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!"

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

Abdominal Ultrasound #2

My due date is four months from today. Hard to believe we're over halfway there.

I have been fighting a cold this week, and there were three nights in a row of miserable sleep. Night 1: Miserable sore throat. Night 2: Miserable runny nose. Night 3: Miserable cough. I checked with my doctor to see what I could take to relieve some of my symptoms, so when I went in Thursday for my monthly appointment, it had been after two miserable nights of sleep and a day on Sudafed.

My blood pressure was a little elevated, possibly explained away by the medicine, but I am going back in a couple weeks to verify that it is due to that instead of due to the pregnancy. That, combined with my uterus measuring slightly small for my dates, found me back in the doctor's office Friday for another ultrasound.

The technician scoffed at the doctor's concern, as my baby was measuring just fine, within three days of the due date; as she said, "He's trying to measure your uterus with a tape measure from outside your body, and he's worried you're off a couple centimeters?" But we did get another chance to see our little one, now at about 15 ounces.

At one point I caused Eric and the technician to explode in laughter at my expense. She had been measuring the baby's heart, head, and other areas, when I heard her say, "And here's the finger." As it was measuring several centimeters, I suddenly said, "Oh my gosh, that finger's HUGE!"

Eric corrected, "Honey, she said FEMUR." Um, yeah. I'm glad I can say that my child does not have ET's hands. I'd like to add my ears have been plugged, and it was probably distorted coming through the fog that is my head cold.

We wondered if we could find out the sex, and while our tech tried, our baby would have none of it. Her thoughts were that a child modest for two ultrasounds is likely to be a girl -- apparently boys have trouble keeping it to themselves. Although at one point, the hand was between the legs, and that made her question her assessment ("unless she's holding the umbilical cord and it happened to go down there"). So she said, with less than sixty percent confidence, a girl. I'm wondering if I should tempt fate and knit a girly sweater or a sun dress once I finish with my gender-neutral sweater.

Boy or Girl?

Yesterday was the day for our ultrasound. It was pretty amazing to see the beating heart with its chambers, and the brain, spinal cord, and the tiny fingers and toes of our child. Our little one is about nine ounces right now, and apparently everything is within one day of my due date, however reliable that is.

I'm just getting to the point where I'm feeling little flutters from our baby and my belly is extending, but since I've felt so well throughout my pregnancy, it's still somewhat surreal. It's hard to believe that I'm basically halfway through, so seeing the pictures is helping reinforce what's happening inside me.

When it came time to try to determine the sex, the technician ran into some trouble. Our little one, while squirming around inside me throughout, kept the legs together when we were trying to figure out whether we had a boy or girl inside. All the jiggling and jostling to get baby to be more cooperative was for naught. So finally our technician thought, if she had to guess, she would say girl, but she wasn't confident enough to put it in our report based on a side angle that was indeterminate. That said, we are moving forward thinking it's possible, and will likely refer to our child as 'she' unless we're proven otherwise. We figure if we're proven wrong we won't scar our child too much by referring to the baby with the wrong pronoun for a few months.

As Eric the philosopher concluded, we departed the ultrasound with "absence of evidence, not evidence of absence."

I'm Still Around, Just Not Apparently Blogging

Life has kept us busy. Eric's taking a medieval Latin class that keeps him more than occupied, and my ceramics class continues apace. While we're enjoying our respective pursuits, I think I speak for both of us when I say we're looking forward for our classes to end at the end of the month. They've certainly made my summer fly by, and I anticipate having the choice to decide what to do with my evenings again.

For our fifth anniversary last weekend, we went to Chicago. We filled our day with Taste of Chicago (good idea to give constant food to the pregnant lady) and the Field Museum.

At last week's doctor appointment, I was told I could schedule my ultrasound anytime before my next appointment in early August, so naturally I chose the earliest time, which is this Wednesday morning at 8:30 AM. We're really hoping to learn the sex, and Eric's hoping we will be told it's a boy since that would get us off the hook for baby names. If we have a son, we're set. Girl names, however, continue to stump us.

Physically, even though my weight is basically unchanged at this stage, I've noticed my belly is really starting to pop out. Yesterday Eric and I helped chaperone a day at the beach with the high-school students in our church's youth group. I wore a light maternity shirt and maternity shorts that a friend had given me, and they really emphasized the belly. Primarily due to my clothing, I had my first "spotted in the wild" experience. I was standing at the end of a long line for the restrooms, and someone checked the male restroom for occupancy, claiming, "It would be a shame to make a pregnant lady stand in line if she didn't have to." So I appear to have crossed the threshold of "maybe she's just put on weight" to "she's carrying a child," enough that a stranger had no qualms making the comment.

I'll try to not be such a stranger online. I should have a quick update after Wednesday's ultrasound, and as further baby updates come up, I will do my best to blog -- the odds are better after this month is done.

Family, Class, and Socks

It's been a busy few weeks.

Last weekend, two of my sisters and my maternal grandmother decided to surprise me for a visit. It was kept from me until they had some car trouble in Chicago. Their stories in what it took to arrive here were pretty amusing. I personally enjoyed Heather and Charity playing Cranium Jr. in the tow truck on their way here, much to the amusement of the driver ("Can you spell 'watermelon' backwards without writing it down?", "Act out 'slow motion.'"). The time went too quickly, but I was so glad to have them here. We were able to have some good food together, as well as Guitar Hero face-offs and while I was at work, the others took a tour of the Chocolate Factory.

Then this past week my ceramics class began. I'm taking it through the university. My schedule consists of work during the day, heading home long enough for a short nap and a quick meal, then going to class for a couple hours. It's nearly bedtime when I arrive home. In spite of the busy week, I'm enjoying it and am looking forward to my finished projects. We're working on coil vases right now, to be followed by a few weeks on the wheel.

In baby news, everything's still progressing as expected. I tend to tire more easily, and I can see the physical changes, but to the regular person, I haven't started showing. While visiting the friends in Minnesota a year ago, Kristy casually mentioned that her shoe size changed because of pregnancy. When I was shocked, she scoffed, "Oh, come on, Faith. Everything grows."

In my naivete, I thought I would be spared this until the third trimester. Come to learn that summer temperatures can exacerbate the swelling, however. So imagine my surprise a week ago when, looking for shoes to wear, I half-heartedly considered a pair of simple dress shoes I purchased a couple years ago that have always been a little too roomy for my taste. I needed to be reminded of how loose they were, and when I slipped them on, they were plenty snug and fit perfectly. That was a blow to my pride. While I realize I can't escape inevitable swelling or shoe-size changes, I was pleased this immediate swelling dissipated as the temperatures eased.

In the knitting sphere, Friday night I went to hear the Yarn Harlot in Oak Lawn, Illinois with Sandy. We left South Bend around 4:30 and returned home just before midnight. In between, we had some knitting as we heard her speak, then she signed her new book.


Since she often has a gallery of people showing off their first socks (in the above photo, we are holding her in-progress sock), I dug out my sock of shame, surprised I haven't yet unraveled it, and I brought it along. It was what taught me about the importance of gauge. To give you an idea, it would only work for me if I had a cast on my foot. Eric actually slipped it on, though, and other than being roomy in the ankle, it turned out that it fit him pretty well as a house sock. If you need to see my failure, scroll down here and look for one of the thumbnails. In my defense, I learned about starting with appropriate sock yarn and fastidiously checked my gauge for future attempts.

Finally, yesterday I went to Kayleigh's wedding.


I've only known her for a couple months, but I've had some fun conversations with her during our weekly knitting group and I was glad I got to share in their special day. It was a lovely wedding and they were both so cute (I can't say they're the cutest couple, since Eric and I sewed that up almost five years ago, but I can see I need to watch this competition).

The News Is Out...

Eric and I are expecting a baby around December 9th!

Our immediate families have known nearly as long as we have, and some friends have known for a few weeks, but just Tuesday I shared it with my office colleagues, and yesterday, after trying to nail down my elusive boss several times, I was finally able to catch him at 4:55 PM. Now I can widely share via the Internet.

With my first trimester essentially over, I have felt especially blessed. I have seen many friends and some family members go through pregnancy, and most of them had a rough beginning three months. I have had some olfactory responses that can send me running, but not on a regular, predictable basis, maybe once a week. In fact, the worst part was the week I had a touch of the flu. It's no fun to be sick to begin with, and when you add a pregnancy to the mix, not eating makes me pretty miserable. I have been more tired, however, and my after-work power naps have gone from 10-15 minutes to around 30 minutes in duration.

My sister Hope, mother of three, finds this a sad state of injustice, but it appears I lucked out with my mother's genes; it sounds like her pregnancies were similar. No wonder she went through five!

One amusing story. Eric's professor was holding a class reunion about two weeks after the
end of the semester (I think he took a page from my dad's book, who on his Czech English-teaching trips, holds reunions with the students about two days after classes finish).

Anyway, this professor enjoys his alcohol. When we arrived at his home, he asked, "What can I get you to drink? Beer? White or red wine? Pimm's?"

After some pushing, I admitted that I was pregnant, and he backed down. As he scrounged up some Sprite, he admitted his first response was, "Well, then, what the hell are you going to drink?"