31 weeks and still ticking

All the stress and worry I had pushed to the furthest space in my brain about a recurrence of pre-eclampsia has been lost in a sea of hope for normalcy. All my life I have struggled against the idea of being average, of being mundane, of being utterly forgettable. This time, in this instance, I want to be forgettable...I want my pregnancy to be dull and boring and average. Last Tuesday, April 21st, was the same gestational age Gillian was when she was born. It is pretty humbling to have a pretty good idea of exactly the size the baby doing acrobatics inside my abdomen is right now (actually she's now 8 days older, and developmentally, that translates to about 4 ounces more weight and 3/4 of an inch taller):Every second she stays put makes such a difference in her size and (pretty directly corresponding) health outcome. Every week adds the precious weight she needs to help her be the "take home baby" I am praying for. I am more pregnant than I have ever been, and as uncomfortable as it can get sometimes, I am grateful. We are studiously attending the Birthways class Sarah, Megan, and Rox told me about, and it has been great (and you all were right-GOD, they show a lot of birth videos! all completely informative!!), and I am really hoping we get he chance to have labor this time. Thanks to Gillian's beloved Darla, who was willing to babysit every Wednesday through dinner and bedtime, for making going to class possible for us! So far (knock on wood) I have not even had one Braxton Hicks contraction ("practice" contractions that are pretty common by now) so I can say, completely honestly, that I have never had a contraction after having one baby and growing 3/4 of another one. Strange, I think.

So, I am well. Moderate heartburn, a little challenge sleeping and a little tired, but well. Not swollen up like the Michelin Tire Man. Not feeling off and dizzy and nauseous. Still wearing my wedding rings, comfortably. Still able to fit in every pair of shoes I own, comfortably. From behind, people say they wouldn't know I was pregnant, but I am pretty round in the front. I have gained more weight than I'd like, but not from being completely irresponsible (although the entire cake Sean and I ate in two days for my birthday was a bit much). I think I just gain a lot of weight when I'm pregnant. But, Spring is here. The trees are budding and the bulbs are blooming. There is the smell of optimism everywhere, and I am infected. I will carry this baby a while longer, I think. And when she is born, we will spend our days at the beach in the warm sun. I love the idea of having four or five glorious months, in the most beautiful time of the year, to spend getting to know eachother.

Because I'm worth it

I got my first pedicure ever today. One might ask which rock I have been living under the past 35 years, but for the most part I have never bothered with the finer aspects of girly primping. The thing is, I am now so pregnant, I haven't been comfortably able to reach my toenails to remove the polish from mid-March. That is how I justified today's indulgence. I quite enjoyed the splurge...it is lovely to sit in a massage chair, soak your feet in oil-scented whirlpool foot baths whilst reading a trashy magazine, then have a calf massage and toenail maintenance before a perfect polish job. I could get use to that for $12. I think I will make a habit of it until this little baby is born. I just feel prettier when my toenails look great. Just because it was my birthday last week, I got my third manicure ever today too. I probably WON'T make a habit of that, though. Laquer on my nails annoys me, and I assume my banjo playing won't give the fingernail job a very long life. Plus manicures cost more, and I can reach my hands. It was just fun.

Remember?

Some words have concepts that are difficult to grasp when you're 2 and a half. I almost always talk with Gillian about her day when I'm tucking her in at night. Lately she is trying to use the word and concept "remember" like I do. The weird thing is that she asks me if I remember events I did not experience with her. Today she asked me if I remembered "when Julie just sat there being silly" and "when Papa stayed with [her] at naptime today, a little bit"? I find myself saying things that are so simple I blow my own mind...like "No, honey, I don't remember that because I wasn't there when that happened. You have to be there when something happens to be able to remember it". That's a pretty abstract thing to attempt to explain to a toddler, but wow, I really didn't expect to have such trippy conversational fodder (perception of reality, on a basic level) with my Very Little Girl.

Incontinence

I realized that Gillian, my potty-trained wonder, and I are on the same plane when it comes to bladder control. Kind of humbling if you consider that you become more like a baby a few times in your adult life, one of which is when you're pregnant and your bladder is the size of a pea. I realize this when we headed out to the playground and the park today (we took full advantage of the beautiful weather today and were outside the better part of 4 hours-heavenly!! Spring is finally here!!!!). I have to drink lots of water, but I also need to know where the nearest bathroom is at every destination, and most routes, if need be. The weirdest thing at this moment is that oftentimes I feel like I have to go SO BAD and it's really not much at all. All of this tiny-bladderness is difficult...but even more difficult is the fact that sneezing or coughing fits can result in springing leaks, even if you just went.

Pregnancy is so glamorous sometimes. Ho-hum.

Pokin' and proddin'

Last week I got the results of my 1-hour glucose test, which is used to screen for gestational diabetes. The 1-hour test is taking after fasting overnight and you drink a very sweet (50 g of glucose) carbonated orange drink...within 2 minutes and then they test how much of it has been metabolized within an hour of drinking it. I failed the test, though not by too much. "Acceptable" ranges are below 140, and mine was 149. So, I was told I needed to do a followup "3-hour glucose challenge test"...which I did today. It was so much worse than the 1 hour. The drink is twice as sweet (100 GRAMS of SUGAR), and you have to fast for 14 hours. You get a baseline blood draw before you drink the sickeningly sweet glucose syrup, and a blood draw after 1, 2, and 3 hours after you drink it to see how you are metabolizing it over time. By the time I arrived, I was already starving, the drink is so sweet it makes you nauseous, and then you're not allowed to drink any water, cottonmouth or no, for three hours (and they draw blood twice from each arm). I observed that after I dosed the syrup, our baby freaked and did the spaz dance for about 40 minutes, then she and I both crashed, hard. I literally fell asleep sitting up at 9 am. I got super nauseated in hour 2, and my mouth felt like a desert. Then lots of lethargy, and weakness...and more blood draws. I drank my 20 ounce bottle of water as soon as the last blood draw was done. I felt really weird and out of it as I walked to the toward the train station and and grabbed a lunch I ate lunch rabidly. It was either the best sandwich I have ever had in my life, or I was hungrier than I've ever been in my life. Weirdly, half way through the sandwich I started to sweat and thought I might pass out. Strange sensation, but I couldn't stop eating because I was starving!

I suppose the point is that some tests like this feels like you are dosing yourself and your baby with a near lethal amount of sugar while starving and dehydrating yourself to death while getting four vials of blood drawn. Wait. That's what actually happened.

Now, it's wait and see. I am praying I don't have gestational diabetes. I don't think I can take cutting much more out of my diet. Ugh.

!Newsflash!

Suddenly on Friday, Gillian decided she was-for all intents and purposes-done with diapers. She wore her underpants all day with Anna, having one minor accident. We had an uneventful, accident-free dinner out together (though I came plenty prepared for accidents). This weekend, with the exception of sleep times, she was also diaper-free. She simply decided she wanted to "wear underpants like you, Mama, see?" Mostly, she just disappears only to reapper with the inner layer of her training potty full of urine to show me triumphantly. Each time, I make some observation about the amazing quantity of pee she produced, or tell her something equally as awe-inspired to make her feel like peeing in the potty is an accomplishment akin to parting the Red Sea. The only slightly disturbing part of all this is that she is now offering to wipe my behind for me. Now she's doing it, she's the expert. Typical.

I suppose this change of heart makes me feel pretty good about not pushing any of this on her. It also rewards our basic laziness of not wanting to bother with the pain of trying to potty train her. Justifying our laissez-faire attitude is our very real belief that a child as strongwilled as she is would have not done well with potty pressuring (I mostly think pressuring is not a great tactic in this arena for any kid). I can only assume doing so would have delayed things quite a bit longer, and it never made much difference to me when she potty trained. I figured she'd take a real interest when she was good and ready. I should also say that I am not assuming this little phase will stick. If we go two weeks peeing almost entirely on the potty, we'll talk. But you should have see how excited she was about peeing on the "little tiny baby potties" today at the Children's Museum. She could even flush it by herself. I'm not sure when we'll make efforts to lose diapers overnight/at nap time...we'll see how we do in the waking hours first.

Our endless numbered days...

Days like this day are like diamonds. They make me feel so desperate, and happy, and sad, all at the same time. Soon, Gillian and I will have fewer days like today together. Maybe our new baby will never have the chance to bask in the singularity of our love like Gillian has. We spent the day talking and reflecting and making and laughing. I held her tiny little hand and walked with her, everywhere. She wanted me to. I think of the power of her unbridled love and adoration for me, and I am so humbled by it's purity...and so heartbroken that it might ever change. The days keep rushing by, and sometimes I sit calmly at the Center observing and being-soaking this in, and others go by in some hazy jarble. I know the latter will be my great Regret in parenthood, no matter how I struggle to be fully present with my family. I just wonder where the time went? It seems eternities have passed since Gillian was my baby...since I watched her sleep for hours every day. And for a moment, as I watched her unabashedly flirting and laughing and dancing with her "new best friend"(-according to her-the Easter Bunny at Navy Pier (ah, the difference a year makes)), for that moment such a heaviness came over me I could barely catch my breath. How will I make the time for secret moments for Gillian when there is another child to steal my thoughts, and attention, and love? How do we make the new baby feel as special as we made our first feel? How do we cultivate enough love for two children and eachother to grow our garden?

I am aware that I am not the first parent on earth to feel a sense of near-panic when considering these things...our life is about to change forever, our hearts will stretch and pull to accomodate a new and burgeoning love again.


Where are you going, my little one, little one,
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four,
Turn around, you're a young girl going out of my door.
Turn around, turn around,
Turn around, you're a young girl going out of my door.

Where are you going, my little one, little one?
Dirndls and petticoats, where have you gone?
Turn around and you're tiny, turn around and you're grown,
Turn around, you're a young wife with babes of your own.
Turn around, turn around,
Turn around, you're a young wife with babes of your own.
-Harry Belafonte