A Weekend to Remember

I have three spectacular sisters, beautiful both inside and out. And they all reside pretty near each other in Iowa (one has bounced between Iowa and Minnesota, but she's still closer to them than I am). I'm grateful for things like email and cell phones and the periodic Skype date that allows me to keep in touch. But I admit I get a little bummed when I notice they have a sister date, and given my distance, I can't participate. Going home only twice a year makes it difficult to live daily life together, grab a coffee, enjoy the mundane as well as the festivities.

The youngest, Charity, recently went abroad for a year on a Fulbright Fellowship. Before she left, my older sister and her husband were throwing her a going-away party. Unfortunately, it was being held at a time this Indiana contingent couldn't attend - we'd already made our summer trip back home, classes were getting ready to start, and there just wasn't any way I could justify driving my daughter all that way on my own for an evening party. I was trying to console myself in the fact that Charity had spent a week at my place this summer, and it's not like I'd never get to see her pretty face via Skype once she was gone. But there was a little bit of me that was disappointed. After all, we're all four of us close friends, and I was envious of the others all being able to get together when I was over seven hours away. Nevertheless, I put it from my mind. It's not like Charity would think I loved her any less because of my absence. In fact, she wouldn't expect me to be there because of the above points. So that's the way things stood.

Until the Saturday a week before her party.

That evening, I got a string of text messages from my brother-in-law. He wondered if, perchance, I would allow him to purchase an airline ticket for me to come home for the weekend as a surprise. He understood that we are all close and that this was the last opportunity to spend quality time together before Charity left, and was there any chance I could fly back? He'd even looked into potential flights and was tossing out times. If I would allow it, he really wanted to do this for us.

I was super excited. Eric, sitting next to me, was oblivious, so I started filling him in. I tried not to let my mind run away without first weighing whether or not this could happen. Since I'm still nursing, I needed to consider my options. It seemed like I ought to bring her along so that Eric could focus on his studies without distractions. I could certainly have Brennan fly on my lap, but would Chad be able to come into possession of a pack-and-play and convertible carseat? Those items would be too large for me to bring along solo. Plus, there were all the accoutrements that go along with traveling with a baby - toys, clothing backups, diapers, possibly the baby monitor. Add schlepping suitcases and a stroller, going through security and the like: was it crazy to even consider this trip? Then there are the logistics: could I be so lucky to have her nap in the baby carrier again, or had she outgrown that? Would she stand to be confined during the flights? She's pretty mellow, but she does have a will that she sees fit to exercise now and again.

Then Eric reminded me his parents were coming in town that same weekend for a baby fix. After Eric gave his blessing for me to go on a solo trip while leaving him and his parents with care of Brennan for the weekend, I booked my ticket before my brother-in-law could rescind his offer. I sent him the itinerary, which had me flying in Friday about when he would get off work.

Then Sunday morning, I get an email from my brother-in-law. In addition to flying me in, he was offering me a stipend to plan some sister activities for Saturday morning. As he suggested, manis/pedis, or whatever girls like to do; it was up to me to plan. He was offering a budget, and it was up to me to create some memories.

This was an attractive proposition. What should we do together? Sure, manicures and pedicures are decadent and relaxing, but we technically could pamper ourselves in our respective towns; we didn't all have to be together to indulge in nail care. I remembered some friends of mine who had gotten a sister photoshoot as a gift for their parents, and I dared to hope I could arrange something similar.

I wrote my favorite photographer, a friend from college who does it professionally on the side. She is based out of Iowa City (a couple hours from where I'd be staying), but she happened to be in the area for a wedding in the fall when we had her take Brennan's pictures for her birth announcement, so I thought it was worth a shot.

I was anxious as I waited for her response. What were the odds she was free? And if she was, would she even want to travel all that way for a photoshoot? If she was busy, I knew my chances were pretty slim that I could find: 1) a photographer that wasn't already booked at such late notice on a Saturday in August, and 2) someone that would fit in our budget.

Fortunately, she had plans to attend the Iowa State Fair that Saturday, and she was free that morning and more than happy to play a role in this weekend. I was ecstatic.

Chad and I were sending rapid-fire texts and emails as plans fell into place over the coming days (we tallied nearly 50 texts and maybe a dozen emails in under a week). He worked with Hope's fiance to make sure Hope would show up Saturday morning with the clothes she'd need (she works overnights and wouldn't have a chance to head home before our shoot). There was a chance of rain Saturday, so he let me know he had a key to his friend's photography studio. We were trying to manage every contingency.

I was anticipating my departure on Friday afternoon, and my co-workers and friends were anticipating the surprise with me. I even had trouble sleeping a couple nights as I was thinking about the surprise and how much I was looking forward to this time. I was like a little kid, getting impatient and hardly able to wait until the day came. Chad shared that he even made a secretary at work cry after he told her what he was planning. He, also, was getting excited for Heather's reaction.

Finally Friday came: I worked a partial day, and then Eric whisked me to the airport. I was getting a little emotional as I said goodbye to Brennan. This would be the longest I'd ever been away from her. I'd never been gone even six hours, and suddenly I was planning to be absent two nights.

If we ever form a band, this is part of the cover art

Flights were uneventful, Chad picked me up, and we were just waiting for Heather and Charity to return home (Charity stays with them when she is in town). Heather had an art opening at work that would keep her away until around 7 PM, and Chad had hinted to Charity that it had been a long week and he might like the house to himself when he got home from work so he could decompress (clever cover to get me inside unnoticed, no?).

The girls knew something was up (Chad was having trouble hiding his enthusiasm), but he tried to throw them off the track. He kept saying that he couldn't wait until Saturday, and that Heather's birthday gift was ordered and it looked like it would arrive in time for the weekend. As it was something he thought she would enjoy while Charity was still around, he was going to give it to her early.

Our plan was to have them open a card. Inside would be a picture of the gift - me!  I would hide out in the loft until the appropriate time. My Kindle kept me company until Charity arrived home. I eavesdropped on her conversation with Chad (kind of a surreal experience), and then Heather arrived home.  I took a video of the exchange - it's nothing special since I was trying to keep my cover, but I think it should get to play a part telling this story.

They were happily (and completely) surprised, and later Hope joined us for dinner.  I announced our Saturday plans: a photoshoot followed by pedicures.

Saturday was amazing. It has been a long time since we four have been together with no other family around. We're talking years. As in I don't even remember when. Usually we can only swing three sisters together, and if all four are present, so are many other bodies.

There were so many stories and laughs and hilarious revelations. As you can see from all these pictures, we were smiling and laughing pretty much nonstop. I just got these proofs a couple days ago, and I've picked a number of my favorites from the 78 (!) images. I tend to be drawn to black and white shots, but I noticed I'm especially favoring the candid shots Mandy caught of us. It captures how we act when we get together and how much love we have for each other. I love that this goofiness and hilarity is memorialized in film.

The weekend passed in a whirlwind. Three weeks later, and I'm still so thankful I got to have such an experience. It was so much more than the price of a plane ticket and a photoshoot, and I trust that was apparent to anyone who saw us together. It was beyond special, and I'm still so amazed that Chad stumbled upon the idea at the last minute and decided to act on it. I'm also humbled that my visit was Heather's birthday present (and that she didn't find that wanting). I hope their souls were fed as much as mine was.

My Lucky Charm

Since I was all overcome with the Iowa - Iowa State game earlier today, it seemed only fitting to come back and give some closure.

Iowa State is my alma mater. When our daughter was born, my sister and her husband (also alumni of Iowa State), gave her an ISU onesie and sleeper.  Last season, we were trying to have her enjoy both her Notre Dame and her ISU outfits, so any given Saturday she'd be wearing something from one of the schools.

We introduced our family to her last October, and the day we left, Iowa State was playing Texas. Brennan was wearing her sleeper. As we drove home, we listened to coverage on the radio. And wouldn't you know it, but they were winning. Winning a game they were not supposed to. We were euphoric (and may have pulled into a gas station towards the end of the game as our signal was weakening).

Chad, her uncle and giver of the sleeper, saw this as an omen. Each Saturday, he would text to see if she was ready for the game. Unfortunately, I could not always answer in the affirmative (recall that we were trying to also extend some luck to the Irish, altough that was never successful). However, each time she wore an ISU outfit for the duration of the game, they won. She happened to be napping at the start of the Nebraska game and suited up late. We learned in that instance that while they tied, her luck didn't go into overtime.

The outfits from last year were both 0-3 month sized. The onesie was outgrown, but the sleeper - given its magical properties, I'm sure - has been the one outfit in her wardrobe that she hadn't outgrown. We're phasing her out of her 12-month outfits and into 18- and 24-month ones, but still the sleeper remained in circulation.

Last week, we pulled it out for the Cyclone season opener against UNI. Sure, the sleeper's sleeves only reached her elbows, and she probably wouldn't want to stretch her legs out all the way, but we kept her in it, and the Cyclones came out with a victory.

I was going to retire the sleeper, but then I was informed that today was the day they faced their rivals, the long-storied matchup against Iowa, typically with ISU as the underdog and Iowa as the favored team expected to come out on top. Be that as it may, I vowed to shove her in that sleeper to bring any luck possible their way.

Fortunately, Heather and Chad thought it was fitting to send Brennan her birthday gift early - she is now the proud owner of both short- and long-sleeved onesies with matching pants. No matter the weather this football season, she will be prepared.

I admit I was nervous - Iowa State has suffered at the hands of Iowa the last few years. But bright and early this morning, she was dressed in her new duds.

We weren't able to watch it on TV, but we followed online play trackers. At halftime, the score was tied at 10. I'd laid Brennan down for a nap with under two minutes left in the game when the score was 24-17 Iowa. I was rocking her, trying to follow on Facebook via status updates whether we were able to tie it up. Once I'd learned we were going into OT, after I set a sleeping daughter in her crib, I even pulled out the outgrown sleeper and draped it at the head of the crib. (You know, in case that was the final push ISU needed to get that victory.)

I won't exhaust you with details, since you know from my last post that they were in triple overtime.  Brennan woke up then, so I hurriedly grabbed her and she sat with me (naturally, with the old sleeper on her lap) as I followed online. ISU and Iowa matched each other for touchdowns in the first two overtimes. Then Iowa got a field goal, and ISU got the touchdown that gave them the win.

I realize Brennan's luck can't hold out forever (it's a lot to expect a baby to carry a whole football team's fate), but she will be wearing her ISU outfits every Saturday this season!

Welcome to the World, Little One

Eight weeks ago, on September 15, Eric and I arrived at the hospital at 7 AM to check in for my c-section.

Quick side story: Eric dropped me off at the door and proceeded to park the car while I began the check-in procedure, and more than one nurse asked me if I was there with anyone, worried I'd driven myself to the hospital and was going this alone. It was a little amusing until I realized they were asking because they must see some moms coming in without anyone to support them. They were visibly relieved when Eric materialized.

It's a strange feeling to know the exact date, and basically the time, that you will have a baby. I'd had a bag mostly packed for a couple weeks, but we finished our packing the night before and did our best to get some sleep. We took our last pregnancy photo before walking out the door; after all, it was 39 weeks to the day, and I'm all about the documentation! I'd had Eric take a photo the night before in case we forgot or were in a hurry in the morning, but there was a part of me that knew it wasn't the 39-week photo, it was instead the 38-weeks-and-6-days photo, and we couldn't leave it at that!

We spent the next three hours doing a lot of sitting around. I spent a few minutes doing some of the last knitting I was likely to do for the foreseeable future, although the IV made this a little awkward.


As the time neared, I found my pulse racing, some due to general nerves, some due to memories of my first c-section. As my daughter's heartrate would also increase at those times, I tried to keep calm. No need for her to feed off my anxiety.

I was wheeled into surgery and given the spinal. My blood pressure was low during the entire pregnancy, and the spinal caused it to decrease even more to the point that I was nauseous and worried about fainting; they gave me something to bring it back up.

And then it began. Eric was brought to my side and we waited some more. And then we heard it: a robust, even angry, cry materializing from our newly born daughter.

We'd been told throughout my pregnancy that she wasn't going to be any little thing, so as the doctor commented again on her size, we waited for the nurses to announce her weight. Next thing we heard was someone saying, "Ten oh three," and both of us were aghast. She hadn't seemed that large when she was shown to us in passing! We said as much, and the nurses laughed at our confusion. They had announced the time of birth, not her weight. She was all of seven pounds, 14 ounces.


Eric was able to hold her soon after, and I craned my neck to examine her. She was precious. She wasn't at all happy to be in a bright, cold room, and she let this be known. I watched her lower lip tremble as she geared up for each new wail, and as I relished her arrival, her life, I broke down in tears. This amazing day had arrived, and we were being entrusted with her life. I had carried her for 39 weeks, but now I finally got to meet this little being, our daughter Brennan.


Surgery was completed and we were whisked to the recovery room. I struggled with nausea for the first couple of hours after surgery; when the first medication had no effect, they gave me a dose of something that would certainly work, but would make me pretty drowsy as well. This meant I came in and out of consciousness frequently for her first day of life as visitors rotated through to meet her, but that and a good night's sleep resulted in a well rested mommy by day two.


For those of you who want more stats: she passed the APGAR with flying colors, first scoring a nine and then a ten (the one point she lost was due to color). She was 20.5 inches long.

I'll try to post again soon with details of her first two months of life. I return to work on Monday (!), but as she is starting to have a schedule emerge, I have some semi-predictable free time in the afternoons during her long nap.

A Letter to my Daughter: 9 Days

Dear Baby Daughter,

I am filled to overflowing with thankfulness lately. When I became pregnant with you, I didn't know what the future would hold. I started hoping we would make it out of the first trimester, and we did so without incident. Then I hoped we would make it past 24 weeks, and we managed that with flying colors. Each day has come and gone, adding up into weeks, and I've remained pregnant.

I was considered high risk because of my past complications, but this uneventful pregnancy has done much to help heal our emotions and allowed us the chance to hope again. You can't replace your sister, but we're so grateful to be able to welcome you into our family. I've had frequent doctor visits and ultrasounds, but everything continued normally. Weight gain was gradual, blood pressure and blood sugars remain low, and even with all the heat this summer, there hasn't been even a hint of swelling.

Here we are, me about to reach 38 weeks, and we're only nine days away from meeting you face to face. I can hardly believe the time has nearly come. Last week, my doctor said they wouldn't stop anything if I went into labor on my own - they would just move up my surgery date - but I've instructed you to wait until the 15th - after all, I'd like to experience a normal, scheduled c-section instead of having to be rushed into an emergency one again. There are bound to be flashbacks as we recall what we experienced with Katherine, but we're trying to trust. Circumstances are vastly different this time around.

You're a decent size at this point - the doctors think you won't be any small thing, but you appear to be perfect. I've loved watching you transform in the ultrasounds; in the last one, you rubbed your hands in front of your eyes as if we were disturbing your sleep, and such typical baby movements made this all the more real to me. You are a miracle inside of me, constantly growing.

I am beyond fascinated with your movements inside me. As you've grown, your kicks have transformed into squirming, so I feel you throughout much of the day as you are ever shifting. I love watching my belly as you distort it with all your movements. And I cannot believe that in a little over a week, I'll get to put names to all these movements. Right now, I can't distinguish between what's an elbow or a knee, but starting next Wednesday, as I see you move outside of me, I'm pretty sure I will lose track of my days. If I'm this transfixed with unidentified movements inside me, I can only imagine how much more emotional it's going to be to see you.

I admit I know there might be some long days and sleepless nights ahead as we figure out this whole parenting thing, but I feel so blessed with the support and prayers of friends and family and know we will approach one day at a time. I'm honored I've been able to carry you these many months, and I can't wait for the continued joy of getting to be your mother.

Love,
Mommy

Preggo Brain in Three Acts

All of these occurred in the span of about three days last week. Those of you with child, be forewarned. Apparently, once you reach 36 weeks, your brain disconnects. These are presented in the order they occurred, so I'm concerned at where this escalation leaves me.

Act One

A student entered the main office, asking if I had any bandaids. I collected the box from a back cupboard, gave her a couple, then went back to return them. I was inches away from opening the mini fridge to put them inside. I caught myself, though, before I opened the door.

In my defense, I do open the mini fridge several times a day, pregnant or not, whereas the cupboard is rarely touched, so I cut myself some slack on this instance and wrote it off to habit - once I was in the vicinity, my feet just took over until my brain informed them I wasn't in search of a snack.

All told, a relatively minor instance of preggo brain, if it could even be blamed on that. Let's move on to later that same day.

Act Two

Washing my hands is something I've done tens of thousands of times. It's pretty straightforward, right? Water gets turned on, soap is dispensed, your hands are vigorously scrubbed, rinsed, and then dried off, and then you're done.

This, however, proved to be too much for me one evening last week. I had use of both hands, so no real excuse for what happened. One hand was on the faucet, turning it on, while the other one was simultaneously depressing the soap dispenser. Do you know what happens when you dispense soap with one hand while the other hand is nowhere nearby to collect the stream of suds? It trickles down the side of the sink, wasted.

I stood there, just shaking my head at myself. Perhaps I could say it was due to a long day at work? Yeah, I didn't think so, either. Just like you're never supposed to forget how to ride a bike, I would have classified hand washing right up there as something that should be second nature after you've been doing it nearly three (!) decades. I guess here is where I 'fess up to the final act of preggo brain.

Act Three

Friday I was having Braxton Hicks contractions. I had an appointment the previous week and then not another until the end of this week, but I'd been feeling a little different for a couple days, and the BH contractions had been pretty regular (hardly breaking in between, it would seem), so I wanted to get checked out before the weekend so I wouldn't question myself if they continued. I have an active imagination, and this would make us rest easy.

I called my doctor's office and they said they could get me in immediately after lunch. I figured it would be treated like a regular appointment, so I made sure to drink plenty of fluids so I would be ready to provide a sample.

I showed up on time, got weighed, and the nurse asked me if I had brought a urine sample. When I answered in the negative, she directed me towards the bathroom and told me to leave one.

Now I'd like to remind you that I had been drinking plenty of water and waiting to use the restroom for this very reason. It had been at the forefront of my mind. It should have been no problem. After all, this is what happens at every doctor's appointment, and being a good girl about keeping all my appointments (and having a few more than normal because I'm considered high risk), I have become pretty familiar with this routine.

And then I reverted to habit. Not doctor's-office habit, but I'm-a-big-girl-who-knows-how-to-use-the-potty habit. I finished my business, only to realize the sample had completely escaped my mind in the few seconds from acknowledging the nurse's expectation to the time it took me to sit down, and there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation. What was done was done, and I was empty.

I couldn't believe myself. It appears I had the opposite issue from the previous act. In Act Two, I was shocked I had forgotten a familiar routine that had been happening for decades. In this act, I reverted to a familiar act even though I associate the restroom at a doctor's office as an exception to the routine.

I exited the restroom, pled pregnancy brain to the waiting nurse, and told her that since I'm pregnant and spend much of my time structuring my day around trips to and from the restroom, odds were I'd have to go again in ten minutes. She kindly said nothing, and before I left my appointment, everyone was happy.

And to conclude, in case you were curious, Friday's appointment showed nothing was yet progressing, so we still have two weeks to see what other instances can occur. I know you can hardly wait. If things continue to escalate, I expect myself to show up to work in my bathrobe. Or maybe I'll forget how to put the car in reverse. Perhaps I'll forget my name (like the time I answered the phone in my classroom - after I'd been married three years - with my maiden name; there was no pregnancy brain to blame that on, just general confusion when the phone rang during a teaching period).

Seven

After seven years...


You're still my best friend. Happy anniversary, love.

A Letter to My Daughter

Dear Baby Daughter,

At nearly 25 weeks, I’ve now officially passed the point in pregnancy where I was at with Katherine when I was rushed to my emergency caesarean, so everything from here on out is new to me. It’s bittersweet to mark this time; after all, there are so many memories of what was going on at this stage in my pregnancy with her, and I’m glad there are no symptoms currently to be concerned about with you, but I still wish things hadn’t turned out the way they had and that we could be introducing you to your big sister when you arrived.

Nevertheless, I keep doing my best to trust. When I was right around 23 weeks pregnant with Katherine, we made our annual summer trip home. My first full day back in Indiana found me swollen beyond recognition and being checked into the hospital for observation. In two weeks, I had put on 20 pounds due to water retention, and it all went downhill from there. Here I was, nearly two years later, facing a summer trip home at basically the same point in my pregnancy as before, and I admit there was some anxiety. What would I do if I started to swell and was a couple states away from the doctors that knew me and my history?

However, I had a clean bill of health from my doctor and she wasn’t concerned with me traveling, so we made the long drive home. There hasn’t been a hint of swelling, even with the warmer temperatures. I delight when I see my rings unable to stay balanced and upright on my fingers, instead sliding upside-down because of how loose they continue to be. Just one more sign that I don’t have evidence of swelling and that I am healthy at this moment.

The trip home was filled with unending relaxation and good food, great visits with friends and family, and so many naps I lost count. I’m sure you enjoyed the change in routine, but I admit now that it’s over, it’s hard to adjust to just one nap a day again, especially since it doesn’t occur before 5:15 PM. I feel great during this pregnancy, but I do find myself fading more quickly than before I was pregnant, and I do get the requisite winded feeling after exerting myself for any length of time.

Your activity, growing ever stronger, is a comfort. Remind me of this when you start attacking my ribs or keeping me up at night! You like to make it known when you’re getting hungry, which considering I like to eat every couple hours, means you’re also shaping up to be a grazer, at least in utero. And then, once I’ve eaten, I can tell when the food has reached you and you start to dance in appreciation. Come bedtime, you start up your jumping again, usually against the side of my stomach that touches the mattress – this may not bode well for when you learn to jump in your toddler years and realize that the mattress makes an ideal platform, but right now it’s amusing. Some days are quieter on your end, but you don’t fail to let me know you’re still there doing well, even if you’re a little sleepier than the day before. You’re getting big enough that what were once flutters are now more decided movements, and you can even span a good distance when you stretch, so I can feel kicks and punches simultaneously on opposite sides of my stomach.

While home, two of my sisters got to feel you kicking. You even managed to scare my older sister, which made me laugh. At first, she felt a couple subtle movements, then you gave a really good jab, and she pulled away suddenly, shocked at your strength and giggling at her response.

I’ve officially popped – it happened around 22 weeks, and I currently seem to be all belly. You’re happy hanging out right in front, so while anyone who gets a side glance knows full well I’m pregnant, I’ve been told they can’t tell from behind that I’m expecting.

Your daddy is so good to me – I can’t wait for you to meet him. I decided it would be a nice gesture of solidarity if he gave up his beloved caffeinated soda while I swore off caffeinated coffee, and he’s humored me in that move. Although my former car was sufficient, he traded it in for a newer, more reliable car since it had safer crash ratings and he could rest easier knowing you would be better protected should an accident ever happen.

When I had a mild panic attack after seeing some white spots upon standing up suddenly (different from some earlier light-headed spells), he humored me by buying an automatic blood pressure cuff so I could confirm my levels were still low, thus keeping me calm when doubts creep in. He drove the entire way home from Iowa, even turning down my offers to help, because he wanted me to be well rested upon our return. He didn’t mind that he had to load and unload most of the car on his own – many of our items fell into the “over 20 pounds” limit that I’m not allowed to touch.

I haven’t yet sent him out on a craving errand, and I tease him that apparently he’s lucked out because of it. I talk to friends and learn of their late-night cravings that send their spouses running to the car, but you haven’t yet driven me to request specific food items beyond what I can find at home.

Every single day, he’s beyond helpful with never a word of complaint and even as my body changes, he still finds me beautiful. You and I are lucky to have such a thoughtful, loving man we each get to call husband and daddy. I already know you’re going to be treasured by him and he will dote on you every moment.

We just ordered your crib, which was another big step for us as we admitted that it was time to hope that this might actually happen for us and we could take more concrete steps to prepare for your arrival. Now we just need to find a dresser to buy that will hold all the baby girl clothes friends and family are passing on to us – I’m reminded again at how the predominant color for baby girls is pink, so in my knitting I’m trying to add some variety to the color palette.

I anticipate the coming months of growth, and each day and each week that passes in this uneventful pregnancy gives me added hope that we will get to know you longer than we did your older sister. Know that I already love you so much, and I look forward to getting more glimpses of your personality in the coming weeks, and then seeing you face to face in late summer. Feel free to stay inside a long time yet – I’m more than willing to experience all the uncomfortable awkwardness that comes with making it full term and being quite pregnant in the humid summer months. I’m happy to endure any aches and pains and sleepless nights that might happen as I grow in size – just do your best to stay in there until the doctor decides it’s time for you to come out, preferably as a full-term, plump, healthy baby.

Love,
Mommy

Thursday Potpourri

I’ve been trying to decide what this blog should hold – do I continue with my postings on any number of topics – a random story about family or work, pictures of my felines, accounts of finished knitting and sewing projects? I think since there’s not a common theme, I have neglected posting. After all, when you can write about anything, it can be difficult to narrow it down and make the time to compose something. When I was teaching, I had no lack of stories from work, but I don’t have the same amusement in my current position, which has led to the evolution of topics.

Anyway, in the midst of my current thinking, I thought I’d just include random updates on a myriad of topics.

Our Pets
Augustine and Dante have settled into a tolerant relationship, and it seems clear that Augustine has secured the Alpha Cat position for herself, and Dante just follows her around everywhere. This was our hope all along and the reason we got a small, male kitten. They adore the screened-in porch and are relishing the warmer temperatures, particularly when that means there are open windows. Augustine still has the sweet temperament, and Dante can be aggravating in his antics, but we’ll still keep him (it doesn't hurt that his flatulence has lessened...).

I don’t know if it’s due to my pregnancy, but Augustine has decided that Eric is the preferred sleeping companion at night, which is a first. My favorite example of this was last Saturday night, when I caught her with me. Every time Eric stirred she jumped up, walked across me and stepped on him, and when he didn’t respond, she repeated her steps and settled down with me again, resigning herself to more time with me. This was repeated four times in the span of half an hour or so, until finally Eric stirred enough that I thought he might be awake, and I told him he better welcome Augustine before I reached my tolerance at being treated as second-rate.

Changes in Me
As referenced above, I am pregnant, due in September. This could be a post in and of itself, but due to my infrequency, I better address it now. Although not my first pregnancy, it might at well be with the way I face it. It’s as if I’ve never gone through this before, and I am more anxious this time around, knowing that I’m high risk. I think I’ve come to the conclusion that there is just too much information out there for pregnant women. If we look too closely at anything, we’ll find a reason it’s not safe in pregnancy. Pregnant women are supposed to sleep on their sides, and some places will tell you to only sleep on your left side or face the dire consequences – if any of you can sleep in only one position throughout the night without stirring, kudos to you. Don’t eat soft cheeses or sandwich meats, don’t stand too near a microwave when in use, elevate your feet throughout the day, take prenatals at least three months before getting pregnant, count the baby’s movements daily in your third trimester, and if they ever slow or vary, call your doctor or go to the emergency room. Some fish are okay, but not all, and only in limited servings. Avoid Caesar salads. And on and on.

My co-workers, all of whom are grandparents, drop their jaws whenever I mention one more thing I’m not supposed to do. Then they try to compare stories of all the things they did when they were pregnant with children, including ingesting alcohol. On a related note, I recall a story from a college classmate whose mother smoked but was told during pregnancy that as long as she limited her intake to three cigarettes a day, there would be no harm to the fetus. This was a big cutback to her normal habit, so sometimes she’d smoke only one or two a day so she could hoard the extras and treat herself to half a dozen at the end of the week. Things sure have changed in the medical field regarding pregnancies.

Sometimes I wander into a pregnancy forum, but there can be some alarmist posts, so I do that in moderation and I’m selective which threads I read. I’m at 19 weeks, and I’ve been feeling inconsistent movements for a few weeks now. I think I’m finally at the point where I’m feeling them on a daily basis, although they’re still of the “fluttering” variety, most apparent shortly after a meal or when lying down for bed.

Monday was the big anatomy ultrasound - our little one cooperated, so we learned we're having a girl! Since I’m considered high-risk, it was actually my fourth ultrasound, and they will continue on a monthly basis for the duration of my pregnancy. Physically I’m feeling fine, much better than my first pregnancy. And now that I’m feeling movements, my anxiety has decreased noticeably. However, since I’ve been down this road before, I have to keep reminding myself that if things continue as they are, we’ll have a different outcome, although I confess I am skeptical of this at times. I’m still mentally planning for the changes, keeping an eye out for things we may register for in the future and planning knitting projects for a future baby, but it’s still unreal to me.

Eric has asked when I want to start transforming my office into a nursery, and I’m in no hurry. I don’t want to plan on anything going wrong, and I’m honest in that my anxiety has been low as of late, but I don’t want to have to go through returning the nursery to an office again. I think I’ll be ready to move forward when I surpass 24 weeks, the point when I had complications last time.

Knitting
On the knitting front, I recently finished a hippo. I am in love with it. He is so charming and anyone who meets him just wants to squish him close – even my husband has granted it his seal of approval.

Details
Pattern: Hippo from Itty Bitty Toys (pattern link on Ravelry)
Yarn: Dream in Color Smooshy, held doubled throughout; small portion of Koigu KPM, held doubled throughout; spare black yarn for face embellishments
Modifications: None

I’ve since moved on to Giraffe, but I have trouble believing Giraffe can come anywhere near to supplanting my love for Hippo. The bar has been set pretty high. I have a couple other knit animals in my queue, but now that I know we're having a girl, I've gotten distracted. Brace yourselves for an onslaught of gender-specific outfits.

Preparing for Summer
We may have purchased a new car this week - my husband the planner thought we could upgrade my former car with one that boasted a better safety rating and half the mileage while we were both still drawing in full-time salaries. It doesn't hurt that I still get a moon roof and I now gained Bose speakers. And audio controls on the steering wheel? I don't ever want to go back!

Finally, I chopped my hair, partly inspired by the warmer temperatures, partly inspired by having had long hair for too long, and partly inspired by my youngest sister's adorable cut.

I'm enjoying the change. Now if only the warmer temperatures would stay...

A Tale of Two Weddings

[This was written last month, thus the November date stamp, but I'm finally getting around to adding the photos and publishing it.]

I am not objective when I see myself in a mirror. I remember when I was hunting for a wedding dress, I had trouble determining which ones I liked while wearing them. My older sister would take photos of me, and only later when I saw the pictures could I objectively determine which ones I liked.

When I began putting on weight after getting married, I didn’t notice how it was accruing until I’d see a photo of myself, and cringe as I thought, “Yikes! Is that how I look to others?” One thing after another contributed to the gain: Eric’s metabolism was higher than mine, so my natural grazing tendencies continued, but larger meals were thrown in as well; when we moved to Indiana, I was no longer on my feet teaching all day, so I was burning fewer calories; while at my desk job, sugary sweets were frequently offered, so while I have more salty cravings than sweet, I partook in the goodies so as not to offend. I probably averaged about five new pounds a year.

This weight loss – over 45 pounds since I was diagnosed last year this week – much like the initial gain, was gradual. A pound or two here or there is so little that I didn’t notice the subtle signs in the mirror. Even the smaller clothing sizes only count for so much. As a typical female, my wardrobe doesn’t consist of one size; we’re not so fortunate to have straightforward, objective numbers that correspond to clothing sizes like males do. In the past, I have had three different sizes being worn at the same time, all fitting identically but each brand choosing their own arbitrary classification for determining a size. And even with weighing less, I can still find my imperfections, so the different profile in a photograph still catches me by surprise.

At Halloween, a couple co-workers dressed up for a lunch potluck. I was helping one with her costume while someone else took photos. I wanted to see the photos later, and there was one of my back, adjusting a costume. My first thought was, “Wow! I’m skinny!” Pardon my vanity, but I’m still shocked at the transformation.

My older sister was married in February of 2008, and my dad was remarried this November 2009. While back home for my dad’s wedding, Eric stumbled upon a photo of me from my sister’s wedding, so I thought I’d offer a couple in comparison.

Here's the one of me in between bridesmaids being goofy while the bride and groom were photographed.


And here's one of Eric and me at my dad's wedding, deliberately trying to recreate the corny prom pose.


I couldn't find the exact one from my sister's wedding that Eric had referenced, but I think you get an idea of what a difference a year of weight loss makes.

The Panic Begins

Today is October 24, and I have about two months before Christmas.

I've determined not to put up our tree this year. Augustine was a terror the first Christmas we had her, as she found it to be the ideal perch from which to peer out the window. We've steadily tried to break her of this habit, aided partially by moving the tree to the corner and not in front of the window, but Dante is a larger terror with more potential to scale the tree or topple it over, so I've decided to spare ourselves the headache of two cats sparring in our Christmas tree by keeping it in storage.

Plus, Dante sees it as his personal mission to scale every height in our house. He was found on top of a door earlier this week -- his weight made the door slowly inch shut, leading to The Great Fall. He's also on par to rival Clifford the Dog's size -- without leaving the ground, he can stretch to the top of our dining table, and he can "catch" the laser beam two-thirds up our basement wall.

Sorry for the cat sidetrack, but there you go.

Anyway, we have other ways of making our home feel festive, however minimally, so the nativity scene will get a place of prominence and we'll blast Christmas records, bake holiday cookies, and burn candles that smell of pine.

Now I don't tend to get caught up in the materialistic side of things, as Christmas was always a small family affair growing up. But now that many of us like to partake in homemade Christmas on my side of the family, I'm beginning to worry as I haven't yet begun on any of my projects. I think I've established what I'm making for the female contingent, as well as the nieces and nephew, although I don't have all the materials gathered yet. I'm just hoping that while I'm completing theirs, I will have an epiphany about what the perfect gifts will be for the guys. Maybe they will be equally satisfied with getting a toy identical to my nephew's?

People shouldn't read this as I'm dreading making things for my family, as it's not that at all. I tend to find great meaning in giving and receiving handmade items, but as the leaves are becoming vivid in color and clogging our sidewalks, and as the meteorologist are talking of a rain/snow mix for the weekend, it's setting in that Christmas is not far off.

Then and Now

Per Rachel's request, here are some before and after photos. I had trouble finding a photo of just me, but here's one that was taken last November at the knitter's Christmas party. This was just a week or two before being diagnosed with insulin resistance.


And here is what a difference forty pounds make -- sorry for the head chop, but I'm not adept at taking my own picture. Besides being four sizes of clothes smaller (I know!), I particularly notice the change in my face when I compare it to my work ID or license. And looking at this, I notice I need to hem my pants.


So there you go! Don't you want to join me in my insulin-resistance diet? I'm on it forever!

I'll Take "Or Something" for $200, Alex

I’ve now lost 40 pounds since Thanksgiving, and I admit I wonder when it will stop, although the end is in sight. It’s certainly not annoying me because I understand my body will eventually plateau once it feels I’ve reached a healthy point, but I feel like I keep buying clothes, but “nothing” ever fits.

My favorite reaction to the weight loss was when one of our students who had been pursuing medical school for a couple semesters came back to defend his thesis. I saw him in the hallways and he glanced at me blankly and then looked away. I wished him luck, and he did a double-take. He said, “Oh, I didn’t even recognize you. You changed your hair or something.”

One Year

So today's one of those days where you don't know how to mark the passage of time. What's appropriate to honor a loved child all too soon gone?

One year has passed since having to say goodbye to our child. In a way, I'm amazed it didn't break us, and in a way, it's a relief. We made it past her original due date, and all the holidays without her, and what would have been her first birthday, and all the memories constantly coming to mind, and the frequent tears in private and in public, and we're still here. We feel as weak as all get out, but we made it through each day and we're both still here, both still together.

One year ago today, I was having an amazing morning. Although the doctors hadn't yet seen fit to discharge me, I started feeling more myself. The lethargy was still there, the dizziness, nausea, blurry vision, but my head wasn't as foggy as previous days and I could actually wear my glasses again with some success.

With my sister's aid, I was able to walk to the NICU, get a good report about Katherine from the nurses, and touch my little girl and get a glimpse of her eyes as she opened them. Everyone remained "cautiously optimistic," and that was catching. I was believing that this nineteen-ounce girl was our miracle child, serving as a testament to skilled doctors, advanced medicine, and a gracious God.


And no more than three hours later, we were being called back down, being asked to do what no parent should ever be asked. Take our child in our arms and say goodbye. The first time we held her was to watch as she left all too quickly.

I won't admit it's been easy. It's been a year of being fragile, feeling uncomfortable in large crowds, even when I know every individual. Fearing new relationships and casual conversations. Trying not to ask the impossible question of why. Allowing ourselves to be transparent when the need calls, and not feeling guilty when we find joy in life or when we need to distract ourselves from the pain.

I'm not sure how God is using this. And we will always miss our firstborn daughter. But scars and all, we made it.

Anniversary at the Fair, Part Two

While taking in the local county fair (much more akin to what was available at our state fair than my small-town-Iowa experience), I was drawn to examining the 4-H projects.

Several categories were familiar to me, like sewing, photography, and baking (although the latter was enhanced with a "Microwave Foods" portion).

Woodworking was another familiar category. Look at this roll-top desk.

And this beautiful piece was another stellar example, although compared to my fair growing up, the woodworking entries were particularly sparse and small in scope. Word has it that the overall projects had decreased in number from past years, due to the early dates of the fair as well as the hurting economy.

But I was struck with the new (or new to me) categories. Take, for instance, "Scarecrow."

Or "Architectural Model." I chose my favorite instead of the random LEGO scenes that didn't make sense to me, although this one only warranted a red ribbon.

Here's an example of "Farm Toy Scenes."

And three "Gift Wrapping" examples.

Finally, our favorite category was "Recycling," where students repurposed broken or incomplete items. Here is a bureau transformed into a snake aquarium.

Eric enjoyed this purse made from records and lined with fabric inside.

I marveled at this paneled screen transformed into a puppet stage.

Are these categories new to you as well? Or is this where I learn my small 4-H chapter was keeping me in the dark when it came to nontraditional categories?

Anniversary at the Fair, Part One (or "I Like Ducks!")

Today marks our sixth wedding anniversary, and it coincided with the local county fair, so we partook in the festivities.

Please enjoy my participation in one of the duck races. I volunteered at Eric's urging, but he didn't have to do much to convince me:



Since my duck won the race, I reprised my role in the finals round, but all I won in that race was the honor of being doused by the little girl next to me who was urging her duck on.

In my next post, I'll share some of my favorite 4-H project categories.