A Letter to My Daughter: Five Months Old

Dear Brennan,

This past week you turned five months old.

I know last month I waxed rhapsodic about your awesome nighttime sleeping. And then we hit a sleep regression, which is apparently somewhat common in the fourth month, perhaps due to some neurological developments taking place. So while I mentioned how we almost missed those recliner nights, we've certainly had our fill this past month. No longer do you sleep through the night; instead, you wake up anywhere from one to three times between the hours of 1 AM and 8 AM. While nowhere near as taxing as your first month when we never seemed to sleep more than two hours in a stretch, it's still been somewhat draining since we've been so spoiled with sleeping through the night again. I'm hoping we only have another week or so of this. These last few nights, especially, have seen us acting as zombies throughout the day, which is the primary reason I am writing this letter a few days late.

It didn't help that I put in a lot of extra hours of work from home last week, often choosing to do so in the evening hours while you slept. On at least two occasions, I was up until midnight (or a little later...) working away to help with final preparations for the annual recruitment weekend. The additional pay was nice, but it made for short nights when you'd want to eat at 3 or 4 AM.

I guess I haven't shared about my work arrangements. I work 12 hours a week (over three days), and when I'm gone, your daddy watches you. In the beginning it was a struggle to get you on a normal feeding schedule - you were pretty strong-willed and didn't want to take a full bottle feeding, instead just taking in the bare minimum required to sate the worst of your hunger. This meant that Dad needed to feed you a couple ounces about every hour, and I never knew when I'd be feeding you when I took over again. But you've happily settled into a routine, content to eat every three hours during the day, no matter the method. We're also starting to see patterns in your naps as well. You only do bouts of 30 minutes on average, and you're only awake about 90 minutes at a time; if it nears the 2 1/2 hour mark (or longer), you're pretty miserable.

In other news, you continue to grow like a weed, staying near the top of the percentile charts for both height and weight. At your last appointment, you were 16 pounds and 12 ounces, 26.5 inches long and sporting a cranium with a circumference of 17 inches. In your rear-facing carseat, your feet can touch the back seat, so while you could remain in the carseat until 22 pounds, your dad is wondering if we should transition you to the convertible carseat sooner rather than later.


It can be harder to get you to take naps while running errands or at our small group if you're not asleep when we arrive. Before you were blissfully unaware of people, but now you want to take in all the sights. If you are fighting naps with Mommy or Daddy at home or in Daddy's office, complete with screaming and pummeling, we just need to take you someplace where people are located, and you will happily cease your tears and smile at anyone who will make eye contact with you to the point that no one would believe you were utterly exhausted. This makes us fear that two introverts have somehow made an extrovert!

You reach out for toys now and will play with your fabric books, even picking them up again after they've been dropped within reach. Your favorite toys seem to be the sets of plastic keys. You grip them and shake them with all your might. The crinkly elephant teether and the small pooh blanket also hold a special place with you, though.


You love to have a good vantage point from which to take in everything around you. While you still spend some time laying on your tummy or back (and have the corresponding bald spot to prove it), you love more and more being upright in your exersaucer or being supported in a sitting position. In fact, your legs are pretty strong as well, and you will happily balance on them and gaze all around for longer and longer stretches of time.

To aid in your desire to sit up and participate, we bought a booster seat. At this size you would barely get opportunity to use a Bumbo (one of those foam seats for babies) since you'd outgrow it in a few pounds, but this booster seat will grow with you through your toddler years, and it's portable so it will allow us to take it along if we'll be out in a friend's home at mealtimes. We have a swing that converts to a highchair, but as we still use the swing feature, this gives us a little more time before we need to switch it. Now you sit in the seat at the kitchen table while I make dinner or while daddy is on his computer and you gladly play with your toys or watch the cats. We're holding off on food until you're six months, but this booster seat has two separate trays; one that you currently use to hold your toys and books, and another one with divisions for food that will snap on to the existing tray at snack and meal times.


While you did some rolling over in late December and early January, we haven't seen anymore on that front for a while; I suspect this next month might have it making a reappearance.

You still get attention everywhere we go; we've always been biased as to your cuteness, but it seems the general population agrees that you're quite adorable. You ham it up and beam your huge smile at them, further perpetuating their belief that you are just beautiful. Those instances where we see a pout, though, still make me smile - it's so pathetically adorable I can't help myself!

Your eyes are still blue, but the jury is out as to whether or not they will remain that way. I'm hoping you'll keep your daddy's eye color, but I know my brown eyes are dominant. In other physical attributes, most people see more of me in you than your father, but you certainly have his ears (notable because I have an earlobe and neither you or your daddy do).

You get really excited when we change your diaper; raspberries on your tummy will make you laugh and you love to kick wildly as you smile. In another development, instead of simply raising your legs, you use your hands to help hold them up during a diaper change. I'm always amused when you want to continue holding them aloft when we're trying to affix the new diaper - you haven't quite figured out when to lower them.

The last couple weeks have seen a marked difference in your chatting - you love to hold "conversations" with us, and now you've added squealing to your repertoire.

I have to be careful around your hands now. You will clasp a necklace, my hair, or my glasses if they come into contact with your fingers, and if my face is near, I might find your fingers inside my mouth or gripping forcefully at the skin under my chin. It can be a battle to free anything from your fierce grip, so I'm having to be a little more mindful with what crosses your path.

I'm still waiting for your first genuine contact with one of our cats, particularly if you get a good fistful of their hair or tail. They still both seem to give you due deference, although they're not frightened. Sometimes, though, Augustine has forgotten that you're still small. During some recliner sleeping sessions she has happened along and wanted to join in...by trying to get onto your back. I keep pushing her off as she sets one paw tentatively down, but then she returns again and again. I only hope this means she and you will be good friends when you're a little older (she won't snuggle with just anyone). While she used to sleep alongside you on our chests when you were smaller, you take up too much space now for that to happen. Even Dante, who likes to be petted but rarely will crawl up on a lap, spent some time with us in the recliner last week. These are good signs.

Last weekend we traveled to Illinois to spend some time with Eric's family; they needed their baby fix (quite understandable). You wouldn't cooperate with any laughs for them, but you were in good spirits and traveled well. In honor of Valentine's Day, your paternal grandparents gave you an outdoor baby swing for our front tree, and while it's hard to believe you'll be old enough to use it this summer, June will be here before we know it, and I can't wait to see your excitement as we push you in it.

I suppose this is plenty of information on your last month. We're still tickled to be your parents, albeit a little more tired. It's okay if you decide to sleep through the night again - we'll still be there when you wake up, and we'll be even more ready to play!

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Four Months Old

Dear Brennan,

Today you are four months old. So much has already changed since we brought you home.

We've had some amazing laughs out of you. Initially it was in response to tickling, but last Saturday, while Eric was outside snowblowing, I put you in the exersaucer for the first time. Trying to interest you in the toys, I slid one mouse over the clock (it's Mother Goose themed). As it made a clicking sound, you laughed a great big belly laugh. I froze, shocked, and then did it again. You didn't disappoint, so I grabbed the camera, not wanting to miss this moment. You couldn't get enough. I would push the toy, you would laugh suddenly, then go immediately quiet as you looked at me. It was a perfect moment, one that nearly brought me to tears. I am still so honored to get to see you grow every day.



You had your first Christmas, yet you didn't show much interest in events around you - lots of staring, but little interaction. I know next year you will be quite the opposite, although if rumors hold true, you'll be more fascinated by the boxes, bows, and wrapping paper than the objects they hide.

You're more easily distracted. I noticed you were riveted by the large TVs our families had - it didn't matter what was on (news, football, or the like), you had to watch the moving shapes and colors. Even at home with our modest TV, I notice you turning to the sound and staring at it. This might limit when we have the TV on since it's starting to distract you from eating and I'd rather you not show an interest in it just yet.

You smile all the time. I have so many photos of you with your huge grin, and I love that you're a happy baby.


You grab toys now, not just ones that we place in your hands. In your bouncy seat, you grip the parrot especially hard, and on your play mat your fingers find the spinning toy. You love to kick objects, and it seems like when we change your diaper you are starting to learn to lift your legs out of the way.


You love bath time, and while we still have the baby tub in the kitchen sink, you're starting to get a lot of height with your splashing, so it's probably time to transition you to the bathroom tub in the near future unless I relish trying to clean off water from the ceiling.

You used to sleep until 7:30 or 8:30 AM, but you've now regressed to waking up around 6:30. This is especially hard on your parents after having been spoiled by several weeks of a good night's sleep, especially those nights when we're putting you down around midnight after your last feeding (you've usually been sleeping a couple hours by this point). I'm learning my night-owl tendency has been replaced by a desire to be well rested whenever you choose to rise, so I'm quick to jump into bed after putting you down for the night.

You are teething and have been showing signs for several weeks now. Yesterday we finally caved and gave you a half dose of Children's Tylenol, and today we graduated you to a full dose. I sometimes wonder if teething is to explain for your earlier mornings. You drool a lot now and you try to stick your fist in your mouth. You hate pacifiers - when we tried on multiple occasions to give you one, you act as if we're trying to choke you, so we remove it since your gagging shows us you're not a fan. In lieu of a pacifier, you suck on the side of your left hand. The reddened, dry skin along your thumb and forefinger show evidence of this. You haven't found your thumb, and I admit I'm not in any hurry to introduce you to it, since the side of your fist seems to placate you just fine. You also show signs of enjoying a teething ring, Sophie the Giraffe, and Ivy, a soft doll with knotted limbs you received at Christmas.


On a regular basis, especially when you're growing tired or fussy, I will catch that left hand in a fist against the back of your head. You've got a lot of peach fuzz now, but I can imagine you tugging on your hair or twirling it for comfort as more grows in.

You seem to enjoy books now, two of your favorites being Hippos Go Berserk! and Barnyard Dance. I think you are drawn to the sing-songy nature of the rhymes, and I still like reading them to you.

You sleep for about 13 hours a day, which leaves a lot of time to interact (your daytime naps seem to last 30 minutes most times, and periodically you indulge in 45 minutes to two hours, but it's hard to predict when those will happen). We read, play on your back and tummy, sit in mommy's lap facing outward so you can see what's going on all around, and even make use of the bouncy seat and exersaucer or a baby carrier.

I used to be somewhat nervous in the beginning - I think it's understandable given our experience with Katherine. It was hard to leave the room for long when you slept, even when I had the baby monitor on me. And when you'd suddenly sleep for much longer than normal, I'd have to check in on you to make sure everything was fine. A little congestion on your part had me looking up symptoms for RSV multiple times in the span of a week or two (sleepless mothers with newborns don't retain new information very well). And when someone at church commented on your complexion after seeing you for the first time, she said, "She almost looks a little jaundiced...but that might just be the lighting," I spent the rest of the day googling images of jaundiced babies and worrying there was a yellow tint to your skin when compared against mine. When I finally broached the subject with Eric that evening, he laid his hand next to your skin, and you were both the same shade. I'd been worrying for no reason. I tell myself that even though there has been plenty of grieving in my life with losing my brother and Katherine, that doesn't mean I'll only know sadness. You're doing much to bring joy into each moment.

Gradually as we're starting to see more of a routine emerge, and as my fear that something will happen starts to subside, I'm better able to balance my day. Your nap times turn into marathon cleaning sessions for me as I see how many baby clothes I can get folded and put away or how quickly I can clean the microwave, make lunch, vacuum, and the like. Sometimes I'll do a little work from home and I try to be pretty efficient in what I can accomplish in short order.

It's true babies change and grow so quickly. This week I put you in a purple vest I had knitted, and as I propped you in the corner of the recliner to take pictures, I marveled at how much older you seemed - sporting khaki pants, a long-sleeved white shirt, and this vest all while you sat propped up made me marvel at how quickly you're growing. Our joint naps in the recliner late at night or early in the morning are few and far between now, so even though it was a sign we were both tired, there's something sad about those days being mostly behind us.


It's fascinating to see how your sleep has evolved. In the early weeks, you seemed to sleep all the time, although you woke frequently to eat and seemed to sleep only while being held, so Eric and I were like two ships passing in the night, to and from the recliner with you. I remember being amazed at the night Eric and I were finally both in bed at the same time (although I usually ended up in the recliner with you around 4:30 or 5 AM until Eric relieved me when he woke up so I could stretch out in bed for some real sleep). In the midst of sleepless nights, we coped - the sun coming up in the morning did wonders to rejuvenate us - and while I wasn't sure how long before those days would end, on this side of things I see how quickly it evolved to you being able to sleep longer stretches in your bassinet or crib instead of jolting wide awake the moment we ever-so-gently laid you down.

You're starting to stir from your afternoon nap, so it's time I wrap this up. But know how much we love you. I can't wait to experience more new milestones in the coming days and weeks.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Three Months Old

[This was written last month but I've only now gotten around to publishing it, so I'm back-dating it to reflect the proper date.]

Dear Brennan,

You are now three months old.

I find that I repeat myself endlessly with you, in a sing-songy voice. Something along the lines of: "Oh my goodness, your diaper is SO wet! SO wet! How did it get so wet?! What are you doing with such a wet diaper?!" This isn't something I did before, so I'm telling myself it's something innate in mothers that probably aids in language comprehension. Sounds plausible, right?

You are a happy baby. I love that when you wake up, you entertain yourself by looking around and wiggling your legs instead of crying. You brighten up and grin when we pick you up, and the couple times I've caught you giggling in your sleep, my heart just melts.

People have commented that you have long fingers, so there is talk whether you will embrace the creative or the physical activities where this comes in as an advantage (for the record, we'd be happy whether you follow the route of pianist or basketball player). Apparently you have quite the complexion; I've also heard numerous mention of how good your skin looked, and I think the c-section is to credit as I see other photos of newborns with blotchier skin and the temporarily misshapen head.


You seem to know kicking your feet activates lights and sounds on your bouncy seat and activity pad, although the playtime quickly escalates into sleepy time, and if we're not quick to notice, you are not afraid to let us know - in very loud terms - how upset you are that you are now struggling to fall asleep. Those times of fighting sleep aren't the most fun for you.

I remember reading someone say they got through the hectic and crazy days of five children very close in age by reminding herself that she will one day miss it. Admittedly, you are pretty easy to take care of, but already I notice I am a little sentimental that you can now sleep through the night. I don't yet tire of reading simple storybooks or singing silly songs or dangling toys for you. And the moment these activities grow tiresome - if they ever do - I trust this adage will come to mind: "One day, I will miss this."

You never knew Katherine, but that was one gift she left us with. Every moment is precious. Sometimes I grow quiet thinking of all the things we've already learned about you and how that time with your older sister was cut too short. So I even treasure those moments you kick against me and scream because you can't fall asleep, or the times I have to rush out of the store suddenly before you wail, or lugging the much heavier carseat around along with a diaper bag and everything else. It is a gift to be a mother to you, and in parenthood, the hard days and the easy days all work together to form a lifetime.

Love,
Mommy

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).

Pregnancy Update

I reach 33 weeks Wednesday- here is a photo of me at 32 weeks. I've put on 23 pounds and it seems to be all belly (you can't tell I'm pregnant from behind).

It looks like I'm on track to have a big girl. At my ultrasound a couple weeks back, they predicted her to be around 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Of course, there is a margin of error, but we're preparing to have a decent-sized girl; in these remaining weeks, babies tend to add anywhere from a third to double their entire body weight.

I'm still strict with my insulin-resistance dietary guidelines. After the above ultrasound, though, the doctor wanted me to check my blood sugars for a week or two to ensure her size wasn't due to gestational diabetes but instead could be explained by genetics (I did pass my GD test a couple months ago, but it can develop later in the pregnancy). I go in again this week, but from my testing, it sure seems my blood sugars are always on the low end. It's been a welcome learning exercise to check my levels with such frequency; I sometimes feel weak and light-headed and had previously written it off solely due to my low blood pressure, but I've noticed I also have low blood sugar at those times.

My c-section is scheduled for September 15. We feel like we are prepared for her arrival. I still need to pack my hospital bag, and it wouldn't hurt if we picked up some baby nail clippers and a thermometer, but we have a place for her to sleep, clothes, a carseat, and diapers. There are still general jobs around the house we'd like to tackle, but she won't notice if the place isn't perfectly clean.

I have periods of nesting that translate to cleaning and purging. However, I'm also suffering from general tiredness, so I have to weigh what's most realistic at any given time. I've enjoyed sorting through things from a seated position, for instance, but I can't always run around the house to accomplish the other organizational tasks. I assess my energy levels and act accordingly. And Eric is willing to serve as my hands and feet when I just can't imagine another trip up and down the stairs.

Eric is still the perfect expectant father. There are more door-side dropoffs when we're running errands (he is sensitive to my ever-expanding belly, the summer temperatures, and my slowed walking pace), and he never faults me for asking a favor. I'm independent, so it's sometimes hard for me to ask him to fetch me something when I am beyond exhausted but am in need of food or drink, but he never complains or grumbles, so I suck up my pride and ask, knowing he won't make some snide comment about me being lazy. Of course, if he thought to mouth off, I might have him strap on a 25-pound weight around his midsection and wear it for a few weeks to see how he fared.

The pregnancy insomnia has subsided once again, but our younger cat sees it as his job to make sure I need to get up at least once to tend to him (i.e., kick him out of the bedroom when he turns into "Mafia Cat"*). This tending doesn't necessarily coincide with my other pregnancy-related trips out of bed in the middle of the night.

After my maternity leave, I'm only returning to work in a part-time capacity - three days a week for a total of 12 hours - and I'm looking forward to the arrangement Eric and I have decided on. When I come to campus, I will drop our daughter off at Eric's spacious basement office, which will be outfitted with a pack-and-play, a portable swing, and a baby carrier. I will walk across the grass to my building, work my hours, and then collect her again. If all goes well, Eric will be able to get some work done while enjoying some one-on-one father-daughter time, and I can contribute to our finances and still have some adult interaction.

My youngest sister is visiting next week. For the second summer in a row, she's chosen our place to crash after returning from overseas (last year was China, this year, the Czech Republic). I recognize there will probably be some jet-lag issues, and I can't take off the whole week to be with her, but I might put her to work if she's willing. I've got it in my head that I'd like to freeze some meals so we don't have to expand as much energy with food prep in the fall. I've got a few recipes to try, so maybe if she'd like to spend some time in the kitchen while I'm at work, I can set her loose. I suspect we'll fall in love with the freezer meals and our crockpot all over again as the fall sets in.

--

*Mafia Cat is Dante's nickname when he thinks it's time for us to shower him with affection or, more likely, get up and let him enjoy our screened-in porch (we typically let them out in the morning when we get up, so he's hoping if he wakes us up at 2 AM, the same holds true; no dice, but hope springs eternal). He goes to my bedside table and starts looking at me to make sure I'm stirring, then he begins knocking things off. I imagine his thoughts are as follows: "Look at this cute travel alarm - oops! Seems that in my clumsy state I knocked it over - let's hope it still goes off in the morning at its appointed time. And your glasses, nestled safely in their case. I wonder how well they'd fare after a trip to the floor. Let's experiment, okay? Wow, this is an awfully nice antique lamp. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to it. Ooh, look, it starts rocking when I jam my head against its shade or nibble on the brim!"

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...