Valentine's Day with My Girls

So, yesterday, I was passing a man on the stairs and when he say my belly, he said, "Whoa."  

Yeah, Happy Valentine's Day to me.

But, later, at home, when I took a picture with my three daughters for Valentine's Day, I began to suspect that he had a small point.

Whoa, indeed.  33 weeks, 2 days.

Preggo - It's in There (Remember that Slogan?)

This is from February 1, so I was about 31.5 weeks pregnant.

Tomorrow, I will be 33 weeks and you won't believe it is possible, but I'm even bigger than I am in the picture.

I'm so large that I find it necessary to point out to everyone (including you, dear reader) that I've only gained about 7 lbs during this pregnancy... I can't figure out if that means Kyra will be 5 lbs or 10.

Either way, I just want it to be April 2nd already.

Isn't it amazing?  Nature does this on purpose - you get so uncomfortable and so miserable and so hormonally nasty that you think, "I don't care if I'm worried about money or losing my freedom or having enough patience for three kids - IT WILL HAVE TO BE BETTER WHEN I'M NOT PREGNANT ANY MORE."

Almost 28 Weeks

 Chloe: Whoa, Mama!

Amber: Daddy took that picture on Sunday - she wasn't EVEN 28 weeks yet.

Chloe: That's why it's getting harder and harder to sit on her lap.

Amber: Yeah.  I was punching at her stomach the other day, trying to move things around and Kyra KICKED ME.  She better watch out when she gets out.

Chloe: Great.  That's what I need.  Two of you.

Amber: What?

Chloe: Nothing.

30 Weeks - Belly Shots!

Mommy's Must Reads for All the Preggos Out There

While Waiting - This is the book my GP gave me when I first became pregnant with Chloe. I advise that you find ONE (only one) "this is what my body is doing and what I should do if it does something I don't understand" book and for the first pregnancy, this was mine. And we liked it fine, until my health insurance sent me this one when I was first pregnant this time:

Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy - "Honey, it's from the Mayo Clinic! This is way better than that cheapy book." - Ed, Science Guy

Defining Your Own Success - Breastfeeding After Breast Reduction Surgery - Some of you know about the emotional and physical challenges I faced as I tried so hard to breastfeed Chloe. This book helped me because it offered stories that showed that different things were possible for different people and helped me release the guilt I felt over what was possible for me. Up to a point. Then it annoyed me and I threw it across the room.

Mother Shock - Loving Every (Other) Minute - I think this should be handed out to every new mother - either at her shower or when she's leaving the hospital. It addresses the fact that we don't know what the hell we're doing the first time around and the guilt we feel over not knowing what to do what pop culture has assured us we should know inherently. And then she started whining about the pressures of figuring out what to do every day (I wish I could afford to stay home and take my kid to a museum EVERY.SINGLE.DAY) and then I had to throw it across the room. But, the first half of the book is freakin' stellar.

Belly Laughs and Baby Laughs - I love me some Jenny McCarthy. The first book is about pregnancy and the second is about the first year of Mommyhood. The pregnancy book is my fave. EVERY bad thing that can happen as a side effect of pregnancy happened to her and she tells you ALL about it. And it makes you feel better when you look at your own swollen feet or stretch marks or bathroom scale.

The Mommy Chronicles - This is my fave right now. It's the email conversations of two best friends in different cities who were pregnant at the same time. The pregnancy part is mostly fun (some stress about jobs, husbands, etc), but mostly fun. But, then one of them gets Post Partum Depression and one did not. And I found it tremendously important. I did not have PPD with Chloe, but I went a little crazy when she was around 6 weeks old. Ed was a Godsend because he recognized it for what it was and did such a good job taking care of me and helping me. I can't imagine the horrors of PPD, and I know that I'm lucky that I had but a taste from the well. We don't talk about PPD enough. We just don't. And the fact that the friend without it really didn't know how to support her friend who had it (even though they had kids at the same time), was very telling. It was an important part of their journey as new moms and friends. Also, they did everything else opposite - one co-slept and worked full time and breastfed. The other (with PPD) quit her job, used a crib, bottlefed (after trying breastfeeding). It's interesting to watch them navigate those differences without judging.

Mommy Post: "My Feet Belong to the StayPuft Marshmallow Man"

I used to wear the most perfect shoe size.

Super Size 7, that was me.

After Chloe, I went up to 7.5... except I normally bought an 8. Not because that was my size or anything, you understand. Just... well... 'cause.

I canNOT imagine what I'll be dealing with in the aftermath of Amber, because oh dear God.

Fall is here, yay! Apple cider, pumpkin lattes, and HUGE indentation marks from my socks all over my ankles. ARGH. Last night, when I finally remembered to take my socks off, the swelling had gathered so heavily above the sock line that it was hard to the touch. Freakish and weird.

How am I feeling this week? Freakish and weird.

Daughters and Toes

I hold my big toes up. I don't why, but frequently, my big toes are lifted up, higher than the others, pointing toward the sky. I never even realized that I do this until about 9 years ago when Ed noticed it, bent down and pushed a toe down. I do it so frequently that I once bust thru a pair of loafers.

My big toes are serious and should not be trifled with... but contrary to my husband's opinion, they are NOT indicative of having hobbit feet.

Anyway, when I delivered Chloe, they swept her away before I had a chance to see her. Our labor had been unconventional and lasted 39 hours from the time my membrane ruptured until she actually arrived. By the time she did make an appearance, they had assembled a small army of pediatric doctors in the corner of our room to stand by and make sure that she was ok. When they did all their tests and finally handed her to me, I saw that her big toe was held up, pointed toward the sky. I exclaimed, "Ed, her big toe is pointed up! She's my baby!"

Today, I discovered the most wonderful thing.

Amber has our toe.

The anatomy scan at 20 weeks is a really long ultrasound because they are measuring each tiny part of the baby and many parts of the mommy, too. So, I made it dry-eyed thru the four chambers of her heart beating, the umbilical cord connecting us, the kidneys, the fingers, the legs, the brain stem, the spine... and when we made it to this foot, that's when I started to cry.

We got our good news last week that everything is ok, but I didn't realize until today that in my secret heart, I didn't believe them.

When I saw that toe and paired it with the fact that she was swimming ALL OVER the place and kicking her feet and waving and when I saw this beautiful profile with the darling button nose:

I realized that my Amber is ok. She's my baby.

And I realized that my Aunt Joanne was right. When she heard my fears of "What if I don't love this baby as much as I love Chloe? What if Chloe and I have a special relationship that I don't feel for this baby?" she assured me that all mothers worry like that... and all mothers are delighted when they find out that their fears were groundless.

Years ago, there was a sitcom with Helen Hunt and Paul Reiser called "Mad About You" and they went thru an extensive process about how to name their new baby. They picked an awful name, let's be honest. I mean, it sucked. But the sentiment, I have discovered is true.

M.A.B.E.L.

Mommies always bring extra love.

(Ok, cheesy. But, I have a million hormones running thru me and right now, it feels profound. Leave me alone.)

As for us, I called Ed after the ultrasound with the words, "AMBER HAS THE TOE" and he was understandably like, "whaa?"

"Amber has the toe - Chloe's and my toe. She has it! And she's so beautiful and she's fine. She's totally fine. She's our baby. She's perfect. She's beautiful. She's totally fine..." etc. to which he replied, "And so the reason that you are crying is that you are happy, right? And everything is ok? You're just really happy, right?"

I sure am.

On Exhaling

The week before the July 4th weekend, I was having a really rough week. I was feeling very stressed at work, it was so hot, I wasn't sleeping well. To top it off, I kept having really bad stress dreams. Things I don't want to type for fear it will set them into motion. So, I guess it's no surprise that in the middle of that week, I woke up from a sound sleep in the middle of a ridiculous panic attack, which sent us scrambling to the ER at 11.30 at night.

I've never experienced a panic attack before (and would love to avoid them in the future), but it wasn't the first thing that was different about this pregnancy. I've felt all the things you expect - the exhaustion, the overheating, the heartburn. But this time, I had more nausea, continue to have more food aversions and then this panic attack.

The next day, I planned to alternately work and sleep from home and just as I was about to lie down for a rest, my cell phone rang. Our genetic counselor was calling to say that on my second blood screening, our risk factor had changed for the worse for having a baby with Down's Syndrome (Trisomy 21). The odds were still on our side with a less than 1% chance of it happening, but if I did want to have an amnio, she had scheduled one for the next afternoon.

As Ed so rightly pointed out, we were still in the information gathering stage, but I fell apart anyway. Was this why this pregnancy felt different? What if my panic attack was caused for a good reason? And of course, that nagging thing that lives in the back of every mother's head and heart at all times: did I do something to hurt my baby?

I had never wanted an amnio. The process felt alien and wrong to me. And I planned to never get one... unless my genetic screening gave reason for alarm. Then, of course, you are confronted with all the thoughts surrounding your pro/con list, the biggest of which being: "What will I do with this information once i have it?"

Let's get two things straight right now:

1) I am pro-choice. Always have been, likely always will be.
2) I *hate* the idea of having an abortion.

I know that some people would abort after getting results that show any of the Trisomy conditions and I'm not in a position to judge them or say what's right. I can only speak to what would be right for me. And the "quickening" started with this baby around 16 weeks. I can feel the baby. The other night, I got a small kick and I tapped back and got another kick in response. It's my baby.

So, why find out at all? Why risk introducing infection and the chance (albeit slim) of a miscarriage? I think just so I could have a better chance at sleeping thru the night without anymore panic attacks. And so I could feel relief flood thru me when my incredibly favorable odds did in fact work in my favor... or so that I could rally my troops and set up all forms of support for our family if those odds worked against me.

I didn't really realize how long I'd been holding my breath or how possible it was to walk around and live your life while the odds are playing themselves out in a petri dish I don't get to see or examine.

And I know that I am incredibly lucky in my life. I have a husband who is incredibly wonderful at supporting a pregnant wife... those that know him might not realize how in tune he is to everything that is happening in my body or how well he knows how to support me when I'm guilt-ridden or crazy or crying or screaming. I think seeing him in the day-to-day, you don't get to see all the gentle, beautiful things that live and breathe inside him. And I do. And that makes me lucky.

Plus, we have good jobs, great benefits and a house we're working the kinks out of slowly but surely. In this day and age, so many people don't have any of those things. And that makes me lucky.

And of course, we have Chloe. I don't know if she is the most beautiful, smartest, silliest, sassiest, coolest 18 month old on the planet or if Ed and I just think she is... but we do think she is and we get to be her parents. And that makes me so lucky.

Did I really deserve to get lucky AGAIN? After finding my soul mate, marrying a little later in life and having a baby late in life who was completely healthy, do I really get to be that lucky for a second time? When so many others don't?

I don't know how or why it is possible that I should be... I just thank the good Lord that I am.

Amber Katherine has 46 chromosomes in every single cell and no sign of anything wrong with her at all. And that makes me lucky.



(P.S. I probably should have said that 46 chromosomes is the "normal" number for each cell - I forget that not everyone is reading about this stuff as obsessively as we are. LOL)

BT2 and Mommy at 18 Weeks

Mel: "Hey, are you sure there aren't twins in there?"

Me: "Hey, are you sure I shouldn't kick you in the shins right now?"

Just teasing, Mel! Thanks for taking the photo!

BT2 at 16 Weeks

This shot of BT2 was taken on July 2nd, but I finally got it scanned in and uploaded. We should know soon (when we get the results from the amnio), but everyone agrees that it's looking like Chloe will have a little sister!

15.5 Weeks

All is well at 15.5 weeks - Chloe says, "Aye, aye, Captain!"

Mommy is starting to feel stressed and grumpy. Pregnant ladies don't do well, in 90+ heat. LOL

"I WILL GET YOU, DADDY, AND YOUR LITTLE DOG, TOO."

It's Time for Ed to Hide My Copy of Steel Magnolias.

I have reached the point of pregnancy where television makes me weep uncontrollably. A repeat of House had me hysterical Monday night. I mean, I could not keep it together.

Ed: "But, it's just the television that's making you cry, right?"

Me: "Yyyyyesssss."

Ed: "What were you watching?"

Me: "H-h-h-owww-se."

Ed: "What happened?"

Me: "H-h-h-owww-se wuh-wuhs dddrunk annn-ann hee ccccalll..."

Ok, you get it. Suffice to say that when I described the episode, Ed nodded sympathetically with that look that said, 'I'm sure it would have made me cry, too, honey' which we all know is a lie. Anyway...

Ed said, "Well, that does sound really sad. Do you think maybe it's time for you to go bed?"

Me: "Yyyyyeessss."

Only 26 more weeks.