...

I had a whole book to write as an update, but I hear Meghan freaking out downstairs and know that Jason will be running up here with her in a second. So...here are some pictures until I have a moment. (HA!)

The obligatory Bayleigh and baby shot. She's such a good dog. We never had to use those stupid mittens with the twins, but I can't keep up with Meghan's nails!


Baby Meghan (aka: Gummie - Figgy's new nickname for her new sister.)


Figgy and The Professor before their cousin's 1st Holy Communion.


The Professor snuck away to eat his corn-on-the-cob in peace. We had a barbecue after Mikayla's 1st Communion this weekend and he kept stealing everyone's corn!


Mikayla and Figgy (with a friend of Mikayla's) had a good time on the trampoline.

Funnies

Two funnies from today and then I'm going to bed...

We were driving to pick up lunch today and a truck pulled out from a side road about 1/4 mile away. From the back of the car I hear Ethan scream, "WATCH OUT! TRUUUCK!"

Ellie's new favorite comment in the car (have I told you all this? I forget.) is: "C'MON, person, MOVE!" Gee...I wonder where she gets that from?

We were sitting outside this evening waiting for our table to be ready at dinner. The kids were running up and down the sidewalk and Ellie noticed a particularly striking young man with blond, curly hair. He must have been about 20 months old, maybe? She ran up to him and his mom and dad and let out a very enthusiastic, "HI!" before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. His very own personal welcoming committee... My husband was mortified and my mom and I could barely contain ourselves. We were laughing hysterically, right along with the little boy's mom.

If you're anything like me, you gave up that mommy purse for a much more practical diaper bag and are longing for that little bit of style back in your life. :)

You know, I've spent my life questioning the idea of God. I was raised Catholic and felt that good old Catholic guilt for most of my childhood. I walked away from any idea of organized religion for many years because I felt abandoned by this God that everyone talked about. It wasn't until I met my husband and we decided we wanted to start a family that I began thinking about what sort of life I wanted to offer my family. We had just moved to a new apartment and there was a brand new Catholic church up the street. We figured we'd try it out, what did we have to lose?

The connection was immediate for me. The priest was a younger man and the congregation was fairly young, too. Lots of families with young children. We continued going and eventually registered as parishoners. We became active in the community and enjoyed our newly found relationships with the people in the parish. We were regular, contributing members for five years. Then, we had our twins. We continued attending Mass but, at some point along the way, had to stop contributing monetarily. We haven't contributed in two years. I should also say that our favorite priest stepped down as head of the parish and asked to be transferred to a smaller parish because he was feeling overwhelmed with the responsibilities of money collection and paying off the new mortgage for the church...

I called the parish office last week to arrange for Meghan's baptism because her Godmother was in town and I figured it would be the perfect time for us to do this. I was not prepared for what I was about to hear. Apparently, they keep a record of the registered members and how much they contribute, monetarily, to the parish. The woman on the phone informed me that we could not have Meghan baptized there. I asked why and she informed me that their records indicated we had not been parish members for two years. I informed her that she was incorrect, that we were regular members but had not contributed because of finances and moving. She was silent for a few moments and then asked where we moved to. I told her. Then, she responded with some deal about how our registration had faltered and that we'd have to re-register but that the new parish priest would not allow it. I asked why. She said that he did not allow young families with children that lived outside of parish boundaries to register because he didn't believe they'd remain active and actually show up for Mass.

I am speechless. It all comes down to money. It doesn't matter that we've been parishoners for well over 5 years, now.

I have to tell you that I am feeling greatly disenchanted with the Catholic faith and all things God right now. The last time I checked, Jesus didn't charge his followers for their baptisms. I've been feeling as though I've been forgotten, lately, and this just seals the deal. :(

I don't know why this is so hard for me to admit this time around, but I'm really struggling with this whole postpartum depression idea. I had it pretty badly with the twins and went to see my primary care provider early on. She's a mom of twins, as well, and knows all too well the individual issues we MoMs deal with that singleton moms never experience. I clearly remember breaking down in her office and begging her to help me. I was overwhelmed with extreme guilt because, after all, I had been to hell and back trying to have my kids. How could a woman who has spent her entire life only wanting to have children possibly feel the way I was feeling? We had sought out the medical community to have a child after a devastating loss and 12 years of being told I'd never have kids. We prayed with our priest. We made bargains with God. We promised. We begged. We cried. So, how is it after carrying those two precious babies in my body for so long, that I could actually feel the way I was feeling? Of course, I knew the answer. I'm a psychology major. I was premed. I know the logical answer to the question...but that was other women.

So, how is it that after two years of successfully raising twins, that I find myself back in this position? I knew what to expect. I planned it out, perfectly. I prepared myself and asked for help from friends and family so that I could avoid this.

Yet, here I am. Again.

I'm feeling hopeless. Agitated. Anxious. Angry. My thoughts are irrational. I can't sleep. I have moments of suicidal thoughts. I truly believe my family would be better off without me. Then...a moment of clairy takes over and I realize I'm being completely irrational.

My husband stayed home with me the first week. Bless his heart, he tried his best. Men just don't understand, and he's no exception. He tried, he really did. But, how can you possibly understand unless you've been there? So, my mom stayed home last week and I can't possibly begin to explain the relief I felt, instantly. I slept. I nursed. I enjoyed my two year olds because someone else was paying attention to them. My stepmom arrived on Saturday and I know she has the best of intentions, but she isn't being a world of help. It's nice to see her and to visit with her, but she came out here with the intention of helping and hasn't done that. She brought my aunt with her and they show up to the house around 11:00 in the morning. I've explained that I need help early in the morning, but apparently the traffic is just not ideal for them. So, rather than showing up to actually help me while I try and adjust and figure out a schedule and routine, they show up an hour before lunch and sit on the couch while I prepare lunch, feed the kids, change diapers, feed Meghan, and get them in bed. And then, of course, I feel the need to keep them company. So, instead of napping like I really should, I am sitting downstairs with them. Add to that the fact that she smokes like a chimney, I'm buiding big resentments because I don't want her holding Meghan while she reeks of smoke. As a result, I'm limiting her contact with the baby.

So, here I am. I'm 18 days postpartum and I'm exhausted and finding myself back in the same spot I was two years ago. I feel like I should be able to pull myself up by the bootstraps and move on. I feel like I should be ready to go and have everything figured out by now. After all, I've been doing this on my own everyday for two years.

I feel like a tremendous failure tonight.

Nearly a week, now.

Things are going beautifully here. I feel like I don't have much time to sit down and respond to e-mails, but I hope you understand. :)

Meghan is simply a marvelous baby. She's definitely a most demanding baby, more so than I remember either of the twins being, but it's okay. We are still dealing with Figgy and her mommy phase. I cannot keep her away from M. Not that I'm trying to, mind you, but let's remember that we're dealing with a 2 year old that doesn't realize she's being rougher than she should be. So, the hugs turn out to be squeezes. There is such a fascination with her when she sleeps and that seems to be the time when Figgy wants to be near her most. What we have always known is that we will not keep them apart and away from one another because I don't ever want any of them to feel like they're less important. Now that I'm feeling better, physically, I'm quite content with allowing Figgy on my lap while I'm holding Meghan or feeding her. Neither kids understand the concept of breastfeeding and are constantly bringing their sippy cups over with their milk in it. It's cute. The Professor is afraid of Meghan, I believe. He constantly talks about her, comes over and says hello, makes sure to tell me when she's crying and she is the first person he asks about when he wakes up. BUT...he will not touch her, hold her, kiss her, or sit on my lap while I'm holding her.

We have a weight check scheduled for tomorrow with a bili check as she was slightly jaundiced on Monday at her appointment. I think I mentioned that I simply love their pediatrician. She walked in and gave me a big hug and then sat and just held Meghan while we talked about the delivery and how the twins are handling having her here. She talked about possibly supplementing formula to get Meghan past the jaundice and could sense that I felt disappointed with that option as I really wanted to be successful with the breastfeeding this time around. So, she jumped back in with other options such as walking her outside in the sunlight (among a few other ideas). She called later that night (Monday) just to check in with us. We're really lucky to have such a great practice, especially after the disaster of a practice we were with for the twins' first 6 weeks.

The Professor and Figgy have reached a new phase. They are parroting everything we say. Every question is repeated. Every word is repeated. The Professor can count to 6 on his own while counting his cars. Figgy has finally taken to sitting still for a few minutes to play with something...anything. LOL! I'm just happy she will sit still for a moment. :)

I have always made sure they make eye contact with us when we are giving instructions or disciplining them. My phrase of choice has always been, "_________(Ethan/Ellie) look at me..." and then I will tell them what I need them to understand. This way, I know that they're not preoccupied by something else. Well, Ellie has decided this is her new catch phrase. Meghan was crying the other night and Ellie went up to her and said, "Meghan, look at me....SHHHHHH!" We were outside for a walk today and the kids were getting close to the creek at the bottom of the hill by our house. My husband was down with them, but I kept saying, "Hey, guys...be careful!" Ellie turned to me at some point and said, "Mommy. Look at me. Caaaareful!" My daughter has a sense of humor. Oh goody.

Well, that's it for me, folks. I've topped the kiddo off and tucked her in, so I think I'm going to go curl up and hope for a few hours of sleep. I've made my way upstairs, finally, and will try to sleep in my own bed with my husband. I've been sleeping downstairs in the living room with Meghan because it was too painful to sleep laying down. Let's see how this works!

Baby Meghan is here!

Meghan? Where did that come from? We're not sure, either. :) I know we talked about it at one point in time, but it just wasn't one of our "that's it!" names.

I started with minor contractions last Monday (April 6) that were approximately 15 minutes apart, but not patterned. I had my peri appointment and then my ob appointment that day and my doc told me to call once they were patterned and a few minutes closer together. I spent the week feeling weird, not sure how else to describe it. Thursday, I was really off kilter and postponed my morning trip to Target with the kids after my appointment. The baby looked good that morning and the bpp was great. I went home and just took it easy the rest of the day. By afternoon, I had a deep desire to get my errands run and get the pantry stocked with snacks for the kids. Picked up my husband from work, along with my mom, and we ran to Target. Coming out of the store, I turned to my husband and said, "I think I either just involuntarily wet my pants or I'm leaking fluid." Either way, we knew dinner needed to be eaten so we headed over to Red Robin and got the kids something to eat. Midway through dinner, the contractions picked up hard and steady. Timing-wise, I was measuring 12 minutes, so we headed home and got everything taken care of. I climbed into the shower and wasn't sure if I should call my doc. I gave it another 24 minutes, then called her and she wanted me to come into l&d to be looked at. Once I got there, we all started chatting and they hooked me up to the monitors. After about 45 minutes of gabbing, the nurse checked on the contractions and wanted to know why I wasn't saying anything about them. Turns out, I wasn't feeling them. I was feeling the stuff that was off the chart, but not the basic ones that were measuring 4-6 minutes apart. LOL! Turns out my pain tolerance is higher than I originally thought it was. Between that, the slightly elevated blood pressure and the low-grade temp, it was decided we would go ahead and deliver. I was in the operating room within 30 minutes with my bp crashing and Jason being told to wait outside. Once that was controlled, he was allowed back in and the delivery began. All told, it took an extradoridary effort to get her out. She was so big and comfortable that they had to use a vaccum to get her out - during a c-section!

Megan was born shortly after 1:00am and weighed in at 9lbs. 6oz. and was 21" long. :)

We're home after talking my doc into letting us come home a day early (Sunday vs. Monday) and I'm feeling an unusual peace. This one newborn thing is a piece of cake, I must say. She is a nursing champ, which shocks me because it didn't work out with the twins. It's all a very new experience for me; for us. We're enjoying every moment of it and feel tremendously blessed tonight.

Quicky...

Thank God we didn't get our puppy because we needed/wanted a dog for protection. As you can see, she takes her guard duties very seriously. :) (This is how we find her 9 times out of 10 when we come downstairs in the morning.) I love her so much. She is as much a part of this family as the children are and I honestly believe she enriches our lives more than we could ever hope for without her.



Ellie has discovered (rediscovered, I should say) her ballerina tutu. I pulled it out of the closet and it has become part of her regular attire. Little man is currently obsessed with the play Dirt Devil vacuum that I purchased mid-year last season. They were having a grand time this afternoon and it was such a pleasant surprise to catch this shot.



No baby news. Docs are estimating (and re-measured five times on Thursday) our newest addition weighs in at 9 lbs. Highest estimates are 9.13. Lowest is 9.00. We all know how much stock I take in those measurements...But, I'm terrified that these estimates are going to sway my doctor's view of a VBAC. The specialist has said it is absolutely 100% impossible for me to have a VBAC. My thoughts on this are that these specialists are men who couldn't handle the challenges our bodies face in childbirth. I will fight for my VBAC.

Time flies!

Where has the time gone? I tell ya, we have been so busy around here getting ready for the newest addition.

The kids are doing marvelously. They continue to push boundaries and question everything. Elizabeth is a smaller version of me when I was 17. My mom tells me I was more like Ethan as a child in the sense that I was very laid back, quick to learn, and listened well (for the most part). Elizabeth is what I eventually became in high school when I learned that I had a voice and liked to use it. LOL! She does not have the time to sit still for anything, other than a quick book, which she really does thoroughly enjoy. As a result, she's not one to sit and learn while mommy points out the words or colors. Ethan has mastered his colors and tells you the color of everything around him. Elizabeth has mastered pink and black, but that's about all she wants to talk about. Ethan can spell TRUCKS and TOES from memory. He does this thing that I'm convinced is "picking" through the alphabet in his head. I'm not sure how else to explain it, but if you ask him to spell one of those two words, he will begin as normal...

"T" no, no, hmmm, no... "R" "U" no, no... "C" no, no, no, hmmm... *pause* "K" "S". Then, he turns to you and very excitedly chirps, "TRUCKS!" It really is as if he's picking out the letters, or if his brain is sending him the letters and he recognizes that it's not the right one. Very strange.

Ellie has taken to wearing her ballet tutu around the house. I picked one up on etsy.com shortly before her first birthday and she wore it for Valentine's Day pictures (2008). As I was cleaning out their closet last week, I found it and took it downstairs for them to play with. Now, she wears it all the time and even out to dinner the other night. LOL! She is our dancer and singer and will stop everything to sing you a song if you ask.

Both have been uber snuggly as of late and I am savoring every moment of it. Whenever we're near the hospital, they both chime up, "Mommy! Doctor, see baby?" They're so accustomed to my twice a week appointments that even if we're just going to Target (next to the hospital), we must be going to see the new baby. They have been phenomenal through this entire process and I couldn't be happier with their progress. I am confident that we will have no transition issues when we bring the newest addition home in a few weeks.

Nothing new on that front, other than the toxemia scare. I went in for my regular appointment last Thursday and the specialist sent me across the street to see my regular ob, who sent me straight to l&d for several hours. It's funny to me how the male specialist jumps to conclusions and is quick to ignore me. My ob was fuming when she finally got up to the ward and realized just *why* the specialist sent me in. You see, I have a long history of intense heartburn in pregnancy. I have to take a higher prescription for it than normal in the last trimester. It's normal - FOR ME. After the twins were born, they were confident that the problem was my gallbladder. Unfortunately, that wasn't the issue since they took that out during emergency surgery two weeks after the twins were born. Add to that the headache that I had for three days and the fact that my bp was (to him) higher than normal, all signs pointed to toxemia apparently. Well, let's break it all apart and take a closer look. The heartburn we've talked about. It's normal for me. The headache? Stress and sinus related, I'm sure. BP? It was only 130/80. My normal bp (and this has been consistent throughout the pregnancy) is 116-118/60-68. So, while slightly elevated, it was really not a reason to freak out. I spent all morning in l&d hooked up to monitors, unable to drink anything because they were sure I was going to be induced. Ugh.

I had a follow-up appointment yesterday and my cervix is soft, yet firmly closed. I have another ultrasound on Thursday to measure the baby. If they're right, then we're looking at an estimate of about 8.5 pounds. Like I've said to many of you, I take no stock in those measurements as they're notoriously off. It's a nice guess and a party conversation, at best. We shall see, though, what the specialist jumps to do. We're all operating under the guess that *someone* will insist on inducing next week. It's a good thing nesting kicked in last weekend and I'm just about finished with everything that needs to be done! I can't find my receiving blankets from the twins, so I'll go out tomorrow and pick up a few new ones. Otherwise, I've divided all of the baby clothes. We have five big bins from Target. One is a "gender neutral" bin of newborn clothes. We have girl clothes separated into 0-9 months and 12+ months. The same with boy clothes. Then, which ever baby this is *not*, we can sell those clothes or donate them.

I know there is more that I wanted to talk about, but I'm exhausted and my fingers are killing me. I'm going to go curl up in bed for the night.

I send my love to all and hope that everyone is well!

I'm sitting here trying to think of something to report. The dog is staring at me. She has taken to watching every little move I make, as if I'm going to go into labor at any moment. She did this when I was pregnant with the twins...at about the 34 week mark. She's such a momma dog.

The kids are good. We're really having some issues with Figgy and her behavior, but rather than elaborate on the bad, I'll choose the good. She's so smart. Her vocabulary is booming and she lights up the room when she runs (because, let's face it, the child never walks anywhere) in. Her eyes sparkle with a shine unlike anything I've ever seen. She worships the ground her brother walks on and I love to watch them together. She imitates him a lot of the time, too, which is interesting. The Professor has learned his colors. Blue. Green. Red. Pink. Black. Figgy has absolutely no interest in learning anything other than pink. She'll catch on, eventually. They have been wrestling so much lately that we're almost positive they're secretly planning on trying out as the WWE's next tag team. You very rarely hear any complaining from one of them when they're doing this. In fact, there is a laughter unlike anything we've ever heard.

We've been super busy with preparations lately. We're trying to get our bedroom in some sort of shape to manage a pack-n-play in this space. My brother and his family came over yesterday for my birthday and we all went out to dinner. When we came home, he and Jason moved the large entertainment center out of our bedroom and into the basement. The next step is to vaccum the heck out of the space that the ec was in. Do you have any idea how large the dust bunnies are?!?! Oy. The next step is to move the bed and change the fabric on the headboard, then put the rest of the furniture into place. I built our headboard a few years ago and we change the fabric on it to suit our moods. The latest is a sea green color, meant to be soothing. I have to go through the last of the baby clothes and get two more containers to separate them into. Since we know the gender of this baby (still pissed about this), I'll keep the girl clothes close but not get rid of the boy stuff just yet. I'm holding out hope that the tech really does just call all babies "she/her". I'll be overjoyed if this baby is, indeed, a girl. But, the thought that the surprise has been ruined just devastates me.

I'm still having twice weekly ultrasounds (Monday/Thursday) with the specialist. We had a particularly bad visit last Thursday that left me hysterical and nearly unconsolable. My blood sugars spiked, again, in the early morning hours for a period of three days. The scan itself took nearly an hour and then the doctor came in and poked around for a few minutes. He asked me to meet him in the other exam room because we needed to talk. On the way to the exam room, he asked that I leave a urine sample. When I got in the room, he started poking around on my legs and ankles, asking about swelling. I assured him there was no swelling (and he found the same). He was certain my blood pressure must be through the roof. Nope. 118/68. At this point, I'm thinking he's hinting at pre-eclampsia. Then, he gets back to my blood sugars and I tell him that I was thinking it could be the Tums that I'm overdosing on. The Zantac isn't working and I'm waking up at 2:00 and 4:00 throwing up, essentially, a fire ball. So, I wondered if the spike had something to do with the Tums that I'm taking in the middle of the night. "Could be. Get sugar-free." But, then, he jumps to the fact that I shouldn't be having such bad heartburn at this point in the pregnancy and there is concern about the nausea and vomitting. Okay. Let's backtrack for a second to the twin pregnancy. I threw up every single day of that pregnancy, save for a few weeks, until the day I delivered. I even came close to throwing up on the table that morning. So, it's normal for me to be sick like that. I also had fireballs from heartburn until the very end. To me, this is normal pregnancy stuff. To him? No. His answer? "I think your liver is malfunctioning and I want you to get a panel of bloodwork done." That's it. Nothing more. No elaboration? He doesn't have time to talk. He never does. He hands me the labwork with two boxes checked off: one of them is under organ disease and is called hepatic liver.

To top all of this off? The tech was teasing me about how big the baby is and called her a "gordita." I shrugged it off while in the room, until I looked at the picture she gave me and noticed she typed it into the picture! So, I have this sweet headshot of my daughter with a note that says, "Gordita."

*sobs*

My poor husband has never seen me so upset before. The kids were trying so hard to cheer me up in the car. I dropped Jason off at work and the next thing I know, my mom is trying to get a hold of me. You see, my husband and mom work for the same company so he stopped by her desk on the way up to his and told her about the visit. My mom NEVER gets involved in anything, but ended up sending an e-mail to the doctor.

I'm going to see my ob next week and will ask her for a referral to a different specialist. I shouldn't have to go through this at the end of this pregnancy. I've shrugged off everything else, but this really was the breaking point for me. I only have 6 weeks (if that) left. They keep telling me the baby is way too big at this point (6 pounds 11 ounces - ESTIMATED). I keep telling them (the specialist) that they're wrong about the due date and that I don't have any faith in their measurements because they were so off with the twins. They tell me they can't possibly be wrong about the date because it was based on fetal measurements at 6 weeks. I tell them they're absolutely wrong because the date of conception that corresponds to their due date is physically impossible. There's no way I conceived when they say I did. I'll be in the history books if that's true.

So, that's it from our little neck of the woods. The kids are thriving and I feel like I'm doing *something* right in that regard. I seem to suck at being able to carry a singleton pregnancy. What else is new, though? I suck at almost everything I attempt.

Sunday, Sunday.

This was the only peaceful, smiling moment of the day. That is all.

Our first video...

LOL! Okay, let me first explain this. Ethan has this facial expression that he makes when he's upset. He rolls his eyes into the back of his head and puts his little hand up to his forehead, like, "Are you kidding me?!?!" He's suuuuuuuuuper dramatic about it.

Tonight, neither kiddo was interested in eating dinner. In our house the rule is very simple and clear. Mommy makes dinner. One dinner. Everyone eats it...or doesn't eat it. Either way, it's the only thing being made until you can make it yourself. Harsh? Maybe. But, the reality is I don't have the time or desire to make several meals.

So, Ethan proceeded to do his little silent tantrum.

Enjoy! :p

These are the moments...

Figgy had a bad spill this evening as she came tearing across the living room with the dog following closely behind. She smacked her head against the play fort and really let out a wail. I jumped up (as quickly as I possibly can these days) and grabbed her to comfort her. As I curled up on the couch, the Professor (who was across the room, playing with his cars) jumped up and started yelling, "Sissy! Sissy, oh noooo!" She was sobbing that sad little sob where they gasp for air. He was trying so hard to comfort her and make her laugh, but nothing was working. So, he leaned in and kissed her on the nose, put his head on her shoulder, and rubbed her back with mommy.

These are the moments that make it all worthwhile.

A rare moment in time.

I feel like I've captured a shot of Bigfoot or The Loch Ness Monster!

We had a very early appointment today with the perinatologist, so that meant everyone was up before the sun. I quietly went into the kids' bedroom and couldn't resist running back out to grab the camera. I NEVER get to see Figgy this sweet. ;)

She loves that Panda that she's curled up with. When she's put in her crib at night, or in the afternoon for nap, she lays on the Panda's back and then wraps her arms and legs around it. I find it rather sweet to know that she snuggles with it like she does. (The white fabric you see is part of her crib tent.) If you look closely, you'll also notice Ethan's crib is right next to her crib. He will not sleep unless he can reach out and touch her. Before she was climbing out of her crib, we had the cribs together and both drop sides down so that they could sleep together. He was having horrible nightmares and this was the only solution. Once she started climbing out, we had to put a crib tent on and it took Ethan a while to get used to that. Now he is content with the idea that he can still touch her if he needs to and to know that she is right there.

As far as The Professor goes, I'm shocked we found him on his tummy. He is, typically, a back sleeper and will have one blankie in his left hand, one in his right hand, and another one by his head. You'll notice there are three blankies in his crib (two that are partially under his tummy and the one in the corner). I had to tie one blankie to the slats in his crib because he would toss it out in the middle of the night and then cry for it. You'll also notice the zebra and giraffe that are on the floor near his head. Those start out in his crib, every single night and at nap. He MUST have them in his crib or he loses his mind. Within five minutes of closing the door, they are thrown out and remain on the floor until the morning. I'm not sure what that's all about. :)


When I brought them downstairs to get them dressed (our normal routine), Figgy went to one of the chairs and The Professor found his "living room" blankie in the corner, where he proceeded to curl up on the floor and go back to sleep. I went over to him and tried to wake him up to get dressed. His response was a very sleepy, "Momma. It's dark."

Needless to say, Figgy got dressed first, this morning.

One of those experiences...

The internet is a strange, strange place. I have developed friendships with people I have never met. I gather a great deal of strength from some of these women and in a lot of ways, that sucks because I know they'd rather not have to deal with the tragedy that they do. Who wants to be "that person" who gives someone else a great deal of strength and purpose at the hands of losing/almost losing their child? I know these women would gladly trade places in a heartbeat.

Thanks to a few of these women, I know more than anyone would ever want to know about PHACES, Chiari malformation, Neuroblastoma and a few other rare issues. It is because of their struggles that I am a stronger woman, a more determined mother and an advocate for what is best for my babies.

New bikes

Clearly my children get their sense of humor from my mother. LOL! The kids have been in rare form lately and tonight, as we were announcing bed time and Jason told Ethan to get off of his new bike, Ethan looked at him, waved, and said, "bye-bye sucker!"

I think I nearly peed my pants; I haven't laughed that hard in so long.

I also picked up new bikes for the kids this weekend. I've only managed to put one together (now I know why Santa drinks so much on Christmas Eve) because I don't have a PhD in "toy assembly". Anyway, they love it and I'm quite certain they'll be whizzing around by the time summer arrives. We'll practice every Thursday at our community center where they have open "ride-on" play for kids under 4.

The bike...

Darn all of you who actually plan and follow through!

;)

So, the woman who makes me laugh decided to purge this weekend. Not only did she decide, but she actually had the audacity to follow through with it. As I look around me, I am reminded that I've been saying the same dang thing for several months, now. Gone are the days of throwing up for hours on end and not having enough energy to blink, let alone clean. So, what is my excuse? Procrastination, perhaps? Lack of energy? Lack of desire, maybe? Nope. It is sheer laziness and I am the queen.

We have to get this stuff done before the new little one arrives. It is all in the master bedroom, which will be where this baby sleeps for the first six months or so (until scheduling is mastered).

Dismantle entertainment center and take it to basement.
Find a place for husband's 500-piece DVD collection.
Remove makeshift desk and try setting back up the laptop.
Find a better spot for craft supplies.
Move shelves to basment.
Suction summer clothes into those handy vacuum bags before summer is actually here.
Remove 1/3 of closet clothes and put them in bags for AmVets next week.

So, why do I tell you all this? It is because I need to be held accountable and I think this might help me knowing I've shared my secret with you all.

Sunday

Bought a new car. Minivan.

If I step back and think about all of those hopes and dreams I had back in high school, driving a minivan was so not one of them.

Be a mom. Check.
Be a wife. Check.
Be a friend. Check.
Love completely. Check.
Be a good daughter. Check.
College degree. Check. (One of the top 5 biggest mistakes of my life, by the way.)

Nope. Driving a minivan wasn't on that list.

Busy day tomorrow...my twice weekly ultrasounds are still priority. After that, I have to run to E&E's doctor to get E's test results so that I have them for the specialist on Wednesday. Then, I have to run to the hospital to get the scans from his tests. Somewhere in there I have to be a mom and keep the kids fed and entertained. Oh, and clean the house and make dinner. Jason is sick, which never happens. He has an immune system like Fort Knox. Me? I pick up every living organism and it invades my body like the freaking plague; especially when I'm pregnant. My friend Kristy, the immunologist, has an explanation for that and it makes sense.

Taxes are coming, soon. With our refund, we'll be able to pay and close one credit card (leaving only one open), our line-of credit, my dentist bill and a small chunk to the bill leftover from the twins.

$2000 down, $175k more to go.

Friday night

So, yesterday evening we ran over to the mall to pick up new shoes for Figgy. She's finally able to start wearing regular shoes (we still have to follow-up every few months for her hip issue and the feet) and we went into Stride Rite. While walking around, afterward, I buckled over in severe pain. I was in tears in the middle of the mall, which is so unlike me. I could barely walk. It passed once I sat down and I was fine. Fast-forward to this evening. I was getting up from changing diapers and we were going to head out the door to go pick up Jason and the pain hit me, again. I fell to the floor and had to sit there for a few minutes. Then, it hit me. I hadn't felt the baby move all day. Now, normally it's not a big deal because the baby sleeps all day and I don't typically feel much from her/him. But, beginning about 6:00 every night (like clockwork), my belly starts moving and dancing. I can feel the baby all night and everyone around me can see my tummy moving. I went to pick up Jason, picked up a pizza from our favorite local pizzaria, then headed home to hang out with my mom. When we got home, I sat for a few minutes trying to wake the baby up and get some movement. When that didn't work, I came upstairs and laid down for 10 minutes, shaking my belly, pushing and proding, and just laying still. Absolutely no reaction.

So, I called my ob and she sent me over to L&D. She initially wanted me to go to the closest hospital, but I talked her into letting me come over to my normal hospital. Once there, they tried to get some movement but were unable. I got settled into bed and they hooked me to the monitor and immediately picked up baby's heartbeat. I broke down sobbing and I think finally took a breath. I don't remember much of the drive to the hospital. Jason and I were both silent, thinking the same things...what if? It wasn't an instant relief, though, because baby's heart rate kept dropping from 150-ish to the low 100's. So, I spent a great deal of time rotating from left to right and we did a number of NSTs while I was there. After three hours, we were able to see improvement in the heart rate, but not enough that the nurse felt confident. So, she hopped on the phone with my ob, who headed over to check me out on her own. I have to tell you, I'd marry the woman if I could. I absolutely adore her. There is no other doctor in this world quite like her. She was phenomenal and had me laughing by the end of her visit. Even Jason loves her. :)

I'm home, now. All is well, but the joke between the nurse and our doc is that my body doesn't seem to know how to just grow one baby. I did so much better, pregnancy-wise, with the twins. This pregnancy has been much more difficult.

I am convinced this baby is a girl.

Tuesday Fiona Witt

http://www.half12.blogspot.com