Nursery Update

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

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

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!

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

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!

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!

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!