checking in

I just got online for the first time in over seven months. Wow. The world keeps turning and sometimes good things happen to good people. Monica, I can't believe that I completely missed your pregnancy. Not that I could have "been there" with you. I can barely be here for myself!

I'm not complaining. Not a bit. I just accept the reality that, for me, being a mom (at least at this stage of motherhood, we'll see what the future holds) means that pretty much everything else falls away.

Before I write anything more I have to say:


*Our baby girl Sophia was born on March 7th, just two days shy of being "full term" (36 weeks 5 days) at 6 lbs and 2 oz and 20 inches long!
*She came home with us the very next day (a "take home baby," yay!).
*Vincent, not quite two yet, came into the hospital room to meet her and said "Baby Sister, you get off my momma!"
*She was born with a lot of dark hair that stood straight up like a faux-hawk, so cute. My MIL kept trying to smooth it down, not listening to me when I explained to her that this is what her hair just does; the result would be baby girl looking like she had been through a wind tunnel--hair all at an angle (still cute).
*As one of our residents is known to say "she looks like a living doll." She is, too. So sweet I call her sugar.
*She started sleeping through the night before 3 months. Really. I'd put her down at 9 pm and she'd sleep until 6,7, sometimes 8 the next morning. Since I went to sleep then, too, that meant that I was getting my sleep, too. Holy cow--having been on the other side of that I feel like I've hit the jackpot.
*She was "colicky" though--after a couple weeks and until almost three months, she would scream from about 7 pm until 9 (if we were lucky) but usually closer to midnight. Nothing "worked," I'm convinced that it's neurological and some babies just have to go through it. We just loved her, held her--did the 5 S thing--and eventually she would fall asleep. Fortunately Mr. C would take her if it went passed 10 or so, then bring her back to me after an hour or two. It's funny how you almost forget this once it's over (Vincent would cry night and day, though, I don't know that I'll ever forget that! Mr. C, on the other hand, actually said to me at some point "We didn't really go through this with Vincent, did we?" I guess the important word there is "we" since he was so intimidated by Vincent that he hardly took him until he was much older.)
*She's almost 7 months old now and is sleeping in her own room in the crib. If she wakes up and cries I wait and she stops within 2 minutes or so. It was so hard at first to let her cry, but I learned the hard way, so I got through it. I'd watch the clock and, sure enough, within just a few minutes she would fall back to sleep. Since she was right next to me in the bassinet I knew that she was OK.
*And now, after almost 2 1/2 years, Vincent is finally going to sleep on his own, in his own room, even in a big-boy bed! He sleeps through the night (minus a couple of tumbles out of bed when he was getting used to the new bed) and even goes down for his nap without too much complaining.
*That is why I am able to be here--I've taken back the night! All I knew of helping babies sleep was Sears vs. Ferber, I really thought that you either fell on one side of the spectrum or the other. I wanted to hold and cuddle my boy as much as humanly possible. Fortunately I know more about sleep needs, etc. now and things are going amazingly better (and no one is doing much--if any--crying, either, so wah-hoo!)

thirty-four weeks

It's been a bumpy road getting this far, but today we made it to thirty-four weeks. Mr. C has been very nervous that I'll go into labor any minute. I'm feeling a little more at ease. A week from today the cerclage comes out and, assuming that we make it that far (and I am feeling pretty confident that we will), each day after that will be uncharted territory.

The GD hasn't been bad at all. If anything, it has ensured that I eat regularly--since I have to test my blood sugar four times a day. My numbers have been fine, though.

I'm feeling a pretty even split as to whether or not I am ready for this little lady to be here on the outside yet. I want her to continue cooking, of course.

William 2/1/2006

William,

I thought about you all day today. I had to count on my fingers to make sure that it was true, that five years have gone by since you were here with us. Five years. The other day I was skimming through Facebook and saw the silly face of the little girl who's birthday was just a few days after you were due. Her mommy and I were so excited to be pregnant at the same time, were planning to go to childbirth classes together. Now when I see pictures of her I always see a shadow of you near by. Five. I remember being five, such a happy age.

You know how much I miss you. Daddy does, too. Each year when this day comes along I wish that there was something that I could do. I know other moms and dads take time apart in remembrance, make cakes or go to the cemetery. For me each year has been different. I wanted to go to get a new box to keep all of your things in, but my big event for the day was going to the doctor to check on your baby sister.

February is here. Decorated with hearts and sentiments of love. It used to hurt to see these things. It doesn't anymore. I remember where I sat, for weeks it seems, after you were born. This same little laptop kept me from completely falling into the abyss. As Valentine's Day was approaching I looked for a love poem to share with your Daddy. ee cummings has always been my favorite poet, and when I came across this poem I was dumbfounded. I thought I had read all of his poems, how had I never seen this before? It was like it had been written just for us.

i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

GTT take two

I failed the one hour Glucose Tolerance Test (again, this happened last pregnancy, too). So yesterday I spent almost 4 hours at the lab. After fighting nausea for the first hour it went ok. The lab has a private waiting room with a little love seat where I could wait in relative comfort.

I got a voicemail from the nurse today saying she needs to talk to me about the results, so that doesn't bode well. I've called back but am now waiting for her to return my call. If it isn't one thing it's another. (I passed the three hour test last time.)

And I should have a more positive attitude today, since I had an ultrasound this morning that showed my cervix measuring 3.5 cm But, instead, I am in a total funk.

This is stressful. On all of us. I just keep telling myself that it's only a few more weeks until I can resume somewhat normal activity again.

This, too, shall pass.

bed rest

When I was pregnant with Vincent I think some of the people in my life started to doubt that the pregnancy was really high risk. My cervix kept measuring almost 4 cm and other than being "worried" I seemed just fine. Never mind that once I got home from work every day I spent most of my time on the couch.

Anyway, when my water broke at 35 weeks we had our confirmation. There was never any doubt, in anyone's mind, that we would have another cerclage this time and follow the protocol for an IC/high risk pregnancy.

Things were going great until a few weeks ago. I ended up spending a few hours in triage at my hospitals L&D hooked up to the monitors while they watched me have lots of little contractions. The longer I laid there, the more spaced apart they became until they finally stopped. Those lovely contractions were accompanied by a lot of pressure "down there" and lower back pain, so it was nothing to ignore. The OB who was on call did an FfN (they take a swab & it gives a pretty accurate measure of whether or not you will go into labor within the next two weeks or so) and it came back negative so we went home feeling somewhat reassured. We scaled back my activity level for a few days (Mr. C and his folks both helped out a lot more with Vincent) and I stopped going to work. I settled in to a new routine, with Vincent and I at home every day.

Then, last Wednesday, we went for an ultrasound and found out that my cervix is measuring 3.1 cm. Some women would cheer at that measurement, but my cervix only got down to 3.5 at 31 weeks with Vincent and that was the last time they measured. So it scared us all. Now we have a lovely woman here during the days to help with Vincent and she takes care of the housework, too. And I am trying to stay positive.

I saw my Dr yesterday and he reinforced what we had decided on our own--modified bed rest. Which, according to him, means that I am to do as little as possible. Really, the only way that I could do total bed rest (I don't mean the hospital kind, which I've done, where you can't even get up to pee and they put those inflating boots on you to prevent blood clots) would be if I had someone watching Vincent all day. My lovely helper is here from 9 until 3:30 and that leaves a lot of hours in the day. He is content to crawl up on the couch with me for a short amount of time and then it's back to "show me," as he grabs my hand to take me to show me his toys or take me to another room.

Yesterday was the 28 week milestone, or the bronze medal, as my Dr calls it. He says 31 weeks is silver and 34 weeks is gold. I am filled with so many conflicting emotions and just feel so tired. It's odd, being on bed rest I would think I'd be, well, rested. But instead I feel worn out and have insomnia. Vincent woke up three times last night then ended up in bed with us until he woke up for good a full four hours earlier than I am used to. I've tried to sleep today but to no avail.

I know I need to look on the bright side. And I do. 28 weeks is fantastic and she is healthy and strong, I can tell. Girls do much better than boys when they are premature, so there's that, too. And Vincent is happy and we have someone so amazing here helping us. And even though we really don't need one more expense (still paying off bills from the last pregnancy!) we'd rather pay to have someone here than to have a long NICU stay. I could go on...

I could also vent about all of the not so bright thoughts I've been having, but I'll continue to keep them to myself. At least for now. Last time we had one goal: Live Baby. This pregnancy after a loss thing is not any easier the second time around. It's hard in different ways, but, like grief, it can't be measured quantitatively. It is hard. And I really think this is the last time we'll do it. That realization was painful at first, but it is becoming more and more sure to me (us). It makes me sad, though. I saw us as a bigger family.

OK, now that I got myself crying I suppose I should stop writing.