First Day of School

Last night, in a fit of nerves, EGR told me she didn't want to go to "shfool" but this morning she was ready to put on her new clothes and she wanted to eat her lunch for breakfast. We compromised on drinking from the juice cup I had already packed for her. She even LET me fix her hair! I didn't have to wrestle her at all.

When we got there, we had to wait outside for a few minutes for them to unlock the door. She held my hand and studied the other kids running around until we got in the building, then she yanked it away and stood in line to sign in beside me. She walked to her classroom by herself. I squatted beside her and pulled her onto my leg and reminded her that I would be back to pick her up when her class was over, then she just walked into the room to see what some other kids were doing. I told her bye, blew her a kiss, and left. That was it. Easy peasy. I was so proud of her. Grandmother wanted to hang around but I dragged her out because I wasn't planning to wait for her to cry. She did not.

She had just woken up from nap and was reading a book when I got there to pick her up. Her teacher said she had a great day. Twice she started to cry a little, but stopped when she reassured her that I would be there later to pick her up.

She didn't drink much, but I expected that since I sent water and juice instead of milk or Coke. She'll just have to adjust to that. I think she probably ate most of her lunch because she ate breakfast early and did not have a snack before we left. When we passed by the building on the way out of the parking lot she said, "That's my shfool?" I said that it was, and she said, "I want to go in there." I hope this means the Thursday drop off without me will go well.

I can't believe how grown up she looks in these pictures!

One big event down, one more to go this week.

Repeat C

I don't know if it's self-fulfilling prophecy (I hope not) or my strange intuition, but I called it spot on when I said everything would happen the week Ella starts school. Baby Boy will be born next week, Wednesday, the 18th, via repeat c-section.

The next few days will be a blur and I'm desperately trying to process this new information. He will be born 11 days early because they think he's going to be giganto-baby. As I predicted, they estimated his weight yesterday at 9 lbs. - give or take a pound and 5 oz. Magically, he went from measuring 37 weeks on Monday to 40 weeks yesterday, after my doctor heard the estimate. I'm a bit skeptical. My gut still says he's not going to be overly large, but I'm starting to wonder if that's just wishful thinking. We'll know soon enough.

So, am I ready? Am I ready to see this baby? Yes! Yes! Yes! Am I ready for another major abdominal surgery? I'm still working on that part. Regardless of the fact that I've done this before, it still makes me very nervous to be cut wide open, have two people digging around inside me, and then sewn up again. That doesn't even account for the scary epidural needle wielded by a perfect stranger a millimeter from my spinal cord. I need to breathe - deeply and hypnotically.

I was really hoping for a VBAC this time, and I'm finding it brutally ironic and unfair that the child actually has his head low in my pelvis, but I'm not going to be allowed to push him out. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that just sucks. I know, I know, the repeat c-section probably is the safest option for both mother and baby given that he may be huge and I already have an existing uterine scar. I know that our safety is the most important thing. But, I also know this pretty much seals the deal on me ever having the birth I wanted so badly. I will never have the experience of birthing my own baby. And that's something I have to allow myself to mourn.

Eleven days isn't really very early, but with babies of gestational diabetic mothers, every day counts for lung development. It's a bit of a trap between giving him a few extra days in the womb and making sure he's delivered before I go into labor spontaneously, thus we aren't going to make it to 39 weeks. He's still doing great on his non-stress tests, so I think he's going to be fine but a little extra prayer never hurt anyone. Please pray for a smooth, uneventful surgery and recovery and a healthy baby.

While you're at it, can you also say a prayer for EGR? Her next week will be just as much a whirlwind as mine. Tonight we will go to preschool orientation to meet her teacher and see her classroom. Tuesday is her first day of school - in a completely new place with strangers. Ultimately, I think she'll love it, but I'm hoping for a smooth transition into this new environment. Wednesday, we will drop her off at Grandmother's house, where she will be spending three nights and then she'll come to the hospital to meet Baby Boy. Thankfully, she is well aware of and excited about all of these things, but I'm really hoping it's not too much for her in the moment.

Go ahead and include Dave in those prayers, too. While he's extremely relieved to have a scheduled c-section with my doctor and he's much more comfortable with the idea of it than I am at the moment, I know that he will be scared and nervous when they wheel me away into the OR. Plus, he's just going to have a lot to juggle with my recovery, a newborn, and a 2 year old.

The EGR Update
We are alternating between talking about Baby Boy's birth next week and school. She keeps asking me her teacher's name, and I keep telling her we are going to meet her tonight to find out her name and see her class.

I told her last night that Baby Boy will be born next Wednesday. When she woke up this morning, she asked me, "You go to the hospital next week for Baby Boy?" Yes. "You will have a band-aid?" Yes. "Daddy be there with you?" "Yes, and you will come to visit us and meet Baby Boy." While we were getting into the car this morning, she told me that the babies in her tummy have already been born.

She is also reminding us to say the blessing at every meal, and she is finally bowing her head and being quiet while we say it. Last night she served me a refreshing cup of bath water and informed me that we had to say the blessing before I could "drink" it. So we did. In the tub.

I've been telling her the "bear song" at bedtime every night; the one about "Goldi'ocks not picnic." (There is a Teddy Bear Picnic song she sometimes requests.) The second night, when I got to the part where Goldi'ocks eats all of Baby Bear's porridge, she leaned in really close to my face and asked in her concerned voice, "They make some more pordidge?" Yes, of course they do; Mama Bear will not let Baby Bear go hungry. She really likes Daddy Bear's voice, but for some reason he reminds me a little bit of Karl Childers from Sling Blade, umm hmm.

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done. D-O-N-E. Done.

I'm done with: "Oh my God, Amanda's belly is huge!"
And: "There's no way you will make it three more weeks."
And: "Wow, someone's going to have a baby soon!"
And: "Your belly is just going to split open."
And: "Someone is about to burst!"
And: "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?!"
And: "Amanda, I brought donuts and I want to make sure you are the first to get some."
And: "When are you due again?"
And: "Do they know how big the baby is going to be?"
And: "You don't have much longer."
And, my personal favorite from early on: "You do know what causes this, right?"

These are the things I wanted to say in response.

"Yes, I'm growing a human being."
"You do know that the size of my belly does not determine when this baby will be born, right?"
"Really? Who?"
"Hmm, I did watch a made-for-TV movie about a woman who delivered her baby through her belly button."
"Oh no! Should we call an ambulance?"
"Just because I'm pregnant does not mean I can just shovel donuts in my face twice a week."
"Please write it on your calendar: August 29."
"Yes, my doctor uses a combination of x-ray vision and a crystal ball to determine the exact weight of the baby BEFORE he comes out."
"What do you know about how long three weeks is? I'd like to see you walk around in this body for just one."
"Yup, hot monkey sex."

It has been pointed out to me that these people (with the exception of the random strangers) are just excited and anticipating the birth of this baby. I get that. I do. I also get that I'm not fit for the public right now. I've reached that point. The point of exiling myself to my house in a giant t-shirt, under the ceiling fan. I remember reaching the same point when I was pregnant with Ella. I've been carrying this child for 37 weeks; for at least 30 of those weeks, I've been hearing running commentary on my appearance. It's so old. It's even older than my achy right hip and my near constant bathroom trips.

All I need to hear right now is: "Wow, you are a fine/gorgeous/beautiful looking pregnant woman!" Else, the world can just shut up for the next three weeks.

They 'IGHT up! They 'IGHT Up!

Translated: They LIGHT up!

That's what Ella just told me over the telephone about her new flip-flops. She was so excited she didn't take a breath to hear me respond and she just kept saying it over and over again.

Apparently, she had a secret mission for Grandmother today, and that was to find her some flip-flops. She's been wearing mine whenever she can get them, and she's been wearing some too-small ones that will be Baby Boy's one day, but she didn't have any of her own. She set out to rectify that situation today in a mission that scoured four stores in two cities. Lucky she is to have grandparents that indulge her.

I obviously haven't seen them yet, but I hear that in addition to lighting up, they are clear with lady bugs on them, and that she walked in circles trying to watch them once she realized the were lighting up. I can't wait to watch her prance proudly around in them this afternoon. I expect she'll need to wear them with the new skinny jeans she picked out two weeks ago.

Bye-bye princess crocs, hello blingin' flip-flops.

Are my insides burning?

WHAT is this taste in my mouth when I burp? For weeks, when I wake up in the middle of the night and burp it tastes like I've been eating burnt popcorn that has given me indigestion. I have not been eating popcorn, burnt or otherwise, but this taste has been driving me nuts.

I think I just figured out what is causing it. I decided yesterday, as I sat at my desk in the air conditioning and still struggled to breath, that I should start taking my iron supplement in the mornings. I usually take it at bed time, but I also usually drink a glass of milk at bedtime and eat a handful of Tums during the night. Since calcium blocks the absorption of iron, I'm probably not getting much benefit from the iron supplement when taking it this way. So, in an effort catch my breath and feel like I have a little energy (the real kind, not the kind I fake so everyone will leave me alone), I decided to take it in the mornings. Guess what? Fifteen minutes after taking it this morning, the burnt popcorn taste is back and I realized I didn't taste it in the hours I was awake last night. Hmm. Since I've been taking iron for months and I only started the Glyburide last week, it has to be the iron that's causing this nastiness. Unfortunately, knowing the cause doesn't make it any more pleasant.

The EGR Update
The topic of the week has been umbilical cords. We've been studying her newborn pictures and she's asked about the cord, so I explained that the baby gets his food through the cord while he's in my tummy and when he is born he will still have a little bit of cord that will dry up and fall off, and then he'll have a belly button just like hers. She is very enthusiastic about his belly button. I've explained that we won't be able to put him in the baby bathtub until his cord falls off, and that we'll have to clean it, etc. She has really been doing some thinking about this new baby business. Yesterday morning, she got out of bed and came to find me in my bathroom. She proudly announced, "I'm a big sister!"
Me: "Yes, you are."
EGR: "Baby boy will be born! We will hold him! Bathe him! He will have a cord?"
Me: "Yes, and his cord will fall off and then he'll have a belly button like yours."
EGR: "Yeah!"
Similar exchanges have taken place over the last few days and always lead to a few minutes of comparing belly buttons.

She has a lovely cold right now, so we were up and down a few times last night while she tried to breathe. At 3:30, she came to our bed and after I finally got us settled with everything we needed (milk cup, nose sucker, smelly vapor plug-in thingy, dry diaper, etc), and I got comfortable again with all my pillows, Baby Boy stretched his little self out and started doing flips. As she was cuddled right up to my belly, she quickly informed me, "Baby Boy is movin'." To which I replied, "Yes, I know, Sweet Pea, he always wakes up when you do." I foresee lots of sibling bonding time in the wee morning hours in our future. The question is, who will wake up who?

Glyburide, You are a Friend of Mine...

Even if you do scare me awake in the middle of the night with wicked heartburn and acid reflux. I'll take that in exchange for the ability to eat a freakin' noodle again. Bye bye chicken fingers for breakfast, hello oatmeal with Splenda! Maybe even bran flakes... I feel like the possibilities are endless.

I saw my perinatologist yesterday, and I liked him very much. Some things he said were disconcerting (i.e. "You are 100% guaranteed to have Type 2 diabetes, but you are 100% in control of deciding when you will develop it"), others made me feel much better. He explained that Baby Boy likes my high sugar levels and wants them to stay that way, so the hormones that are protecting him are making them stay high no matter what I do. Nothing I do on my own will bring them down, thus he prescribed Glyburide. It's supposed to increase my insulin production and help my body use it more efficiently. After one dose of it, my numbers were about 40 points lower than they have been in weeks. It's such a relief. Why didn't we do this weeks ago?

For the next three weeks, I'll be going to the doctor twice a week for non-stress tests because they want to monitor Baby Boy more closely as he gets bigger. Two weeks from now, I'll have an ultrasound to estimate his weight. I am not at all thrilled about that because of the level of inaccuracy, but he'll be about 38 weeks at that point so I'm not going to argue. They'll probably tell me he weighs 9 lbs and he'll come out weighing 7. Whatever.

Speaking of non-stress tests, we had our second one yesterday. That child was all over the place. The nurse yelled from across the room, "I don't have to worry about you, I can hear him moving all over the room!" It's the truth. She kept moving the monitor to find his heartbeat again because he kept rolling away from it. So this week, he still looks great and we'll have the same fun again on Monday. Then Thursday. Then Monday again, rinse and repeat.

The EGR Update
She did it. She spent the night away from home last night. She wasn't ready to leave Grandmother's house after supper, so we went through the whole deal again about how I would be sleeping at our house, etc. She decided to stay, and she slept all night. When I talked to her this morning, the first thing she said was, "Mommy, come pick me up." I'm very proud of her, and I feel a little better about the whole hospital stay now. Still worried about the amount of time away, but better. Dave told me last night as he wandered around the house, "I don't like it when Ella's not here." I don't either, but I'm excited for her making that step on her own.

A Pregnant Caterpillar - Is there such a thing?

Oh, yes, there is and she lives in my house.

A bit of background: We have a cocoon in one of the trees in our yard, so we've been watching it and talking about the caterpillars that live in it and how they turn into butterflies, etc. We've also been making preparations for Baby Boy's arrival, including the cleaning out of the ball pit - I mean baby bed - last weekend. EGR was jumping in it Saturday, sans balls, and having a chat with Daddy about the fact that Baby Boy would be able to sleep in there and that she slept in there when she was a tiny baby. Then I overheard this bit.

Daddy: What are you now? (I assume he was expecting " 'ittle girl" as the answer; I was.)
EGR: A caterpillar.
Daddy: You are a caterpillar?
EGR: Yes, and I have two baby boys in my tummy.
Daddy: You do? When are you going to turn into a butterfly?
EGR: Four minutes.

She has also informed me, after a first but unsuccessful attempt to spend the night with Grandma and Pop last weekend, that Grandmother will bring her cot to the hospital when Baby Boy is born so we can sleep "all-gether." She's a bit nervous about the staying away from me part of this Baby Boy deal. I can't blame her; I'm nervous about it, too. She has spent one night away, and it was a quite a while ago. I was shocked when she asked to stay with Grandma and Pop the other night, but willing to give it a try. It was an hour later, after she announced that she was ready for bed, that I got the call from Grandma. Once she does make that leap, I'm afraid I might have the opposite problem - she won't want to stay home. Good grief, I will miss her while I'm in the hospital those few days. She spent several hours with Grandmother after church Sunday so I could get some much-needed down time, and Dave and I both were antsy to see her by the time she came home.

The latest thing she does that baffles me, aside from the fact that she's growing twin boys in her tummy, is wake up from a deep, peaceful sleep in a full meltdown. Over what, you ask? Her cup. She goes from sleep to full trantrum over what kind of cup she is going to drink out of that day. Is she dreaming about cups? I don't know, but I know that I can't talk to her, I can't touch her, and she thrashes and throws herself about with giant tears dripping from her face until I realize in my own early morning fog, "Oh, yeah, she needs to pick out her cup." Once the cup is selected and freshly filled with milk, all is right in the world. This has happened three times in the last week. I can't pretend to understand it. It's one of those things that my friends with similar aged kids and I explain like this: Because she's two.

The world of a two year old is an interesting place. She is desperately torn between being her own independent person and doing everything herself in a world where she has very little control, and being the little baby she used to be. In rapid succession, she goes from climbing into the booster seat, strapping herself in, eating with a fork and wiping her own hands and face to needing to sit in my lap while I feed her. I know that a lot of this is about growing up and establishing her autonomy and the rest of it is about her uncertainty of her place when there is a new baby in the house. I'm just trying to be flexible and keep up. The comment I keep hearing lately is that she's too young to understand about the new baby; I'm here to tell you, she does. She doesn't understand the full scope of the change in her life, but she knows it's coming, she knows it will be big, and she knows it's because of Baby Boy. I've been very careful not to use Baby Boy as a reason for why I can't do some things the way I could before, but she's made the connection on numerous occasions.

She is so ready to meet him. We talk almost daily now about going to the hospital for him to be born. We read books about new babies, and we study the hospital pictures from her birth. We've talked about everything from the umbilical cord to the IV in my hand to the way she nursed when she was just born. I'm grateful now that she's had her own hospital experience so it will (hopefully) be less intimidating for her to see me in the hospital. She seems to be preparing herself as much as I am preparing her.

Feeling a Bit Encouraged

First let me ask WHY you would offer online pre-registration to the hospital if you are only going to make me complete the exact same form again when I get to the hospital to sign my paperwork? I spent 45 minutes in pre-admitting (making me late for my non-stress test) because I had to fill out the same form again and the poor lady working at the desk seriously struggled with her data entry skills. That combined with the fact that is was about 80 degrees in the office and my feet were sweating in my flip-flops did not make me a happy camper. The last time she told me to take a seat because she had to calculate my estimated payment and her program wasn't open on her computer, I nearly lost it. I informed her that my appointment happened to be 10 minutes ago and I wasn't moving from the counter until she was finished with me. I think I was also panting and fanning myself at that point; she took me seriously and figured out a way to make the process faster. I later found out that Brookwood has seriously screwed up their Admitting department - so plan to spend the afternoon if you have to pre-register there any time soon.

Luckily, the nurse overseeing my non-stress test was expecting me to be late because she knew I had to go through Admitting first, and she had no problem expressing her own frustration with the new "process." I hauled myself up onto the stretcher and she hooked me up to the monitors and brought me a cold Diet Sprite (bless her soul). She explained the whole deal - monitoring my blood pressure, baby's heartrate, my contractions, and that we were trying to see Baby Boy's heart rate accelerate 15 beats above the baseline twice in 20 minutes. He passed with flying colors. At one point, he moved so hard I expected the monitor to pop off my belly. I was afraid he would be napping during the test since he played all morning, but the cold Sprite woke him up. Everything else looked good, too. The nurse said, "The doctor is going to be happy with your strip (the print out of all this activity)." To which I responded, "Good, because he's not going to be happy with my sugar numbers."

He wasn't, but because I was proactive and had already been logging every thing I've eaten in three weeks, he also knew that I've been trying to do the best I can and I have what seems like very little control over this. According to him, the numbers aren't outrageous, but they are still trending upward. He asked if I thought seeing a dietician would help and I felt like bursting into happy tears as I said, "Yes! How much more salad and chicken can I eat?!" So, he's doing one better than that; he's referring me to a perinatologist who has developed a strong program for managing gestational diabetes. He'll be able to help me with meal planning along with the timing of when I eat what/how much (like 30 grams of carbs for breakfast, etc) and when to test my sugar to get the most accurate perspective of what's going on in my body. I'm excited about this. As much as I've tried to educate myself, I really need someone to help me troubleshoot my diet to get my numbers where they need to be. With Ella, simply following the sample diet my OB gave me was enough. This time, that was blown out of the water after the second week. I felt so much better leaving there yesterday than I did last week. Now, I'm just waiting on the perinatologist to call and set up an appointment with me.

The EGR Update
She now has two baby boys growing in her tummy and they are going to "get born" so she can "cuddle them, snuggle them, play with them" (I wish you could hear it in her list-making voice). I've told her we might have too many baby boys running around if they keep multiplying in her tummy. It makes me think of Gremlins. I hope they don't multiply in water because I know she's going to bathe them, too.

For supper last night we had ham, cabbage, squash, and green beans. Grandmother asked me if she eats cabbage and I told her just to put it on the plate and we'd see what happened. Ella promptly pointed to it and asked, "What's that?"
"Cabbage."
"I don't 'ike cabbage."
"That's fine, you don't have to eat it."
Ten minutes later, the cabbage hole was empty. Then the ham, green beans, and most of the squash disappeared. She loves her vegetables, but she also had to be starving because she'd been living off of milkshakes and biscuits for two days since her mouth hurt too much to eat. She has two nicely swollen spots on her bottom gums, but still no molars.

My Pregnancy Lists

Now that I'm facing weekly appointments and we are getting the house stocked with tiny diapers again, I've come to the point in this pregnancy where I'm both anxious to meet this baby and I feel like I need to freeze time so I can preserve the last few days with Ella as an only child. It occurred to me last night, as I cuddled her to sleep, that life as she knows it is about to change forever. That makes me a little sad for her, but I also know how excited she is about seeing Baby Boy.

I don't worry about loving one or the other of them more, because there's not a doubt in my mind that I will love them both as the individuals they are, but I do worry about having enough time and energy to meet their individual needs. I fully expect raising a boy to be a different experience because boys are just made differently. I'm excited about that new adventure, but I also wonder how I'll juggle life with two young children.

As I've struggled with feeling ready for this pregnancy to be over and trying to enjoy the last few weeks through the stress of Gestational Diabetes, I made some lists. It's what I do. :)

Things I Will Not Miss
1. Needing to pee every time I stand up. I wonder how much toilet paper I use while I'm pregnant?
2. Hearing "Wow, you must be due any day" and "You'll never make it to August" and variations of the same. Yes, I know I'm gargantuan.
3. Heat rash.
4. The constant worry, guilt, and analysis of everything I eat or think about eating.
5. Splenda.

Things I will Miss
1. Feeling the baby move and random parts sticking out.
2. Having elevators held for me as I trudge across hot parking decks.
3. Elastic waist pants.
4. Not having to maintain the litter box.
5. Watching Ella cuddle and talk to my belly and feed the baby through my belly button.

Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Moving from sitting to standing without feeling like my body is tearing in half at the hips.
2. Rolling over in bed wihtout lying there wondering if it's worth the effort first.
3. Wearing my fire engine red, patent leather high heels.
4. Bending over without squishing the air out of my lungs.
5. Cuddling Ella without this huge bump in my middle.
6. Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
7. The tiny newborn phase.
8. Ella meeting Baby Boy.
9. Nursing and baby wearing again.
10. Watching Dave with a son, and my dad with a grandson.

Still No Teeth

Last week was rough, what with one child gestating, one child teething, VBS, blood sugar issues, and bedtime pushed at least an hour late every night. Whew! VBS is always a blast, but I'm glad to be back to normal. No new teeth, though. I'm sure they'll pop through the week of August 17th - which incidentally is also the week she starts preschool and will probably be the week Baby Boy chooses to make his arrival - just because my life works that way.

By Friday night, EGR and I both had about had it with the crazy schedule, and we were so glad to fall into bed and sleep until 8 Saturday morning. We had a leisurely morning with breakfast at Chick-fil-a, then we shopped at Target (because the new NCAA football video game has been released and EGR picked out a cute puppy dog lunch box for school), then Books-A-Million (because Mommy deserves a prize due to the release of said video game), and Pugits (Publix). Then we spent a couple of hours alternating between cuddling and reading, and playing while I read and waited for her to wind down for a nap. Saturday night was our first baby sprinkle for Baby Boy, and there was no way I was letting Ella skip her nap. She desperately needed to catch up on rest.

Our sprinkle was fun, even if most of the scheduled events were rained out. We did still have water balloon batting practice - which I loved. My goofy husband said he wasn't going in the rain to get wet hitting water balloons, but he changed his mind after I took my turn. Who doesn't love to play in the rain? We got loads of diapers, wipes, baby wash and lotion AND I managed to find a place to put all of it! In classic EGR style, she played in the rain until she couldn't stand her clothes any longer so she stripped naked. Then she sported Aunt Becca's t-shirt and tennis shoes the rest of the night. She had a blast opening presents for Baby Boy, and a few for herself. We saw a tiny baby at church Friday night, and we was completely in awe of him. I think she's really ready for Baby Boy to be born.

My relationship with food has gotten even more interesting than it's always been. Controlling my blood sugar has been more challenging this time around; my doctor cites my age as a reason (because 2 years older is still 2 years older) and I also think my chaotic schedule has a lot to do with it. Two Fridays ago the nurse told me to cut out all breads/rice/pasta etc., and that worked but good grief it's hard to follow that diet. It's hard to think of things to eat, it's hard to eat on the run, and it makes me feel bad physically. After my appointment last Thursday, during which my doctor told me my numbers aren't runing high enough to justify medicating me so I had to keep following the diet, I gave up and ate a lamb gyro for lunch on Friday. That was the best I felt all week. I've certainly not forgone the diet all together, but I decided to be a little easier on myself because I know stress and exhaustion makes the numbers higher. Proof of that is that regardless of how badly I ate over the weekend because of the party and a family dinner (lasagna, garlic bread, and brownie trifle), my fasting numbers have been okay for the last few days. Besides, chicken fingers and Diet Dr. Pepper for breakfast isn't half bad - just don't make me eat eggs.

I have to start going to the doctor weekly from now until B-Day, and I'll be having non-stress tests again, just like I did with Ella. While it's inconvenient to spend half a day at the doctor's office, I'm kind of glad he decided to go ahead and start the weekly appointments. I want to be in closer contact with him about my sugar, and lying on a cot, listening to the baby's heartbeat for half an hour isn't a bad way to spend an afternoon. I think I will remember to bring my book this time around, though, because afternoon TV is BORING. Oh, because everyone asks: non-stress tests measure contractions, the baby's heartrate in response to them, and the number of times he moves in the 30-40 minutes. Also because everyone asks (and because I just look more pregnant than I am when I'm growing another human), the baby is still measuring right on time and the doctor has not predicted a weight. If you just need a prediction of his size, my gut tells me he will be long and thin; I think he'll weigh less than Ella did (7 lbs. 13 oz).

By the way, this time my Welcome Baby celebration meal should consist of a Chick-fil-a chocolate milkshake, a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and a slab of chocolate on chocolate cake. Someone make note.

Wild Animal or Hungry Toddler? Is there a difference?

Last night was the first night of VBS (that's Bible School, in case you don't know). EGR is attending the preschool class this week, regardless of the fact that she's only 2. I've had a few worries about her readiness, but mostly I think it's something she will enjoy. I sold it hard over the weekend and she even assisted me in putting together the first night's snack, insisting that we sing Jesus Loves Me while we worked for God.

She was so very excited to have her own VBS t-shirt, just like Mommy and Daddy's - so excited that she accepted no less than I strip down in the middle of the kitchen and put mine on while she watched to make sure it got done. She was so cute in her t-shirt and ponytail (a rarity these days), marching in line with the other preschoolers to the opening rally. She made it half way through the night before she melted down because she had come to snack time and didn't want to leave me to go back to class. I retrieved her and convinced her to watch the movie while I stayed with her, but she just wasn't going to finish the night without me, so I took her back to the kitchen. My thinking was that I didn't want her to be so traumatized that she didn't want to go back. We are in it for a week, that I think she'll enjoy, and that, frankly, I don't want to spend with a toddler glued to my leg while I assemble and serve snack every night. We met up with her class again at the end of the night for the last song, and she was much more composed at that point.

When we got home, my sweet little girl played Bible School with her baby until I thought I might have to pull a Good Fairy move and Bop! her on the head to get her to go to sleep. The baby had it's Bible and bag, and she went to Ms. Amy's (that's Amory) class. As she started winding down, she began naming off her teachers and the kids in her class and we had to pray for every one of them (more than once); then we had to pray for the "other kids" whose names she couldn't remember. She kept asking me their names and I told her she would have to learn them tonight and tell me, because I don't know all of them (side note: there were 14 - FOURTEEN!- preschoolers there last night - Ms. Amory is a patient soul). Alas, she fell asleep.

She woke up after 3:30 and then again many times crying about snack. I considered that she was hungry, but she didn't seem awake enough to actually eat, so I didn't get up to get a snack. She just kept screaming for 'ogurt bites, and "open my snack!", etc. I chalked it up to sensory overload after VBS and a late bed time.

Fast forward a couple of hours to wake up time. Holy cow, I've never seen her act the way she did this morning. She was not the sweet 2 year old I put to bed last night. Oh no, caged porcupine is a more accurate description. I couldn't even get near the child as she alternated between cowering into the headboard of the bed and lashing out with limbs and snarling teeth, all while giant tears ran down her face. She didn't want her clothes on and other garbled things I couldn't understand through all the racket. When I finally got her to calm down enough to hear me, I asked her what hurt (that's the only explanation I could think of for her behavior). She said, pitifully, "My teeth! My teeth! I need teething tablets!" Whew! Finally, something I could work with.

For the first time ever, I sent my child to Grandmother's house in her night shirt. She did have a clean diaper, but that was all we could do this morning. She settled for a milk cup, 'ogurt bites, and the promise of Motrin and teething tablets as soon as we got there. When I left her, she was all "Bye Mommy, 'ove you!" like she had not just tried to maul me moments earlier.

It turns out - she was hungry. Very hungry. I've known that she can go from happy to empty in 60 seconds, and I've known that hunger is one of her triggers for tantrums, but I've never seen what I saw this morning. Reports from Grandmother tell me that by noonish today, she had eaten a breakfast burrito and hashbrown from McDonald's (at her request), eggs and sausage after her short nap, and rice, beans, chips and cheese directly after her 2nd meal. And, she ate ravenously, like she hadn't been fed at all.

I'm thinking she might have a growth spurt, and I really hope there will be 4 shiny new molars with it. But what I know is this - we will be packing the food into that child until she stops eating it. I'm only hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight on the snack provided. I'm hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight without a melt down since she has a better idea of what to expect and there will be a slight change in the snack schedule so that she doesn't see me until it's over.

At this point, because I've been awake since 3:30 am, I'm hoping I make it through VBS tonight without a melt down.

She has a Boyfriend

Last Monday morning, as EGR came walking up the stairs from Basement Time with Daddy, I heard Dave say, “Tell Mommy who that is.” She was carrying a Beanie Baby, Class of 1999 graduation owl in her arms and she promptly replied, “My boyfriend.”

Huh?

“I ‘ove him.”

What?! Me to Dave (perhaps a bit accusingly): “Where did she learn that?”

He had no idea; she just started saying it. I can only conclude that she must have picked this up from older kids somewhere – and given her limited exposure to older kids, it must have been at church.

Here I have been worrying about what knowledge she might share at church (I do have a special affinity for the word “crap”), and she comes home talking about boyfriends already?! She’s 2!

The Writing on the Wall

One of the gifts EGR received for her birthday was bath crayons - the kind you use to write on the tub or yourself or the millions of bath toys. She broke them in in a major way the first night; I think every toy in the tub received a little embellishment before she was finished. She wrote everywhere.

Fast forward to the next afternoon when she suddenly remembered they were in there. In a brief two minutes of quiet contentment, the child made her mark down the length of both walls of our hallway. When she came to the living room with the crayon, I asked her to take it back to the tub because we were on our way out the door. She complied and we went on our way. It was later that I realized what the little scamp had been up to. I whispered to Dave about it so he could see it before I wiped it off, but I decided not to say anything to her yet. If she does it again, I will enlist her help in cleaning it up but I can't really blame her creativity. After all, we gave her crayons and said, "Let me show you how to write on the walls" and neither of us specified that she was only to write on the bath tub walls. Luckily, they are very washable, so it cleaned up with a wet rag. Now, I'm just waiting for her to realize it's gone and ask where her writing went.

In other news, everyone who has seen me in the last few days says Baby Boy has dropped, and I've gotten a lot of "you aren't going to make it to August." I have politely requested that people stop saying that because a baby before August means a baby in trouble. Trust me. I know that his August 29 due date is accurate. I dare you to ask me how I know.

Happy 2nd Birthday, EGR!

Today is Ella's second birthday. When I told her Happy Birthday this morning, she asked me, "Where's my party?" Grandma sang Happy Birthday to her on the phone, and she asked me after we hung up, "Where's my birfday cake?" She totally gets birfdays. The party and the cake will happen tomorrow morning.

I am working from home this week (thus the blog posts), so she and I just put together her first present. It's not from Dave and I, but I don't care since we've been in this house together all week and she really needs something new to occupy her while I work. When Grandma called, she told me to go ahead and give her their present, so now she's playing with a fancy new pirate ship water table. It's cool; it even has a battery operated fountain, which she doesn't care for right now because it doesn't have batteries yet and it's just in her way. We'll rectify that after we go to the store later today.

Dave and I are giving her a grocery cart with groceries and a cash register. She does love to go grocery shopping, and she was so cute driving that little cart all over Big Lots last weekend, so we went back and got it. She told me a couple of days later that she wants the grocery cart for her birthday. I'm sure we will be seen in Pugix (Publix) in the near future with a 2 year old pushing a bright red shopping cart. The most interesting part will be filtering the things she wants to buy when it's time to pay; the child is a serious shopper.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, my sweet little girl!

May / June / Probably July Update

I know it's been two months. That's just life these days.

What have we been up to?

We've been to the beach (see pictures here - there are also some random ones from earlier this year). EGR did not like this sand this year. This was both a pleasure and pain. Pleasure because there wasn't much sand to clean up - especially no sandy diapers; pain because I like to sit on the beach and the only times I did that were when she was asleep. The child did not even want her feet to touch the sand, so she had to be carried while we were on it. I'm hoping this is a passing thing, and maybe next year she'll like it better. We had a great vacation. Ella loved swimming with her floaties, and by the end of the week she had figured out how to move herself around the pool and jump off the ladder. She never got the courage to jump off the side, but that will come with time. The last day we were there, she played in the pool for 7 straight hours and we had to drag her out of there. Needless to say, she fell asleep at supper before the entrees got to the table.

The closer we get to Baby Boy's arrival, the more we see of Baby Ella. She's even taken to crawling again. I'm just going with the flow and trying not to use the words "big girl" too often. She's splitting time between using the potty and refusing to use the potty. Right this minute, she's wearing Dora panties. Last night, after being asked one too many times if she needed to use the potty, she looked at Aunt Becca and said, "Do you need to use the potty, Becca?" I think she made her point. She hates diaper changes these days, so I just told her this morning after she went to the potty, "Either you wear a diaper or panties." She picked panties. We'll see how long it lasts.

Baby Boy is growing and growing. I recently found out that I have Gestational Diabetes again, so I'm following my diet again. This baby moves and kicks a lot more than Ella ever did, but I guess that's because he isn't folded in half with his head and feet under my ribs. I'm not sure what position he's in right now, but I know he's changed position several times in the last few days. I've felt him kicking me in the cervix, in the bladder, in both sides, and directly under my ribs. He's very busy in there.

Georgia's Safe Place

Georgia's safe place has always been her kennel, since the day we brought her home. She doesn't spend as much time in there as she used to, but she will absolutely kennel herself if she's tired or overwhelmed. EGR has also adopted it as her safe place.

Last weekend, I needed to vacuum up some mess in the basement. I knew Ella would want to be downstairs with me, and I knew she would freak out when I turned on the vacuum. I don't know when or why she went from falling asleep when it's running to total fear of it, but she has. In a moment of inspiration, I had this conversation with her.

Me: Ella, I have to vacuum up this mess on the floor.
Ella: (wide-eyed silence)
Me: If you get scared when I turn on the vacuum cleaner, you can get in Georgia's kennel. You'll be safe there.
Ella: Ella kennel.
Me: You want to get in there?
Ella: Uh-huh. (she crawls in and covers up with Georgia's blanket)
Me: Do you want me to shut the gate?
Ella: Uh-huh.
Me: Okay, you are safe there. I'm turning on the vacuum, it's going to be a loud noise.

I proceeded to vacuum and she proceeded to watch quietly from behind the bars of the kennel. She did not cry one tear. When I finished, I asked if she felt safe in there and she told me she did. Then she didn't want to get out, so I left her in there and told her to call for me when she was ready to come upstairs. It worked perfectly. I couldn't believe it.

Baby Boy Eats Cheetos

In Ella's pretend world, where she is already taking care of her new brother, he eats Cheetos. She feeds them to him through my belly button. He's also had yogurt bites and she shared her milk cup with him this morning. I've explained several times that the baby will not be able to eat food until he gets bigger, that he will nurse and drink Mommy's milk when he's a little baby just like she did. I have a feeling there will be lots of discussion about what he can and cannot eat when he's born because she will want to share her food with him. She also cuddles with him and "plays" with him by blowing raspberries on my belly. She says she will blow green bubbles for him when he's born and sing to him. Last night she was singing "Jesus Jesus Jesus, there's just something about that name...". I think he likes it because he usually starts moving around when she's talking to him.

Right now, she's enjoying the benefit of an influx of tiny baby clothes for her dolls. I've already received bags of clothes from yard sale finds and people handing them down. I washed, folded and put away two baskets of clothes ranging from Newborn to 9 month sizes over the weekend and I think I have at least three more loads to do. I can't believe I even worried for a second about boy clothes. Good grief, I'm running out of room to store the ones he won't be able to wear right away. Ella is having a blast ripping through the baskets to find outfits for her babies - suddenly, they are all turning into baby boys. Oh, and I overheard her talking to one of the dolls yesterday while she rocked it, she called it Georgia and referred to herself as "Mommy Ella."

We broke out the kiddie pool over the weekend for the first time this season. Ella wanted to get in it with her clothes on and I explained to her that her bathing suit would dry much faster than her t-shirt, so she should change if she wanted to swim. She finally decided she would wear her "babysoup;" I decided we should call it a swimsuit from now on to avoid confusion. She was wearing 24 month size swimsuits that were too big last summer, and they are pretty much too small already. I think the child might just need to wear tankinis instead of one-pieces because her torso is so long. That would be easier for using the potty anyway, which she wants to do when she's wearing a swim diaper because she knows it's just not right. She requested a Tigger swimsuit because the one she was wearing only had Piglet on it. I hope I can find one, else it won't have characters at all.

I'm happy to report that she finally has her appetite back. It never returned after her sugery when she caught a nasty stomach virus (and gave it to me). I was starting to think she was entering the "toddlers don't eat" phase, but she started shoveling it in again over the weekend. She ate two bags of yogurt melts in between her real meals. WHY don't they make those things in big bags?! We need to buy them in bulk.

As for me, now that I've recovered from her germs, I feel fine. Baby Boy is staying lower in my belly than she ever did, so I feel more pregnant than I am but otherwise I'm doing well. I did break down and buy a bottle of TUMS for my purse, but thankfully I haven't had to eat so many since the virus went away. I was really scared I was doomed to 20 weeks of serious indigestion, but it turns out it was just the virus. This is week 21, and according to my pregnancy calendar, Baby Boy should be about 7 inches crown-to-rump, and and weigh around 11 ounces - and he's probably hiccupping. I started noticing the hiccups over the weekend.

The Little Conversationalist

Since her surgery, Ella's verbal communication has developed even more. She will now have conversations that include her original thoughts.

Here are a few examples:

After eating all of the canteloupe and leaving the watermelon in her snack bowl:
Ella: More. (pointing to the empty canteloupe spot)
Me: You still have watermelon. Eat that and I'll get you some more canteloupe.
Ella: More. (again pointing)
Me: If you don't eat the watermelon, who will?
Ella: (after a moment of deep thought) Birds.
She got more canteloupe.

While I was leaving for work one morning she was picking her nose (an obsession that's reared its ugly head again).
Me: What's up with your finger in your nose?
Ella: Booger.
Me: You have a booger in there?
Ella: Big one.
Me: Let me see. (found no boogers) I don't see any.
Ella: (with finger in nose again) Reach it, Mommy!

Sometimes at bedtime, she pretends someone is handing her things - food mostly, I think. She'll pretend to take it, eat it, and say thanks. One night, she randomly placed this order.
Ella: Two fries, cheese hamburdeger.

Dave is working on our master bathroom. He took a couple of weeks to gut it, during which time the door was closed and we explained to her that Daddy was working and he's going to build a new bathroom. Now we have this conversation frequently, usually when she's checking his progress.
Ella: New bafroom.
Me: Yes, Daddy is building us a new bathroom.
Ella: Potty?
Me: Yes, it will have a new potty.
Ella: Showder?
Me: Yes, a new shower, too.
Ella: Ella, new showder?
Me: Yes, Ella can take a shower in the new shower.

If the phone rings...
Ella: Phone ringin'!

If the dog passes gas...
Ella: Georgia poop.

If she decides she wants to go for a walk...
Ella: Walk! Strollder.

She makes me laugh. I love to watch her think and then put her thoughts into words.

It's a Boy!

Our 20 week ultrasound last week revealed that this baby is a boy. He's also healthy and measuring perfectly for his due date in late August. Much like Ella, he was lying across my abdomen (head on one side and feet on the other) so getting all of his measurments was tricky, but he was a little more cooperative than she was in her ultrasound. He moved around some and didn't hide his face when the tech needed to look at it. He was proud to show off his goods; she got several "it's a boy" shots. Are all boys that way even before birth?

While a lot of things about this pregnancy have been the same - things like what I'm eating, anemia at the start of the second trimester, slower hair growth on my legs, etc - there have been subtle differences. I don't have my strong steak aversion like I had with Ella (that's a relief), my face is breaking out more, and so far this baby is staying lower in my belly. He doesn't seem to have the same sleep habits as Ella either. She was always very low key during the day, then partied in the middle of the night (at the same times she still wakes up today). He seems a lot more active during the day and I think he sleeps most of the night. He might not be big enough to wake me up yet, but even when I am awake, I don't feel him moving.

As for EGR, she knows that we are having a Baby Boy. She leans down close to my belly and says, "Good morning, Baby Boy." Yesterday she was kissing him. She talks all about him - about his ears, his clothes, his diaper, if he will need cream on his bottom, etc. Yesterday while we were waiting for supper, she told him it was suppertime. She also told me to get him out. I explained that he can't come out yet because he's still growing, but I know we'll be having that conversation for the rest of the summer. I can understand her impatience. Now that I've seen him, I'm getting impatient myself. We've got quite a wait left though; this week marks the half way point.

Good Riddance Tonsils; We Won't Miss You.

Ella had her tonsils and adenoids removed and tubes put in both ears Tuesday morning. One week after her last ENT appointment, but only because I harrassed the scheduling lady until she squeezed us in. The day after the appointment when he told us he was going to take them out, she woke up with a runny nose that made her able to breathe even less than she could already. For three days I managed to get a decongestant in her, and then she decided she was finished taking medicine (with the exception of Motrin and Tylenol, thank goodness). At any rate, the surgery couldn't come soon enough.

As directed, I starved her after midnight Monday, and didn't let her have a drink of anything after seven Tuesday morning. With the exception of a meltdown at 2:00 Tuesday morning when she REALLY wanted some milk, she handled it quite well. I had explained to her that she could have some Coke when she woke up, but no milk and then I would have to put her cups away. Well, when she got thirsty later, she first asked for milk. I told her she couldn't have any until after the doctor fixed her throat. So she asked for Coke. I told her she couldn't eat or drink anything until after the doctor fixed her throat. She told me, "Bag. Cup." That meant, "Get my cup out of the bag." Our conversations went like that all morning. She knew we were going to the hospital for kids to get her throat fixed.

Once we got into a room to wait on the surgeon, she started to melt down a little. The waiting was just too much. There were several crying fits just because, and she DID NOT want to wear her hospital gown and bracelet. She took the gown off twice before I gave up on it and let her go in her diaper. As predicted, the hardest part of the entire day was handing her over to the nurse and watching her walk away from us with my crying daughter in her arms. Then we waited.

They moved us to a real room to stay the night, and that's where they brought her back to us. She was pitiful. She'd obviously cried hard when she woke up because the were tears and snot smeared all over her face and hair. She had a new sippy cup clenched in a death grip. When the nurse put her in my arms, she started waving and saying, "Hey, baby." I'm not sure if she actually saw the picture of a baby on the back of the door or if she was hallucinating from the good drugs, but it made me feel better to hear her say something she always says. Then, completely out of character, she held up the cup and said, "Apple juice" and drank it down. Then she passed out for 3 hours. They had given her morphine before she left the recovery room because they didn't know if the crying was from pain or wanting me. Whatever, I was grateful that she was knocked out and not feeling anything. She woke up a little here and there through the afternoon - once long enough to eat some yogurt and finish her juice, and once to eat some mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and chicken and drink some milk.

Each time she woke up, she passed back out, so we didn't even try to get some more medicine in her until after 6:00. That was a debacle. The doctor had prescribed Loritab for her, and apparently the liquid kind is nasty. The nurse managed to squeeze the whole dropper into her in between the writhing, screaming fits, and then she threw it all up. So, she gave her some Motrin instead. That apparently worked well enough for her. Later we tried the antibiotic, and the results were even less successfull than the Loritab. It looked like a Pepto Bismol bottle had exploded all over her and the room when we were finished. Yes, she hates taking medicine. She hasn't always been this way, but she's just had enough of it lately.

Through the whole evening she kept saying "Band-aid, take it." That means take it off, and "band-aid" referred to both the IV taped to her hand and the oxygen monitor. The novelty of those things wore off quickly. They had unhooked her from the IV pump, but the she stayed connected to the oxygen monitor all night - that is when she didn't take it off. That thing nearly drove me out of my mind. We managed to keep it on her most of the night once she was sleeping, except when she rolled over and it popped off her finger and the alarm blared through the relative quiet in the room. Sometime in the middle of the night, she held up her IV hand with the little port hanging off and said, "Take it tag!"

In between begging to "go home" and "take it" she handled everything really well and was quite funny about her hospital experience. Late in the evening we found a wagon and walked around the hospital for a while just to get our of our room. There was a big display of Disney characters that we spent quite a while studying and talking to. She did wake up screaming once in the middle of the night when the Motril wore off, so we tried the Loritab again. It didn't go well and once I got her calmed down, Dave suggested we just wait for the Motrin. The nurse brought it back and hour later and that's all she had until morning.

She slept with me on the chair cot because her room came equipped with a crib. That was a joke. She looked at that thing with disdain when I asked if she wanted to lay there with her pillow. She did sit on it to eat her supper, and we used it for a changing table, but otherwise it was a large bedside table for us. She hasn't slept in a crib in 9 months, so I knew that wasn't going to happen. Squeezing the two of us onto the cot was interesting, but we were both tired enough that we did actually get a little sleep on it. Her more than me, of course. She was still sleeping when the doctor came in at 6:15 the next morning. He said, "Listen, you can't hear anything." I think I teared up when he said that. It's so true. She's so quiet when she sleeps now, and even during a disruptive night in the hospital for kids she got better sleep than she has in months. I'm so very grateful.

The first thing she said when she woke up was "go home" so we got out of there quick. We were on the road by 7:15, equipped with a prescription for Loritab that I didn't even fill and a prescription for antibiotics. She's supposed to take it twice a day for ten days. Yeah right. I'm putting it in her milk. She's drinking less milk. :) Oh well, I'm trying. For pain, we are alternating Motrin with Tylenol because our Motrin doesn't last as long as the hospital's dose.

She's doing really well. I know from her behavior when it's time for more medicine, otherwise she's playing, eating and drinking. She's sleepier than normal, but she's handling this all better than I ever expected. For that, I'm also grateful.

Thanks to everyone for the prayers. I can already see the positive effects of this surgery in her demeanor and her peaceful sleep. The change in 24 hours time is dramatic.