Random Stuff

I've got so much to talk about that it's all built up and now I don't know what to talk about! So I'll just talk about a little bit of this and that and maybe I can come up with a decent post later.

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Ben is sleeping at six hour stretches through the night now and it's incredible. For awhile, he was waking every hour and a half and not really taking naps during the day. He got this from me. I suck at naps--I'm afraid I'll miss something exciting, I guess, and so is he. I handled it for a couple of weeks, but then I spent all day crying, sometimes hysterically. I was such a mess in my 6 week post partum check up that my doctor prescribed me anti-depressants. I haven't taken them. Part of it was lack of sleep, part of it was raging hormones and part of it was missing Nate so badly. The first two making the latter so much worse. I was also plagued by morbid thoughts of Ben being hurt or not waking up in the morning and thinking that I would know exactly what he would look like if he died in the night. Fucked up thoughts, indeed. Thank God they seem to be dissipating.

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I'm a cloth diaper dropout. I spent hours researching diapers, dropped a few hundred dollars on some and um, it's a no-go. I preached the wonders of cloth dipes to anyone who would listen--"Do you know how many dirty diapers end up in our landfills?" and "Do you have any idea how many chemicals are in disposable diapers?" and "They make them so easy to use these days! No Pins!!" and "I like doing laundry!" (I really do, used to anyway.) Ugh, whatever. That was before I had a kid that pees every five minutes. I'm going to give myself a break, though. We recycle everything and my husband has an obsession with composing. We have an elaborate system of rotting organic goodness in our backyard. So at least we're doing something for the planet. Anyway....I'm probably going to sell an assload of size 0 Kissaluvs soon :( I might try cloth again when he's older, but in the meantime I have to listen to a chorus of "told you so's!!"

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I've been pregnant, recovering from a birth, waiting to get pregnant, pregnant, recovering from a D&C and pregnant since May of 2005. I've either been pregnant or obsessed with being pregnant. Now I'm carrying around the left over weight of two and a half pregnancies and since I sat on my ass for the entirety of this last one, I'm weak and tired and completely out of shape. So.....I'm starting with a personal trainer on the 28th. If I lost 20 pounds, I'd feel a hell of a lot better, but if I lost 40 I'd actually be kinda hot again. I also want to start running. I've always wanted to be a runner and now Tom is running every morning and doing 5k's. It would be nice if we could do that together. I have to start looking forward now and I'm going to start that by getting healthy again. My whole world has been standing still since 22 and a half months ago. But I need to get healthy physically, spiritually and emotionally for little brother. It's just not fair to Ben otherwise.

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Speaking of feeling better--I'm getting my gall bladder removed tomorrow!!!! Woot, woot!! I can't believe that I'm excited to have an organ removed, but I can't wait. My gall bladder is horrible and vile and I want it OUT!! The stupid little bastard has been torturing me since July. I don't know what else to say about that. I'm happy, that's all.

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Today's my birthday. I'm 33. Or 32 or 34. It all runs together after 30. Okay, yeah, I'm 33. I haven't done anything except go to my pre-admit for the above. I want to go out for sushi and I want big glasses of wine. I haven't had either since I had Ben and I have to make up for it. I wonder what Tom got me...he usually does pretty well with gifts. He picks up on hints better than most.

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Ben laughs in his sleep. I wonder what he's dreaming about. Maybe he's playing with his big brother. I love him so much and it's so hard to see what we'd been missing out on. But I kind of expected that going into this.

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Here is one of Ben's Christmas pictures. He was six weeks old here.

My sister says that he looks like a centerfold pic with his hand behind his head like that. In all of the others, he's making an "oooo" face because he was screaming and I had to give him his pacifier and yoink it out right before the photographer took the picture. He's silly.

An embarassingly short update....

Hmmm, I wonder if anyone is stopping by anymore? I certainly don't blame you if you haven't. My blog has become one of those that used to drive me crazy. I'd write more if I didn't spend all my time on the La Leche League message boards. Anyway...

Ben is the bomb!! Especially now that he's sleeping in 5 and 6 hour chunks at night. I was getting to the point that I was crying all day because I was just so exhausted. But he really is a good baby. He eats a lot (which he got from both his parents)...he's up to 11 and a half pounds at 7 weeks. Hooray for boobies!! I wanted to update with a couple of pictures from yesterday's Christmas Parade. Tom wears Ben wherever we go...it's extremely cute. Wow, I love my boys.

Ooops, he's up again and ready to eat. I didn't time this very well. Better post later...I promise!!

Three Weeks Old Today!

When I woke up on the morning of the 18th and felt Ben move, it was the first time in 38.5 weeks that I felt good. I felt my shoulders come down from around my ears. The huge knot in my chest was gone. We made it through that last night and everything was okay. We were going to get our baby today!!!!!!!!!!





We had to be at the hospital at 6am, so before we left at 5:30, we took one more belly shot for the road. I didn't realize that I was so huge! No wonder I could hardly walk those last couple of weeks and people kept asking me how many were in there!






Getting ready for surgery! Tom's got on an oompa-loompa suit. I'm just looking majorly puffy all over. Yuck.

Making his entrance! And this is where he peed on the doctor. Awesome. Turns out, he's a very prolific pee-er and I have been peed on I don't know how many times now. He doesn't pee on his dad, though. Hmmm.

This was the moment that I had been waiting for and dreaming about for almost two years.

I was a little disapointed in my reaction, though. Maybe it was because I was so gorked out from the spinal (which hurt like hell!), but I wasn't overcome with motherly emotions like I thought I would be. Mostly I was thinking, "God, get all that crap out of his mouth!" and "Yikes, he's gurgling in my face!" So, yeah. But looking at this picture now is a different story. I think that even his poop is cute.

So mad!!! That's the biggest mouth that I've ever seen on a baby. And that's what I've got attached to my boob every hour.

This is what I had in mind.

I have so much to say about all of this. The hospital stay, this momma thing. I can't believe what a long road this has been. I can't believe how much he looks like his brother. I'll have to save all that for another post. Ben's starting to wake up....

Make your own slide shows and scrapbooks

Introducing.....

Benjamin Thomas!!

Here is our sweet boy :) I'm so in love I don't even know what to do with myself. I'll tell you all about it soon, but everything is just going along smashingly. He's even a champ little nurser! Thank you for all of your good vibes and prayers and then all of your yipees and hoorays! More later!!

He's Here!

This is Lala's sister, Lizzie. Just wanted to update everyone and let you all know that Baby BK made it safely into the world at 7:58 this morning. He weighs 8lbs and 1oz, is 21 1/2 inches long with a full head of dark hair and HUGE feet! Baby and mommy are doing wonderful and we are all so happy he is finally here! Pics will be posted soon. Sorry about not giving away the name, I wasn't sure if Lala wanted me to do that or not so I am leaving it up to her to tell you all. Lala and Tom want to thank you all for the prayers and good wishes. Stay tuned for pics and updates!!

We're A-Okay!

I have just been so weird and I'm really sorry. Thank you for checking in on me! If I were to leave myself a comment, it would be "Listen, asshole. What is up with you? You haven't posted in like a month."

Everything is fine, though. We've made a couple of trips to L&D--one was last week for regular contractions. Tom and I had to leave in the middle of a movie...we were trying to squeeze in one more date. Oh well. Something to get used to, right? Frankly, I'll be glad to.

This weekend the crib was set up and all of Nate's things were sorted. It was easier than I thought...I didn't cry. But I really think that I couldn't have done it any earlier than the day we ended up doing it. It just felt right and okay to do it on Sunday.

The date for the c/s was moved back one day to Thursday. We're going in at 6am and the surgery is for 7:45. I had my pre-admission appointment today and I was taken by surprise at how emotional I was for the whole thing. I just wanted to put my head down and bawl. I haven't done that in a long time. Now I'm afraid at how I will handle being in the operating room. I just don't know.

I think that we've got everything ready for Piglet. I've been so neutral this whole time, just not thinking about things much. And then a few weeks ago I looked down and wondered, "When did I get this pregnant? Oh my God--this is the scary part." And it has been scary...really, really scary. We still have, I think, 40 hours to go. I'm so zoned in on his movements and I'm just trying not to do anything but sit in the recliner. Oh please let this happen.

So...7:45 on Thursday morning. Send us all your good vibes!! I think that the hospital has wi-fi in the rooms, so I'll post something that day or have my sister do it for me. I can't believe that it's so close. This just seemed impossible. Just unfathomable.

A Change in Plans

A couple of weeks ago, on what started out as a perfectly lovely day, I came home from the library to a message on my machine from my doctor's office. It was the receptionist telling me that Dr. W has had a family emergency and will be out of the office. Until December. She went on to say that I was being rescheduled with another doctor and I could see him a week later. Well, I was practically hysterical. First of all, I felt totally abandoned. Yeah, Dr. W pissed me off a few times with some things that he had said--but we had a plan. He knew my history (even though I felt like sometimes he forgot it), but for the most part I was comfortable with him and it was like I'd had the rug jerked out from under me. I actually felt like I wouldn't get my baby now. I had to sit down and remind myself that the baby was fine, I was still pregnant and he had to get here somehow. And secondly, I was upset because I was supposed to have an appointment the following morning that I had waited a month for. Now I had to wait another week. I'm notoriously a big weenie when it comes to sticking up for myself, but I sucked it up and called the receptionist back. I told her that I was high risk and I've already waited a month to see a doctor and under no circumstances will I wait another week to have an appointment. So she got me in the following afternoon :)

We decided that we'd give this new doctor a chance. If he wasn't willing to follow our plan, we were out of there. As it turns out, we liked him and here's an interesting bit of trivia. This was the doctor that delivered me. Now, this caused some confusion with my sister and husband who thought I meant that he did Nate's delivery. No, he delivered me. In 1974. My mom was one of his first patients that insisted on a completely drug free, natural birth. That's my hippie momma. She had all three of us without so much as a tylenol.

So, although I was suspicious of this doctor that must be 100 years old, everything is so-far-so-good. He was willing to follow Dr. W's original plan-amnio and delivery at 37 weeks-but he did talk to us about the amnio, and this is where our change of plans comes in. I've mentioned here before that I was worried about having an amnio in the first place. I really didn't have a good feeling about it. Dr. W never discussed specifics with us regarding the amnio. I know that the risks of anything going wrong with an amnio are really small. Well, 1 in 300 actually. But what I didn't realize was that because I'm Rh negative, I have a little greater risk of things going wrong with not only this pregnancy, but with future pregnancies as well.

Let me see if I can explain what has been going through my head in the past few weeks. Yes, the percentage that something could go wrong with my amnio is very small....but small percentages have not been in my favor historically. What are the chances that a miscarriage could happen after the heatbeat has been seen on ultrasound? Really small. I mangaged that last September. What are the chances of a complete abruption? Microscopic. I mean, we're talking tenths of percentages here, people. I mangaged that too. Tom and I have thought long and hard about this, but we've decided that an amnio might just be borrowing trouble. We're going to wait until 38 weeks with no amnio. Actually, we'd only be waiting 5 more days, so maybe it won't be so bad. I know that people have amnios all the time and they go just fine, but for me, we felt like this was the best choice. My doctor feels like, because of my Rh negativity, that the risk of the amnio is greater than the risk of another abruption. Tom's grandma lost two full term baby girls because of her Rh negativity. I just don't want to risk any blood transfer.

Friday, I had an ultrasound and a bio physical profile done. Everything looks great! Piglet is measuring 5lbs, 9oz and scored 8 out of 8 on his profile. My placenta is grade one, which is perfect. He's got hair and we got to have a nice long look at his face. It really looks like he has Nate's nose. We watched him open and close his eyes and mouth. He's really cute, if I do say so.
We'll schedule the surgery next week, but I think that it will be on the 17th.

So, that's all the news from here! I'm really going to try to write more before he's born. I think that I need to be getting my thoughts down, because they're all over the place right now.

Oh, and congrats Michelle on the birth of her gorgeous Natalie Rose on Friday!

Ugly

We have some new people moving in on our street. I actually know them already...they are friends of a neighbor who is a friend of mine. They always come to my neighbor's get togethers and and that is the only capacity in which we know them. Now they are sub-letting the house next to my neighbor-friend because the owner is going to China for awhile evidently.

And this my problem that I can't talk to anybody about--the girl is pregnant and due in December, I think. And it's her first pregnancy. And I can't stand her. Never mind that she's one of those loud-talkers that think talking louder and louder in a discussion makes her sound like she knows what she's talking about in the first place. I can deal with that. Just something for me and my husband to make fun of on our way home. But now she's pregnant. I can't make fun of that.

This is one of the hurdles that I'm still having a lot of trouble with even 18 months later. When Nate died, I thought that I would never get rid of the rage and jealousy that I felt everywhere I looked. I thought that it would just rot me from the inside out. I would even get upset looking at cows with their calves while driving in the country. It's not that I've been really making an effort to purge these feelings, they're just fading away. I've gone from glaring at moms with new babies, to just not looking at them, to now being able to actually look inside the stroller and smile a little.

I'm still having trouble with people in their first pregnancy. A lot of trouble. That anger hasn't faded in the slightest and I hate it. I guess that I feel so cheated--my first pregnancy ended in a horror story. I don't ever get to have any do-overs and my first baby is not coming back. I'm jealous of the fact that they can coast through with no worries and I'm up at 4 am because my brain won't shut up. I'm jealous that they can register for gifts and put together the nursery months ahead of time. I can deal with painting the nursery, but I'm not ready to put the furniture back up. I still haven't gone through Nate's things to see if I need to register for anything. It's almost like I'm afraid that all the grief we felt packing up his things will come gushing out of those plastic tubs.

And yet, with most people I have to act like this is my first pregnancy. I've found myself more often saying, "Yes, it's my first" to strangers and unable to swap pregnancy stories with people who know what happened. We might be talking about something completely benign and maybe even funny, but they always look at me sadly, because they know what happened in the end. And then there's the fact that I have no clue what to do with a baby. I should be a pro by now and that kills me. So yeah, it's like my first pregnancy except it's not. I don't have the confidence and comfort that everything is going to be fine and bad things happen to other people that come with a first pregnancy. I'm in a pregnancy that small triumphs are saying "when" and not "if" and realizing how hard it is to say. "When he comes home." It seems like an easy off-hand thing to say, but it will be redemption for me after nearly two years that I thought I wouldn't live through. Hang in there, Piglet. Just six weeks to go.

Is This Thing On?

Hey ya'll. This was so weird. I don't know if Blogger was doing this to other people, but it wasn't showing that anyone had updated their blogs since Monday. I would go visit, but there'd be no new posts. I was getting worried, especially about those that usually post daily (Hi Catherine). Anyway, it worked this morning and I've been catching up. I was starting to panic.

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I passed my diabetes test (yay!) but my iron is wicked low. I knew that was coming--and those of you who've taken iron supplements know what that means. Dammit. You just don't appreciate it until no matter how hard you try, you can't do it. Fiber is my friend.

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I'm and exhibitor in a big, scary bridal show this weekend. I'm really dreading it, because (a) I don't like brides. (b) I like their mother's even less. (c) I have to play for 6 hours and my belly is getting too big for me to hold my flute properly. So then my shoulder starts cramping. But you know, I signed us up for this show when I was newly pregnant and I wasn't going to make any plans based on the fact that I would still be pregnant in August. How effed up is that? A good thing is, my adorable husband is going to be our "spokesmodel" and talk to brides so we can keep playing. There is another group that we complete with, a string quartet, and the guy they bring to shows is the cellist's husband who just happens to be the morning news and weather guy for one of our tv stations. My husband is cuter, though. Neener, neener. Today, I'm going to focus on being more positive about this show or my crappy, negative energy is going to scare everyone away. We will get gigs. We will get gigs.

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I'm so hungry. I've been up since 4am, mostly because of the items in the above paragraph and all the little crappy items that go along with it that I wouldn't delegate to anyone else because I wanted to make sure that they were done correctly. Anyway, I'm starving because I desperately need to go grocery shopping. I just tried to make some cream of wheat and when I added it to the pot, a scary, prehistoric looking bug floated to the top. Crap! I looked at the expiration date, and it was August 25, 2006. Well, that's disgusting. Now I'm trying to eat a bowl of stale, generic fruit loops with soy milk. They have the consistency of calamari. I used to make a detailed, lovely menu every two weeks that I posted lovingly on the fridge for everyone to see. I'd even type it up on the computer using clever fonts and we'd always take comfort in knowing what was for dinner. I had brilliant shopping lists, stuck to the grocery budget and we always had great food in the house. Now we have cereal with bugs. There hasn't been a menu on the fridge in months and months. When I first got pregnant, everything made me so sick, there was no way in hell that I was actually going to cook anything. If Tom was hungry, he pretty much had to go kill it and barbeque it himself. And now I've got this gall bladder thing and I still can't eat anything. Bleh. The squid cereal just isn't doing it for me. Would a veggie burger be too weird for breakfast? No bread though. If I even have any bread, it's probably moldy.

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We're talking October 12th for the Piglet to make his grand entrance. I was going to write a whole post about this, the gist of which is I don't really feel like my doctor is getting me. Like, he's not understanding how scared I am right now. I don't even start my two-week appointments until 32 weeks. I get an ultrasound at the 34th week, but he does that for everybody. I guess I'm just feeling like I need more attention...but I don't even know what he can do. There isn't any test to tell if I'm going to abrupt again. They can't predict it--it's like being struck by lightening and really the best he can do is to take the baby 3 weeks early. So, I need some feedback on this: he wants to do the amnio on the 11th and if Piglet's ready, do the section on the 12th. So I have to have a big needle stuck into my uterus and then be sent home? And I'm supposed to sleep that night!? He says that he doesn't want me to fast if I don't have to. What the hell? It's not like I'm getting a bunch of joy from food these days anyway, I don't give a shit if I'm hungry. I am not cool with this. Isn't it possible to have the amnio and the section the same day? What do you think? Am I being unreasonable about this?

Hey Neeto

Piglet usually sleeps when I play my flute. Especially when I play with harp, and Nate did that, too. Both of them, though, would wake up when I got particularly agitated with one of my students. I always wonder if my babies would recognize the sound of the flute.

Just now I was looking for some clips on YouTube for my students to listen to. I had my computer on my lap and was listening to one of the Bach Cello Suites. (Some of them are working on Bach and I always use the cello suites when I'm teaching this stuff. It's a great way to learn to play it well.) Piglet was quiet. I changed to a clip of a flute sonata and he went bonkers! Back to Bach--quiet. Back to flute--bonkers! Ah, my child is a genius.

That's a short, silly post but I thought it was cool.

surreal

We're painting the nursery today. There won't be any furniture in there for awhile, so for now it's just going to be a blue room.

It still makes me nervous.

Nine Weeks and Counting

Oh man, thank you so much for your input re: my crappy gall bladder. Two weeks attack-free! (Knock on wood.) If it's just going to happen every two or three weeks, I think I'll be able to make it without surgery. That last one was so bad, I thought it was going to happen after every meal. Anyway...

Something that I really didn't go into in my last post was how much that trip to L&D threw the entire family for a huge loop. I'm almost embarassed now--quit being so dramatic, it was just your stupid gall bladder. Okay, yeah, it turned out that way. But I think what was so amazing to me was how quickly we all went into panic mode. Just when the memories of what happened the night that Nate was born started to become less sharp around the edges, it came rushing back so quickly. I said good bye for the third time to one of my babies and that's just not easy to shake off, even after you know that everything is going to be okay. My mom and sister rushed to the hospital, my sister had a panic attack. For the next week, Tom and I were both so jumpy and every time I got up to pee in the night he'd ask, "What's wrong?" I'm not sure if he actually really slept that week. We bought a doppler that week, too. Now he follows me around the house with it. My God. You know, I'm so thankful that right now, this second, everything is okay. But I hate so much that I'm not clueless anymore. I know way, way, way too much.

But what I have to keep reminding myself is this: people have babies all the time. And most babies live. That's my mantra right now...most babies live. If they didn't, there wouldn't be whole sections at the store devoted to baby gear. There wouldn't be commercials for lotions and diapers and bottles. You couldn't buy strollers or cribs anywhere. They probably wouldn't exist if most babies died. What blows my mind lately is how people is how people go on and on about my belly and my due date and oh how exciting and excited you must be! They have no doubt that this baby is going to make it home. I just wish that I was as confident as they were. I know way, way, way too much.

I'm operating on about 50% of my brain right now. Half of me is so excited, the other half is being so cautious. Today, half of me bought a jogger stroller and a baby bjorn. The other half of me cannot even fathom putting a baby in either one of these contraptions. I was driving today and became overwhelmed with the memory of being wheeled out of the hospital a year and a half ago with a memory box on my lap. Sometimes those memories absolutely come out of nowhere. I thought about the possiblity of a live baby in my lap this time. Oh please, let this happen.

Before Nate was born, we kept his name a secret. After this scare, we decided to tell people this time. If something goes wrong, I want people to know his name. I want them to know him as much as they can before he's born. I love his name and being able to say it out loud makes him seem so much more real. It's also helping me not to keep calling him Nate. I'm sure that moms do that all the time with their kids, but when one of them is no longer living, it's a little upsetting. I'm going to keep his name as a surprise for my bloggy friends, though :) I've been calling him Piglet here, so I'll keep doing that. He got that name because this is the Chinese Year of the Pig. But it's extra special because this year is the Year of the Golden Pig. They say that Golden Pig babies are extra lucky. That sounds good to me.

I'm A Mess

We had a bad scare a few weeks ago. I had initially started to write a huge, detailed post about it, but about halfway through, I was like, "Crap, I don't even want to think about this hard enough to write about it." I'll give you a synopsis now, though.

Three Sundays ago I was canning jalapenos from our garden and I decided to take a break and put my feet up for a few minutes while the jars where processing. I hadn't been sitting more than a minute when suddenly--and I mean out of nowhere--I felt horrible. I had terrible pressure in my belly and I was sweaty and nauseous. Every second it got worse, so Tom took me to L & D. It was a terrifying ride there--not just because we where panicking and running red lights in mid-day traffic--but because we were automatically taken back to the night Nate was born. I was in so much pain, but the worst part was just the horrible, blinding fear. The pressure and the nausea... it was like I was abrupting again. Why didn't I have tests done? Why did I just trust my doctor? I had just finished his quilt that morning and I was so proud of it. I laid it out so that I could look at it every time I walked by. What was wrong with me? Why does my body do this to my babies?! The only thing that was different about this time was that I wasn't bleeding.

The nurses at L & D hooked me up to the monitor and found his heartbeat right away. I just knew that it would be in the 40's, like Nate's, but it was good and strong in the 150's. Okay, he was fine, but I was getting worse and worse--sweaty and writhing around--the nurses didn't really know what to do with me. And then I threw up. Magically, all the pain and pressure had vanished. I felt great. I was ready to go home. But we had a day of tests and ultrasounds ahead of us.

And do you know what? I have gallstones. Tons of them. They're going to try to wait to take my gall bladder out until the boy is born, unless things are just too bad to tolerate. I didn't have another attack until two weeks after the first awful one, but this time I had three in two days. And one of them was even worse than the very first one. Now that we knew what was going on, we weren't nearly as terrified. You know, they tell you all about constipation when you're pregnant, but I had never heard that pregnancy causes your bile to turn to sludge and fills you with stones. Great. I thought old people got gallstones. Now that it's happened, hardly anyone I've talked to even has their gall bladder anymore. And they're around my age. What a crappy, useless organ. I've already had my tonsils out--I'll just get rid of all my useless organs.

I DO NOT want surgery when I'm pregnant. Laproscopy or otherwise. That scares the shit out of me. The only surgery I want is the one where they are actually going in to get him. So in the meantime, what do I do? I'm afraid to eat. I've cut out all dairy now, because I wonder if that's what set off the three attacks last weekend. They told me not to eat fatty and spicy. So, what? No KFC? I'm afraid to eat anything with any fat in it. I'm hungry. We're hungry! I am eating, though, don't worry. Just lots of fruit and veggies and plain pasta. No red meat, only baked chicken and turkey breasts. Boca burgers. Cereal with soy milk. I guess what I'm wondering is-- has anyone had their gallbladder out during pregnancy? I know that it is a very common surgery during pregnancy, but I don't know anyone whose had it done. I would totally put up with the pain of the attacks if I knew for sure and for certain that it was just me it was effecting. I worry about the stress and pain of it to cause premature labor, I'm worried about my gallbladder rupturing, I worry about pancreatitis. I've only got 10 weeks left! I want to stick it out so badly, but I'm just so terrified that he's going to get hurt.

Next week is my glucose tolerance test. Wouldn't that just be a kick in the ass if I ended up with GD, too? Hilarious. This pregnancy was scary enough in the first place. I shouldn't have to deal with bullshit of any kind this time around. But I have to keep reminding myself--when we left L & D that day, I did not expect to be leaving with my baby. But I did. He's just fine.

Morbid Humor and a Little Magical T-Shirt

My sister and I were talking the other day about the c-section (it will be another vertical one):

Sister-Maybe the doctor could just install a zipper this time.
Me-(laughter) Ooo, or maybe velcro so I'll be more washable.
Sister-Or just a series of snaps! Oh, but what if you have a big meal and sit down? Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Me-(hysterical laughter) Oh God, my uterus just fell out!!

Okay, maybe you had to be there. I thought it was freakin' hilarious.

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The night that the new Ha.rr.y P0.tt.er was released, a few businesses downtown turned one of our streets into Dia.gon All.ey. The independant movie house was showing the third movie and serving butt.erbee.r (ginger ale and butterscotch flavoring--yum!), the glass blowing guy was making custom wands, the bookstore was doing something Potter related and there were carriage rides, too. That was cool because they were the same big shires and white carriage that Tom and I used for our wedding. Hearing them clip-clop on the street brought back some happy memories. Stuff like this always brings out the weirdos and like my sister said, it was like someone turned over a nerd rock and they all came scurrying out like crabs in their capes and Hagrid beards. I'm pretty damn nerdy about this stuff, too, but I like to keep a low profile, I guess. Except for the fact that we hunted out the screen printing shop that was making custom t-shirts. I went in, prepared to make a dorky t-shirt in pink that I would wear with much pride, until I spied a little blue onsie. I had it printed with: "I solomnly swear that I am up to no good." If you haven't read the books, that probably doesn't come across nearly as cute as it's supposed to. I think it's cute, anyway. When it was ready to be picked up, everyone oohed over how what a perfect shirt for a little boy it was. They just had no clue how hard it was for me to buy that little shirt and how I was praying that he'd get a chance to wear it. I've now bought him a grand total of four things. Whoopie-doo.

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I have some major updating to do--a lot has been going on in the past couple of weeks. The Piglet is totally fine (he never, ever sleeps and is after me with both feet most of the time, hard enough to make my teeth rattle. Nate never behaved like this!) So many pregnancies in two years have evidently taken their toll on me and I'm having a rough time. But I'll tell you about it tomorrow. I need some advice and some sympathy. **sigh**

Vacation Continued

We were in St. Augustine, I forgot to mention. It's a pretty cool town and it actually reminded me a lot of a town in Spain that we had visited last summer-Cadiz. Parts of it anyway. Other parts were really touristy. We didn't stay in town, actually. We stayed in Tom's boss' brother's condo (Did you follow that one?) about 30 minutes outside of the city.

On this day, the girls went shopping and the boys went to play golf. However, Tom hates golf (we sold his clubs in our garage sale) and I have a feeling that he just drove the cart. He also texted me a lot that day, which meant he was bored as hell. I was excited to go into St. Augustine and explore a little bit. It's the oldest city in the United States, you know. I was hoping to find some cool shops with local artists or something, but I guess that we started in the wrong part of town and it was too damn hot to wander around trying to find what we were looking for. Damn hot, yikes. So we ended up at the outlet mall.

This is actually a boring part of my story, but I'm only telling you this so I can tell you that I did something that I'm kind of proud of. (Other than being proud of not bitching and moaning about the heat, and my back, and my big sweaty boobs--I bitched on the inside.) I bought some baby stuff. I really did. Through this pregnancy, I've bought tons of maternity clothes because that's all that I could deal with. I'm pregnant right now, and I need clothes. I couldn't think much past that. But on this day, I couldn't resist the Little Me store. So I bought 3 sleeper outfits in newborn size. And then do you know what I did? I marched straight into an overpriced purse store of a certain brand and bought a ridiculously priced, outrageous, big ol' diaper bag that my husband would sooner die than carry. I figure that if the boy and I get through this in one piece, than I deserve to carry this bag. Actually, it was also peer pressure that made me buy it--if I was by myself, I probably wouldn't have done it. I'm pretty thrifty. I guess it comes from being married to an accountant.

That night we walked along the beach and it was gorgeous. The sun was setting and Tom and I walked along in our bare feet, picking up shells and looking for shark teeth. Ah, the romance, blah, blah, blah. I stood there looking out at the ocean and the thought came to me about how much Nate would enjoy this. Squishing the wet sand between his toes. I could almost hear his happy little squeals as the water washed over his feet. Helping mama find pretty shells, daddy holding his hand so the tide wouldn't knock him over. I felt so empty, so aware of who was missing and what we were missing out on. Sometimes his absence is so overwhelming that it takes the breath out of me. He'd be 17 months old now. Jesus.

Fortunately by the time we got back to the car, it was dark and the others couldn't see that I had been crying. On the way back, my chest was burning from holding in sobs and I was trying so hard not to let on how upset I was. When we arrived back at the house, I made the excuse that I was tired and Tom and I went back to our room while the others watched a movie downstairs. I was very, very tired and my belly was uncomfortable and hard after all that walking. I just wanted to lay down and do what I usually do when I get like that--read or watch something mindless on tv until I calmed down. So Tom and I watched that show with the hot British guy that does that insane survival show. Although that night, he was stranded in Norway and ate the eyeball of a frozen sheep that he had found. That was a little much, I have to say. It did get my occupy my mind enough so that I could have some much needed sleep that night. Although the eyeball thing was some good, old-fashioned nightmare fuel.

That's about it. After getting to break in my new and ridiculous looking maternity swim suit in the pool, bobbing around like a no-wake buoy, we had a uneventful flight back. I was thrilled to get home and do laundry. I'm serious. I had such a great time, but I still get a little anxious and weird about leaving my comfort zone. I didn't used to be like that, but you know, honestly, I think I was just so worried about the baby the entire time and I wanted to be close to my doctor.

I actually wrote most of this post a while ago, but I'm just now finishing it, so if the date is from days ago, that's why. In other news, I don't have to teach today, so I think that I might go see a movie today. I think I'll go see Rat.at.ouille --Tom's not interested in that one.

Do You Want to Hear About My Vacation?

I just got back from Florida. You might say, "Oh, so that's why you haven't updated your blog in almost a month. What a long trip you took." Nah....it was just a long weekend trip. I've just been tongue-tied like I am quite often.

We flew and I was a nervous wreck the entire time. I had flown pregnant before (on my honeymoon), but I was only 10 weeks pregnant and that was back in the day when I thought dead babies happened to other people. My doctor told me that now was a fine time to travel, but I couldn't help but remember that he also said that if something went wrong, I could always have more babies! My big worry on the flight was that the cabin pressure would make me abrupt again. Writing that, it seems completely silly. But I spend most of my time worrying that I'll abrupt if I sneeze too hard or pick up something heavier than the cat. So that's fun.

This was kind of a business trip for Tom and we went with two other couples from his office, one of them being his boss and his girlfriend. Most of the weekend was spent with the boys going off and doing something manly and girls going off and doing something pink and fluffy. The first night, though, we all went out to a fancy Hawaiian fusion restaurant. This is where I discovered the beauty of virgin big fruity drinks. I also discovered that I didn't know what in the hell I was going to eat in Florida, wracking my brain trying to remember what seafood I could or couldn't eat. They eat a lot of fish down there, you know. I managed to find stuff-- I have no idea how much weight I gained this weekend. Oh, who cares. I'll worry about that later.

The next day, we all embarked on the aforementioned manly/pink and fluffy outings. The boys went deep sea fishing and the girls went to a day at the spa. The spa was huge and very fancy. We spent the day in white bathrobes and white flip-flops, quietly flip-flopping around the place with other spa-goers in white bathrobes. It reminded me of a cult. Or maybe monks at a beauty monastery. We had massages, manicures and pedicures, and a frou-frou lunch of shrimp salad and tabbouleh. Stuff that I would I have liked if I wasn't pregnant, but it looked yucky to me so I had two pieces of pie for lunch: pecan and key lime. That's a spa lunch to me. I want to tell you about my massage, though.

I had only had a couple of massages before. Never a maternity massage, though and I was worried about it. I was afraid to lay on my belly, even though I'd be laying over a belly hole. Although I was distracted by the spa surroundings for the most part, I was still zeroed in on what was going on inside. I was worried about what the flight did, and I was desperately waiting for this baby that usually moves constantly, to give me some kind of reassuring thump. The masseuse came out to the lounge to get me. She had the longest arms that I'd ever seen on a woman and they were covered in the big, raised veins of a bodybuilder. Oh jesus. Does anyone want to trade? But I went with her. In the (what is it called?) massage room, she asked, "Is this your first?" I hesitated for a minute like I always do. Do I want to lay here for a half hour while she talks about how great first babies are? I said, "My first baby passed away." And went back to filling out my information sheet. "Mine did too," she said.

And so for the next half hour, instead of talking in a hypothetical way about how great first babies are, we talked about how great our first babies were. She had a little boy, too, and she lost him almost 32 years ago. His name was Christian and he lived for two hours. I wondered how she was able to work with so many pregnant woman, but maybe 32 years later you lose that anger and animosity towards them. I hope so, but I hope that it doesn't take 32 years. During our chat she said, "Oh, the funeral." I said, "I know. It was terrible, wasn't it? You don't spend that time being pregnant even dreaming that you'd have to plan a funeral." It was nice to talk to someone about these things. I'm not sure how relaxing it was, though. I thought that I wanted to feel normal by having one of these massages, but I think that it helped my heart to talk about it. Maybe it helped her heart, too. She never had any more children-she was too scared. She even tried to adopt and when a baby was made available for her, fear made her turn that down, too. Now she has dogs. They're easier, she said. I wish she had tried again. But I know how scary it is. And I haven't even gotten to the really scary part yet--the last few weeks. I was glad that I met her and I felt bad that I was a little scared of her.

This is getting long and my butt is starting to hurt. I've got more to tell you, but I'll do it later, I promise.

p.s. Tom caught lots of fish, didn't puke from sea sickness once and got a comedy sunburn on his legs that looks like he's wearing red tights. He had a good day. So did I.

End Part One

About the Appointment

When Nate died, I thought that I would never again be in the ultrasound room, looking at a healthy baby on that monitor. It seemed impossible. And then the miscarriage--it seemed even more impossible. But on Thursday, I was there. And it was as beautiful and amazing as I remembered.

I was there with Tom and our moms. There is no way that we could have gotten through Nate's death without them and we wanted them to be in on this one from the beginning. When the tech put the wand on my belly, she exclaimed, "Whoa, we've got a wiggler!" Ha, ha! I knew it wasn't gas. And then, "Look at those long, skinny, big feet!" And at that point, I started to wonder if this baby really was a girl, as I was suspecting. Nate had big ol' feet. She moved the wand around, checking measurements--leg bones, head circumference, then, "We've got some hangy down parts. It's a boy! And his hand is already down there, so you guys better watch out!" (Tom and I thought after the appointment that she must have some boys at home.) After hearing "It's a boy!" I started crying. And laughing. Tom squeezed my hand, and I knew that he was happy too. Moms were crying and laughing. Later he said, "You know why we got a boy?" I was expecting him to say, "Listening to AC/DC" like he had when we found out Nate was a boy. He said, "Because I was wearing my lucky boxer shorts." He's so cute.

More measurements and we listened to the heartbeat. The whole thing was finished in about five minutes. We got some pictures that for the most part, we can't figure out what they are. Especially the "boy part" picture. Although we do have a good face shot, which is a little scary. ("This is my son, Skeletor.")

Later, we went in to see the OB, who managed not to stick his foot in his mouth this time, thankfully. I was still very nervous, because I knew that the ultrasound tech couldn't tell me anything, even if she saw that something was wrong. But Dr. W said, "Everything looks great!" And I said, "Okay, I want to see why everything looks great. Show me what you're looking at." And he did. He went over everything in great detail with Tom and I, what could be wrong and why this one was alright. I felt better, but of course I'm still not great and I won't be until he's out of me, which I don't consider to be a very safe place for my child. I feel like he's standing on the edge of traffic, and all I can do is hope that a car doesn't swerve to hit him.

So, here we are. Things seem to be fine and I'm left with my thoughts on having a boy--a second son. I was so convinced that I was having a girl, and I was cool with that. I just want a healthy, take-home baby. I was excited about the prospect of having a girl, buying those big bows and making her head look like a little gift-wrapped bowling ball. I was just convinced! I had told my sister that I would be so incredibly shocked to see a boy on that ultrasound, because it was going to be a girl. Actually, I think my exact words were, "I'm gonna be shocked to shit if I see a little wiener on that ultrasound!" Because I'm that kind of classy. I was excited about having a girl, but deep down I wondered if I would ever get a chance to be a mom to a living boy. And the thought of all of Nate's things packed up in the attic, waiting to be used by a brother made me sad. All these things that a little brother would use even if Nate had lived. I think that deep down, I really wanted another boy. And I think that Tom did, too. And not to replace Nate, but...you know.

So...

Well, I guess that I won't have to do much shopping because it's a....

Very wiggly BOY with great BIG FEET!!

And everything else looks good :) More later...

Yikes.

Oh man, oh man, oh man. I'm really nervous about this ultrasound tomorrow. I'm also excited, though. Like a little-kid-birthday-Christmas excited. Oh, but I'm nervous. I didn't have any tests early on--I'm completely dumb to what is going on in there, except that this kid moves a lot. I don't think that I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. Oh God, I hope that everything is okay.