Nearly There

We're here. And the baby's not. Just tired and busy, frantically trying to tie up loose ends at work and tackle some of the dirt/dust/grime in the house that absolutely HAS to be eradicated before any sane person brings a new baby into a house. Or, since the baby will barely be able to see and will simply be moved from one plastic baby apparatus to another, pausing frequently to eat at the boob restaurant, and won't care at all about the amount of dust in the house, one could argue that the cleaning MUST be done before one's mom arrives for a two week stay. My mom, that is.

So, yes, we have been keeping very busy. And the baby has been cooperative so far - it's not here yet (good, since we really would prefer to wait until my mom comes to town), and aside from some exhaustion and occasional moments of complete breathlessness, I've been feeling pretty good. Not for lack of M. trying to treat me like an invalid, however. He's starting to get paranoid that every little noise I make (and there are a lot of them, when you're this pregnant) is a sign of impending labor. He's also trying to prevent me from doing anything that might "put me into labor." Like, you know, putting on my own socks.

I've felt prepared, in a material sense, for this baby for several months. The crib has been set up, the clothes have been washed, the hospital packing list has been printed out, the car seat bases have been installed... all for some time now. But the reality that we are about to add a new member to our family, and that we will be embarking on the newborn days of exhaustion once again, has NOT set in. Ditto for labor - it's hard to imagine that I'm going to be going through that whole hazy, painful, long, wonderful but awful process shortly. I guess I am not feeling very prepared in a mental sense. Here's hoping I get there in the next few days!

Here's the latest picture of my girth - it is practically demanding its own zip code at this point. This was taken yesterday, at 39 weeks.



As I type this, the baby is wiggling around, perhaps letting me know that it is quite content exactly where it is. It must come out, sooner or later, of course, and we'll be sure to put some pictures up when it does. Then I can start using a pronoun other than "it" - something I'm very much looking forward to!

Thanks, Mom!

32 years ago today, you got some relief from the 55-inch abdomen you were sporting as the germination center for a set of triplets. Just the thought of it makes me feel a bit silly about all the complaining I've done about my discomfort with this pregnancy.

In case I don't tell you enough (I don't), I really, really appreciate everything you went through to bring us in to this world, and the wonderful way you somehow managed to keep your sanity and make life fun while raising us. I know it wasn't easy!


I was thinking of you at 6:51 this morning.

Love,
A.

PS - Happy Birthday, Stacey and Kristin!

PPS - That's not me with Mom, that's Finn when he was about 3 weeks old. Looking young for a Grammy, no? :-)

All Quiet on the Baby Front

Good news all around - Finn's little brother or sister appears to be head down, and there is no sign of any dilation yet. Thank goodness, because this baby needs to wait until at least April 23rd to get moving. That's when my mom is coming to town and can stay with Finn while we're at the hospital. So far, so good. I have noticed a few Braxton Hicks contractions lately, but I guess they haven't been very effective yet. OK by me! I'm sure I will be singing a different tune soon enough, of course, and will be desperate for some sign, ANY sign that the baby plans of leaving my body once Mom arrives.

Now I just need to get that burst of nesting energy that will motivate me to clean my house from top to bottom. Hmm, those urges have been noticeably absent...

Update and Photos

I've been an absent blogger of late for a few reasons - a growing "To Do" list at work (it should be shrinking! Not growing!), extreme exhaustion, and lots of things to get done around the house. Here is one of them, which grew from what was supposed to be a small project to a large, expensive THING that has prevented us from using our master bath shower for a couple of weeks:




For the last couple of months, M. and I had noticed that a couple of tiles on the shower bench were buckling a bit. Along with the mildew-stained caulking that I've had a running battle with since we moved in, it looked decidedly yucky, and became a fixation for me each time I used the shower. So, at my hormonal urging, and to prevent water damage, we decided to try to repair the area. Ideally, this was going to involve simple removal of the 2 or 3 offending tiles, cleaning them up, sticking them back on, and regrouting. If some water had seeped behind, we would even try our hand at replacing any damp cement backerboard before putting the tiles back on, but we figured the area would be small. Boy, were we wrong. M. barely touched the offending tiles with a scraper-thingy, and they fell right off. Along with several others right next to them. Um, clearly a lot of water had already gotten behind the tiles. The pictures above show where we stopped before running off to Lowes to get some supplies - by the end of the day M. had removed all of the tiles on the vertical part of the shower bench, as well as some from the two walls that were kitty-corner to it. He stopped at the point where he was afraid that he would break something crucial, like the glass shower wall, if he continued. That's when we called our home improvement/contractor service.

Our $50 project has turned in to a $1600 renovation job. One that we MIGHT have been able to tackle ourselves, but certainly not with the speed at which it has progressed the last week. With the clock ticking on this pregnancy, it's money I feel is well spent. Since exact-match tiles (it's amazing how many different kinds of square white tiles there are, and how many of them DON'T match our tiles) couldn't be easily found, we ended up having probably half of the shower tiles replaced so that we could put in a transition row of decorative tiles that make the new white tiles stick out less. We're planning on slapping some paint on some of the walls and trying to actually make the bathroom look somewhat nice (as opposed to the glaring white wonderland it has been since we moved in), and I'm hopeful that when all is said and done this "emergency" fix will actually make me happier with our bathroom. But in the meantime, we've been showering down in our basement shower at night. A lovely shower, really, but 1) the basement is cold, 2) I hate showering at night, it does nothing for my hair, and 3) the shower is quite small which means a) my belly is constantly in danger of whacking the tile wall, b) I cannot possibly shave my legs (though really, at this stage of pregnancy, who's looking, right?), and c) there is constant groaning from me every time I have to bend over to pick up a bottle of shampoo/conditioner/body wash/face wash from the floor. I am hoping, though, that we will be able to use our own shower as early as tomorrow - yay!

Physical evidence of my difficulty fitting in the basement shower, bending over, basically doing ANYTHING:




Me at 35 weeks, just over a week ago. I am now 36 weeks 2 days and, if anything, even bigger. It has become very, very hard to get around. I am definitely nearing that necessary point at which a pregnant woman actually starts to look forward to labor, just so I can breathe again. Or last more than an hour at night without making a bathroom run. If I didn't have so much to do at work in the next few weeks, I'd be trying every natural remedy in the arsenal to speed things along.

As squeezable and cute as all these babies, brand new or at least newer than Finn, in my family are, I do need to throw in a few pictures of my little guy just so Grammy and Bumpa remember how adorable he is. Disregarding the sleep issues we've been having lately, which I will not detail as frankly they frustrate me too much, as they don't detract TOO much from his cuteness:


March 2, unexpected snow day, Mom and Dad try to distract Finn with some Elmo on TV so they can get some work done


He looks so happy!


In definite need of a haircut


Planting seeds, love the Dora watering can he insisted we buy for him. Very confident in his masculinity.


Post haircut, with his "I don't want to smile for the stupid camera" look.


Post haircut, with his ridiculous "OK, if you want me to smile I'll take it to the extreme" look.

Will try to be good and post later this week - first internal exam with the OB (and who's not curious about the state of my cervix, right?), and we will hopefully figure out if this baby is head down or not. Only a couple more weeks to get your birthday guesses on record at expectnet.com (see right sidebar)!

98% Of Babies Manic-Depressive

Given the baby boom that has hit A. and her sisters Mommy Esq. and SBHGIGO, it seems appropriate to share the following 'news' article that I found while reading The Onion. I think most parents will agree that the results of the mentioned study are incredibly accurate. Left unmentioned was a follow-up study that addresses couples who exhibit mass delusion and memory loss when reminiscing about the final weeks of pregnancy and the first few months at home with the baby. In some cases, these mental lapses have been shown to lead to 'let's-have-another' syndrome, followed by a permanent loss of golfing privileges. Enjoy!


98% Of Babies Manic-Depressive
March 23, 2009 Issue 45•13
NEW YORK—A new study published in The Journal Of Pediatric Medicine found that a shocking 98 percent of all infants suffer from bipolar disorder. "The majority of our subjects, regardless of size, sex, or race, exhibited extreme mood swings, often crying one minute and then giggling playfully the next," the study's author Dr. Steven Gregory told reporters. "Additionally we found that most babies had trouble concentrating during the day, often struggled to sleep at night, and could not be counted on to take care of themselves—all classic symptoms of manic depression." Gregory added that nearly 100 percent of infants appear to suffer from the poor motor skills and impaired speech associated with Parkinson's disease.

Ramblings

Last night, I asked Finn whether he thought the baby was a boy or a girl. Usually when I ask him this, he answers "Boy and girl," despite all my assurances that no, really, there is just one baby inside Mommy's belly. But last night he definitively said girl. I'm sure I'll ask him again later and get a different answer, but I'm just glad he's no longer predicting twins for us :-).

Another quick work story from me, one that ties in to the whole "Is it a boy or a girl?" question: As I prepped my lunch one day a week or two ago, one of the elderly ladies that does some part time work for us asked me whether I was having a boy or a girl. Upon hearing that the gender is a surprise, she exclaimed, "Oh, how awful!" Now I know, when I was pregnant with Finn, that I was slightly judge-y about those pregnant women that chose not to find out the sex of their babies (sorry!). My thinking was that there were going to be PLENTY of surprises in the delivery room as a first time mom, and besides, don't you want to bond with your baby while it's in utero??? But I certainly never tried to make anyone feel badly about the decision to have a delivery room surprise (I hope!). Maybe this woman was just assuming that I would want to take advantage of a technology that was not around when she was giving birth?

Regardless, I don't think it's "awful" that I don't know my baby's sex. We really have just about everything we need to welcome a baby into the world, boy or girl. Yes, if it's a girl, I'm short on pink onesies. The horror! But I do happen to have about 1,674 white, green and yellow onesies. The child will be adequately dressed, that is certain. And more importantly, knowing the gender of your child before it's born doesn't guarantee better/more instantaneous bonding, as I found out with Finn. Yes, I loved him intellectually as soon as (before) he was born, but would I say I was "bonded?" I don't think so. I was way too shell shocked by the upheaval, and in too much pain, to really "bond" with my cute, tiny, hairy, constantly hungry baby instantly. It took time. I expect it to take some time this time around, and I'm not worried about it.

On a final note, M. and I are hoping to find a gift of some sort to bring to Finn's soon-to-be-old daycare on his last day next week. Since he has been there from 8 weeks old and migrated through 4 rooms/8 head teachers, we want to get something that will show appreciation for ALL the support he has gotten, not just from his current teachers. For lack of better ideas, we've been defaulting to the concept of a large gift basket, genre unknown. I thought I'd put it to you, though, to see if anyone had any ideas of brilliance. Any thoughts on an appropriate gift for Finn's daycare?

Just Weird

Today I received my first "You must be having that baby any day now" comment (OK, technically it's my second, as I did get one from a male colleague several weeks ago, but I don't count it since he's a man and might not know any better). This was from a woman I work with. I know she has at least 2 kids of her own, one of whom is only 8 or so, AND she is a nurse, so she should really know better. As I was walking down the hall and turning toward the ladies' room, she walked quickly by me down the hallway and said, "Oh, you must be getting very close!" Always awkward, but I just chirped "Two more months to go!" and left it at that. Or so I thought.

But this must have concerned her, because weirdly enough she ended up turning around and following me into the bathroom. Not immediately, but about 60 seconds later. As I discovered when I heard her call to me through the locked bathroom door (not a stall, an actual door - our ladies' room at work has a separate handicap bathroom inside with its own door, sink, etc, and I figure my huge belly counts as a handicap so I typically use it instead of the teeny-tiny stalls with their swing doors that always hit me on the belly when I open them). How awkward to be sitting on the toilet and have a colleague (one I don't know very well at all) try to carry on a conversation with me through a door. All so that she could ask me if the baby was measuring large, because geez, I'm just so tiny!! HA, no one has EVER told me that before. Good lord, I know I'm short, but TINY!?!?! I'd like to adequately convey the mental guffaws of laughter that run through my head even now as I type this, but there is no emoticon or phrase that will suffice.

I'm sure there were intonations of incredulity, laughter, and embarassment as I answered back, through the door, my voice echoing over all the tiles "Everything is measuring right on track, thanks." Then I heard her turn around and leave the main bathroom, the door closing behind her.

Weird, right? It's not just my imagination? Why would you follow someone in to the bathroom and try to talk to them about their hugeness while they are trying to pee?

On a related note, I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday - the run-of-the-mill, 10 minute type. The doctor noted no concerns, and even commented that my weight gain (23 pounds to date) is great. I'm not sure what I am measuring this week, but at my last appointment 2 weeks ago I was 28 weeks 2 days and 28.5 centimeters. So I wasn't just trying to get this woman off my back, I truly am measuring right on track. No matter how much I complain about how huge I feel. Aarg, can't wait to have 9+ more weeks of this!

I know I have said on a few occasions that I would post pictures (of my belly, of Finn, etc), and that instead I have been a horrible, absent blogger. My follow-through has been stinky. I have managed to progress to the point where I have uploaded pictures to my computer at home, but alas, my motivation has thus been stalled. The truth is, I haven't really wanted to blog because we're going through a tough time with Finn right now. He is sucking the energy out of both of us with his tantrums and fits. At night, once he's finally asleep, M. and I just want to veg on the couch for a bit, then drag ourselves to bed. Work has been too busy for blogging, and weekends, well there just isn't enough time in the day for all the things we need to get done (although you can read accounts of Stacey's baby shower and MommyEsq's twins' baptism to see some of what I've been up to, and even a couple of pictures of me - I'm the slightly less pregnant one in the triplet photos).

What's made Finn's tantrums even harder is that he is being VERY mommy-centric. He will not allow M. to do anything for him, and is constantly shouting and crying for Mommy. It's endearing but frustrating for me, and just frustrating for M. It's hard to have patience, but we are trying. I'm just afraid for what's to come, as in a week and a half the major changes will start for Finn. He starts his new daycare then, and a mere 8 weeks or so later, his entire life will be turned upside down by a baby. If we think it's rough now, I shudder to think of the tantrums we will face in a couple of weeks.

Fortunately, Finn's also in a very affectionate stage - lots of kisses, tight hugs, and "I love you, Mommy"'s (and even some "I love you, Daddy"'s, too) coming from him. It's like he's holding on tighter because he knows change is coming. Whatever the reason, I am reveling in those hugs and kisses!

From the Mouths of Babes

Last week was the "Zoo Unit" at daycare. A resulting conversation:

A: Finn, you are a boy (not sure the genesis of this statement)
Finn: No, I a monkey!! (Monkey sounds ensue)
M: Is mommy a monkey, too?
Finn: No, elephant!

Ah, so true these days. I'll try to upload a pic later this week, taken of my ever expanding girth at 29 weeks. It ain't pretty.

M., by the way, is apparently an ostrich.

Searching for a Title

That appropriately conveys the massive failure of last night's sleeping experience. Perhaps:

The Words, They Were Written Too Soon

or

Jinx, Jinx, Jinx!!

or

How Life Likes to Remind You That You Still Have No Idea How to Parent

or simply

Ha Ha Ha (The Sleep Gods Laugh)

All seemed well. Finn went to sleep without any crying after I lay down with him in bed for about 10 minutes. We were anticipating a night even better than the last. We've turned a corner, he doesn't need the paci, doesn't even miss it, hurrah, we are wonderful parents!! Ha.

It's 10:30 pm. I turned off my light a few minutes earlier, way too tired to comprehend the words of the book I am reading. Sooo ready for some sleep. Then, somehow, something woke up the sleeping beast. Who, upon awakening, apparently only remembers that he has a mother and not a father, because the mantra of "mommy, mommy, moooommmmeeeee" is chanted/cried over and over again and aired over the monitor. M. goes down to settle him down. But instead of quiet, I hear lots of crying and "Nooooo" over the monitor, so it's mommy to the rescue. But it's not that simple. Because Finn is tossing and turning, playing with the damn fire truck and Thomas the Tank Engine that he somehow conned us into letting him bring to bed. Asking for water, for a snack, to watch the movie Cars. At one point, he said to me, "Mommy, I need stuff." Hopefully you get the picture here - wide awake toddler doing his best to NOT settle down.

At different points in time, whoever was in Finn's room would get totally frustrated and leave, with the child still awake. We would huddle up in bed, until the next round of cries started over the monitor, and then it was the other parent's turn to enter the fray. I gave up for good at 12:30, turning off the monitor. But M. went back down one last time, and somehow had the patience to sit with Finn until he fell asleep. He believes that he got back to our bed at around 2:00 am.

Then, Finn was awake again at 6:00 am. I raced down to his room as soon as I heard the noise (monitor was back on) just to try and buy us more time and keep him from fully waking up. I managed to comfort him back to sleep for another 45 minutes or so. The bottom line is that no one, not even the cat, got more than 3 or 4 consecutive hours of sleep. It's going to be a fun day, eh?

M. and I are both feeling a bit guilty, because we definitely lost our tempers at different points. I was just so MAD! I had been so tired, so ready to drift off the sleep. And the crappiest part was that, even when I was back in bed and off duty, I COULDN'T fall asleep. All the fuss and frustration had completely erased my sleepiness. And my sleep is precious these days! M., I'm sure, was able to sleep solidly as soon as he got back to bed at 2:00 am, and probably during some of the little jags in between wake up calls. But not me. That is the beauty of pregnancy sleep. I can usually only count, depending on when my first wake up of the night is, on 3-5 hours of solid sleep. After the first pee trip of the night, I toss and turn from then on, stealing little snatches of sleep if I'm lucky. Lots of reasons for this, of course. Increased blood flow and congestion has screwed with my nose. Combine that with the super-dry, hot air in our chimney of a bedroom, and I'm guaranteed to have at least one crusty nostril when I wake up to pee. And then I fixate on it. Even if air flow is only blocked by about 20% in one nostril, it bugs me (usually it's more, of course). I feel like I can't take a deep breath, like I'm whistling. And because it's so dry, no amount of nose blowing really takes care of it. I can't even lie propped on my back to drain anything because lying on my back makes me REALLY uncomfortable unless I'm basically sitting up. The same thing happened with Finn, too - probably something about the way I carry my babies super high, I suppose - the position of my uterus must cut off some kind of vital blood supply while I'm even semi-reclined.

If I do manage to either ignore or fix the nose problem, I spend the rest of the night trying to manage hip pain. I'm getting to the point in pregnancy where, when I flip over to give the hip I'm lying on a break, it still continues to hurt. And no amount of "pillow between the legs" helps. And soon enough, the other hip starts hurting too. So I flip from side to side, trying to get comfortable, until it's time to pee again.

All these symptoms are held at bay until my first wake up, usually some time between 2:30 and 4:30 am, and I can get solid sleep before then. Which means last night, my best hours of sleep were completely interrupted by Finn's shenanigans, and I was left with only the crappy, tossy-turny hours. Which totally pissed me off, and I'm afraid it made me have some not so pleasant feelings toward my child. I wasn't very nice to him at various points, though I did try to maintain some level of patience.

The one silver lining is that Finn, while he asked for many things, never asked for his paci (though it was clear, from how often his fingers touched his teeth/mouth, that he was missing it). And while M. was ready to give Finn the paci at around 11:30 or so, I convinced him not to. So, while the night may have been mostly sleep-free, it was also completely paci free, for better or worse.

I don't really have any tricks or tactics up my sleeve to try to help tonight go more smoothly. I guess we'll just do what we've been doing, and hope that it gets better. And for sure, I'm not writing/talking about any successes - no need to shoot myself in the foot.

A Holiday Review and a Look Toward 2009

2009 began quite early for us. 5:38 am, to be exact. Someone decided that, since he couldn't immediately find his pacifier when he first stirred, he was done sleeping for the day. Ugh. I have a feeling the damn paci is not long for this world.

That auspicious start to the day was followed by several whining fits. By the same paci-addict, of course, not M. or myself. I blame the 2-year-old molars that are definitely working their way to the surface of Finn's gums.

We spent an hour or so in the morning of New Year's Day checking out new daycares (from the outside only, of course, as none were open). The largest, most anxiety-ridden item on my big "Before The Baby Comes" To Do list is finding a daycare. Yes, we already have one that we like, a lot. But it's near my work, which would involve about 2 and a half hours of driving each day if I were to make 2 round trips to take Finn there and pick him up during my maternity leave. That's just not going to happen. So, we are looking for a new daycare closer to home. Possibly only for the 3 months of my maternity leave, but we are leaving ourselves open to the idea that we may keep Finn there permanently and have the baby go, too.

I've been putting off the daycare search because the mere thought of it riddles me with all kinds of guilt and other negative emotions. I hate the thought of disrupting Finn's life and schedule by moving him away from his friends and teachers to a brand new environment. Right at a time when his entire world is going to be turned upside down by the addition of a sibling. And, if we aren't completely satisfied with the new daycare, or we can't get a spot for the baby when the time comes, we will move Finn back to his old daycare when I go back to work. Two transitions in a 3-4 month period, possibly. Oh, the guilt. And even if it's only one transition (meaning we get a spot for the baby and switch to the new daycare permanently), I feel guilt. I LOVED going to visit Finn every day during my lunch hour, I did it for over a year. I knew every baby and teacher in the infant room intimately, and Finn and I had a lot of quality bonding time. Putting the new baby in a daycare near our home would mean I can't do the same thing this time around. And that doesn't even address the guilt I feel over my need to send Finn to daycare during my maternity leave. Why am I spending the money (especially when part of my leave will be unpaid) and uprooting my child when I could just keep him home with me? Stay at home moms do this kind of thing all the time - adjust to life with a newborn AND take care of a toddler or two, all day, every day. But I know myself. I had a hard enough time keeping my sanity during my maternity leave with Finn. I REALLY think that it would not be fair to Finn or the baby (or me) if I have them both home with me during my leave. So, yeah, did I mention I feel guilty? Maybe I was Catholic in another life?

Thankfully, we were able to cross several daycares off our list just by viewing them from the outside (our main goal yesterday, as I have no desire to tour all of the 13 or so options I had on my original list), and we have at least a few good places to pursue. Our drive yesterday morning gave me renewed energy and hope to tackle this big task.

Yikes, so I'm re-reading what I've written so far, and I realize it all sounds so negative. I'm actually quite full of good feelings about this year. Finn is going to make a wonderful big brother, we will find a great solution for childcare for both kids, we have lots of fun things to do to get ready for Baby M (seriously, have I mentioned how much I love folding and organizing baby clothes? Because I do. And I love that I have an excuse to do it all again.), my job may bring new opportunities for me later this year, and we have a huge surprise coming in April. Sunshine and roses here, people, REALLY.

In other news, I somehow became hugely pregnant. According to my OB appointment today, I am measuring right on track at 24 weeks. But seriously, my belly is going to need its own zip code soon. It now officially sticks out farther than my chest. With 16 weeks to go, I'm a bit worried about just how big it will get. But aside from that, I feel good, the baby is super active, and I'm loving this part of the pregnancy.

I'll end with a few pictures from the holidays. We took tons, but many just didn't come out very well. I'm contemplating looking in to a new camera soon, because I think we are not realizing the potential of some very good photo opportunities with our rinky-dink Olympia. Sorry for any blurriness or red eye below!

Testing out snow for the first time this year, not so sure how we feel about it:


Digging a sled ride from Bumpa after warming up to the snow:


A family picture taken on Christmas Eve:


An adorable picture of Cousin Penny:


The three cousins, Penny, Finn and Ned, in their Christmas finery:


Finn getting ready to hang his stocking by the chimney with care, in his new bathrobe from Grammy:


After the mad rush of opening stocking presents, Finn and M. taking a break:


The "big toy" of Christmas day, Finn's GeoTrax modules from Grammy and Bumpa:


Is there a doctor in the house?:


I cannot stress to you how INTO Frosty Finn has been during this winter season, and during our final day of snow play before heading home, Finn finally got to meet the epic, mystical Snowman (hind end thanks to M., abdomen thanks to Bumpa, and head courtesy of me):


PS - Resolutions, schmesolutions! My typical New Year's resolution is to lose weight, get in shape, etc - all various versions along the same theme of being able to buy smaller clothes, damn it. Now that I am luxuriously pregnant this year, I don't feel the need to torture myself with a resolution. So freeing! I highly recommend ditching resolution-making. Happy New Year to you all, I hope the coming months have many good things in store for you!

Better Late Than Never

I was so good about documenting my growing belly (and the increasing numbers on the scale) when I was pregnant with Finn. Not so much this time, unfortunately. But I did get M. to take a picture of me about a week ago, and hopefully it shows that I am actually starting to look pregnant instead of just thick.

20 WEEKS:


This was taken at the tail end of a "photo shoot" with Finn - we dressed him up in his Christmas duds and tried to get some nice pictures of him for things like Christmas cards, etc. It was a bit like trying to photograph the Tazmanian Devil. He just kept running around shouting "I go fast! I go fast!" and absolutely would not sit still. During the barest of pauses, when I could convince him to smile for the camera, he pulled out his squinched up "Cheese" face, which is arguably worse than a fast-moving blur. So, no new photos of Finn to share, unfortunately.

Last Friday, while I was away in San Antonio, Santa made a visit to Finn's school. Finn was one of very few kids in his classroom who actually wanted to sit on Santa's lap, and it was all he could talk about this past weekend. Every time we passed a fake Santa in someone's yard or saw a picture of Santa in a store, we heard a chorus of "I sit on Santa's lap" over and over again. He was so proud of himself, and we were pretty proud of him, too. I assumed he would be scared of sitting on Santa's lap, like any other typical toddler who cries the second he is confronted with the awesomeness that is a mall Santa. Not Finn. Instead, he informed me today that he would like to go see Santa again. I tried explaining that Santa was now busy making some last minute toys to deliver next week, but needless to say, that was a bit beyond his comprehension abilities.

This week is just going to drag by - Finn is so excited by everything Christmas, and I can't wait to arrive at my parents' house and get the festivities underway for him. One more week until we leave!

Maybe He Reads a Lot of Mark Twain?

My follow-up appointment with the cardiologist was today. Good news, my heart palpitations are not being caused by anything that will lead to my "demise." That's actually the word the doctor used, which I found strange. If he wasn't a little awkward and I felt more comfortable with him, I probably would have giggled.

It seems I've been having PVCs, or Premature Ventricular Contractions. Basically, my heart has a normal beat, then it beats a little too early, then it has another normal beat, then another early one, etc (the pattern is bigeminal, if that means anything to you med-heads out there). It's quite common (especially during pregnancy), and you really only need to worry about them if you also have heart disease, which I do not. There are lots of things that can trigger them, like caffeine, lack of sleep, anxiety, HORMONAL IMBALANCE (yeah, um, I'm guessing that's my big problem here), and some other stuff.

The bottom line is, if I feel the heart palpitations are livable (and most days they definitely are), then we will ignore them and go on our merry way. Many people live with them and have them far more frequently than I do. If they do get worse, I will go back in and talk to the doctor about medication to control them (beta blockers, I assume, though he did not name any specific drugs). The goal is to avoid medication as much as possible, though, as the drug he would put me on could cause IUGR (intra-uterine growth retardation) of the baby. Yes, well, no thank you, I'm quite fine with ignoring these flutters in my chest, I'd like my baby to grow as much as he/she wants.

I think knowing that these palpitations are benign will probably help them decrease in frequency - just the act of having them over the last couple of weeks was causing me some anxiety (for fear that something was really wrong with me/the baby), which probably just caused more of them to occur.

No follow-up for another 3 months, which should cut down on all the doctor appointments I've been having lately. Yay!

In other news, I leave for San Antonio tomorrow afternoon to attend a conference. I'm less than thrilled to be going (whoever decided that two weeks before Christmas was the PERFECT time to hold this meeting is seriously on crack), but at least San Antonio is actually very pretty during the Christmas season. I won't be able to kick back and enjoy a margarita after a long day of scientific talks, but I WILL be able to get some yummy Tex Mex food. I'd better bring along some Tums, though. The heartburn is already kicking in for me with this pregnancy - this kid seems to be destined to have as much hair as Finn, if the old wives' tale holds true.

It seems that whenever one of us goes away and leaves the other to tackle single parenthood, something rears it's ugly head to prevent good nights of sleep. In previous trips this has included numerous reflux crises (Finn's medication always seemed to quit working just as M. walked out the door to catch a plane), earaches, colds, etc. Unfortunately for M., the teething monster may be making an appearance during this trip of mine. The last two or three nights Finn has woking up crying at various inappropriate times - not his usual style. He's also been a bit whinier than usual (though this is difficult to measure in a 2-year-old, who is often quite whiny for no reason at all). There is no fever, no runny nose, no cough, no rash, nothing to indicate he is sick. So, the likely culprit is 2-year-old molars, of which Finn still has none. Probably 2 months from now he will still have none (this kid is seriously the SLOWEST teether EVER), but regardless I think that's what we're facing. Keep your fingers crossed that things don't go too badly for M. while I'm away, and that he's still speaking to me when I return on Saturday.

Almost Halfway There

M. and I went in on Monday for "The Big Ultrasound." I think people always refer to it that way because that's when the gender mystery is often revealed, like that's the whole purpose for the scan. I must say, in anticipating the appointment, it definitely felt less big to me than the one I had with Finn, since I knew we would be leaving the office not knowing whether Baby #2 is a boy or a girl. Still, lots of important stuff happens at "The Big Ultrasound," none of it centered on what's between the legs.

For the most part, all went well. I feel compelled to qualify since the technician did find an echogenic focus on the baby's heart. It's soooooo not something to worry about, apparently (then just don't tell me!), but it is considered one of the 6 "soft markers" for Down's Syndrome. It happens in a small percentage of all normal pregnancies, and when no other risk factors are present, no further monitoring or testing is encouraged. We fall into that category - the baby was otherwise perfectly healthy looking. Still, the doom-and-gloom scenarioist that lurks inside me can't just proclaim "Everything was perfect!" when asked about the ultrasound (even though everything else, truly, was perfect). Add to that my own heart issues (still having palpitations, every day, I have a follow up visit with the cardiologist next week and I'm hoping to get some answers) and the fact that I was THAT PARENT who received a phone call from daycare (a mere 2 hours after the ultrasound) telling me that my sweet little boy had BITTEN one of his friends... well, saying that the day was draining would be an understatement.

BUT, when I am not a physical and emotional zombie, I completely ignore any mention of heart issues and have been getting quite excited about this baby. It helps that I have been feeling all kinds of movement below the belly button. I didn't mind being pregnant with Finn, but pregnancy has been a lot harder this time around, and feeling those little kicks and punches is really, really rewarding. We are starting to get a move on preparing for this baby, and I think it's helping M. get excited, too. Last weekend we picked up a second-hand changing table for the new nursery, which M. managed to assemble pretty darn fast despite not having the manual/instructions, and despite lots of offers of "Daddy, I help you" from a screwdriver-wielding Finn. This weekend, we are going to see about securing a second-hand double stroller (Craig's List has been great for this stuff). It all makes me want to jump right in and start washing little clothes and organizing and reorganizing the nursery (my only form of nesting, apparently, as Finn's room was the only spotless one in our apartment as we counted down the days to his arrival 2 years ago). But, I'm pacing myself, since Good God, do I really still have 20+ WEEKS to go!?!?! It already seems like I've been pregnant forever - I've been pregnant since the summer (found out about baby in August), through entire fall, and now winter. It's hard to believe I have to make it all the way to mid-Spring.

Anyway, back to that ultrasound. The baby measured at around 10 ounces (no idea if that is big or small for it's age, but the doctor seemed happy). At the end of the scan, the doctor turned the screen away from us so that he could take a look at the gender. I keep thinking how weird it is - someone knows this fairly important bit of information about our baby, but we don't. However, I'm not waivering in my resolve, I'm still excited to have this surprise as a carrot to hold out to get me through what I'm sure will be a long labor. I have sneaking suspicions that it's a boy. MAYBE I saw something boy-like when the technician was checking out the umbilical cord entry into the belly?? AND there's a slightly higher incidence of echogenic foci in boys than girls (yes, I read some scientific journal articles online about this - couldn't help it, my geekiness kicked in). But we won't know for sure until April, and I plan on leaving it that way.

For your viewing pleasure, some profile pictures of the baby, who looked like he/she was trying to cram as much of both hands into his/her mouth as possible:

Boom!

That's the sound that echoes over the monitor at 5 am when your 2-year old falls out of his new big boy bed. Then hysterical crying follows. I haven't shot out of bed that fast since Finn was a newborn. M., of course, had no idea what was going on - his senses aren't very keen when he's extremely sleep addled.

I thought we would make it longer than 4 nights before Finn fell out of bed. Luckily, he barely remembers it. I asked him once we were up for the day if he bumped his head last night, and he talked about how he bumped his head on the car cart at the grocery store yesterday. When he was trying to escape and run around the store like a maniac, thwarted by the belt that strapped him in. Later on at breakfast, we asked again, and he said something about bumping his adorable nose, but he didn't seem too upset about it.

Needless to say, we will be placing some pillows around the perimeter of the bottom of his bed where the bed rail doesn't have coverage. And beyond that, we'll just cross our fingers and hope that one of these days he'll learn not to migrate around the bed quite so much while he's sleeping.

Other than that, the big boy bed has been a success. Finn still hasn't realized he can get off the bed by himself - he waits there for us to get him when he wakes up. We've had some excellent nights of sleep and naps over this holiday weekend. Me included - I've napped every day except Thanksgiving day. How will I handle a full, exhausting day of work tomorrow?!

Speaking of tomorrow, M. and I are headed first thing in the morning for our "big" ultrasound. It will be nice to see the baby again, and get some reassurance that all is OK. The list of ways that I have been an irresponsible pregnant woman has grown, along with my guilt. Things I have done this time around that I avoided with Finn are many. The "What to Expect When You're Expecting" authors would not be happy with me. Now added to the list - in decorating and hanging the garland that now adorns the front of our house, I apparently exposed myself to lead. Just when I receive a "Your Pregnancy, Week 19" newsletter that tells me that brain development is really ramping up this week. Yikes. So, yeah, looking forward to tomorrow, even though we won't be finding out the gender. Just hoping I can maintain my resolve to have a "delivery surprise" and that the ultrasound tech doesn't accidentally reveal the "he/she" mystery to us.

The next day, I have my regular prenatal visit. Which I am dreading a bit. Weigh-ins should be skipped during the holiday season, in my opinion. Blargh.

Food Confessions, Etc

Ugh, you know it's not going to be a good eating day when you've already had 2 cookies by 9am. A little breakfast dessert, if you will, since perhaps, as I did, you also already had a deli-sized (read: not your run-of-the-mill, teeny-tiny Lender's) bagel with cream cheese. And the only thing keeping you from having a third cookie is that there's only one left in the bowl, and you don't want to be THAT person who takes the last cookie, and has to wash the cookie container.

I'm telling myself that the baby is getting ready for a growth spurt. Perhaps by next week it will have moved on from the size of an avocado (4.5 inches long, 3.5 oz, in case you were wondering) to roughly the size of a watermelon. THAT is the extent of my appetite this week, I kid you not. I also think it explains the lame 9:30pm bedtime I had to invoke Saturday night, and the almost 2-hr nap I managed to take yesterday. I, who have not had much napping success this pregnancy (just can't sleep, darn it), much to my dismay. Thank goodness Finn was also in the mood for sleeping, and allowed me such a long nap.

In other pregnancy grumblings, I've been having issues picking out clothes to wear each morning. Is it weird that I refuse to wear things that make me look "too pregnant?" It's no longer a secret at work that my oven is officially cooking a bun. So what gives? Who cares if my outfits now make it patently obvious that I'm on my way to looking a whole lot like one of the Tweedle twins (minus the red cap)? And yet it does matter. I'm only 16 weeks and a couple of days here. It's too early for those "are you sure there's only one baby in there?" or "still pregnant, eh?" comments. I know they will come, but damn it, they better not be trotted out until I'm at least 35 weeks!

The sad thing is that I can fill out those tent-like maternity tops more than I would like. Not because my uterus suddenly needs a new zip code. No, instead it's the dreaded upper abdominal tire. The one that unenlightened people might THINK is the baby, but if they truly knew where the baby was (below the belly button, folks, well below), they would realize that it's just all that extra flesh being pushed up and out of the way to make room for said uterus. Gah.

It's really not as bad as I make it out to be, but since I've been too lazy to take any "belly shots," I guess I can't really prove that to you. It's too bad, since M. and I were pretty faithful about documenting my growing belly (and weight) with Finn. Is this just the start of always giving the second kid "the shaft?" Starting the trend of giving him less attention and more neglect (freedom?) compared to his older brother?

Note, my use of the words "him" and "his" do not mean anything, we are still in the dark about gender here, and plan to stay that way. Just doing a little educated guessing, that's all.

I'd write more, but it's already 10:25, and I'm starting to count down the minutes until it's socially acceptable to eat lunch. I'm hoping to hold off until 11:30. I just can't fixate on the clock AND blog at the same time. Besides, the only other thing I could really find to write about is Finn, and how he is making such a liar out of me (I HAD to go and write about how wonderful he was being, didn't I?), what with all the whining and hitting (yes, hitting! My baby is hitting! Me!) and tantrum-throwing. And I just don't have it in me to write a behavioral post, where I detail all our strategies, mostly ineffectual, and beg for more from you experienced moms and dads out there. So, yes, that's all for now.

Happy Halloween, Me Mateys!

Our little guy was a pirate for Halloween this year (thanks for the loan of the costume, Donna!). I vividly remember my brother Andrew loving his own pirate costume (fashioned by my mom, not a mass retailer, props to you, Mom!) so much that he wore it two years in a row when he was a preschooler. I didn't have such high hopes for Finn - we did a test drive in the costume a few weeks ago, and it stayed on his body for about 2 minutes. But luckily, daycare had a parade and party at school during the day yesterday, so they got to struggle with convincing Finn to put it on, not me. And I'm sure, since ALL the other kids had costumes to wear, Finn was more than happy to oblige. So by the time dinner was over, the sky was getting dim, and it was time to suit up for Trick or Treating, it was a piece of cake for me to get Finn into the costume. See for yourself, he makes a pretty jolly pirate:



M. was en route from a business trip up in Maine, so I had to handle our first real experience trick or treating alone. I left two big bowls of candy out on the front steps with a note for everyone to help themselves, and we took off down the side walk: me, my little pirate, two fake swords, and a plastic pumpkin. Finn was a little overwhelmed at times by all the kids and costumes, some of which scared him. He is still talking about the robot and "bear" (really a werewolf) that he saw this morning. Every time we saw another group of kids, he wanted to follow them, regardless of whether we had already been to that house or not. It was a bit of a challenge directing him around, and a lot of the experience was more like a meandering walk down the street than a trick or treating effort. But I managed to get him to say "trick or treat" several times, as well as "happy halloween," and we came away with a full pumpkin of candy and lots of compliments. The general verdict around the neighborhood was that he made for a very cute pirate.



I also had a doctor's appointment yesterday - I am 15 weeks along in the pregnancy as of today. These appointments always seem kind of pointless to me - there's confirmation that yes, the baby is alive, which is always nice. But the rest of the time is spent peeing in a cup and stepping on the dreaded scale, with only about 5 minutes or less of face time with the doctor. The doctor I saw yesterday was new to me (not surprising since the whole practice is new to me), and I was not overly impressed. She seemed very expressionless and not warm at all. Luckily, I think she does not deliver babies at the hospital we will use, and I plan to see only those doctors in the practice that do from now on, so I don't have to have any more appointments with her.

I had some concerns, because I've been having heart palpitations lately. I had them occasionally with Finn, and I know they can be a normal side effect of pregnancy. But with Finn they started much later into the pregnancy and didn't happen very frequently. They've been kind of frequent this week, and I was a little worried that they started so early this time around (I've had them for a couple of weeks). When I told the doctor about them, she basically told me to find a primary care physician and get monitored. She was not very proactive at all about helping me - didn't offer a suggestion of a primary care doctor (I told her I don't have one), and she also didn't offer to run any tests under her purview that might be helpful, like checking my iron or thyroid levels. Frustrating, and part of the reason I was less than impressed with her. I think everything is fine, but I will follow through, and find myself a PCP to get checked out.

Well, I'm being paged to come to the breakfast table, so I guess that's it for now...

The Sequel

Ack, I've thought about writing this post for the last, oh, eight and a half weeks, and still, I'm not sure what to say. I wanted drama, excitement, humor, eloquence... but I set my expectations too high, and when the right words didn't come to me, I just said nothing at all. Or maybe it's that I got slightly superstitious, and just didn't want to risk something happening BECAUSE I spilled the beans too early. I mean, OK, if it wasn't meant to be for some reasonable, scientific reason, then I could maybe just dust myself off and try again. But what IF, the mere act of sharing the information (which, really, I am about to share, I swear) far too early, MADE something bad happen? Stupid, I know - a thought not worthy of someone who spent over 20 years in school - but a thought that crossed my mind nonetheless.

So I waited, even though I had every intention of blogging about it all, from the very first day, even any potential bad stuff. Though, of course, to several of you, this is old news (funny how you tell one or two people and suddenly everyone knows, hmm?). To stop this rambling, bring the rest of you up to speed, and just effing get on with it, a pictorial explanation:

12 weeks and 3 days as of today. Estimated due date is April 25, 2009. April is a wonderful month to have a baby, right, Mom? Given my track record (Finn was born 8 days late), we may be having a May baby, but I'm holding out hope for April.

According to the newsletter I received a couple of days ago, this little one is about the size of a lime right now, up a few centimeters from the fig-sized mass it was last week (Side note: Why do they always use produce? Why not say the baby is the size, for example, of a badminton birdie? A shuttlecock, if you will?). As of today I can confirm that it has two arms (you can see one in the picture on the left), two legs, two scary alien-baby eye sockets, a spine, a bladder, a stomach, very low odds for having Trisomies 18 or 21, and a wonderful beating heart. 158 bpm - a little lower than Finn's heart rate at this age, if I remember correctly, but I'm not going to read anything into that. Nor the fact that I've been feeling much worse with this pregnancy (the indigestion! the nausea! the general blech-iness!) than I did with Finn. Our family makes boys, so I'm assuming that's what this one is. Confirmation will not be forthcoming until the birth, however - we are holding out for a surprise on this one.

We are excited, and introducing the concept to Finn. He has heard the heartbeat (thank you, Donna, for the use of your Doppler!) and has a vague idea that there is either a baby or a bulldozer inside my belly (the confusion is my fault, but I think it's cute so we may string him along a little longer). We bought him The Berenstain Bear's New Baby (both to introduce him to the idea of a sibling AND the idea of a new bed, which he will need in the next few months), and we read it occasionally. Finn will be two and a half when this baby is born, an age difference I am hoping is perfect (is there such a thing?). Close enough together to be friends, far enough apart where I won't have TWO babies at once. Though that thought saddens me, as Finn will always be my baby, right?

So, there, it's done with, I managed to actually write a blog post about this. Hopefully the rest of them will come more easily.