had by all.

We really enjoyed seeing everyone (what may be) one last time before the baby is born, because who knows how long it's going to be before we see everyone again!!? We were stressing that we would like visitors after she's here because we will probably be welcoming of adult human conversation and activities once we get the hang of newborn care...

(All pics were courtesy of my dear brother-in-law, Aaron:)

(as Craig brought our camera, but then with all the excitement, we neglected to actually take any pictures!)

Nursery Update #3

2009-05-03T22:48:00.007-04:00

This weekend (and every weeknight last week) was spent doing nothing but painting the nursery. By Kathy, that is. As you'll recall from last week's installment, I'd taken myself out of the running due to the precision required at this point. In the meantime, I tried to take care of the housework, yard work, bringing water and supplies to Kathy, keeping the AC at a tolerable level for an 8-month-pregnant lady (hint: lower) and sanding and painting one of two pieces of furniture for the baby's room.

Sound like a lot? It was nothing compared to the work Kathy put in on the nursery.

As you'll recall, last week found her filling in the various circles she'd plotted out on the wall. This week, she continued to do that:

And continued to do that, adding three coats of paint to each circle...

Once all of that was completed, she began to hand paint a dark brown outline around each circle, starting in the bottom right-hand corner:

And continuing leftward...

I can't even begin to describe to you how tedious and painstaking this process was. She literally free handed each circle with a small paintbrush. From morning until bedtime on Saturday and most of today, she continued to work, until everything was outlined.

She's now in the process of painting the baseboard to cover the over painting. I told her that after this, she's not allowed to exert herself for the next two months.

Stay tuned for our next harrowing installment, wherein our hero (me) attempts to haul various pieces of furniture up a flight of stairs by himself.

Lazy baby!

2009-04-28T15:00:00.002-04:00

Last week I had to go for what they call a fetal non-stress test, or NST.

Baby Girl had been really active over the weekend. We were painting the nursery and running errands, and she was kicking away like normal. Monday we went to see the doctor (another doctor this time; I think we may have seen all of the midwives by now) and everything was measuring on track, and her heartbeat was in the 130s. But the appointment was first thing in the morning, and the whole rest of the day, I hardly felt her move at all. By that night I was getting concerned. We listened to her heartbeat on the Doppler, but it was harder to find than usual. I thought maybe she was turned around backwards and I just couldn't feel her like I had been, but I was still concerned. I told Craig that if she wasn't back to normal by Tuesday, I would call the doctors' office.

Tuesday was a busy work day in the morning, but I tried to get her moving like usual with a nice, cold, sweet, chocolatey Carnation Instant Breakfast. She wasn't having it. Barely a kick or two. So I called the doctor's office and one of the nurses called me back. She asked a bunch of questions about what I had tried, and offered that as the baby gets bigger I may not feel her move as much because she has less room to do so. But she said what they could do is have me come down and hook me up to the monitors and see how it goes, so that's what I did.

It was easy enough to do. They sat me in a big recliner (like the one in the lab they sit you in if you're going to pass out!) and hooked up a fetal heart rate monitor and a contraction monitor. She had a hard time placing the heart rate monitor because someone didn't like the belt it was attached to, and squirmed away more than once. Then the nurse gave me a button to push every time I felt the baby move. And we waited, and watched the machine slowly churn out a roll of paper with squiggly lines on it.

At one point Baby Girl was being kind of sluggish so the nurse said we could try the buzzer. She showed me what the buzzer felt like on my leg before she put it on my stomach, and sure enough it produced a small BZZZT and a vibration. When she activated it on my stomach, Baby Girl JUMPED. I think we may have startled her! Poor little muffin, just trying to get a nap in there, with us bugging her, hee hee.

After the test was over the nurse told me everything looked fine, but they were going to have me see the doctor anyway. Coincidentally, the doctor I ended up seeing is the same one we're going to go see next week. He was really nice, and told me again that everything seemed fine, and he measured me. He said that he is all for someone coming down and doing an NST if there is a concern because it's so easy and non-invasive to do, and it also lets everyone be reassured. So he was glad I called and decided to come down if I was worried, and told me to feel free to do so at any time.

So yes, Baby Girl was just fine, she was just having a couple of lazy days. She's been pretty active since. This week (31 weeks!) I've noticed that I feel her pretty much all the time in some way. It's a lot of rolling or small movements, but I have a feeling that with much less space to move around in, she's pushing against me more and doing less floating.

It makes me happy and excited every time she moves. Even last night when she had her foot square up in my ribs. It's totally worth it to know she's okay in there, and that she'll be on the outside with us soon!

(Also, for the record, I forgot to mention that the results of my glucose tolerance test were just fine, and I do NOT have gestational diabetes! Yay!)

Nursery Update #2

2009-04-27T13:54:00.009-04:00

Okay, so first let me start off by apologizing yet again for the delay between blogs. With the timer ticking down and less than nine weeks remaining until the baby is born, we're really starting to feel the crunch. That said, we've done quite a bit of work on the nursery over the past couple of weeks and I thought you might like to see how it's going.

Two Saturdays ago, we painted the ceiling and taped it up, along with the windows, in preparation for painting the walls:

The following day, Kathy and I painted around the edges and outlets (I'm providing these photos for reference, because it's harder to see the color in the later pictures):

Finally, we painted the rest of the room:

Very astute viewers, upon clicking the last image, will notice the very faint outlines of a few circles drawn on the wall. There's a very good reason for this. Kathy created detailed top-down plans and elevations of each wall in Visio, which we used to plan the layout of the room (with scale drawings of all the furniture). She also used the elevation of one particular wall to plan a pretty intricate pattern of interlocking circles. This allowed her to plan the radius of each circle as well as each section's respective color (you will see how this plays out in the next nursery update). Here are two of the plans (one showing size, the other color):

In the background, you can also see one of the individual pieces of string she used to draw the circles. Each one had the radius marked in red tape to avoid confusion.

Finally, once all of the circles were drawn, Kathy laid down the first coat of the lightest color. I didn't go near the project at this point (except to spot the pregnant lady on the stepladder) because my painting hand is not nearly as steady.

So that's where we're at right now... I know Kathy's working on another blog entry as we speak and I know there will be more coming soon from my end. Sorry again for the delay, but we'll try to keep the news flowing as we get it.

Back to School

2009-04-15T09:47:00.003-04:00

Note: As so often happens in our shared life, the pendulum has swung back the other way. Kathy is now absolutely buried at work, so I will endeavour to take over the blogging duties in her stead. This means more big words (but also hopefully more jokes [not that quantity in this case is synonymous with quality]). Annnnyway...

Last night, we found ourselves attending our very first Childbirth Preparation class at the hospital (or rather, a small Maternity Education building right next to the hospital). For me, the jury was still out as to whether this would be a worthwhile experience. I was 1 for 2 with these courses after the (imo) abysmal CPR/Safety class and the amazing (again, imo) Boot Camp for New Dads.

We shuffled into the room, blankets and pillows in tow, along with about 6 other couples who were all interesting and different in their own ways. The nurse who would be officiating the class handed out name tags and collected fees. Then she addressed the class, giving us her name, home telephone and cellular numbers ("Call me any time if you have a question") and telling us, "I've been in nursing longer than any of you have been alive." A bold statement, but it turned out to be true.

She used no notes or textbook (she didn't need them). She'd been helping deliver babies since the 60's, she told us, and explained all that had changed over the years. She offered many colorful anecdotes, plenty of advice (always backed up with a sound medical rationale) and more than a little humor. This lady was amazing. I can tell you with no exaggeration that as of right now, she is the only nurse I want at the hospital when Kathy delivers.

She talked about the roles of the husband during labor (busting most of us guys' chops as she went along), what the actual process of labor would be like (long and not a lot of fun), and gave us an overview of what to expect from the class in the coming weeks. And like that, two and a half hours had passed before we knew it.

With just over two months of pregnancy left to go, it feels like we're finally entering the home stretch. Probably because we are.

Boot(ie) Camp

2009-04-04T20:22:00.003-04:00

Regular followers of this blog will recall that my last experience with a childbirth prep class (Infant CPR and Safety) fell somewhat short of my expectations, to put it nicely. So I wasn't exactly looking forward to my return trip to the hospital (solo this time) for a "Boot Camp for New Dads" class. The previous class had felt like a disaster to me, despite being taught by a licensed (and female) medical professional. However, in the interest of learning everything I possibly could about this baby and how to take care of it, I decided to enter this one with an open mind.

It was hard not to picture a class called "Boot Camp" to be full of false bravado, b.s. stereotype-riddled misinformation and macho posturing. When I saw the "no girls allowed"-style literature I was handed upon entering the classroom, my fears seemed to be becoming a reality. However, I was to be pleasantly surprised.

The class essentially consisted of an instructor and three "veteran dads" (men with their own first children, ranging in age from 12 weeks to 6 months, in tow; they'd all been through the program themselves while their wives were pregnant) addressing any and all concerns we had about becoming fathers (and being good ones, especially in the shadow of our own [for better and/or worse] dads). Turns out the "no girls allowed" thing, more than being some sort of facade, was really an opportunity for all of us to say what was on our minds without fear of being judged by anyone who might already have their misgivings about letting us anywhere near her baby.

The instructor was a youngish guy who I instantly liked for several reasons:
1. He bore more than a passing resemblance to my brother-in-law Aaron.
2. Right out of the gate, he identified himself as a 9 year cancer survivor who had been unsure if he was ever able to realize his dreams of fatherhood (and whose wife was currently pregnant with their third child).
3. He didn't seem like a d-bag (I'm trying to cut down on swearing this month in the hopes that I can quit completely by May).

Much of the class consisted of the instructor asking the veteran dads about their experiences with their wife's pregnancy, labor, delivery, post-partum and their own experiences with fatherhood. We were fortunate because all three typical birth types were represented by the three guys: natural birth, induced labor, and c-section. All described their experiences in frank terms with no detectable posturing (and oftentimes a lot of actual genuine emotion). Watching them with their kids, it was clear that they loved them very much and were great dads (A's all around for effort, at the very least). It was very encouraging stuff.

Later, we broke into smaller group with the veterans, each of whom gave a few of us a guided tour of their diaper bags, along with a few recommendations of which products were worth the money and which we could do without. My veteran dad looked like a young Tim Robbins. Tim Robbins (I'm terrible with names and have already forgotten his real one) talked at length about his experiences, stopping occasionally to let us ask questions (I had a few about how much time he took off from work and how he and his wife shared the duties of getting up at night). He was incredibly helpful and positive.

Finally, we watched a video about shaken baby syndrome which, coupled with a very graphic demonstration of shaking via an egg inside a plastic jar was enough to make me live in constant fear of accidentally killing or maiming my baby. (I ran home after the class and immediately made a contingency plan with Kathy that involved my being able to hand our daughter off to her, no questions asked, if I ever felt my rage starting to get the best of me).

At the end of it all (the class ran three hours with a five minute break and we used up every minute and then some), I stayed after class to chat with the instructor for a few minutes about cancer and also met one of the other "rookie" dads, whose wife had gone through five(!) miscarriages and some intensive corrective surgery, complications and months of anxious waiting. He was now just weeks away from finally becoming a dad. I told him that I couldn't even imagine what he'd gone through. One miscarriage rocked the foundations of our world in a very profound way... I couldn't in a million years imagine going through that five times.

Finally, I said my goodbyes and went home, very impressed with the class I'd just attended. Put together by a bunch of guys with no medical training (and perhaps even more shocking to some, no female intervention), this thing had all the makings of an epic disaster, but instead ended up being the best ten dollars I've spent in quite a while. I wish I could say that I made a bunch of new friends who'll be with me through this new experience called fatherhood, but you know what?

I guess I kind of did.

Fifteen and Four

2009-03-31T10:33:00.007-04:00

With all the emphasis on Baby Girl's nursery and the furniture and supplies with which we need to fill it, there's been very little time to concentrate on names. After making a few fairly uneventful passes through the immodestly titled Greatest Baby Name Book Ever, Kathy and I decided that we would each come up with our own list of names, and then bring them both to the table for discussion/negotiation/dismissal and hopefully, the eventual acceptance of one.

I finally completed my journey through the land of Every Potential Baby Name early this morning, which left me with a total of fifteen potential first names and only four potential middle names (somehow, I find those easier to weed out).

As we've said in the past, we're not going to reveal any candidates, or our eventual choice, until after the baby is born. However, I will give you the alphabetical breakdown of my choices and then open the floor to speculation. Since I've already made my choices, this will not influence me in any way, but it might be fun to see what people guess.

Of the potential first names, there are:

1 that starts with the letter A
2 that start with the letter B
2 that start with the letter C
1 that starts with the letter D
4 that start with the letter E
1 that starts with the letter J
1 that starts with the letter O
1 that starts with the letter P
1 that starts with the letter T
and 1 that starts with the letter V

Of the potential middle names, there are:

1 that starts with the letter E
1 that starts with the letter G
1 that starts with the letter M
and 1 that starts with the letter R

So that's where I personally am at on the name front! I'll have plenty more stuff to write about soon, but for now, back to work!

Venus of Willendorf

2009-03-27T10:10:00.003-04:00

I got out of the shower the other night, and that is what immediately came to mind.

(Here's a link for those of you who don't remember Art History 101...)

I went for the glucose tolerance test on Monday. This was one of the only appointments I've gone to by myself, but because it requires sitting there for at least an hour without much going on, it didn't make sense for Craig to come. We haven't gotten the results yet, but hopefully no news is good news.

I saw one of the midwives while I was there, and I think it's time for us to start rotating through the medical staff to meet everyone at least once before I deliver. This midwife was just okay; I was not overly impressed one way or the other. She did say that it is statistically likely that I'll deliver with a midwife (CNM) because they are the ones usually at the hospital; the doctors are on call if needed, but they are generally attending to emergencies, while the midwives handle most of the labor and delivery.

Baby Girl was all juiced up from that glucose drink, so when the midwife tried to use the doppler, she kicked it off! (whew, whew, whew, POW!) But the heartbeat was fine, I feel fine, everything is good.

Nursery Update

2009-03-22T12:23:00.013-04:00

As we fast approach the third trimester (by some accounts, we will hit this milestone next weekend... by others, the following week) one of the questions I find myself being asked most frequently by friends, co-workers and relatives is "How is the nursery coming?"
(Runners up include "How is Kathy feeling?" [She's fine, but gets tired and out of breath easily these days.] and "Have you decided on a name yet?" [No.])

So, I figured it would be good to give everyone an update on this now legendary room, along with a few pictures of the progress.

It would be good to start off by noting that what we now refer to as the Nursery was once called The Room Where We Dump Everything We Don't Know What to do With or Where to Put It. It's been a couple-months-long process sorting through the three-foot-high piles of boxes and loose assorted scatterings of God-knows-what, but last weekend we managed to complete most of that. I don't have a "before" picture, but you must trust me when I tell you that if you could get the door open at all, you wouldn't have been able to venture far inside before we went to work in there. I spent my work breaks and evenings last week moving the remaining pieces of furniture and boxes into our upstairs hallway, removing the old curtain rods and tiebacks, and patching and sanding holes. By yesterday morning, all that remained was to remove the switch plates and tape them up. The room looked like this:

I spent an hour or two priming the top and bottom borders of the walls, the corners, the areas around the light sockets and windows... anywhere it would be difficult to use a roller. After recently painting two other rooms in our house, the process had become almost second nature to me. However, I was missing one crucial component this time around: Kathy. She's not able to stand for long periods of time without discomfort and she wanted to spend some time working outside, so I tackled this project by myself. When I was done "outlining" the room, it looked like this:

By this point, I needed a break, so I stopped to mow the lawn and check on Kathy. Afterward, I returned to the Nursery, using a roller to put two coats of primer (one seemed a little see-thru [check out the borders of the walls in the pictures below for an example of what I mean], and I wanted that "cat barf" color as covered up as possible). This process took a couple more hours and involved dragging the drop cloth back and forth with all of my painting supplies on top of it because I was too lazy and impatient to pick them all up and carry them out of the room each time.

The end result (and the room's current state) is this:

Next on the agenda:

1.) Choose a color scheme and paint design.
We're currently using the following pattern from Target as inspiration for our color pallette... more on that in a later entry.

2.) Paint!
This is the fun part.

3.) Move our existing bedroom furniture into the Nursery.
We have some old white bedroom furniture which needs to be repainted and drug down the hall to its new home.

4.) Break out the checkbook for any remaining Nursery accessories and furniture.
Crib, changing station, diaper pail and many, many other things still need to be purchased.

5.) Check the calendar and make sure the baby's not been born yet.
I think we'll be okay here, but it's going to be close.

Look for a new update on the Nursery as soon as there's more to tell.

In other news, Kathy returns to the doctor tomorrow. I won't be accompanying her this time, as she has to take a three hour long glucose tolerance test and it's a work day for me. However, I'm sure she'll tell us all about it right here.

Schooling, Afterthoughts and Affirmation

2009-03-11T12:07:00.007-04:00

Last Thursday, Craig and I went to our first "baby class." This one was Infant/Child Safety and CPR. I know it seems a little early for that sort of class, and I would have preferred we had taken it a little closer to when we actually have an Infant/Child, but this was the only time they could get us in that didn't conflict with our other childbirthing classes. So on a weekday night, after work, we went over to the hospital for some learnin'.

The nurse that taught the class was actually a surgical nurse from the main hospital, but she said she has been teaching this class for a while. I was amazed at how much I already knew, and I got to thinking about why...

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time by myself. All that time on my hands and lots and lots of books in our house led me to a lot of reading. I remember in particular we had a medical book, a full-color transparency-plated sciency affair that I used to pore over for hours. (It's probably why I understand so much doctor-speak now...) In addition to basic anatomy and chapters on body systems, it was a first aid reference. So I learned a lot of things that I found fascinating back then, but that I would probably find kind of gruesome now. For example, getting a fishhook stuck in your hand. I now know that you need to push it through your hand until the barb comes out, and then you can cut the barb off, and remove the hook. YOWCH and YUCK. But back then, I thought it was pretty cool. So a lot of the first aid things in this course were a refresher for me.

But it was still useful to have to rethink all the things you have to consider when you have a baby. I leaned over to Craig at one point and whispered that having a kitten was going to have well-prepared us already for baby safety. We're already used to having to think about: what is that little creature going to put in its mouth, climb on, hang from, grab, knock over, etc. We already keep our toilet seat lids down (drowning hazard) and our blind cords tied up. Maybe adjustment won't be too bad.

Craig was more critical of the instructor than I was. He felt she brushed off some of the things that he wanted to know were important. You know, how sometimes in a class, they'll tell you, "The book says do it this way, but real life isn't always like that..." I tend to take that in stride, but he felt she should have emphasized: if it's important, you HAVE to do it, rather than leaving a gray area, especially in the minds of first-time parents... But that's small potatoes.

Two things stood out for me in post-class thought:

1. How in the world did any of us make it to adulthood? Our parents didn't know or do lots of those things. All the car seat rules, and food rules, and household safety things... It's a wonder any of us survived.

2. Any woman can get pregnant. (Hypothetically speaking in the broad sense, barring any medical difficulties, etc. I meant from a 50,000 ft view.) There's no laws or regulations or, these days, even strong moral imperatives keeping "unfit" people from having children. Along those same lines, once you give birth, the hospital hands you a baby, and says, "Here's your baby! Good luck!" and off you go. Nobody requires you to take classes. Nobody checks in on that baby ever. Nobody has any idea that you're in your right mind and can handle a completely dependent, brand new infant human and keep it alive. Any idiot can at that point be responsible. And that thought is kind of scary. I mean, it's something I've always known, but the gravity of it has just only really hit me recently.

On a lighter note, I received the first "public" acknowledgment that I'm pregnant a few nights ago! Craig and I went out to dinner with our lovely neighbor friends to a nice restaurant on Saturday night. We stuffed ourselves, but still had leftovers, so when the waitress brought the dessert menu, we weren't having any. But the waitress mentioned cake, and saying "cake" to a pregnant lady is dangerous...

By the time we got home, I said to Craig, "All I can think about now is cake..." So he agreed to indulge me, and we hopped back out of the house again to the store. (Hey, we were already all dressed up, and we needed some staples like milk, bread and eggs anyway...) We loaded up a couple of hand baskets with the basics, and picked up a delicious 4-quarter cake assortment (double chocolate, red velvet, carrot, and German chocolate. YUM)

We went to the register and the cashier looked at the cake and commented on how lovely it looked. Craig said, "That's actually the reason we came out here tonight!" And the cashier looked at me with a smile and said, "I guess you had a craving, huh..." And then she asked if this was our first child, and we got to talking about babies and kids and whatnot...

So that must mean I'm officially at the point where I look more pregnant than fat! Yay! I have noticed that, for the first time since...oh, I don't know, puberty...my stomach sticks out farther than my boobs! The top-down view is a little strange for me, but I'm slowly getting used to it...

(Side note: if God forbid I ever need to find a job, I am so going to go work at that Harris Teeter! Those people that work there are the nicest, happiest bunch of grocery store workers I've ever seen. They must be treated well...)

Ultrasound pics -- 22 weeks

2009-03-05T13:33:00.012-05:00

I've been meaning to post those ultrasound pics from the last visit, and I've just been too busy! (read: lazy and/or tired, more likely.) So these pictures are from 22 weeks, but I'm 23 now. (And sorry about the cop-out on the fruit analogy to the right. After week 22, they start bunching them together a few weeks at a time. The explosive growth slows down some now until the end...)

The ultrasound last Monday went well, and we had the same tech as last time, so she remembered we didn't get those face pics we wanted! The munchkin started out pretty uncooperative (although this time I drank some juice before we went, so she was rolling around in there) but later she started giving us some better photo ops. The tech tried really hard to get us some good shots (including switching on the 4D for us, whee!) and we got to see some cool stuff!

(All these pics you can click on to enlarge, by the way.)

First, we are DEFINITELY having a girl!

(We hope that's the last time she shows off the goods to anyone like that until she's oh, about 40 years old!)

She decided to wave "hi!"

If you tilt your head to the left for this next one, you can see a little alien baby skull! (Baby Girl is actually using the placenta as a pillow...)

Here's a sweet little profile:

And here's one that takes a little imagination, but I think it's neat that they can get all this on film:

Then the tech kept trying to get us some good face pictures. She switched on the 4D but Baby Girl was rolling around and putting her hands in front of her face, and then we saw that it was because she was just trying to get her arm into her mouth! (OM NOM NOM):

So everything is fine! They said she weighs about a pound and a half, and is measuring about a week ahead! I was worried about my weight because I myself had gained about 6 or 7 lbs. since the last visit, and I thought, "That can't be right!" But the doctor said I was spot on and doing great, and keep up the good work!!!

The next appointment is on March 23rd, and I have to go in for a glucose tolerance test. But the nice thing about the test this time is that I get to eat (a high protein) breakfast first! I guess they don't want to upset the tummies of a pregnant woman too much with that sugary crap first thing in the morning on an empty stomach! I'll have to get up super-early, but...breakfast!

Baby's First Concert!

2009-03-02T09:42:00.006-05:00

One of the first things I learned upon moving to Charlotte is that the metro area is prone to overreaction when it comes to snow. All week, we've been bombarded with "STORM TEAM CHANNEL 37! GET READY TO BE BURIED ALIVE IN THE SNOW FOR A MONTH! THE DEADLIEST BLIZZARD IN OUR PLANET'S HISTORY IS ON THE WAY!" We tend to ignore such hype, as it rarely leads to anything. Besides, it's March for God's sake... we haven't gotten snow this late in the year for nigh on a decade!

Well, the meteorologists were right this time, and last night found me and Kathy trekking through fairly heavy snowfall to the other side of town to see Ben Folds at Ovens Auditorium. We haven't been to a show in YEARS and the one day we decide to attend one happens to be one of the only days of the year we actually get snow. Seriously, what are the odds of that? (side note: traversing slick roads and playing "dodge the idiots who think they can drive in snow" is not a lot of fun for me on a GOOD day, so you can imagine what adding a six-months-pregnant wife to the equation did for my blood pressure.)

Luckily, once we made it to the show, it turned out to be well worth the hassle. The house was still about 3/4 full, which, given the weather, was pretty astounding. The atmosphere was akin to being at a highly anticipated film at midnight on opening night. Knowing that everyone there with you had braved hellish conditions along with you granted everyone a strange sort of kinship. The audience was singing along with every song, in some cases louder than the band. It was pretty amazing stuff.

And our little girl seemed to enjoy it as well. Kathy noted several times that she was bouncing happily around in there.

The trek home was less treacherous, since most people in Charlotte are home and in bed before midnight on a GOOD Sunday. And now we'll have a story to tell our daughter some day about her very first concert. Hopefully she will be born with great taste in music (like her mom!)

Hummingbirds and Rainbows

2009-02-22T21:30:00.009-05:00

It is a bittersweet day for me today...

Those of you who have been faithfully following this blog from its inception (or back-reading) know that we got our first positive pregnancy test, after about a year and a half of "trying," on June 16th, 2008. Had that baby survived, today would have been the expected due date of our first child.

There was so much promise, so much hope and anxiety and excitement over that first positive test. As the days went on and my pregnancy symptoms strengthened, Craig and I started making plans for our future, and sharing the exciting news with our close friends and family. Though I was a little afraid, I felt a sense of redemption in my heart, and deep down I knew being a mother was what I was supposed to do with my life now. I knew everything would change for me over the next nine months, but with my amazing husband at my side, the never-ending support of our families, and the heartfelt encouragement of our friends, we would learn to adjust together, and everything would be all right in the end.

Around the time I got the positive test, I was spending a lot of time in our backyard. One day I was back there tending to the rose bushes, and I heard a great buzzing noise around my head. I freaked at first because I thought it had to be some kind of giant insect and...well, ugh. But when I heard it again, I saw it was actually a hummingbird who was tending to our giant, lilac-colored, Rose of Sharon blooms. The plant is a relative of the hibiscus, so I could see why they would be so attractive to our little nectar-sipping friends, as we have at least three of the large shrubs in our backyard.

Encouraged, I immediately went out and bought a hummingbird feeder. Soon there were three to five of the winged Valkyries out there, and I added more feeders because they were fiercely fighting with one another over territory. By the end of the summer there had to be close to 10 of them and I could identify several "regulars" at the window feeders by sight.

In the spring last year, Craig's beloved grandma, Betty, passed away. I had the pleasure of meeting and spending time with this sweet, kind woman only once, a couple of years before, when we went to his grandparents' home in Arkansas for the Fourth of July. She welcomed me into the family right away, and I felt so comfortable around her in her home. Betty loved hummingbirds, and her house was adorned with hummingbird pictures and figurines, and she even had a window in her kitchen where she hung hummingbird sun-catchers and crystals. When the hummingbirds appeared in our yard at the same time as our baby news went public, we felt somehow like it was the spirit of Craig's Grandma Betty coming to visit and keep watch over our little family.

Hummingbirds, like babies in utero, have rapid heartbeats. They are remarkably small, and somewhat fragile, but resilient and persistent in pursuit of their livelihood. The stories of hummingbird survival against great odds are many, and in all these things I also saw the parallels to the tiny life inside me.

But hummingbirds' lives are swift and fleeting, with many living only their first year. (Even those that do survive live no more than a few.) Unfortunately this fate was shared with our first child.

When we heard the words, "There is no heartbeat...I'm so sorry," were understandably in shock. And when the news had more time to sink in, we were devastated. Days were spent in tears, wondering why, and how. How could this have happened when there was so much promise, so many wonderful positives, so much hope, so much love for this unborn child? This tiny, innocent being, this fragile light, did not deserve to have its potential extinguished so soon. It had done nothing to deserve its fate and despite our best efforts to keep the baby safe and growing, we had failed. I indeed felt like a miserable failure. Here I had been personally entrusted to take care of this little one, to guard this beautiful soul and nurture it to fruition, and our baby didn't even make it past the first few critical months. Logic could not console me, and it didn't matter that others had been through this, or felt like I did, and that it was likely genetic mischance that had decided this baby's fate. I had failed.

The days started getting cooler, and the hours of sunlight started to fade. I had found comfort in the daily visits of my little feathered friends, but they started migrating away, and I began seeing fewer of them each day. I knew soon they would all be gone. But like this too, the pain began to subside, and the time started to heal my wounds. Craig and I began to feel like we could honestly live up to what we resolved in our minds: to try again. And soon after the last of the hummingbirds disappeared in October, we received our second positive pregnancy test, and with it the chance to start all over again.

Just recently I learned that, in the grief and support circles, they say that the child conceived after a loss by miscarriage, still birth or infant death is known as a "rainbow baby." As God's promise to Noah after the storm, a pact made to renew the life on Earth, the restoration of faith to "be fruitful and multiply", and a covenant to preserve human life, the rainbow appeared in the sky as a symbol of hope and rebirth. These babies conceived after the most tragic of losses are like those rainbows.

The child I carry now is our rainbow baby. She is our hope and our promise, a symbol of our faith to put things in the hands of God, who knows infinitely better than we do what we need to survive and be strong. My rainbow baby is kicking away at me softly as I write this, reminding me every so often that she is here, and I gently rub my stomach to comfort her, and let her know as much as I can and as often as I can that I will always love her and be with her no matter what.

So as the rainbows will always be symbols to me of this sweet little baby girl, the hummingbirds will always remind me of that child that was ours for such a short time. I loved my "hummingbird baby" no less than the one I nurture now, and I will always remember the joy and the sorrow and the healing and lessons in faith I learned from one so small.

Baby Kicks!

2009-02-20T20:29:00.004-05:00

Dear friends, I know it's been a while, but I can explain: I've gotten fat.

You know the the old saying about husbands having "sympathetic pregnancies"... gaining weight along with their wives? I used to think it was a funny image until it actually happened to me about a month ago.

Those of you who've met me know that I'm a pretty small-framed guy, so when I recently put on about ten pounds around my midsection, it showed. Imagine a small, round watermelon cut in half and duct taped to my belly, and you're getting the picture. I suppose a number of factors contributed: my ailing thyroid (now hopefully under better control thanks to better living through chemistry), working from home, my wife's newfound lack of energy (which I'm more than happy to oblige with my own lack of activity), and our now-standard 5:30 PM nap time were each probably to blame in their own way. I was also starting to have trouble sleeping, regardless of whatever sleep-enhancing pill I popped and despite each previous night's lack of rest.

For our regular readers who are sitting there muttering to yourselves, "good... he could stand to gain a few pounds anyway," let me just say this: I agree. However, I'd prefer the weight be spread out a bit more evenly, so I don't look like a lowercase letter "b" from the waist up when I put on a medium-sized t-shirt.

* By the way... a tip for those men out there whose partners are pregnant or may soon become pregnant: do NOT, under any circumstances, mention this sympathetic weight gain, should you experience it, to your lady. At best, you will get a playful "shut up" (repeated on a sliding scale of decreasing playfulness and with greater annoyance each time you mention it). At worst, you'll probably get punched. This has been your free advice for the week. *

So, anyway, tangential rambling aside (there's a story here, I promise I'm getting to it) Wednesday after work, I decided to start doing something about my unwelcome abdominal visitor. I plugged our hibernating treadmill back into the wall and took it for a somewhat vigorous 30 minute walk. I continued the trend yesterday and today. While I've obviously not noticed any physical results, two things have occurred:

1. I've slept extremely well the past two nights.
2. 5:30 PM nap time has now become more like 6:30 PM nap time.

So today, we're laying down for 6:30 PM nap time and I'm too pumped up to sleep, workout-induced endorphins still coursing through my system. At some point, Kathy says "Oh!" in that excited little way that she does immediately after the baby has just moved or kicked inside her. She has been feeling this for a few weeks now, occasionally even feeling our little girl kick from the outside when she places her hand on her abdomen, but I've been unable to duplicate her results when I place my own hand there. And then Kathy's saying "Oh!" again, a little louder and with a bigger smile on her face. "That was a big one!" she grins, "you might even be able to feel her".

So I place my hand on her lower belly and almost immediately -- bump -- there is this tiny little feeling, timid but at the same time forceful, against my palm. I gasp out loud. As if in response, there's another, slightly softer kick and then another little flutter of movement before things settle down again.

There are moments in your life that you never forget. I'll never forget the first time I smelled the ocean, the first time I met my wife, or the way it felt when the chemotherapy drugs finally left my system for the last time.

And I swear to God I will never forget the feeling of my baby girl gently kicking the palm of my hand as long as I live.

Test Results and Halfway There!

2009-02-13T13:00:00.000-05:00

Just a quick update because there are two things I forgot to mention...

First, I'm 20 weeks this week! That's the halfway mark! I can't believe it's half over already, but at the same time it seems like there's so much further to go. Maybe it's because the first month or so doesn't even "count." I mean, they start week 1 at the first day of your last menstrual period, so that's like...nothing. Then you don't ovulate for another 10-14 days, and then the baby actually has to be conceived. By the time you're taking the pregnancy test, it's already week 4 -- a month has gone by without you even noticing!

I'm feeling patterns of movement now from baby girl, after I eat, or sometimes when I wake up in the night. Midnight and 7 am are about the only times I've been able to clock though. She has regular spots in which she likes to push me -- right front and center on my abdomen, or very often on the lower right. I can barely feel her from the outside, sometimes, but as soon as Craig tries, she stops moving!

The second thing I forgot to mention was that we got our genetic screen results back, and they are good.

No genetic marker for cystic fibrosis.

The statistical risk for a woman my age for Down syndrome is 1 in 155. Our results came back as a risk of 1 in 190. Therefore the risk is lower than that of just a woman my age. This is good news to me.

The risk of trisomy 18 (Edwards syndrome, much more devastating) is 1 in 600-something. So that's a risk I'm not even going to worry about at this point.

Combined with the good results (so far) of our big ultrasound, the doctor's office saw no need for us to go through further, more intensive screening, and neither do we. Good news indeed!

What we've been up to...

2009-02-07T12:08:00.004-05:00

So everything's been "ultrasound" this and "checkup" that and "prenatal vitamins" this and "doctor" that. Reading this blog, you'd swear we did nothing but go to doctors every day. While that's partially true, it's not completely true. Here are a few other baby-related things we've been up to lately:

Picking a Name

We just started getting serious about this one last night. I'm taking my next door neighbor's advice and not sharing any ideas or whatever actual name we pick until after it's safely on the birth certificate. Suffice to say, there are a TON of baby names we don't like out there. We went partway through the 2004 edition of the baby name book last night, writing down names we liked as we came across them. I think we made it halfway through the "R" section before going to bed last night and had written down only four potential names. This may be easier than we thought!

There were more "good" names than that, of course, but several factors prevented us from using them:

- Someone else we know just named their baby that.
- Someone we don't like is named that.
- Name doesn't sound good with our last name.
- Name is easily rhymed with or morphed into something mean.

So, if S-Z goes the same way A-R did, we may be down to less than ten names right out of the gate!

Shopping for Baby Stuff

We haven't really started this yet. We've walked the baby aisles at Target twice, staking things out, and we've started reading this book, which we just received in the mail from a friend.

We read the "Bridal Bargains" book by these people pretty extensively before our own wedding, and if we hadn't run off to plan our ceremony in 72 hours, it would have been very useful. This one will come in incredibly handy this time, since we won't have the option of picking out all our baby supplies at Michael's for less than $100 the night before the birth.

Anywho, we should be registered at one or more places once we figure out what we need and want. We're trying to get this figured out quickly, so it's not a massive rush for us to procure everything we need at the last minute.

Based on what we've seen so far, though, Target will be one of our principal baby suppliers.

Getting the Baby's Room Ready

Our "nursery" was, up until about a month ago, the de-facto place to store unopened moving boxes and miscellaneous crap we had no good place for. You could get the door open, but traversing the room from one end to the other, you might as well have been trying to climb Everest. We've spent the past several weekends going through boxes, sorting stuff and finding places for it (or getting ready to give it to Goodwill).

Once we get the room cleaned up, the next two steps will be to prime the walls white (they're currently this disgusting shade of cat-barf-pinkish-brown at the moment [every room in the house was some shade of brown when we moved in, with about two exceptions... who were these people?]) so we can get a better idea of the space we're dealing with, and moving our old bedroom furniture in. I have about four IKEA boxes leaning against the wall in our bedroom, begging me to put them together and replace our current bedroom set, but one step at a time.

So, generally speaking, life's about getting the mundane stuff out of the way so we can get to the fun stuff in a couple of weeks or so. We're more excited than ever for our daughter, and there's so much to do, but it seems like we're getting closer every day, in more ways than one.

Thanks for reading... it's especially fun to see the hit counter at the bottom of this thing keep rising. I hope you're having half as much fun reading about our adventures as we are having them.

Ultrasounds rock!

2009-02-02T23:00:00.005-05:00

I'm trying to make this a short one, because I'm pretty tired!

We ended up having to wait a long time in the doctor's office today, which made it nerve-wracking. Our appointment was for 2:30 but it was almost 3:15 by the time they called us back to the ultrasound room. The tech today was the same woman who had to give us the bad news at our very first ultrasound last July (but I didn't realize that until later.)

I purposely wore the stretch pants so I wouldn't have to get too "undressed." Sure enough, I laid back, she lowered my pants to below the belly, and tucked a towel into the top of them to keep the gel from getting on my clothes. She squirted on some gel, (hooray for ultrasound gel warmers!) and we were off!

First, she was a really good tech, because she asked right away if we wanted to know the gender. (Heck yes!) She was also great in that she pointed out everything she was looking at while she was looking and marking things off. If we didn't quite see it, she would go over it again and point. Very thorough.

However, some little baby was not cooperating today, and was determined to keep its legs crossed the whole time! The tech tried jiggling the wand to get the baby to move, but the baby was like, "Quit bugging me!" She said most of the difficult ones who keep their legs crossed are the little girls...

She kept looking. She said it looks like the placenta is at the back, which is a good thing. We saw leg bones and arm bones, and the spine. With some more wiggling we saw a top down view of the head, and eye spots, and a nose. Then we saw some cute little baby feet!! (Ankles crossed, of course...)

It's kind of hard to make out, but above the word "foot" is a whitish area - that would be the toes/ball of the foot, sideways (heel is to the left.) The whitish area below the word is the other foot (remember, they look left-right backwards because of the crossed ankles.) Unfortunately, these things are much clearer to see while they're moving!

She kept looking for the gender, and prodded and poked, and finally determined she was 99% sure...

It's a girl!

There are three parallel marker lines they look for to indicate the baby is female, and she could see them, but she had a terrible time trying to get us a picture! This one here is the best she could do:

Imagine if you sat a baby down on a glass table, and looked up from underneath; that is the view we are seeing. Rump is the roundish area on the left, with the two legs sticking out to the right. (The brighter white areas below the words "leg" are femurs or other leg bones.) You can see two of the three lines they look for where the arrow is pointing.

The tech did say she didn't see any "outdoor plumbing" so she felt really comfortable saying its a girl!

She tried to measure the head, but she had trouble getting a good reading. (Sheesh, already she's got stubborn Kraly girl genes!) The baby had one of her arms over her head and another near her mouth. She said, "I'm sorry but we'll probably need to schedule another ultrasound to see everything we need."

Oh no! We'll have to see our baby again in three weeks! [cheesy grin!] She told us to make sure we told whoever does the next scan that we couldn't get any good face pictures, so they should make sure to try and get us some.

She gave us the pics to bring home, and we waited to see the doctor. Craig made me laugh out loud today when he described our doctor's accent as a "cross between Matthew McConaughey and Huckleberry Hound." Spot on!

The doc said everything looks great, and that it seems my due date keeps moving up a few days because the baby looks a little ahead of schedule, which is just fine. (I don't think I ever told them I have a short cycle, about 23 days, as opposed to everyone's standard 28. I bet it makes a difference when calculating dates of conception, etc.)

We told them we still wanted the AFP and CF blood tests, and both the nurse and the doctor asked us why. I thought it was a little strange until I realized that some people may still choose to terminate on bad news at this stage. I never could -- I just told them we want to be aware of possibilities so we know if we need to be extra-prepared for anything. The doctor made sure I also realized that all I was going to get was a number from the AFP test, and I said yes, I know I won't get a "negative or positive", just a risk factor, but that would be good enough for me.

I'm not too worried about it because the doc said everything looked great on the ultrasounds so far. He also gave me a "You go girl!" when he saw my weight. He said I am *right on target*, exactly right where I need to be! Perfect! So that was great news.

The last thing I asked him about was why sometimes at night I get the shakes, especially a couple of hours after dinner, or when I'm tired. He said it's a blood sugar thing, and if I've had too many carbs or sugars, I'm probably getting that spike and then a drop. Nothing to really worry about.

Everyone we've told has been thrilled today! Mom told me last night she was putting in her order for a girl, so it was great to give her the news today. Dad said he knew it was a girl... Veronica said she secretly wanted a girl, as did several other people, so we're happy to oblige. :D

Well, baby is bumping me, so I figure I should head off to sleep. I will be dreaming of sweet little baby girls tonight...

Today's the Big Day!

2009-02-02T11:52:00.004-05:00

It's the "big ultrasound" day! I'm getting no work done. I mean, I'm trying, but this appointment isn't until 2:30 and it's impossible for me to focus!

Something else I forgot to mention in previous blogs:

I've started to be able to feel the baby move!

I thought I could, a little, during week 17, but it was a strange, fleeting sort of feeling, like tiny gas bubbles. But when I didn't prove that I was that full of gas, I figured it had to be something else.

The feelings started getting stronger, and more frequent last week. It sometimes feels like a tiny muscle twitching, like if your hand gets crampy from writing and your thumb kind of twitches. Like tiny fingers drumming somewhere inside my abdomen.

Then somewhere around the end of the week, Craig and I were listening to the baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. I had my hand with the wand around my navel and the heartbeat was getting louder and softer, so I assume the cub was moving around. Then it got loudish and...BUMP. One that I actually felt! It was as if to say, "Hey, cut that out!" Seems like someone's already got an attitude...

Wish us luck today! We'll be back with the updates later!

Cub chub

2009-01-28T23:00:00.002-05:00

I'm one of the very few women I know who hates clothes shopping.

I've always had a difficult body to fit off the rack. My top half has (almost) never been less than a DD, except pre-puberty, and a brief period 10 years ago where I was going to the gym two hours a day, every day, and not eating much, and I managed to squeeze into a big C or a D. Until very recently, the only people accommodated in the DD sizes and larger seemed to be strippers (no thank you) and old ladies (boxy clothing, again, no thank you.)

My bottom half is always about one to two sizes smaller than my top half. Not a terrible problem. Unless one would like to buy a dress off the rack. I also have a 33 inch inseam. Average (about 32" or less, in some) is too short. Tall is sometimes good enough, but usually too long. Hemming is my friend.

But for the first time in my life, my top and bottom halves are starting to even out! Whee!

Last Friday, I put on a usual pair of jeans and was shocked. Just a couple of weeks before, I could at least leave them most of the way open and wear a Bella Band... I could no longer do that because now they were far too uncomfortable, even unzipped! I've always had the lower tummy "pooch" but now it had gotten firmer and rounded out to something entirely different. It had also started to push all the other things normally in there up and out of place into a poochy upper tum. I've been affectionately referring to my new shape as my "cub chub."

I broke the news of my imminent need for pants to Craig, who had other plans of what he wanted to do during the weekend, but he decided to be my support system and come to the mall with me. I was armed with a list of stores where I had heard other people similar to my size had found suitable maternity clothing: JC Penney, Sears, and my usual fall-back, Lane Bryant.

Our first stop was Sears. Why do they always put the maternity clothes next to the plus size clothing?? Is it so you don't have to walk through the skinny-minnie junior's department on the way to buy the bloat-wear? Is it so the thin-but-now-"fat"-because-pregnant women will look over at plus size and feel better about themselves? Or is it just laziness on the part of store designers and stock people? We'll never know.

I felt this was going to be a bust because I've always had issues with Sears's clothing. It's cheaply made, typically fades quickly, and won't last very long. But I thought... how long does one really wear maternity clothes? It may do the trick.

However, I sorted through the very small section of racks to no avail. Horizontal stripes? Clingy jersey knits? Outrageous polyester patterns? And...is this one actually see-through? When a youngish girl and her (I assume for lack of wedding rings) boyfriend started pawing through the racks with me, I decided to split. I didn't even want to be seen with this stuff, let alone wear it.

Our next stop was Penney's. We made a wrong turn and I DID have to walk through the junior's department, and the mannequins alone made me cringe. Not for any issues I have or don't about myself, but because no wonder 8 year old girls now think they need to be on a diet! Way to reinforce terrible body images in young ladies, department stores! (For the record, I actually have a really good body image, because other than some extra fat stores, which don't bother me too much, I'm healthy! And, even more so now that I'm pregnant, negativity about my body is strictly verboten!)

There were two other women in the maternity racks in Penney's, and one woman seemed to be helping the other with clothing selection. This immediately annoyed me because there were only about 6 racks of maternity stuffed in the back of the plus-size women's section, and these two chicks were chaotic about circling around them and pulling things out and yapping about them. I couldn't hear myself think. Craig wisely just stood out of the way with his arms folded.

Once again, the selection was god-awful. I'm not sure what designer decided that pregnant women suddenly needed to wear loud prints and clown pants, or worse, skinny jeans with full stretch panels, but there they all were! I couldn't even find anything I wanted to try on. I made a desperate glance at the women's department, hoping maybe I could get away with just plus size, only to see things that would look more appropriate on, let's say, a "mature" woman. Now I was tired, my back was starting to hurt, my feet hurt, and I had been to two stores without even finding anything remotely promising.

I said to Craig, "Let's go" and we macheted our way out of the rack jungle. When we were back on the path, Craig asked me where to next, I said, "I think I'm just going to go home and cry now." And he goes, "Why?...Because you can't find any clothes?" And I said yeah, and I started trying to figure out how I could make my stretch pants last the next 6 months.

Then Craig said, "It's not a big deal." Meanwhile, I'm thinking I'm just going to be walking around in my underwear for the rest of the pregnancy, or possibly wearing a bath towel. As I'm spiraling into thoughts of wearing my bathrobe to work meetings, and "Oh no, I'm going to have to make my own clothes out of curtains!" we walked out into the mall, Craig asked me a question I don't remember, and I burst into tears.

Something in Craig's face changed in that moment, as it always does when he sees I've reached my limit. I'm normally calm and rational for the most part, but when I get utterly frustrated and hit my breaking point, I lose it. Pregnancy hormones do not help this. Tears were running down my cheeks and I'm trying to avoid making a scene as we're in public, and Craig immediately sprung into, "What can I do for you?!" mode.

He put his arm around me and held me close and said, "We can go anywhere you want. Don't worry, we'll find something for you. Don't they make places that only have maternity clothes? We can go there if you want. Where does everyone else buy clothes?" He comforted me and led me to a place where we could sit down for a few minutes until I felt better. He dried my tears and said we could go wherever I wanted, and he would buy me whatever I needed.

I started to feel better just sitting down (and realizing I had the world's most awesome and sympathetic husband.) I had been holding on to the exclusively-maternity stores as a last resort because I knew that they can be pricey for "temporary" clothing. I decided we should go take a detour and look at shoes because I've never had a problem with Payless size 9.5 wide. On the way there I managed to mostly hold it together, except for the fact that I felt so insanely in love with my husband at that moment for being so kind to me, that it made me all choked up again. I tried to focus and look at shoes, but it didn't work so well.

I decided we could also give it one more shot in the Lane Bryant clearance racks, as at least that was where I had previously found the three pairs of stretch pants I've been wearing around for the last 4 or 5 weeks. Usually Craig doesn't follow me in there because it will be boring, but being that he was now on a mission to make me feel better, he didn't leave my side. He actually made me laugh a few times while we were in there, which greatly improved my mood, and I was starting to think it wouldn't be so bad...

We went out to the car, and when we got in, Craig said we could go to the other stores today if I wanted, or anywhere else I wanted to go. But I was too tired and just worn out at that point. He said we could spend Sunday looking too if I wanted to, and I got all teary again just because he was being so good to me. I know it was probably the last way he would have liked to spend his weekend, but he was thinking only of me and what I needed right then. I just felt so lucky to have someone who loves me so much, right there at my side, that (also being full of exhausted, petulant hormones) I lost it again.

We sat in the car for a few minutes, Craig with his arms around me, while I let it out. He asked if I wanted him to drive home (because who hasn't tried to drive while crying and snotty, yikes?) but I pulled it together, and we split.

When we got home, I considered my ace-in-the-hole, Old Navy. I've probably not shopped there in 7 or 8 years, because the last things I bought there, while inexpensive, were just...okay. You know, generic style, sorta cheap, but just okay. But at this point I thought maybe that's what I really needed. Something to make me feel "normal." It wasn't too far from home, and Craig agreed that's where we could go on Sunday.

Sure enough, the next day we went, and bee-lined right to the maternity section, where I instantly found about 6 or 8 things to try on. I didn't think the shirts would fit me (see paragraph 1) but I was so inspired I tried those on too.

In the dressing room, I discovered the wonder that is maternity pants! Fake buttons and zippers! Stretchy panels to hold your pants up because you don't have a waist/hips any more! Comfortable stretch fabrics! Heaven!

The first thing I tried on was a pair of brown cords. I don't remember the last time I wore corduroys, but...they looked great! I was so excited I had to call Craig into the dressing room. He came over and agreed they looked super-cute, and he could tell I was in a 1000% better mood than the previous day. Hooray, I had found at least one pair of pants!

The other things to try on went similarly, except that I again remembered why I have to try on EVERY piece of clothing I so much as touch in a store before I buy it. Not all size-whatevers are made equal! Ever. Even if you're in a store that has a store-brand, apparently.

I ended up with 2 pairs of jeans (one for right now, and one that will last me a while because it's got extra stretch!) and the cords, which will now nicely end my stretch-pant-wearing marathon. (The shirts didn't fit.) The last thing I will need to find are some decent black dress pants for work, but I decided not to press my luck that day, and wait for another opportunity...

(I have also since discovered that I cannot be alone in this. An online search at multiple venues for maternity clothing (including those selling only maternity-wear) has revealed that: everyone who is pregnant right now is apparently my size! That can be the only thing that explains why everywhere I go online is SOLD OUT in my size! It also seems that these stores refuse to replenish their online stock, because it's been that way for a while, unless I just keep missing the minuscule opportunity when they do restock. Infuriating! What are all the other people my size wearing???)

An Historic Day

2009-01-22T17:07:00.004-05:00

When something as big as your first child is on the way, sometimes it's easy to think that the world stands still, holding its breath in anticipation. For better or worse, though, time marches on. January 20th, and with it the inauguration of our nation's first African-American (first non-white, even!) President felt like I imagine the fall of 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down, must have felt to some. At nine years old, I don't think I was able to grasp at the time the historical significance of what I was seeing on TV. But I'm old enough now, to know radical change when I see it. And I do believe it's change for the better.

Some day, I hope to sit my child down and tell him or her about Barack Obama, the son of an immigrant who rose to our nation's highest office even as we were waiting for our own child to be born. If he did that, I'll say, there's no reason you can't do whatever you set your mind to.

Here's to the long road to economic, political, and moral recovery, and making this country back into a place where we can be proud to raise our children. With the help of our new president, I'm sure we'll be able to do it.

Yes, we can.

50% of all Kids are Raised by Amateurs

2009-01-14T12:39:00.003-05:00

At least that's what my Dad says. Having absolutely no experience with baby care, I'm inclined to agree with him. My sisters and I were all born within about 4 years of each other, so I was still pretty useless myself when they were babies. As a toddler, I didn't pick up a lot of baby care tips.

Fortunately, as is usually the case, our hospital has taken this into account and offers several birth, safety and childcare classes for modest fees (and in some cases, no fee at all).

I called to get us registered today, as the nurse at Monday's appointment told us that the classes fill up fast. The lady who answered the phone asked me which class I called to sign up for. I told her that, being new at this whole baby thing, we'd like everything on the menu.

So we are now signed up for the following classes, which will occupy about a quarter of our free weeknights in April and May:

- A 9 week childbirth preparation class.
- An infant CPR and safety class.
- A breastfeeding class.
- An epidural class.
- A car seat safety class.

And I will be calling shortly to sign up for a "New Dad Boot Camp" class. I assume they call it Boot Camp to make it seem more masculine. Also, no one would sign up for a class called "Practice Cleaning Someone Else's Baby's Diaper".

I'd like to think we will be pros after all of this, but as everything in my life to this point has taught me, education is no substitute for experience.

Pop!

2009-01-13T11:43:00.005-05:00

Week 16...avocado! Mmm...

Sorry for the lapse. Work and other obligations have been stretching me a little thin lately...

My older sister came over the other day and said I look like I finally have a "baby shape!" Which of course is a nice way of saying my lower gut is sticking out a little more than usual, mentioned by someone who sees me often enough to notice a difference. Sure enough, I've been feeling "fuller" there. If I lie on my stomach, it feels like there's about a grapefruit-sized knot in there (and I immediately want to move off of it!) Craig says he can feel the difference when he hugs me, or when he goes to kiss the cub goodnight and I'm lying on my back. It happened very suddenly too -- like one day it wasn't there, and the next day it was! Pop!

My regular pants are really not comfortable any more, so I went and bought a lightweight Bella Band from Target (it's called "Be" which I find a little odd, but okay.) I took it for a test drive the other day and it was GREAT. I had a pair of stretchy sweatpants that were too big, and it held them up wonderfully (usually I'm hiking them up all day!) I tried it with my jeans unbuttoned and halfway unzipped when we went out to the bookstore and to the movies the other night, and made it through the evening without any embarrassing pants-dropping incident! The one I have is black, but they also make a white one which I may be picking up for variety under lighter colored clothing...

We went for a checkup yesterday and everything was just fine. The nurse measured the baby's heartbeat in the high 140's but the little one kept moving around in there (which is great!) I think it's because I had a Carnation Instant Breakfast before I left the house, and he/she was all sugared up! (Bad mom!) She also put the Doppler higher up this time, midway between the top of my pubic bone and my bellybutton. The heartbeat was LOUD. And it was awesome. Wub wub wub!

We scheduled "The Big Ultrasound" for Feb. 2nd, so we only have to wait three weeks this time! (They scheduled me 4.5 weeks out for this appointment, so I guess I was ahead some in wait time.) They will hopefully tell us the gender, (if the baby chooses to cooperate, of course!) and they will do all sorts of measurements, and give us an update on the estimated due date.

We also opted for some of the genetic blood test screenings. For example, it would be helpful to know for the future if I have any genetic markers for cystic fibrosis. It requires one from each parent to put the child at risk, and even then there is only a 25% chance of the child being born with it, but it's a test they only have to do once in your lifetime. Why not know, and have some information to give to our children about our medical history?

I can't express how cheesed-off I still am that there's no way we'll ever know Craig's medical history because of the frigging sealed adoption records. We don't give a shit who his birth parents are, we'd just like to know if there is any existing condition in his history that may affect our children. Is that so much to ask? Apparently, to the State of Illinois it is, but we all know by now what a bunch of a-holes their government turned out to be.

Sorry for the tangent, but it irks the crap out of me.

We decided we don't want an amnio or CVS because they're invasive, and after last time, why in the world would I want to increase odds of a miscarriage at all, especially at this stage, just to find out something we'd eventually know anyway?? But non-invasive blood tests that give us an idea of our risk factor are okay with me. They can't give you a "positive/negative" result, only an idea of risk. So at a minimum, it will give us an idea if we have anything else to consider in raising our child. (Or something completely new for me to obsess over, but that remains to be seen.)

Be Prepared (or "finally... a decent baby book for men!")

2009-01-05T12:24:00.005-05:00

Those of you who've been following us since the beginning may remember this little gem from last June.

I've been banging my head against the wall trying to find a book for new or expectant dads that doesn't just regurgitate the same stuff they write for expectant moms, find/replacing the word "you" with "your partner".

Our good friends recently told us about this book, which Kathy was nice enough to give me for Christmas.

It's called Be Prepared: A Practical Handbook for New Dads, and it's by Gary Greenberg and Jeannie Hayden, whose other writing credits include the Pop Up Book of Phobias.

It's awesome, and worth a read even if you're NOT expecting a kid. One of the first pages shows a picture of an "idealized" baby vs. what your baby will actually look like when it emerges. Since your partner will be taking her cues from your face, it warns, you'd better know what to expect so as not to give her a heart attack from your horrified expression.

Other highlights include "pretending to hurt yourself for baby's amusement" and "how to get other people to entertain your kid for you on an airplaine". New or expecting dads, take heart: someone does actually get it.

On the actual baby front, we're headed back to the doctor on Monday. More news as it develops.

When life hands you lemons...

2008-12-29T11:50:00.003-05:00

You may have a baby!

Again, we're moving further into fruit sizes that trouble me.

I wonder who came up with using the produce aisle specifically as a measure of fetal size, especially because it can be so variable, depending on time of year and region where the fruit originated. I'm guessing there are many other things (even in the grocery store!) to compare with. I saw at least one that used "jumbo shrimp" for a week or two ago, but why not... a golf ball, a baseball, a deck of cards. Or even a whole set of things that men specifically could relate to!

We've decided that now, because it's week 14, and we're safely into the start of the second trimester we're going to start telling *everyone* who didn't already know! We're going to start with Kevin Smith, of course, because without him...well, Craig and I wouldn't be at this particular party! And from there we'll branch out to the rest of our circle of Worldwide and local friends.

Christmas Eve I managed to only wake up ONE time and I was ecstatic about it Christmas Day. So for now you can just imagine that waking up every two hours at night is continuing like that until I say otherwise, and I will cease to bitch about it going forward. (Thank God for nap time!)

Otherwise I still don't "feel" pregnant. Except my pants are at this weird stage where they're too tight, but I don't yet feel like I'm ready for maternity-wear.

To ease my mind I bought one of those hand held fetal Doppler devices for home use on eBay. Craig and I were able to hear the baby's heartbeat with it on Saturday night and it was very, very comforting to me. Slowly, but slowly, this baby is starting to feel more "real." I'm thinking that when we go for the next ultrasound at 20 weeks (the "big" ultrasound as they say) and Blobby starts to look like a person instead of a growth, that it will somehow then really sink in more. Or maybe when I'm able to feel the baby move, my brain will make that connection.

Some people say, though, that they don't really have a connection with the baby until after it is born, and even then it may take weeks or months. I don't obviously know yet how I'm going to feel, but we'll wait and see. (Like we had a choice.)

I will admit I'm starting to feel more excited now that some of the danger is gone and I'm not so worried about miscarrying again. But I still don't feel that same level of excitement and happiness that I felt last time. I'm slowly letting go of the guilt for that, as I definitely want my happiness back. Everyone tells me it's "normal", but that sounds like such a cop-out.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think as many cheerful thoughts as possible and I'm trying SO hard to be less cranky all the time. Which is no easy task considering I'm not sleeping. However, by the time this pregnancy is through, Craig should be eligible for canonization.

Peach baby, peach baby...

2008-12-23T17:47:00.004-05:00

Do doot, do do do doot...

I apologize for skipping week 12, as we were in Atlanta for a mini-vacation. But week 12 was kind of an uninteresting fruit anyway, as it was a plum. Didn't we just see "prune" two weeks ago?

We are beginning to move into the relative sizes of things where I'm starting to be concerned.

"HOW big, you say?"

"And that's going to come out of WHERE, you say?"

You get the idea...

So far I've decided pregnancy is not "fun."

It's been 13 weeks of boring waiting for things to happen. Waiting to ovulate, waiting to be able to test, waiting for test results, waiting for the doctor to tell me, "You look fine. Come back in 4 weeks.", waiting to lose my mind waiting...

Also, I would love to reclaim sleeping through the whole night. It's been a good 4 months since I haven't had to get up multiple times during the night (thanks Desmond, too, at first) just to empty my bladder so I can go back to sleep. I don't even remember what it was like at this point to sleep an entire eight hours. Some would say that it is preparing me for the trials of motherhood. To that I say, baloney. I've got a LONG way to go until then. I should be storing up on sleep now instead!

I've developed daily headaches and neck aches, which I've discovered are "normal." I've got stabbing and cramping pains in the appropriate areas above and below the belt, and all my husband can say is, "Wow, pregnancy has got to be so strange."

If I'm not nauseous, or can't eat something that was once good, I'm exhausted and need a major nap. (From all the "not sleeping" at night, you see.) I'm not allowed to do *anything* or eat all sorts of interesting things I DO want to eat, or come in contact with anything even remotely hazardous.

I feel small, and vulnerable, and unsure of myself, and I don't think I've felt this way since I was about 12 years old.

And I don't like it. At. All.

What happened to the brave, strong, independent, smart me?

Someone please tell me it's all worth it.

No don't, because that's just what I expect you to say, and what everyone says, and that they'd do it again in a heartbeat, blah blah blah. But I suspect that those are all the post-partum endorphins speaking. You know, the ones that make it possible for people to even THINK about having children again, and thus perpetuate the species... Nature's rotten little joke.

More perhaps when I'm in a better mood...

The Lime is in the Coconut!

2008-12-11T23:29:00.005-05:00

Rounding out week 11, the baby is key lime-size! I can't believe how fast the cub is growing in there! The uterus is about like a grapefruit-size...or a coconut maybe?? Hence all the singing in my head about how I'm going to relieve my "flipper ache!" (See the link in the title if you have no idea what I'm talking about!) Of course, the baby doesn't have flippers any more...(I hope!)

Today's visit to the doctor was quick, but extraordinary!

We got there on time, (though it was raining like mad), got brought right back, the nurse checked my weight and bp (thankfully back to 110/70!) and we were put right in the exam room.

Then another nurse came in with the hand-held Doppler that looked for all the world like a walkie-talkie with a microphone attached. She said, "I'm going to try to hear the heartbeat, but it's kind of early and we may not be able to find it, but we'll try! If we can't find it, the doctor will do a pelvic..." So I hopped up on the table and she said, "Okay, since it's early I'm going to have to go low, like near the hair line. You're going to think I'm listening to your bladder!" Luckily, in anticipation of this (hopefully) being what they were going to do today, I wore the stretchy pants!

So I laid back, and lowered trou, she squirted on the (cold!) ultrasound gel, and started with the transducer kind of low. It sounded at first like one of those white-noise-generator ("sleep machine") rainstorms, and she apologized for there being a lot of static on her device today. Then there was a slow heartbeat at my right pelvis near the femoral artery/vein, which she said, "There's you..." and she kept squishing around...

Then somewhere near the middle-right was THE distinctive, faster, wush-wush-wush sound, and the nurse nodded her head and said, "There. You hear it?" And then I laughed out loud, which messed the whole thing up, but the nurse laughed too, (and I'm sure that's not the first time that's happened!) So she said, "Let's see if we can find it again!" A little more squishing and she found it again more to the left, and I could see her nodding out of the corner of my eye.

I was grinning like a fool, but I tried to hold still. She found it in one more spot, and seemed pleased, so she stopped. She wiped me off and grabbed my hand to help me up (which I thought was cool -- obviously not her first day with preggos!) gave me a big smile, and said, "Good! It should be even easier next time..."

As the nurse walked out, the doctor walked in and said in a loud voice, "CONGRATULATIONS!" and shook our hands. He could tell we were thrilled, and he seemed pleased that everything was going well. I said we were fine NOW, of course, because I really needed that confirmation that everything was okay. I had been cramping kind of badly the last couple of days, but there was no blood, so they had told me not to worry when I called the office. But of course telling me not to worry, and me actually not worrying are two entirely different things.

He told me it's very normal after a loss to feel anxious about everything, and be worried about the progress the whole way. I confessed that I had been dealing with a lot of depression and anxiety and guilt still over the last pregnancy, and he asked me why I feel guilty. I had trouble articulating it. Finally I managed to get out that I feel like if I had only done something better, or more right, or tried harder that baby would have made it.

And he looked me dead-on serious and said there was nothing I could have done to have that baby come out okay. He said 99% of the time, it's just a chromosomal abnormality that is incompatible with life, and no amount of anything I could have done would have fixed that. There is no reason at all for me to feel guilty. And I told him I know that in my head, it's just a matter of convincing myself. I admitted that I tend to be hard on myself, and he said I have nothing to feel guilty about.

And then he reminded me of something, which I thought it was very sweet of him to say. He said:
"It is not man who gives life."

And I found that very comforting. He said that part is not up to us. But then he also said, "By the same token that means if everything goes well, you can't take credit for that either!!!" Being reminded that it's not up to me, and that I have to give up some of that control sometimes, somehow just made me feel a lot better...

With that, he said, "Great! Let's see you again in four weeks, and then four more weeks after that is the BIG ultrasound!" (meaning we get to see the much bigger baby, and possibly find out gender!)

They repeated my prenatal blood work before I left, because they hadn't taken any since the last pregnancy and it's time to start checking up again (which I hoped they were going to do) and happily we split back out into the rain!

I've been on a high all day because that visit was very quick, but somehow very satisfying. I feel like I can relax a lot more now, because here we are nigh on week 12, and everything seems to be going like it should! We're feeling safe, and happy, and I think we're ready to start telling people. Craig told everyone at his job today, and I think I will bring it up on my next team call at work too. The next person I think we should collectively tell would be Kevin (Smith) because, well, without that guy, we wouldn't even be at this point today. I'm just trying to think of the right way to tell him...

To celebrate, we went out for a very delicious and well-deserved dinner at 131 Main. And now we're looking forward to a nice getaway in Atlanta next week with no worries. I'm sure at this point, being the holiday season, the time will fly by until the next appointment on Jan 12th!

Thursday! Thursday! THURSDAY!!!

2008-12-08T15:21:00.004-05:00

So once again our shared life is in a holding pattern with everything hinging on a specific event. There seems to be once such event every year or so, at least for us. Two years ago, it was "Once we get married, we can do X, Y and Z". Last year, it was "Well, once we buy a house...".

This year, everything seems to be contingent on how things go on Thursday.

More about that in a minute. First off, I'd like to apologize for my long absence from this blog. I've had a few ideas brewing in my head since the loss of baby 1.0, but haven't been able to successfully birth any of them (no pun intended). Many of Kathy's blog entries have come about, at least in part due to conversations she and I have had, so rest assured I've been here in spirit, as much of a cop-out as that may be. Hopefully Thursday will bring with it a marked return to blogging for me.

Ahh, Thusday. Thursday will be, for all intents and purposes, our 12 week checkup. This will mean several things to us (and some to you as well):

1. 12 weeks will mark the end of the first trimester, and with it, the period of time when spontneous miscarriages (like the one we experienced last time) become significantly less likely to occur. In other words, we're not out of the woods, but we'll be well on our way.

2. This will be the date on which we've already decided that we're going to tell most people we're going to have a baby. So if you're just finding this blog now, congratulations: you have a few dozen entries' worth of backreading ahead of you. If you somehow found the blog ahead of time, like the disclaimer says, try to at least act surprised.

3. I know that hitting the 12 week mark without major incident will go a long way toward improving Kathy's state of emotional well-being. There's nothing like losing a child you didn't even know you could have in the first place that better exemplifies the phrase "all bets are off". Once we get over this hurdle, we can stop holding our collective breath and start getting real with things like preparing a room for the kid and begging for supplies.

Thanks to all those of you who've taken this journey with us so far, and a hearty welcome and preemptive "thank you for your support" to those just joining (or about to).

Who knows what the next year will bring? For now, though, I'll be content just to find out what Thursday has in store for us.

For the record, I'm optomistic.

Moving along

2008-12-01T11:25:00.006-05:00

Week 10 Baby is now moving into the "fetus" stage (or foetus, if you like your Alphabits with extra vowels), has completed the development of all the major organs, and is now past the stage where any congenital malformations are most likely to happen. Yay!

I think whoever came up with the comparison of "prune" for the week 10 baby was having a joke at the state of first-trimester preggos, as it is a well-known fact that constipation can be rampant right now. Because otherwise, why would you pick something so shrively and unappealing (and which rather resembles a big turd?!) I've heard other comparisons though, like walnut, or a kumquat (what??) But I appreciate a good joke. I'll stick with prune!

Which brings me to another thought: why is it that they never tell you about GREAT things that will happen to you during pregnancy. It's all things like constipation and acne and morning sickness and sleeplessness and having to pee all the time. Or, "You may notice that your pants are starting to get tight and uncomfortable," and "Your breasts are probably extremely tender and feel like rocks." Why couldn't it be, "You may notice that your teeth are slowly getting whiter!" or "You may notice that your farts now smell like roses!"

However, everyone tells me that the second trimester is the "magical" one, where the bizarro symptoms clear up, and you learn the gender of the baby, and you can feel the baby move so you're not worried about how the little one is doing ALL the time. Just a few more weeks...

Ho ho ho...

2008-11-24T16:30:00.003-05:00

Green olive!

Or something much cuter. That baby is almost an inch big already. But I'll let you read the facts for yourself. As with any of those pictures, you can click on them and read more about how the little produce is developing! (I would tell you all about it, but I need a nap...)

My appetite is back with a vengeance, though I still have the wicked food aversions, (lettuce? yuck!) and I can't eat nearly as much as I used to so we have a lot of leftovers.

Other than that I'm taking this week off work to get some things done around the house before Thanksgiving and the rest of the holidays. Though mom is already insisting on bringing everything reheatable so I don't have to cook more than the turkey! (Which is just as well, as I am SO TIRED right now.) I hope the baby likes turkey, or I am going to be SO SAD, because I love it.

I have much to be thankful for this year, as every year. I plan on taking a little of my time off on Thursday to just sit and think about the many ways in which I have been blessed the last 11 months, and then enjoy the day with loved ones. I really look forward to family get-togethers, because my family ROCKS. That in itself is something to be thankful for!

Panic! At the Doctor

2008-11-19T15:11:00.009-05:00

SPOILER: This story has a happy ending, in case you are now afraid of reading further because of my silly title.

Yesterday I woke up feeling crappy. But not in the good way. It wasn't the pregnant way. In fact, it was just the opposite. Where the last few weeks, the boobs had been KILLING me, they hardly hurt at all, and they had hurt slightly less the day prior. My appetite had returned. I was still getting up to pee 4+ times a night, but that was about the only thing making me still feel pregnant.

As an alternative, the last few days I've had killer lower back pain. It kicked me right in the coccyx. It wasn't sciatic nerve pain (which is supposed to be "normal") because I've had that, and what I've got wasn't it. And I've had some weeeird cramping, like if I didn't know better I would have assumed I was going to get my period any moment.

So, being in a foul mood with all those things combined, I placed a somewhat aggravated call to the doctor's office, where I spoke to a nurse. She said, "Oookay, why don't you come in for an ultrasound and talk to the doctor..." Because I live close, she scheduled it for about an hour after the call!

I got there early, which meant a bit of a wait. I ended up getting the same sweet little ultrasound tech who did our "second opinion" ultrasound with the miscarriage. She realized she had scanned me before and I said yes, but we're really hoping for better news this time!

I felt doomed. I had this feeling like I KNEW everything was going to be wrong, and the baby was going to have passed, and I was going to be back where I started, except months later. I worried about how I was going to tell Craig, (he couldn't come with me because of the short notice and work,) and how I would tell my parents after I hadn't even told them I was pregnant yet, and how to tell our families...

I got up on the table. For me, there's a terrible moment of anxiety the moment the wand goes in, and the little grayscale blobs start to take shape on the screen. Because there's that big black spot with the little gray blob in it, but...is the blob okay???

The tech said, "There's the heartbeat..." and I said, "You know, you guys keep saying that, but I just don't see it." So she zoomed waaaaay in for me, and there it was! Flicker flicker, like a little LED flashing on and off. Wheeee! Blobby was just fine!

(I dig that little arrow with the word "baby" above it, in case you couldn't tell what that was!)
She told me the left end is where the head is, (so the other end is the rump end, natch) and the black spot in the middle of the left end is where the brain and such will be growing!

She turned on the Doppler so I could hear the sound and there was that shew-shew sound but it was so faint. She tried repositioning, and she just had a hard time getting a measurement because someone in there wasn't cooperating...

I told her I was also experiencing some pain on my right side, so she poked around for a while and checked out the ovaries too. She explained the things we were looking at, and I was fairly amazed. She said ovaries are pretty much the most difficult thing to find and distinguish with the ultrasound machine.

Before she wrapped up, she said, "Let's go peek at the baby again, and I'll print you some pictures." She was able to pull up the heartbeat better this time, and it came in at 171 bpm, which is just perfect.
(Can you see the little brackets in the middle of the dotted line through the baby? That's where the heartbeat flicker is! So tiny! No wonder I couldn't see it in microview.)

She said the little berry was actually measuring 8 weeks 4 days, which is a little ahead of schedule, but I don't care because it means it's growing!

So with my new pics in hand I trotted off to see the doctor. When he finally came in he smiled at me and said, "What's going on?" in that delightfully southern charm way that he has, and shook my hand. I said, "Doc, I think this baby is going to worry me every damn day until I have it. And probably after too." And with a smile he said, "Probably for the rest of your life!" I agreed, but I added, "At least then it will be on the outside and I can actually DO something about it!"

I told him about my symptoms going away, and he said they're supposed to do that, so I shouldn't worry. He confirmed I was taking my baby aspirin every day. I told him that the tech saw some kind of hematoma on my scans, and he looked them over and said he wouldn't worry about it; it happens often that there's a small hematoma where the placenta and the uterus meet because of implantation, but it usually just goes away, and he wouldn't hardly call that a hematoma. He also told me it was my corpus luteum giving me pain on the right, and that should go away too. (That's what I hoped it was, because I was pretty sure I had ovulated out of the right side!) He said, "You've got a good-looking baby in there, with a good strong heartbeat! See you in 3 more weeks!"

Fears smited, seeing the baby again, and having a positive chat with the doctor...I left there happy! I'm so glad I went because now I KNOW we're past the point we got to last time, and I no longer have that nagging doubt in the back of my mind that was keeping me awake nights. We went out for Japanese last night to celebrate! (No sushi for me, though...)

I was so happy with the outcome that I caved in and told my parents. They deserve to share the happy news too, and I just didn't think I could hold it until Thanksgiving! Of course they were elated, and now my sisters are relieved of their secret-keeping obligations...

I feel about like this...

2008-11-14T12:30:00.003-05:00

Guess which one is me!

It's hard to to just spend my days gestating and not feel concerned about every little thing. And Craig has no option but to just hold my hand and help me feel better as best he can...

I have so many things to do, but I'm anti-motivation at the moment. I just want to go lie down, mostly!

And I am seriously craving an egg roll.

If they name him "Ronald"...

2008-11-12T14:09:00.003-05:00

The Charlotte Observer is reporting today that someone abandoned a baby in a McDonald's bathroom this morning. I don't think I have to comment on the sad and wasteful aspect of it, when so many try so hard to bring a baby of their own in the world, and others are just literally throwing them away... I'm hoping that baby will have a better shot at life than if it had stayed with those miscreants. Maybe grandma or someone will come forward, because I can't believe it would go unnoticed: one minute you're 9 months preggo, the next minute NO BABY?

In my own news, the nausea has subsided a bit today, and I actually feel like eating! I had a bacon egg and cheese biscuit for breakfast! (Though the baby has liked breakfast food this whole time.)

Top things I'm craving this week:

TOMATOES -- fresh ones, with just a little salt. Mmm, mmm, mmm. I might move on to pico de gallo a little later today for variety.

Complex carbs -- pasta, mac and cheese, and POTATOES (hash browns, mashed, fries.)

Tomatoes and potatoes? My baby likes to rhyme!

Roast beef au jus -- I would kill for a French dip, but I know that meat would have to be nuked beyond recognition before I could consider it "safe." So I am sating the need with French onion soup from a can...

I never got that sushi dinner I wanted before I got pregnant again. So we will go out one night and have the other things on the menu that are okay: miso, udon, tempura, and maybe I can throw a cucumber roll in there or something too!

(Did I mention that I'm probably the only whacko lady on earth who LIKES her nausea? It's a sign to me that things are at least okay... Maybe it will come back soon!)

Go baby, go

2008-11-10T12:13:00.008-05:00

Well, we went in for the post-positive-pregnancy-test ultrasound today at 7 weeks. (They gave me one early because I had a miscarriage last time...) I was quite nervous going in because I remember how much it hurt the last time when we were so disappointed. It's kind of like knowing you have to rip a Band Aid off the fuzzy part of the inside of your arm, and just trying to build up the adrenaline to do it... (I'm sensitive where they take blood - I always lose some skin too! Ouch!)

Walking down the hall, my throat was kind of dry, and the ultrasound tech asked me, "So, you're 21 weeks is that right?" And I said, "Noooo... More like 7. Maybe you're thinking of someone else?" Turns out she saw something earlier in my chart, and well, I guess if I had still been pregnant from the first time, that's how far along I would have been. When she got back in and looked at my chart, she saw the error and correctly guessed that I had a miscarriage last time. So I told her we were definitely looking for better news this time! In that case, she handed me the sheet and told me to come on back out when I was ready.

I was feeling cautiously optimistic about it because I actually FEEL pregnant this time. I've been pretty nauseous all day, but when I do get hungry, and I go to look in the fridge, I can't find anything even vaguely appetizing. I get up every couple of hours at night to pee. I'm constantly tired, I've got that slight lower abdominal cramping, and my boobs hurt like CRAZY, especially after I take off my bra. So this time, it feels like it's "developing."

I got up on the table, and she did her thing with the wand (thank God for warm gel!) and started poking around a little bit. And there was our little blob!

She said she could see a heartbeat, but of course that's exactly what happened the last time and then the tech couldn't find it again. I started to panic a little because she kept poking around, but she didn't take the statement back about finding a heartbeat, so I just sat still. And then she turned on the Doppler:

And then I started to cry! Look at that lil baby go!

The tech asked me to try to hold still...

She said the baby had a good, strong heartbeat of 135 bpm. She took the measurements, and said it's at 7 weeks 1 day, which is exactly right! I couldn't believe it! She said she'd print us one to take home:

(I guess techs have a sense of humor when it's good news!)

And we went off to wait for the doctor. When he came in the room he greeted us with a big smile and shook our hands, and darned if he didn't seem as excited as we were! He told me now that we've seen a heartbeat, the chances are excellent -- as good as 98% -- that this will result in a baby! He suggested that I take a baby aspirin every day to possibly help things. Apparently some people with clotting issues or people who have antibodies that pass through to the baby are helped by a daily dose of baby aspirin to prevent miscarriage. He said it definitely wouldn't hurt to take it, but might actually help. He also suggested a different kind of prenatal that may not give me fish burps, and said, "We'll see you in 4 weeks!"

(Ugh, 4 weeks!)

So I've been happy-crying on and off all day, because I just feel so relieved. It's like maybe I can let myself be happy again, and pick up where I left off the last time on all the planning and excitement now.

I still haven't figured out when I'm going to tell my parents. If I can hold out for 12 weeks, that will be around the same time as my next appointment, and the end of the first trimester, which is like the "safety barrier" to break through before you can relax a little... (Which is why most people wait at least that long to tell everyone.) I don't know if I can make it through Thanksgiving without saying anything though.

Okay, I don't know if I can make it through this WEEK without saying anything.

Hospitals: Still a Downer

2008-11-03T12:25:00.004-05:00

Well, in my last post you heard that I was prescribed amoxicilin.

So Thursday night I came down with a pretty horrible case of diarrhea. I was concerned about it enough (it kept me up all night, and my abdomen was painful) that I called the gyn/ob on Friday to talk to one of the nurses, because I didn't want to do anything that would harm the baby. The nurse called, and told me not to worry about it too much because sometimes that happens with antibiotics. (Which I knew, because cephalosporins have done a number on me in the past!) I was thinking it might have been some kind of food poisoning because it came on about 4 hours after I ate dinner. She then asked what I ate, and when I told her I had some bagged salad for dinner, she said that sometimes the preservatives in that will cause a bad reaction in some people. She said that Immodium was perfectly safe to take, and to make sure I stay really, really hydrated, and to eat soft foods, including yogurt, and I should be okay soon after that. Well, later in the day is when things got bad and weird...

BE PREPARED FOR TMI FOLLOWING THIS MESSAGE. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE HORROR OF IT ALL, SKIP TO PAST THE NEXT SET OF ASTERISKS. THANKS

LAST CHANCE

******************************************

I took some Immodium, but it didn't seem to be helping. I took the maximum dose (no more than 4 in 24 hours) but it didn't work. The next time I was in the bathroom, there was blood! For real, red blood, mixed in with everything. At first I panicked that it was coming from the front, but then I confirmed that wasn't it at all. Then I was worried because the Immodium specifically says on the box DO NOT TAKE if there is blood and/or mucous in your stool. By the end of the day I had both, and I felt like pieces of my colon must be falling out with every bathroom visit. Plus, I had a pretty severe case of abdominal cramping. I decided that if it was still bad in the morning, I would go get help...

In the morning, I was still peeing blood out of my backside, so we decided to head to the emergency room.

******************************************

IT'S OKAY TO COME OUT NOW.

We decided I should go to the emergency room on Saturday because the gyn/ob was closed, and I know the urgent care doesn't have the diagnostic equipment should something be really wrong. Plus, we have good insurance. (Thank God!)

So we get in the car and...the car starts acting funny. Belt squealing, power steering is not working well. We could hear the belt squeal occasionally, so I figured it wasn't *broken* per se. Craig was driving and he was in a panic. As we got a couple of miles down the road, the battery light started flashing. The whole way we were praying at every stop light that we wouldn't break down, and that we would just make it to the hospital! Luckily, we did! We decided to deal with the car thing after we got me taken care of...

I'm happy to say that, really in reality, the hospital experience we had this time was nearly just as good as the one we had with the D&E in July. Almost everyone was courteous and helpful, and asked lots of good questions, which is welcome and expected. Unfortunately, the wait time was crazy but...it was Saturday in the ER! The desk clerk apologized for the wait though, which was nice because he totally didn't have to.

The up side is that you get to watch all the interesting injured people come in. There was an older man who did something to his ankle, and a teenager who hurt his foot, and a little kid who hurt his knee at a game, and some guy who came in just holding his hand in a towel (yike! We were wondering how he was going to use the palm scanner that they use to sign you in!)

We got called into triage where I was asked a bunch of questions. They too apologized for the wait, but said I had priority over some of the others so I shouldn't have to wait too much longer.

Finally, Nurse Surly called us back to a room. I call her that because she was the only person I met the whole day who was devoid of niceness and personality. Maybe she was having a bad day, or maybe she was just a bitch. Who knows? All I know is that she acted somewhat annoyed the whole time. She gave me a cup for a urine sample and a gown and told me to put it on with the opening to the back. I asked if I needed to strip down all the way, and she said, "You can do it when you come back from the bathroom," which completely didn't answer my question...

We waited for a while, and met the friendly young girl volunteer on the floor who told us she would be happy to help if we needed anything. Finally Dr. Meek came in. (Again, not his real name, just my impression.) He was soft-spoken, but had a kind face, and asked probing questions. He told me also my illness was quite possibly a reaction to the antibiotics; I just may be very sensitive. He asked about the pregnancy, and he said he was also going to get an OB consult from the doctor from my clinic on duty today, which made me feel good. He then told me I was also going to have to provide a stool sample so they could test it to be sure... And then he went off to get his consult.

Nurse Surly came back and gave me a cup for a stool sample. She said she would come back later, I didn't have to do it right now, but to let her know when I was done.

Boy, talk about pressure. Ever try to poop on demand? It's exactly as difficult as it sounds. Especially when you haven't eaten ANYTHING in roughly 18 hours and your body was busy cleaning that out all morning.

I tried one time. A half an hour went by, but nothing. Nurse came back and gave me a bottle of Gatorade (which will probably cost about $65 when we get the bill.)

I tried again and still nothing. More time went by.

Craig got bored with his video game and had resigned himself to staring at me.

I tried walking around, sitting, lying down. We listened to the goings on in the next curtain -- an elderly woman had passed out in the dollar store after eating some catfish at a restaurant earlier, and they thought maybe she had an allergic reaction to it. The thought of catfish made me a little nauseous, but I was at that fine line where I was so starving, I was sick. I also know Craig hadn't eaten anything all day, and he had to be starving by now too, but he refused to step out to get something to eat.

We called the nurse back over, and when she poked her head into the curtain I asked her what if I can't produce a sample? And she said, sorry, that's the only way we can test to see what you have. She said I could take my time though. And I said, really? That's the only test, like there's no blood test or something else we could do? And she said, "Nope, sorry," and left.

I laid down on my left side. At my wits end of all the frustration and feeling crappy and bored starving husband and no eating and nausea and broken down car and blood and pregnancy and stress, I started to cry.

At this moment, Craig sprang into action. He came over and comforted me, and asked me what he could do for me. He asked me if I wanted him to see if he could get me some food or something, and I sobbed, "Ok." He used the call button and when the nurse desk answered he said, "Can you see if my wife can have something to eat?" and they said they would check.

Suddenly, people were attentive again!

The volunteer doing rounds came in and asked me what she could do to help. She said they had all kinds of crackers, and peanut butter, and some things to drink if I wanted, so I asked for some saltines and water.

Nurse came back in and said it was okay for me to have some crackers, and took my blood pressure and pulse. (134/84! Yikes!) She asked how far along my pregnancy was, and I told her, and she said maybe some of my sickness was from that. I said none of this happened last time I was pregnant, and she asked me if I had had a boy or a girl.

FAIL.

The volunteer came back, and I tried to stuff a few crackers down my gullet. I was amazed at how absolutely nauseated I could be by Zesty crackers. I made Craig eat a few too so he didn't pass out. The doctor came back in and said that it was okay if I didn't think I could give them a sample now; they could send me home and let me bring one back! They weren't going to keep me hostage, he joked.

He said he was going to write me a prescription for a new antibiotic, and he had talked to the OB doctor on duty and they both agreed it would be okay for me to take, but not to start it until they got the sample, because otherwise it could affect the results. He said he would send someone in to do my discharge paperwork, and I could get dressed.

I felt somewhat relieved, except then I was thinking about how in the world we were going to get a sample back with a broken car. And then I felt something else...

I trotted off to the restroom, and then I proudly marched back down the hall in my sexy open-back hospital gown with my sample! Hooray for crackers!

When they came to discharge me, they told me to ignore the directions to wait for the sample to start my prescription, and just start it right away. They signed me out, and we left to deal with my car.

True to my suspicions, the serpentine belt was loose. I was afraid we wouldn't be able to drive it farther, so we called AAA, and ran across the street while we waited to get my prescription filled and get Craig some Wendy's. When we got back, the AAA guy called, and we happened to get the nicest tow truck driver I've ever had tow me somewhere! He towed our car to the shop we trust a few miles down the road, and agreed to take us home even though he's not really supposed to drive people more than a mile outside of towing. (It was only 5 miles home for us, anyway.) He was funny and kind, and when we said something about getting the prescription I needed without a car, he was all set to drive us there too! (But then we told him we had already picked it up.) When we got home, I found the tow company's website and wrote a really nice review about him...

So all things considered the end of the day summed up much better than the beginning. Later that night, I had a scare when I had the tiniest bit of pinkish spotting when I went to the bathroom, but nothing since. I followed up with the gyn/ob this morning (per my ER discharge instructions) and they told me it was okay to wait until my ultrasound next Monday to come in.

And so begins the waiting and healing game. I'm completely sick of clear fluids and soup and rice, so last night I ate a slice of pizza! I have not yet regretted it, so the new antibiotics must be working.

Fish burps!

2008-10-30T14:09:00.004-04:00

The prescription prenatals I got are loaded with those good little Omega 3s, which we all (probably) know come from fish oil. Normally, my Omega 3-6-9 pills were not a problem, because I can take them with food. However, due to the nutritional content of these prenatals, I have to take them one hour before or two hours after eating. (Don't even get me started on how I have to take my thyroid meds one hour before and two hours after eating, but at least 4 hours apart from the prenatals, and God knows how I'm supposed to fit the antibiotics in there! I'm constantly on a mental timer.)

So the Omega 3s without food make you burp, and when you do, it tastes wonderfully like fish. Who thought this was a good idea: to give an almost-constantly-nauseated segment of the population something that makes them burp fish? Couldn't they have found a better way?

Here it comes again... Ugh, I feel like a sea lion.

(Yes folks, this blog is not always deep and insightful...)

Lastly, the doctor's office returned my follow-up call yesterday to leave me a message to say that my hCG test results looked "fine" and if I have any other questions to call them back. I hate when I get answers like "fine" and "normal." I'm a values kinda person. I want to know, quantitatively, what that means. So I may push the issue and find out, but this time I will more than likely just leave it alone until my ultrasound in a week and a half.

More testing

2008-10-27T12:26:00.003-04:00

Today is the start of Week 5. I've got the appleseed-sized baby in there again!

On Friday the doctors' office called me and wanted to repeat my hCG test, because the idea of the best test is that you're supposed to see a change, up (hopefully) or down as the days progress, so a single test isn't really useful...

On the phone they also said I had a high enough Group B strep count in my urine that they wanted to give me antibiotics! I thought that was odd, because I don't have any symptoms of a bladder infection but the nurse said that happens sometimes. So they called in a prescription for some amoxicillin.

I went to the doctors office and the lab tech brought me back to the lab. On the way she confirmed what I was there for, and the doctor who ordered the test, and seemed pleased about who I said it was because then she added, "Ooh, you got the right one!" When the blood test was done, I asked to see the nurse who had called me to come in because I had some questions, so the tech paged her.

I wanted to know about what antibiotics they had prescribed before I picked them up, and I was pleased to hear the nurse say that she saw on my chart that I was allergic to sulfa and tetracycline, so they didn't give me anything like that. She also told me that my progesterone level was good and normal at 15, and my hCG was 165. She said that may sound low, but it means nothing until they get the reference value of that day's blood test, so not to worry.

I feel much more confident this time that I'm getting the care I need. Now I'm just waiting to hear back about Friday's blood test.

Baby 2.0 is Online!

2008-10-21T10:18:00.005-04:00

Well, it seems Craig and I have the "How to Make a Baby" thing DOWN.

Now, we just have to do our best to keep the little bean in there and growing!

We had the first prenatal appointment today with a very nice doctor who I like just as much (so far) as "Dr. Good." He apparently read up on me BEFORE he came in the room which is definitely a plus! He asked me how I was feeling and I said good! And he asked if I was excited, and I said yes, but a little scared! And he said, sure, that's completely understandable because of what happened last time. But he reassured me they were going to take good care of me. He said they would do blood work today, so they tested the beta hCG and progesterone levels, and he said if everything looks okay they'll see me back in three weeks for an ultrasound!

I'm really hoping I don't freak out waiting for three weeks, but I'll try to remain calm...

I'm having a hard time right now feeling happy. It's like I can't let myself feel happy about the whole thing yet because if I do, and it comes crashing down on me again, I'm going to be in for some serious hurt. So I know it's just defensive skills kicking in, but I almost feel guilty about it. Like this new little one should have all the happiness and excitement that I exerted on the last one, but I just can't let myself feel that way yet. I still want to cry and let myself be scared, because it's probably healthy to let that all out, but I feel guilty regardless.

So right now I'm torn. I know we're still excited and it's just as thrilling as last time, but I can't be happy yet. Maybe once we get past the first ultrasound (which is going to be murder -- I don't know if I'll even be able to look) and maybe if we get farther than we did last time, I'll let myself feel happy then... I know the hardest part for most people is even *getting* pregnant but that doesn't seem to be our issue. And maybe there *are* lots of things they can do for me to help me keep the baby, but it's so sad that we had to go through what we did last time to get that sort of help.

Sad Panda!

2008-08-26T16:22:00.005-04:00

This morning I cried for my panda.

First of all, I love pandas. Always have.

When Craig and I moved to the DC area for a couple of years, one of the first things we did was develop a keen interest in the pandas at the National Zoo, Mei Xiang(f) and Tian Tian(m). We watched when their baby, Tai Shan was born, got tickets to see him right away, went to the opening of their new habitat, and visited them as often as we could. We even found our own "panda viewing area" that not too many people know about.

Most people who know even a little about pandas know that it's very difficult for them to breed in captivity, and this couple was no exception. The females only go into estrus once a year during a period of about two to three days (and we think we have to wait a long time to try!) And Tian Tian...well, let's just say he hasn't got the moves.

So once a year the zookeepers try artificial insemination when the time is right, and keep their fingers crossed, and hope for the best. Tai Shan was born in 2005, but since then they have not been successful again.

The added challenge to the situation is that even if the zookeepers are successful, the panda cubs are so tiny in the womb, that they can't detect them on ultrasound. They pretty much just have to wait until it looks like Mama Panda has gone into labor and a baby shoots out! (That's not hyperbole -- see if you can track down Tai Shan's birth video!)

The other tricky part about pandas is that while their hormones are spiking, they will exhibit "mothering" behaviors whether or not they are pregnant. They call this time period a "pseudopregnancy" and either wait for it to pass in conjunction with a hormone fall, or again waiting for a baby panda to come into the world. Wanna-be-mama bears will create nests, cradle their toys and spend a lot of time making it look like they're getting ready for a baby.

Well, this year was no exception for Mei. Except coincidentally, my favorite panda girl and I got "pregnant" at around the same time. Her baby would of course have been born much sooner than mine, but somehow I still felt a closer kinship with her, another sense of heartwarming simpatico. We were going to be mommies! I started making my life ready, and she started building nests and paw licking and cradling her toys...

So of course you all know how my story ended, but today I found out that a few days ago the zoo staff confirmed that Mei wasn't going to have a cub this year either. The difference this time is that they really thought she *could have been* pregnant, but lost her fetus in early pregnancy. From the FONZ site:

Zoo staff confirmed today that Mei Xiang will not give birth to a cub this year. They believe that she experienced either a pseudopregnancy or the loss of a developing fetus. In a pseudopregnancy, an animal's hormonal changes and behaviors are identical to a pregnancy, but no conception occurred. Fetal loss during early pregnancy is a common occurrence in mammals, but the reasons for this phenomenon are poorly understood.

As you read in these updates, Zoo scientists, veterinarians, and keepers were closely watching Mei Xiang, assessing her hormone levels and behavior and conducting weekly ultrasounds in an attempt to determine if she was pregnant. Veterinarians noted small changes in Mei Xiang's uterus but they were unable to confirm the presence of a fetus. Giant panda fetuses are very small — a newborn cub is only five inches long. At other zoos, fetuses have been visible on ultrasound only in the last weeks before birth.

In mid-July Mei Xiang's urinary progesterone levels (a hormone associated with pregnancy) began to decline. In pregnant pandas, declining hormones and increased maternal behaviors signal an impending birth. This year, Mei Xiang's hormones declined as expected, but the decline lasted longer than normal and she continued to show maternal behavior even after her hormones reached baseline. The Zoo's scientists and veterinarians speculate that Mei Xiang may have experienced the loss of an early-stage fetus that failed to develop normally, and it was absorbed into the lining of the uterus. In the coming days, we expect Mei to return to "normal," both hormonally and behaviorally, experiencing an increase in appetite and activity level.

I know that my girl panda probably won't feel the same loss, the same *need* to 'return to "normal" both hormonally and behaviorally' as I did, but I feel it for her instead. She and her keepers won't get any answers "why" either. My poor panda.

(For the record, I cried for my panda again as I was writing this...)

Our New Baby!

2008-08-24T14:07:00.007-04:00

Now, I know you're thinking, "That was fast...What is she, a cat?"

Well, I'm not exactly, but you're close!

Meet Desmond:

He's a very beautiful lilac point Siamese boy, and he just turned 9 weeks old on Friday. Yes, Craig named him Desmond after his favorite character on "Lost." He's sweet and loving, and we can tell he's going to be a smart one because he's already learning "fetch" with Craig! (uh oh)

In just the last few days he's worked his tiny way into our hearts! We're so glad we brought him home to be a part of our little family!

Craig is obviously smitten!

I can't imagine what it would have been like to be pregnant AND trying to manage a kitten. Seems like a lot of work. So in a way, the timing of this has worked out so well.

Clean bill of health

2008-08-13T17:18:00.004-04:00

I forgot to mention last week that I had my post-surgical follow up with Dr. Good. (That's not his real name; I just wanted to differentiate between him and the previous doctor.)

He checked me out and asked me a bunch of questions, and confirmed that we should be fine to start trying again as soon as I have a regular period. I was still spotting the day I saw him, but not again after, thankfully. So I'm back to "normal."

I told him that we wanted to start again right away, and THIS time I want to do whatever we can to keep an eye on things as soon as possible. And he said he knows how hard that 4-week wait is for people, but next time, when I get pregnant again, he said he will see on my chart what we went through this time and prescribe a more watchful course of action.

I got the feeling like he understands and sympathizes with my anxieties, unlike the feeling I got from the other doctor, who more or less made me feel like I was being dismissed. He told me about all the extra tests they can do, and how sometimes they make people wait through THREE miscarriages until they try the drastic stuff (crazy things like dye in the lining of the uterus to check thickness and growth) just because the cost of those kinds of tests makes them a "last resort." But he assured me we'd be on track to watch me more closely just after this *first* miscarriage.

He also said that they can do an ultrasound as early as 6 weeks after the first day of the last menstrual period, NOT 6 weeks after conception, which was surprising.

So I feel much better about the whole situation now, and when I came home I told Craig that Dr. Good will be our doctor from now on!

Now begins the long wait. In the mean time, I will be researching fertility monitors.

As an interesting side note, the doctor told us that while I'm waiting for a period, and my hormones are all coming down I could still ovulate, so condoms at a minimum are in order to make sure we don't get pregnant again before my body is ready.

Condoms now that I'm married is a ROFL concept to me... I wonder if I'd get some special Catholic dispensation for using them due to medical reasons. I mean, I can personally rationalize anything I want (like being on the pill to keep my periods from being too heavy to control most of my life) but...WWTPS? (What would the Pope say?)

ROFL

Down with OGTT

2008-08-05T23:19:00.000-04:00

The Oral Glucose Tolerance Test

Overall, not a bad procedure, except for the getting up early, and all the needles.

I got to the lab bright and early at 8:15 am. They made sure I knew I was going to be there for the next two hours. I'd brought my laptop, my Nintendo DS, something to read...I was ready!

The lab tech stuck me with one of the big needles. They usually use the butterfly ones because my veins are impossible -- but she got it on the first try! I was impressed! She took 3 vials of blood and said she was going to do a quick check of my fasting glucose. (I hadn't eaten anything since the night before.)

She stuck her head back in and said she was going to call the doctor and find out if they still wanted to do the test based on the result she just got. The nurse said to go for it.

The lab tech asked me if I wanted some ice in my drink, and I figured if she was offering it, she knew better than I did that it would help, so I said okay.

Sure enough that drink was GHASTLY sweet. Imagine a styrofoam coffee cup of red Hawaiian Punch, with another half cup of sugar added just for good measure. On an empty stomach, first thing in the morning, it was a little tough to get it all down. The tech told me I had to drink it all in 10 minutes, but I did it in 5. She started the timer and I sat in the waiting room for the next hour.

There's a lot of characters that you see come through the lab when you have nothing better to do. I'm sure I violated more than one person's HIPAA rights by listening in. Lots of routine blood draws, some people had other doctors or labs to go see after they stopped there. One of the lab techs was having a miserable day, and I'm glad she wasn't the one I was working with. Not only did she twice almost not get someone to provide a urine specimen before they left, she also finished up on a lady before she realized she needed to draw three vials, not two! So she had to stick her again! Ugh!

Hour 1 went by and she called me in to draw blood from my other arm. I warned her that I had already had an IV in two places on that arm within the last week, so she might have to look around for which one she wanted to use. She picked the big blue vein and got it with the butterfly. Back to the waiting room for Hour 2.

I learned how those little vials work. They puncture your vein with a hollow needle that has another open end. The rubber cap of the collection vial is pierced by the back end of the needle. Each vial has a vacuum in it, and once the seal is broken the vacuum in the tube creates suction to draw the blood. Some vials have less vacuum in them, and those will draw less blood (the volume being determined by what the blood draw is going to test.) Each vial may also have some additive in it that mixes with the blood, depending on the lab that does the testing and what the test is for.

I had wireless internet access in the lab area, and that's where I wrote "Recovery, Part 3." (I'm a little behind at the moment! Sorry!)

Another hour went by and I sat back in the chair for the last draw. The lab tech went back to the first arm and tried the big needle again. This time it didn't work. I was pretty disappointed because she had done so well so far! She took out the butterfly for this arm and tried Big Blue. Except this time she hit a nerve! OWWWW! When she was finished, it hurt so much I couldn't even put much pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Consequently, I have a lovely bruise there now...

Before I left I asked the tech if she knew anything from what she had taken so far, and she said no, they have to send the vials out to the lab, but the results usually come back the next day. She said the only one they do there is the initial fasting blood glucose level. She said mine was 97. ("Normal" is about 80-100.)

The next day the doctors office called me at 7:45 AM. From what I remember about the conversation with the nurse, my results were NORMAL, and they would just see me in another 8 weeks for my TSH/T4/etc thyroid panel. So no metformin is necessary. I guess I'm ovulating on my own!

Lastly, I realized I had, in the last week, had my veins punctured 7 times. I feel like a pincushion and look like a junkie.

Small price to pay, in the end, we hope.

Recovery, Part 3

2008-07-31T21:55:00.001-04:00

We got to the hospital later Thursday morning, and were already impressed from the outside. It's a brand new facility, probably finished within the last year or so. I had been hoping to not have to see it firsthand for another 7 months or so, but at least now we know when we go back that it's an excellent facility.

Hospitals are usually well-signed, and this one was no exception. But, better yet, as soon as you walk in the main door, you see a reception desk 15 feet in front of you. We asked for outpatient services, and the volunteer pointed us in the right direction. There seemed to be a lot of senior volunteers working there. I guess checking people in makes for nice easy work, and something to do to pass the time if you're healthy and retired.

They have this amazing check-in and tracking system. They assign each patient a number. With that number, the person accompanying the patient can sit in the waiting room and watch a status on an overhead monitor for that patient. It shows when they are checked in, and when they're in surgery, when they're in recovery, and when they are allowed to have a visitor again a smiley face appears next to their number. Very people-friendly, cuts down on the questions for the staff, and gives the waiting person something to "do."

So we got checked in, and almost immediately they called us in to registration. The woman was friendly and courteous and professional, and when we told her what doctor was doing the procedure, she too said, "Oh, he is wwwwooonnnderful..."

Once back out to the waiting room, it wasn't but a minute before they called for me to go to the prep room. The volunteer led us back, but told Craig he had to wait there. After a shuffled exchange of things out of the tote bag and a kiss, I was off.

I got back to the prep area and the nurse rolled her eyes and said my husband could have come with me, so she picked up her phone right away and had them send him back. They took my blood pressure.

It's normally about 110/70. It was 145/85.

The nurse said, "Don't even worry about that number today. You're just nervous; it's totally normal. Don't even think about it."

She put me in a curtained area where (little did I know) I was going to spend the next hour and a half... By that time Craig had come back, and I met the nurse who was going to be taking care of me for the day, Cathy. She told me to get naked and put on the gown open to the back, and the little slipper socks with the grips on them, and have a lie down on the gurney. It always feels weird to get undressed in an only semi-private area (like a dressing room,) and more so to get completely undressed, but...Craig got a free show!

Cathy tried to start my IV in my hand. They are kind enough to give you a stick of lidocaine before they start, but she was unsuccessful in getting the bag to drip. So she had to get some more lidocaine and give it a try in my arm. That seemed to work fine, and the fluid began to drip quickly.

Cathy also gave me a purple strap bracelet, which she said identified me as a fall risk, and they give one to everyone who has anesthesia. Craig found this hilarious, as he knows what a fall risk I am every single day...

Begin medical history and list of questions, round one. Most of the questions revolve around how healthy you are and how you expect you may react to anesthesia.

More medical questions, round two. Family history, previous surgeries, etc etc ad infinitum. I understand, they're trying to be thorough. Cathy told me I would meet the anesthesiologist, and the doctor, and when she saw who was doing my surgery, she too just cooed over how nice he is! I made sure she knew about the fact that I was prescribed doxycycline, and she said we would be sure to bring it up with the doctor!

Time passed with a lot of waiting. More questions, more people to meet. Nurses, anesthesiologists. Everyone was professional, yet friendly and kind. I was really feeling good about having the procedure done at this point, all things considered.

The doctor was outside my curtain and behind a wall, and I saw Cathy tell him about the prescription, and she looked over and gave me a wink...

The doctor came in and talked to me and Craig, and I could immediately see why everyone liked him. He was relaxed, and respectfully sympathetic, and went through and explained everything to us that would be happening, and what we could expect after the procedure. I was calm, and ready after that. Cathy came in and gave me some Pepcid in my IV; she said it was to help with any nausea I might feel from the anesthesia.

Two more young and fresh-faced anesthesiologists came in, introduced themselves, and stood by my gurney, and I met my "transportation nurse." It was almost time to go. I felt like the center of attention, like I was the guest of honor at some bizarre party. Pretty much the whole experience showed me why some people develop things like hypochondria, or at the extreme, Muchausen's Syndrome. You just feel so important and cared for and like everything is going to be better when they're done seeing you...

One of the anesthesiologists told me he was going to put something in my IV to make me "not care", and sure enough about 10 seconds after he pushed the plunger, things got a little fuzzy.

I don't remember saying "see you later" to Craig. I sort of remember being wheeled through some doors into a hallway. I remember the room with the big surgical lights, which weren't turned on yet so I thought they looked strange. I kinda remember them giving me a breathing tube for my nose with the tiny tubes that hang out in your nostrils...but nothing else until the recovery room.

I have a slight recollection of waking up in recovery and being aware of the beeping of my monitors, and the tube in my nose, and that I was still very sleepy. At that point they told Craig to come back and see me, and next time I opened my eyes, he was there. I was still pretty groggy though as the nurse asked me how I felt, and took me off the monitors, and took off the oxygen. Craig told me the doctor had come to talk to him after the procedure, and he had some things to tell me later about the experience, and it was a good thing he didn't try to tell me then because I doubt I would have remembered it.

The doctor came in to check on me, and he smiled, and said everything had gone really well. But he said he had something kind of funny to tell me... (And Craig said something about it being one of the things he was going to tell me too.)

The doctor said that during the procedure, everything was going along fine, except then somehow in the middle of it I said to him, "I feel kind of crampy..." And he asked the anesthesiologist, "...Why is she talking?..." and they made sure I was back asleep soon. He said it was during a part of the procedure where, if I had been awake I probably would have been uncomfortable, it was just odd that I chose to tell him about it! I, of course, don't remember it at all.

Of course those who know me know that I talk and even laugh in my sleep. And those who went to college with me know that I used to have a BAD sleepwalking problem... So maybe those kinds of things are related!

The doctor gave me follow up instructions, and said he would see me for a checkup in 10-14 days. After a while I regained more consciousness, and decided I had to get up to pee. They told Craig he would have to come to the bathroom with me to make sure I didn't fall down in there. I was absolutely too dopey to be embarrassed at all at that point (and I really had to pee) so I complied with no trouble.

When I got out of the bed, I realized:

1. My butt was suddenly cold. I was still naked under that gown. Yike. Craig helped by retying my gown straps.

2. I had made a mess out of that sheet on the gurney. What was that yellow business? I guessed it was betadyne. (antiseptic used to prep for surgery, made of iodine solution)

3. Someone had haphazardly slapped a giant mattress-sized maxi pad in between my legs! I was like WTF?? before I realized that maybe I should try to leave it there on my way to the bathroom, just in case. I knew I wouldn't be taking any long steps anyhow...

I did what I needed to and came back. They told me I could get dressed at this point, and they could get ready for me to go home. I was very glad I wore sweatpants. They sent Craig out to get the car. And then they had me sit in the wheelchair so they could take me to the front door...

It was weird being the person in the wheelchair. I've seen lots of people in wheelchairs, and even wheeled other people before, but to BE that person was...strange. There was something self-conscious and unsettling about it. When we got to the front door, I saw Craig coming around with the car and... It's like that moment where someone greets you and you don't know if you're going in for a handshake or a hug, or a hug and a cheek kiss, or what. It was like I didn't know if I was supposed to keep sitting there, or if they wanted to help me, or could I get up and wait. Finally, Craig parked the car at the curb and I shuffled myself into it. We had a nice quiet ride home, where I settled into my bed and slept for the next 5 hours or so...(after I called mom and dad to say that I was okay!)

The last week has been rolling in a sine-wave-like cycle of good and bad, bleeding and not bleeding, cramping and not cramping, happy and depressed. Every time something scary-looking happened, I had been telling Craig about it until I realized it was freaking him out. I forgot that I've been dealing with my body doing bizarre things on a monthly basis since I was about twelve, but this level of intimacy was all new to him. And it worried him, whether or not I was worried. So I've stopped disclosing so much...

Friday morning I came downstairs to try to work a little, and I saw a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my desk:
They had come for me that morning from my bosses at work in a big box, but they weren't arranged when we received them. Craig had taken them all out and trimmed and arranged them in the vase and set them up on my desk so I would see them the first thing when I came down...

We also got flowers from Craig's mom and dad, and a lovely mass card from my parents. Our friends have all written very kind emails or called. This was exactly the support we were hoping for when we told everyone about the pregnancy so early. It's the people who truly love you and care for you who are there in your troubled times, not just the good ones.

Recovery, Part 2

2008-07-28T00:25:00.002-04:00

Wednesday the 23rd was a tough day. We knew we had to get up early and be at the doctor's office by 8:00 am. I don't think Craig or I slept very much that night.

Lying in bed, I couldn't turn my brain off. I had a feeling in my heart that the first ultrasound told the truth, and that this second one was just going to be a formality.

But somewhere in the back of my noisy head, I wanted hope. I wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone was wrong. We couldn't possibly be so unlucky. We were just so lucky to get as far as we had, so easily. This baby seemed so right, and couldn't have come at a better time, and we were so excited. Our family and friends were so thrilled and supportive. It wasn't fair. What had we done to deserve this? Something seemed so wrong, horribly wrong, about a miscarriage, like it was never meant to go this way. I had no sense of WHY this was happening to us (and still don't.) My heart ached, but somehow I eventually got a little sleep.

So the morning of the 24th, we were led into the exam room area by a different ultrasound tech. She was shorter than me, and quiet-mannered, and when we got to the room she had me sit on the table. She asked me if we wanted to know the sex of the baby today or not. After a somewhat stunned pause, I said, "I'm not sure that's going to be an issue today..." and I briefly explained what happened. (Why don't these people get briefed beforehand???) She said oh, and okay, and gave me the sheet so I could step into the restroom and get ready.

Sure enough, after she got the wand into position, there was our baby again. There was no change from last time. She pointed out the bump where the heart would be. But again this time, it was still. Craig squeezed my hand. Somehow it was so much less shocking this time, but it still really hurt. I asked her more questions about what we were seeing, because I couldn't help but be curious. She pointed out the head-end, and the foot end, and that there was an arm visible, and the heart bump. She tried turning on the colors and the Doppler sound monitor, but there was nothing but my own activity visible anywhere. She said she was so sorry for our loss. She asked if we wanted a picture, but I said, "No, thank you."

I know I will carry that picture in my head for the rest of my life, and that is enough for me.

(I realized later it was somewhat insensitive of me to not ask Craig if he wanted one, though I am always sure that he will respect whatever my wishes are in this situation. I did ask him after the tech had left the room, and if he had told me then that he had wanted one, I would have done it for him.)

The tech stepped out to let me get dressed and to give us a moment alone. Craig and I had decided in the intermediate week that if the results were the same I was going to go through with the D&C, and we agreed on this again.

On the one hand, I wanted my body to figure it all out on its own. It seemed more "natural" and like it would be better for me if my hormones just got themselves sorted out and made the miscarriage happen. But I had heard it could take weeks. And it also seemed a bit dangerous, and like it would be pretty painful.

And the absolute worst mental image for me, in the whole thought of the "natural, at-home miscarriage" process was this:
If my body went through with it in its own way, and I cramped and contracted and passed the baby out of my body at home, what was once our future baby would end up in the sewer. Ugh. Wrong. That didn't seem right at all, or dignified. And while I'm blissfully unaware of what happens to "medical waste" after they take things out of your body in a hospital, somehow that seemed more...right, and...respectful. Or something. It's so hard to think about a situation like this in purely logical terms. So I had told Craig that I wanted it to be when we say, and not like some awful surprise, and that I was ready to accept having the D&C done, now that I had lived a week with the bad news. And again, in his loving way, he said if that's what I wanted, he would support me fully.

The tech came back for us and led us down the hall to talk to the doctor. She told us again she was so sorry, and that she would pray for us. The way she said it was so hushed, and sincere, that it made me hurt for *her.* How hard it must be to do her job sometimes...

Craig and I waited in the exam room, and had a few more minutes to talk. We thought of a few questions for the doctor, and decided that if they could do the procedure the same day, we would go through with it. I hadn't eaten anything since early the night before, because I was thinking about the surgery, and I had only had a sip of water in the morning to take my thyroid meds.

And then at that point Craig and I made some small talk, because by then, after the last week's intensity, everything else had been talked about already.

The doctor came in and told us we could have the procedure done that day. She told us what doctor was on call at the hospital, and that we would love him because he is "so sweet." And again it seemed like she was on her way to float out the door.

I stopped her and asked some questions. Was it normal that, even though our baby only made it to 7 weeks, my body was still trying to hold onto it like that? She said yes. And in fact, for some women it can take 4 to 6 weeks before anything happens!

Then I told her of the plans Craig and I had discussed during the week. We are not going to let this stop us. We understand that for a first pregnancy, no one at the doctor's office watches you very closely because they don't expect anything to go wrong. But I told her now that I've had a miscarriage, we're going to seriously approach getting pregnant again quickly, and next time, I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it "stick." I'm not going to come in for a positive test and then just sit and WAIT for 4 weeks to see a doctor again! I about lost my mind the last time. I realize that there's not much they can do for you to make anything happen or not, but I want to be aware of it the whole time.

And the doctor sort of balked. She more or less asked me what I expected them to do next time. And I told her I didn't care if I had to come in twice a week for blood tests to check hCG and progesterone levels. I'd be willing to take supplements if necessary. I told her that our endocrinologist was already on board, and we're looking for the right OBGYN who's going to work with us, and I needed to know if she was that kind of doctor.

She then explained to us the more technical aspects of what they try to do to maintain pregnancy, and how it sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. And she let us know she was glad we might try metformin, (though it seemed like our problem wasn't likely ovulation!) And she told me in a pretty tactful way that if I wanted to get pregnant again I should also try to lose weight, which...yeah, I KNOW. Like she's the first doctor to have THAT idea. (Where's my eyeroll emoticon when I need it??)

We asked how long the procedure would take, and she said it was quick, like 10 minutes, but the prep time at the hospital could take a while. She said she didn't think they'd be able to do it before 11 am, but if we got to the hospital by 9:30, we should be okay.

She said she would get us scheduled at the hospital and come back with a couple of the prescriptions I would need after the D&C. And then on her way out the door she poked her head back in to say, "Sorry again for your loss." We didn't see her again after that, as the nurse came in instead.

The nurse gave us our "orders" for the hospital in an envelope, and handed us two prescriptions. The first was for some Motrin 800, for the cramping that I was going to experience later, and the second was for an antibiotic: doxycycline. Craig and I checked out, and got ready to go home. He was going to arrange to be out of work for a few hours, and I would tell my job to not expect me back for the rest of the day.

We needed to pack a few things, to keep Craig's mind occupied while he was waiting for me, and maybe a snack or two to keep his stomach busy too.

I also wanted to check out that prescription antibiotic. "Doxycycline" sounds a lot like "tetracycline", to which I have a pretty icky allergy. It gives me horrible stomach pains, and last time I took it I didn't find out if it did more than that because the pains were enough to get me to call the doctor, at which point they told me to stop taking it and gave me something else!

Sure enough, the internet told me they were from the same family, and that people who were sensitive to tetracycline shouldn't take doxycycline. My allergy is clearly listed on pretty much every piece of paper at the doctor's office because they ask about allergies *every time* I see them.

It was at that moment I decided we wouldn't be seeing that particular doctor ever again, if I had anything to say about it. (And if you know me, you know I absolutely will.)

Part 3 tomorrow...

Recovery, Part 1

2008-07-26T01:11:00.005-04:00

Well, the worst is over.

We waited the requisite week to go back and have the second transvaginal ultrasound. We did not go in expecting different results, but there was always a glimmer of hope in the back of our minds for a "miracle."

It seems the only miracle we'll be allowed this time is the ability to heal and get through this, and have the courage to try again.

But let's back up for a second.

After the bad news last Thursday, Craig and I spent many, many hours talking and thinking about what we were going to do next. We cried, and talked some more, and asked each other questions. We must have spent an entire afternoon just laying on the bed and working out our thoughts.

We considered going to see a different doctor because of our negative experience with this one: she seemed dismissive and almost cold, whereas everyone else at this group practice had been wonderful. It would also give us an opportunity to be subject to a different technician, and different equipment. But in the end we decided that the disadvantage to it would be having to start at zero with a new doctor's office, and midway through something we had already started. Plus, all my *other* doctors are affiliated with Carolinas Medical Center in some way. I'm part of the "system." It's just easier to stick with it.

And we decided to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was just having a bad day.

On Tuesday the 22nd, I went to see my endocrinologist. She is fantastic, as she's one of those doctors who will sit and listen, and you feel as though she has all the time in the world for you. And while you're talking she may be taking notes but you can practically see the little gears turning in her head, like, "How can I best help this person based on what she's telling me?" And then she asks good questions to follow up, and the whole experience is like an excellent dialogue. It's...well, like what going to the doctor *should* be.

It was hard to sit in that waiting room. There were the requisite old and young people, but there was also a woman with a stroller with two little girls in it. They were cute and energetic, and it was hard to watch them and not feel sad and envious. By the time the nurse led me in and checked all my vitals, and I sat in the exam room on the table, I felt a little better. Until I considered the fact that I had made this appointment 4 weeks ago, when things were exciting and happy and new. This was supposed to be a GOOD visit, a checkup on how things were progressing, and looking forward to the next 7 months. And now, just...hurt.

So the doctor walked in and introduced herself, and I said we had met before. She looked puzzled and said, "I *thought* you looked familiar; why did I think you were a new consultation?" And she looked at her notes and said, "Oh yes, primary hypothyroidism...and...Oh, you're pregnant!"

And I just shook my head, and she got a look on her face I can't quite describe and said, "Oh no. Bad visit. This is turning out to be a bad visit so far! Tell me what's going on with you."

And I told her the story. I talked about what we'd been going through and what happened and she looked back at her notes. We had done some lab work in April, and she wasn't entirely pleased with the results back then, but let me go try to fix things on my own, with the promise to see her in six months OR when I got pregnant.

After a long time of thinking and asking questions, she suggested I go next week for an oral glucose tolerance test. This will help her possibly uncover any insulin resistance I may have going on, which may hinder ovulation. She said I did not have all the classic symptoms of PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) but she wanted to think about ways to help us succeed in our next pregnancy. She said if I show insulin resistance, she'll start me on metformin (aka Glucophage) which is normally a diabetes medication, but they also use it off-label for women who are having trouble ovulating regularly.

So I left her office feeling positive. The OGTT is kind of a lengthy process though, and I'm going to be at the lab for several hours. I'm looking for a good game or something to do next Wednesday while I'm there...

Part 2 tomorrow...

Quality Assurance at The Factory has found a fatal flaw with Baby 1.0

2008-07-18T03:07:00.010-04:00

The visit to the doctor today was not good.

To try and allay my fears (and for what she said she would code as "paternal sanity,") the doctor said she would flag down her ultrasound tech and see if they could give a look inside today. They were able to accommodate us.

It was strange to see the little orbs on the monitor, the gestalt effect of the monochromatic shapes ebbing and flowing as the tech moved the wand. She thought she saw the flicker of the heartbeat and tried to point it out to us, and my heart leapt a little to hear her say that!

But when she moved in closer, she could no longer see it...

She asked about dates, and looked again. She tried the doppler. There was no sound audible. She seemed pained, and said she would go call the doctor in to take another look.

The doctor confirmed what the tech saw. There was no heartbeat. The embryo size indicated that should not be a problem at this stage, but it was not there.

The doctor started throwing around words like "miscarriage" and "D&C" and my body went numb and I couldn't register anything else. She said we could do a follow up scan in a few days just to make sure, if I was still having doubts, and I said I wanted to do that. I could not live with myself and the doubt I would suffer if I didn't take the chance of double checking, to be sure. We've scheduled the follow up for next Thursday, though she warned me not to be alarmed, and to call the office right away, if I started bleeding before then.

Then the doctor apologized and bolted from the room, excusing herself because she was still with another patient. The tech was warm and understanding, and left us alone to talk for a few minutes. Craig and I mostly stared at each other in what can only be described as shock.

I don't have the words yet to describe how I'm feeling or even to talk about what happened. It's been a very difficult day for both me and Craig. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep now; the brain is much too loud.

Suffice to say at this time your prayers and thoughts are welcome and needed.

I'm a Deadbeat Dad in Training

2008-07-14T17:36:00.005-04:00

Kathy accused me recently of having abandoned this blog.

I assure you, that's not the case. It's just, in all honesty, between not allowing myself to get too excited (for fear something bad could still happen) and not being able to see anything tangible yet (aside from the violent effect progesterone has on my otherwise calm wife), there's not that much to write about.

We're going back to the doctor Thursday for our monthly appointment. I'm confident they'll have good news for us (of the "nothing's wrong" variety). I'm confident because I have no other choice. I can't feel the things Kathy's feeling right now. I know she's probably much more worried than I am, because she can feel everything that's going on in her body (or not going on when she thinks it should be).

I'm not completely without context for her worry, however. When I went through chemotherapy starting almost five years ago, each subsequent follow up appointment was met with as much dread as (if not moreso than) the last, in spite (or because) of the fact that everything had been fine the previous visit. Given enough time without a reassuring pat on the back, I inevitably devolved into a state of worry every six months while I waited to be re-scanned, no matter how confident I'd been the last time I received the "all clear".

I'm afraid that, until the baby (screw you, Dr. House, I'm not calling it a fetus) becomes developed enough to move around, kick, and generally make a mess of Kathy's insides, there's going to be a modicum of the unknown which can (and probably will) lead to doubt or even fear. There's so much we can do at this stage, we're told, to ensure our baby is born healthy (and at all), and yet so much seems to be out of our hands.

So to me, just as it was when I was going through my treatment, it's just a waiting game for now. I'll be happy for Kathy's sake when we get some good news on Thursday, but until then you'll find me staring at my watch.

* Note to self: delete this entry before the kid is old enough to read or we'll have to shell out for a therapist because "Dad just compared me to cancer!"

Beans, beans, good for your uterus...

2008-07-14T17:10:00.007-04:00

(I hope you think my rhyme is humorous!)

As we are now in week 8, I've got the kidney-bean baby! Not only does the baby resemble a kidney bean in size (a little less than .75") but it's got that characteristic bean shape we all know and love in a fetus!

That tail we were talking about has now almost disappeared. Eyelids are forming, limbs are getting longer, and we even have knee joints by now.

Early pregnancy time wasting activity #1:
My lack of symptoms has (of course) caused me to spend endless hours scouring the internet for other people who are NOT barfing their guts up all day, who don't want to ravenously eat everything they see, and who can still fit into their old pants. All this time-wasting has actually proven valuable though, as I've found I'm not at all alone! Many women get NO 'morning sickness' and go on to have happy and healthy babies. And if this is a first time pregnancy, there may be little-to-no outward sign that there's something going on in the lower abdomen. (Women who have already had babies have loosened up those muscles, and may show much sooner.) Weight gain in the first trimester may be as little as one pound, or some women even find they lose weight from eating more healthily.

I do have the unfortunate symptom of being not hungry...not hungry...not hungry...RAVENOUS!!!!! And then when I go to look for something to eat *nothing* seems even remotely appealing. So I've been trying to grab a piece of fruit or a little something with protein when that happens.

The more I read about it, the more I realize I am just having the "normal" amount of anxiety. I feel *less* anxious, but I know I won't feel much better until Thursday.

Early pregnancy time wasting activity #2:
What color will the baby's eyes be?

I found two very nice "calculators" online. (Do I have to say "For Entertainment Purposes Only"?)

The first is a very simple one, and was created by Athro, Ltd:

Inheriting Eye Color
It's fun without getting too "science-y" and lets you see the averages if you just keep clicking "Produce Child." (Careful - before I knew it, I had about 30 children!)

The second one LOOKS to be a really nice tool, but I can't get it to calculate. (It seems to have lost the server to which it's supposed to connect.) I sent an email to the company that created it to let them know its broken so they can either repair or remove it. (It's posted seemingly everywhere on the "mommy-net" and it doesn't really make them look good as a company if the thing they created doesn't work!) Here it is for reference, and I'll post an update if I hear back from them.

What Color Eyes Would Your Children Have? by Ideum

The problem with ALL of these is that we have no idea what color eyes Craig's parents had (have) as he is adopted. And Craig's got a really interesting eye color to begin with as well: not quite hazel, not quite green, or brown... Wikipedia described the color fairly accurately as "amber."

Interesting factoid: (most) Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes. Why?

The color of your irises is determined by melanin. Melanin is the same protein that determines the color of your skin and whether you tan well or not. It's reactive to ultraviolet light, and how much you get is coded in your genes. When you are born, the melanin has not been fully deposited in the irises and has not yet reacted to ultraviolet light, hence the light-colored eyes. Most babies develop their eye color by about 6 months, but eye color can change over the course of one's life.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see like everyone else!

Future time-waster: baby hair color

Not a Zygote, Not yet a Fetus

2008-07-07T11:30:00.003-04:00

Week 7, according to most things out there, marks the last of the Embryo Days. The week the baby officially becomes a fetus varies, depending on whom you consult, from about 8 to 10 weeks. I've always been ahead of the curve, so I choose to think on the early side...

The baby-to-food comparison for this week is the blueberry. ("Violet, you're turning violet, Violet!) Strangely enough, the baby's limbs look more like flippers because the fingers are webbed, and it has something of a tail, which will (God willing) disappear in the coming weeks. Eyes are becoming more fully formed and have a retina and a lens. Intestines should be fully formed by now, and the baby's liver is starting to produce its own blood cells, complete with its own blood type. (Next week, when I go back to the doctor, I will finally get to learn my own blood type! Hooray!)

I'm starting to have paranoid delusions that there's something wrong because I can't detect anything going on. I'm just barely queasy sometimes, which I had before I was pregnant, and I find it hard to believe that I'm one of the lucky 25% that will get through all this without "morning sickness!" (which is a misnomer because you actually have it all day.) I'm bone-crushingly tired the last few days, but I have that any time I can't sleep, and I haven't slept well in weeks. (I generally sleep for a few hours, then wake up once an hour at 6 am, then 7, then 8, etc. even on the days I can "sleep in.") My one saving grace is that the boobs are killing me, and though they don't really seem larger because my bras still fit well, they seem "fuller", if that makes any sense.

But there's no sense in worrying about anything, because there isn't anything I can do about it now anyway. I go to the doctor next Thursday the 17th, and then they'll poke and prod and ask a zillion questions, and we'll just have to see what's what then. In the meantime, please forgive my crazy paranoia. Sometimes this feels like I'm on one of those runaway train rides, where you're just strapped into a cart and you have no steering controls so you're just along for the ride, and you're supposed to be having fun! (Actually, I do like those kind of rides a lot.)

Also, in the runaway train department, my emotions are pretty much spontaneous moment-to-moment, and I'm going through things that I can't control and will just have to rely on the patience of my husband to get through. For example, on Saturday morning, Craig and I were sitting in bed, and I told him I just feel like I have to cry. I wasn't sad, or upset, or in pain; I just needed to cry. So he let me cry on his shoulder for about five minutes, and then I was fine. It was such a weird feeling, like having the urgency of REALLY having to use the bathroom, and then that nice cathartic relief when you're done. And it was no more emotional than that either. It was just like a "function."

I'm managing the runaway mood swings (happy-sad-SO ANGRY-fine again, in the span of an hour) by attempting to do exactly what I did when I got myself off the antidepressants: Make a conscious effort to recognize that what I'm feeling is irrational and without base, probably completely hormonal, and that if I just give it a little time, it will pass.

This method also works well for staying out of fights with, and thereby wasting time with, idiots on the internet. Sometimes "ignore it and it will go away" really does work.
(Not recommended for dentistry.)

"It"

2008-07-01T17:10:00.003-04:00

When you're dealing with something that takes 40 weeks, I think it's important to break the time down into mini-goals, things to look forward to and plan for when "B-day" seems both agonizingly far away and terrifyingly close. My current one is: I'm really looking forward to the day we find out our baby's gender.

I find myself referring to our unborn child as "it" a lot... we both do. Not out of cruelty or coldness, but out of basic necessity. "What do you think we should name it?" "What color should we paint its room?" "Do you think it will be cute/smart/funny?"

To listen to us, you'd think we were referring to some sort of abstract idea, rather than the very real baby that's coming our way. I just can't wait until I know what to call him. Or her.

*sigh*

Okay, it.

For now.

My Fair Lentil

2008-07-01T15:01:00.003-04:00

Here we are in week 6 and I almost still don't believe I'm pregnant. I mean, nothing's happening that I can *see.* Aside from the sweeping waves of "tired" (progesterone), and the rare but occasional queasies, and the trouble sleeping (progesterone), the odd bouts of shortness of breath (damn progesterone)... You know, I had all those things *before* I was pregnant! I'm daily resisting the urge to take that second pregnancy test *just to make sure.*

So Week 6 means that our offspring is now about the size of a lentil. (For those of you that don't know what a lentil looks like, that's a little bit like a baby pea, or about .2 of an inch.) It's got little dots where the eyes and nostrils are going to be, and little buds for arms and legs. If we had a really sensitive ultrasound done just the right way, we'd be able to hear the heart beating at about 100 to 160 bpm. If we also had a teeny tiny electroencephalogram (EEG) machine we'd even be able to measure brain activity.

I've started an easy walking and exercise program, and though it's hard to fit both that AND nap time into a day, I've been managing, and I haven't gained any weight yet. Craig has been caring and understanding as he always is...

We're having family and friends over for Fourth of July. Mom has cautioned me to not work too hard and to ASK FOR HELP. (Does my mother know me or what?)

No news is good news...

2008-06-25T14:01:00.004-04:00

Nothing new to report here... things are going as they should so far. I'm finally starting to get through my days without worrying about the baby 24/7. Every day that something doesn't go wrong seems to set my mind a bit more at ease.

That hasn't stopped me from telling Kathy what she can't do, though. So far, I think I've banned her from cleaning using any chemical products, touching our outdoor pond water, going near the cat litter box, and even thinking about using any of our insecticides in the yard. Yeah, I'm totally turning into "that guy".

Somehow, I have a feeling that before this is over, she's going to get sick of my nagging and hurt me worse than any of those things would do to her, but I can't help myself.

More news when we have it...

From Aaliyah to Zula

2008-06-23T15:47:00.003-04:00

Craig and I discussed baby names a little bit yesterday. We did some web browsing and talked about what was stupid (yeah, we know "Nevaeh" is "Heaven" spelled backwards; it's still stupid, unless you're dyslexic) and what wasn't (nice average names like Harry and John, et al.) and what celebrities we have to thank for ruining our baby name choices (like Violet: thanks a lot Ben Affleck, you biter. Watching us get engaged, and then proposing to and marrying your chick before we got married, and then popping out a baby too wasn't enough for you?), and just how cruel it would be to name our child "Collin."

We found this page really interesting graphically, and it allows you to see the interesting trends of when names were popular:

The Baby Name Wizard: Name Voyager

We also didn't realize it, but the Social Security Administration keeps track of popular baby names year by year too! Who says the Government doesn't have a fun, human side?

From that list we noticed that a good number of the top 10 male names last year were all names that could be found on "Lost"! Coincidence? We're looking at you, Widmore!

After that, suitably drained, we decided we could at least wait until we discovered the sex of the baby before trying to narrow it down! (We did briefly consider "gender neutral" names: Leslie, Marion, Jesse, etc. but we couldn't think of one good enough to actually use...)

Welcome to Week 5!

2008-06-22T13:00:00.005-04:00

According to babycenter.com, my now sesame seed sized baby looks like this:

The neural tube will make the spinal cord, nerves and brain. (More folic acid, pls!) That's all happening in the top layer, the ectoderm. (The ectoderm will also become skin, hair, nails, mammary and sweat glands, and tooth enamel.)

In the mesoderm, the heart and circulatory system are beginning to form, and in fact, this week, a tiny heart begins to divide into chambers and beat and pump blood.

The innermost layer, or endoderm, is working on making all kinds of other organs.

The most amazing part of all this to me is that I'm not actively DOING anything to make all that happen! There it goes, all by itself. All I have to do is eat and sleep and go about my business. I guess I'm actively *not* doing things like drinking or eating crap foods and that's probably helping to have things come out okay at the end. But really I'm about as active as an oyster making a pearl...

Books for men

2008-06-21T13:27:00.005-04:00

So, like most couples who've recently realized they're going to have a baby, we took a trip to the bookstore in search of advice from people who've been through this sort of thing before. Thumbing through pregnancy guidebooks, you start to realize there are two major types written for women, the clinical "Here's What's Going On With Your Body and How to Deal With It" type-books, similar to the one we received for free* from the clinic, and the "OMG DO NOT DO ANYTHING REMOTELY RELATED TO ANYTHING OR YOUR BABY WILL BE BORN WITH TWO HEADS AND A TAIL" cautionary tomes. The latter would probably be good for a laugh were they not so gut-wrenchingly horrible and scary.

There was also a third type of book I noticed: the, "Hey Dad, We Know Your Wife's Pregnant and the Center of Attention, So We Re-Wrote This Women's Pregnancy Book From a Man's Perspective". Frankly, they kind of offended me, what with their insinuation that I was somehow incapable of reading a book written for a woman and parsing that information into what was applicable to me, while gaining more of an understanding what my wife is going through. Like I couldn't take "you may retain more water than usual and your hormone levels will change" and turn it into "your wife may retain more water, yadda yadda..." without buying a second book that did it for me.

Maybe I need to write one myself: "(For Once) This is Not All About You: Stop Whining and Start Helping". Chapter One: Don't worry that your wife's having all the "fun" right now... you get to carry the baby for the second nine months!

In all seriousness, though, if anyone knows a good book for expectant Dads that doesn't patronize or pander, I'd love to check it out. Otherwise, I'll keep getting in touch with my feminine side reading books that, while a bit on the clinical side, don't dumb it down for me.

* oh, I know they'll get their money back for it down the line...

Cleaning house

2008-06-21T13:06:00.003-04:00

Time to say goodbye to some old friends for the next nine months:

Goodbye, open bottles of wine in the fridge. I hope you enjoy your new home with whomever I can pawn you off on. Don't look at me like that. I'll find someone to love you!

Goodbye, martinis with olives stuffed with bleu cheese. Goodbye, gin and tonic. Goodbye, whiskey sours. It was certainly fun while it lasted.

Goodbye, lovely tuna steaks that I defrosted before I took that pregnancy test. I hear the landfill is nice this time of year.

Goodbye, litterbox. I hope Craig is as thorough tending you as I have tried to be.

Goodbye, tampons! I'm not going to miss you! The only thing that saves you from the same fate as the tuna steaks is that you cost eight times as much per pound, and you'll be able to last under my bathroom sink until I'm ready to see you again next year.

Goodbye, hair dye. Hello, roots.

The first few days...

2008-06-20T09:55:00.005-04:00

I swear, I looked at that test the first time and only saw one line. I think I was so determined that it was going to be negative* that I actually convinced myself it was. So I handed it to Kathy and said, "oh, no big deal... you can look at it." To which she responded, "um, yeah... that looks like two lines to me."

So we went to the OB/GYN on Wednesday for the "real" test (Kathy will probably have more to say about this) which was also positive. Kathy was about 4.5 weeks pregnant. They collected a bunch of blood and other genetic material from Kathy, loaded us up with reading material, and sent us on our way. We return in four weeks for a more comprehensive checkup, once the fetus is actually developed enough to see.

As you may or may not know, the first trimester can be the most touch-and-go phase of the pregnancy, as the potential for miscarriage and other problems is high. Therefore, we determined that we were only going to tell a select few people the good news until the end of the third month of pregnancy (or thereabouts) when it would be more clear whether this thing would actually be going all the way to 11 (that's a Spinal Tap reference, not an implication that I want Kathy to carry a baby for 11 months... I'm not a monster. 9 will do just fine.). My point is, some of you may be back reading to get to this entry by the time you find out about this blog, but we wanted to get it down on "e-paper" now for posterity's sake.

I know this isn't my usual brand of "funny" writing, but I'm still taking this all in, and I'm sure I'll "warm up" as time goes on. I had a moment on the couch last night where it all really "hit" me and the weight of my potential future responsibility became all too real. It's a fine balance, "dealing" with it vs. not getting too excited or invested until we have a better idea of how things will turn out.

That's it for now, I'll post more thoughts as I have them, as I'm sure Kathy will too.

- Craig.

* being a cancer survivor who didn't "save some for a rainy day", it could have gone either way

Hey, look what I peed on!

2008-06-19T23:00:00.012-04:00

Yes, it's true:

I can aim with laser-like precision onto a piece of absorbent material! Take that, men!

I am *never* late, so when I got back from Pittsburgh last week, and I realized that I hadn't needed all that feminine protection I had packed, I was pretty suspicious...

I told Craig of my suspicions on Father's Day. The next day we went out to CVS and picked up a two pack of tests, figuring: they don't normally give a false positive, but they may give a false negative. If it comes out negative the first time, I could try again in a few days. If it came out negative again, I would just go to the doctor because obviously something was wrong.

I finally worked up the nerve to go through with it. I didn't know which outcome would freak me out more. Before I even got out of the bathroom that second line was going pink, but I still couldn't look for the next 3 minutes. I put it on a piece of paper on the coffee table, and covered it with another piece of paper while Craig checked his watch...

I soon would realize that I'd be putting the second test away for at least another 9 months...