40 weeks and one day

At 8 a.m. today, we head to the doctor's office to see the progress of little Amelia. I'm assuming we'll be told about induction (what a dirty little word) if she doesn't come by some point. I just need to last until Saturday night, although Sunday morning would work, too.

Sending vibes to our little Munchkin now ....

Happy due date!

The day has finally arrived -- July 19. It seemed like so long ago that I circled that date on any calendar I could find. And, at nearly 5 p.m., the day will pass.

It's not all bad, though. Many co-workers incredulously balked at my answer to the dronish question -- you're still here??. I replied, why yes I'm still here. And I plan to work the rest of this week because my little brother is tying the knot on Saturday. I have to be there to celebrate them!

Here's to hoping ...

Baby's first O's game

Brent and I met friends in Baltimore and cheered for the home team against the A's last week. Of course, the Orioles lost, but I got to hang with the Oriole Bird him/herself!

37 weeks

We have our next appointment at 8:15 this morning. On Friday, nothing was really going on labor-wise, so I'm not expecting anything fantastic tomorrow. Just the run-of-the-mill listen to the baby's heartbeat and see if she's dropped any farther.

(Heehee ... I know. I can't even type that with a straight face! There's no such thing as a run-of-the-mill listen to Amelia. I can't wait!!)

Man Hands

You know that episode of "Seinfeld"? Yeah, today was definitely a Man Hands day.

So much for wearing my wedding rings till the end. I've retired them until little Amelia makes her debut.

Our 36-week appointment

At 8:45 a.m. today, we're heading for our first of what I hope will be several weekly appointments. Now that we're on the home stretch, the docs will be "checking" to see if any action is happening. Part of me wants to go early enough, so we aren't left in limbo for my brother's wedding.  (Plus, I can't wait to really snuggle this little munchkin.) But then the other part of me wants her to extend her stay until July 25, so everything is manageable and together at the wedding. Either way, whatever will be, will be.

I've just never been the most patient person. Please, please don't send Amelia an eviction notice July 22 through 24. (Heck, the nighttime of July 24 would even be OK.) I will be at that wedding, I will be at that wedding ... I WILL.

Shower No. 3

I know, I know. It's boring reading about all of the showers we've had, but I just have to tell you about our third one! My mother-in-law threw a bash in Berrysburg, and my parents came with us. The boys went to hit golf balls, and Mom and I hung out with the ladies.

The gifts were mostly of the hand-made variety, especially my MIL's baby blanket. You know, on a funny note, Amelia is due in July, yet we have close to 10 blankets. She'll be set come fall and winter, that's for sure!

Beat the heat?

So, it's supposed to be close to 100 degrees today. I knew that a summer baby would mean lots of air conditioning, but that only does so much when it's sweltering outside.

Still, I think I'm handling the swelling pretty well. I haven't had to take my rings off yet, and my shoes still fit. I'm taking that as a small victory.

More blessings

It's been a while, but I wanted to put up a quick update. Our wonderful friends at the office threw Brent and I a surprise baby shower a few weeks ago, and it was unbelievable! We received so many adorable outfits ... a jogging suit, handmade knitted sweater and too-cute-for-words sets ... just to name a few.

We're so lucky to have pals like this! The cake was awesome, too.  It was made of all cupcakes ... mmmmm

One of the best days ever (cont)

(Check out the first post here.)

Mom decked the house with safari animals galore, and you should have seen all of the lengths she went to. Unbelievable. We dined on shrimp salad and chicken, there was a diaper cake (pic to come on that one), little animal beanie babies were everywhere. A zebra here, an elephant there. Gerber daisies in glass baby bottles dotted different tables. And you should have seen and tasted the cake. To. Die. For.

I could go on and on and on ... what an awesome day. Overwhelmed doesn't begin to describe it.

Normal, normal

We had our 35-week doctor's appointment today, and everything is A-OK. Amelia's heartbeat was around 144, and she was pushing back against the fetal monitor. Oh, it was too hilarious.

The midwife checked her position, and she's still head down. I even was able to feel her little noggin, with the midwife's help, of course. She's continuing to kick away at my ribs ... and I'm loving every minute of it!

Just a quick post

I have officially dubbed today and Sunday "put stuff together for baby weekend."

Look out -- stroller, changing table, dresser, blinds, clothing, crib, etc -- HERE WE COME!

Amelia will be here in five or six weeks, give or take. And this is our only free weekend until July 10. Needless to say, we have our work cut out for us.

Welcome to Bawlmore, hon

Finally, we satisfied our cravings. Remember this post about Brent feeling the pinch?

Saturday night, it was time to crack into a few lovelies. Mmm...

One of the best days ever

You know when you look back on  your life (yes, I'm "only" 28), and you can pinpoint events in your life that you know you'll remember forever?

Those include college graduation, when Brent proposed on the Golden Gate Bridge, our wedding day.

I'm adding my baby shower on Saturday to that list. My mom completely pulled off the surprise of a lifetime. Mom knows how much I love surprises, and she told me about two weeks ago how it was getting difficult to plan the baby shower, so she was just going to tell me it was June 12. No other details would be divulged. I didn't mind -- the summer fills up quickly, and who knows when Amelia will make her debut. Oh, and don't forget my brother's wedding in July, too!

Anyway, my brother forwards everyone an e-mail -- mom, dad, Brent, his fiance and me -- from the wedding coordinator at the Rusty Scupper, where the rehearsal dinner is going to be. He wanted us all to go for a tasting.

So, we woke up Saturday morning, I mowed the lawn, Brent trimmed and I couldn't wait for a relaxing evening.

Long story short, Brent dragged his feet endlessly at home. I sat in the car in a huff, complete with my arms crossed, annoyed that he was taking so long. I sat there fuming," Why is Brent taking his sweet, old time?? Tom and Jess set this special tasting up for us, and I don't want to let him down by holding him up!"

I quickly moved from the passenger seat to the driver seat. I'm a much faster driver, so I knew I could get us to Towson by 2:15. We pulled into my parents' cul-de-sac at 2:14 p.m. Perfect. On the drive, Brent talked animatedly about all sorts of things.

But then as I tried to find a spot on the street, I was amazed at how many vehicles took up space. I turned to Brent and asked, "Wait a second, is this the shower???" He said no.

Then, I walked in the door and everyone yelled surprise. I nearly died ....

Sympathy cravings

I've been lucky enough to avoid any pregnancy cravings. Some others I've talked to crave slushees or chocolate or certain drinks.

Yesterday, I figured out why I'm not the one with the cravings. Turns out, hubby is such a nice guy that he's taken that part of pregnancy for me. (What a guy!)

He e-mailed me this:

"I think I officially have sympathy cravings. I am so hungry for crabs with Old Bay right now, and I have no idea why."

Of course, I can't blame him. All things crabs top my favorite food list for every meal. In fact, I could go for a crabcake right now. 

Amelia's chariot

That's what my mom dubbed our new Honda CR-V. Based on the last blog post, it was a sticky situation. The dealer was trying to upsell us, which just made our skin crawl. In the end, Brent was able to work out a deal and we drove home our brand-spakin' new vehicle.

House? Check.
New lead-free windows? Check
Crib? Check.
Safe, reliable, big(ger) car? Check, check.

There is plenty more to do before our daughter arrives, but domestication, HERE WE COME!

(or, more accurately, we have arrived)

Today was a long one

We were buying the CR-V, we weren't buying the CRV. Then we were buying it, then we walked out on the sale. And now it could be back on the table.

Is your head spinning? Mine certainly is.

So, about mid-afternoon in an effort to escape the craziness, I thought I'd run a few errands. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the grass next to our little Morgan. I never thought that a cemetery would bring me peace or calm my head ... but it was so beautiful. The brisk breeze, the warm sunshine, the sweetly singing birds. I just closed my eyes and cried ... and talked to our baby ... and ultimately felt better.

I feel a little morbid admitting that I found solace in a graveyard. But I think it's more about being with Morgan.

More "funnies"

On my latest trip to the ladies' room, a person in another department stopped me on my way back to my desk. (You remember the last comment, right?)

This time, the "joke" was:
"You should really get a hospital bed pan for you to have at your desk, since you're peeing so much."

Why is she counting the number of times I pass her?
When does she have time to analyze my bathroom habits?
How is this her business?
What will people come up with next?


The point? I need to use the other bathroom more.

Go to the head of the class

We're finished with two of the four-class baby series. Two Wednesday ago, we learned about the "happy" stages of labor, which is stage one. Nothing much happening and things are moving right along.

Last night, I wished that I could have just stopped learning right there. Last night, the class was much different filled with painful words, pictures and a movie. "But," exclaimed the teacher, we'll get down and dirty next Wednesday. (I think I'm coming down with a cold ... I might have to miss.)

Still, I did learn a lot. We talked about "relaxation" techniques, which felt great 12 hours ago. In the heat of the moment, well, I guess we'll find out. At least I feel armed with more useful information of what to do. The first class was more an overview of this is what is going to happen, when and how to time contractions and tips for the coach.

I think there's a line between learning enough that you are not fearful of the unknown and learning too much. I'm not sure where I am right now ... but next week's class does not look promising.

Best. Purchase. Ever

I surprised Brent once again, and went against what I said I wouldn't do.

I bought a fetal heartrate doppler. (The other major milestone I said I wouldn't do -- find out the sex of the baby.) We told ourselves that we don't need to add the extra anxiety and stress of one night not being able to find the heartbeat for some reason.

Now that I can feel her moving every so often and especially now that she's about three pounds, I figured why not? I do worry when she has a quiet day, so the doppler seemed like the logical choice. Of course, I read a ton of reviews, and this is what we settled on.

And I L-O-V-E it. I even brought it to Baltimore so Mom, Dad and my brother could hear it. So exciting!!

The countdown is on ... less than 10 weeks, Ms. Amelia Margaret.

I'm sorry, what was that?

So, earlier this week a co-worker called me a "tub of lard."

Yes, you read that correctly.
No, it was not an over-dramatization by yours truly.
Maybe, she was joking.

But this isn't a woe-is-me post. This is a what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-some-people post.

The offender works in another department, and she's a regularly chatty woman who likes to "joke." Maybe she thought she was being funny? Here's how it went:

I was walking back from my gazillionth trip to the ladies room. This woman was chatting up another woman at her desk, and then glanced up in my direction smiling. Woman B asked Woman A what she was smiling about. "Oh, just laughing at this tub of lard coming my way."

Without missing a beat, I threw lightning bolts in her direction and continued walking to my cube. She kept talking to me as I lumbered by, shouting after me. "Laura, you know you're adorable. I was just joking."

Now, I know that I can have thin skin at times, just ask my dad. And I'm not actually that angry about it. But I'm not that friendly with this person, and honestly, my own friends wouldn't even say that to me .

It comes down to this -- when you make an offensive or potentially offensive comment to someone, hurriedly spitting out "just kidding" or "no offense" does not negate the ignorance of your previous comment.

So ... there.

A belated Mother's Day

What a bittersweet holiday.

It was so wonderful to celebrate Mother's Day with my husband at Mass when they did a special mom and mom-to-be blessing. And we ate brunch at the Milton Inn with my parents and brother. (One of the specials? Lump crab omelet. Delicious!)

But a smidge of me -- well more than a smidge -- missed Morgan. I must admit when we found out we were pregnant, Brent and I talked about how for the next Mother's Day and Father's Day, we'd have a little one all to ourselves.

Yes, we have beautiful Amelia growing and kicking and rolling around inside of me. And I am so in love with this little person who I haven't even met yet. But I want to remember our first child, who flew to Heaven on angel's wings. Because, after all, Morgan made me a mom, too.

Phew! That was a close one

I passed! I passed! I passed! No need to cram or pull an all-nighter. My three-hour glucose tolerance test came back "normal." (Oh, how I love that word. Normal.)

After flying through the one-hour test, the subsequent one took a bit more of a toll -- fast for 10 hours, wake up at 5 a.m. to arrive at the clinic by 6 a.m., chug 100 ML of this sugary orange drink that didn't sit too well, get stuck four separate times for blood drawings. Oh, and I had to stay in the windowless room for all three hours.

The bright side? There was a cot to lie down on and a television. Anywho, it's over now and I passed.

Once again, I issue the plea -- Get here safe and sound, little Amelia!

Pros at complications

See that blog title? That's Brent and I. After losing Morgan, the hematoma, dire predictions and other issues, I've now failed the one-hour glucose test.

The call came the other day. Apparently, levels are supposed to be between 70 and 139. (The level of what escapes me.) Well, I clocked in at 155. I didn't think that was too much higher than the limit, but the OB nurse who delivered the news thought otherwise.

"Well, it's still quite high, ma'm. You'll need to take the three-hour glucose tolerance test within three days."

Considering that they called Friday (even though I took the test at 6:30 a.m. Tuesday), I will not be getting the test done in three days. So, that's that.

On Monday, I have my 29-week appointment at 8 a.m. So, the glucose test is now scheduled for 6:30 a.m. Tuesday. Oy.  I've read in several places that a lot of women fail the one-hour and pass the three-hour. I'll be chugging a liter of some sort of sugar-water equivalent after fasting for 12 to 16 hours. Then, blood is taken every half-hour. (Warning: Do not taunt the bear Monday night. Why would you make a pregnant person who is hungry all of the time fast?)

And, really, if most people fail the first and pass the second test, what is wrong with the first test? Anyway, here's to hoping the first test was a fluke. Of course, if I have gestational diabetes, then we'll just deal with that, too. Come on, Amelia. Get here soon (although not too soon) and healthy, please!

It's wedding season!

With Lucy in Berrysburg, Brent and I are headed to a friend's wedding this weekend in Frostburg, Md. Hubby is one of three groomsmen, and he's certain to look dapper in his tux.

Luckily, Mom and I went shopping a few weekends ago and found two cute dresses, one for the rehearsal and one for Saturday. If I wouldn't have had her help, it might be a little scary what I would have ended up donning. Ha!

I'll post pics soon.

Can you hear that?

The past two days I really didn't feel the little girl moving very much. At 28 weeks, I'm supposed to feel her at least every two hours. I'd go much more than that during the work day. Maybe I was busy. Maybe I wasn't paying attention. But those maybes weren't settling my mind.

So, this morning I called the doctor. While I have been counting kicks (you're supposed to have 10 kicks/punches/swishes/rolls in 10 minutes twice a day morning and night), Amelia seemed to have slowed down lately. The OB nurse returned my phone call, and I made an appointment for 2 p.m. today.

Arriving, I wasn't sure what to expect. They hooked me up to a stress test machine and a contraction machine, each with its own belt wrapped tightly around my tummy. At first, they couldn't find the heartbeat. The weird part was that we could hear her scooting around in there.

Eventually, the beautiful lub-dubs echoed out of the machine. It fluctuated between 98 and 148 beats per minute. Brent and I were told this is normal because it shows elevated brain activity. When the baby is smaller and younger, the heartbeat stays at the same rate because s/he can't regulate it on its own. Usually around 32 weeks is when the baby can start to react to what I've eaten, my activity level and her own activity level. So, it corresponds accordingly.

Anyway, here's little Amelia. I just couldn't wait to hear that sound until Monday at our next appointment. I can definitely say that Mommy is going to sleep better than ever tonight.

(PS. I'm working on getting the audio in here. It's not cooperating right now.)

Our latest home-improvement

There's nothing like a baby on the way to turn the to-do list into a to-done list. While I won't go into "THE" list, here's one achievement put on the books by hubby. My parents bought us a chandelier for our second wedding anniversary (so great!), and Brent installed this a couple of weeks ago.

The 200-mile relay race

Last year at this time, a few friends and embarked on the 200-mile relay race from Gettysburg, Pa., to Washington, D.C. Called the American Odyssey Relay, it's dubbed by runners the 24-hour race. (Except it took us closer to 36 hours, but who cares? We finished!

Anyway, that race pushed all 12 runners to push themselves to the limit mentally, physically and emotionally. You looked at the stars differently as you ran beneath them in the dark, screaming on your fellow teammate. You saw the sunrise in all of its pure glory as it rose above the Antietam Battlefield. You were one with the world, while your muscles screamed beneath you begging to just .... stop ... already.

And it was one of the best times of my running career. It was also before I experienced the most sorrow I've ever felt.

Brent and I are volunteering this year, since we've been blessed with little Amelia. I hope to be crammed into a stinky van with five other runners in 2011. In the meantime, we'll be cheering on The Fighting 69th from Shepherdstown, W.V. Although we're volunteering from 5 to 8 tomorrow morning, we'll be leaving York around 3 a.m.

PS. A fellow teammate snapped this picture as I headed out on my first leg of the race. The hill grade was nearly 65 percent, and it was straight-up hill. I have to admit that I'm not missing this leg.

Spring has sprung

There  are three lonely tulips on the side of our house, but at least they survived the winter and my brown thumb!

My parents felt Amelia!

I was in Baltimore this weekend, while Brent was at a bachelor party up North. Mom and I zipped around town, running errands and gabbing. When we arrived at their house, I decided to lie down to rest my barkin' dogs.

Sure enough, this little slugger started her exercise routine. Mom came running over and felt her immediately! So much fun ... then, I went downstairs and told Dad to come feel my tummy. He started laughing and was a little hesitant. After a few moments, she moved and then moved again.

He said he didn't feel her move, but then goes, "All I felt was your heartbeat."

"Heartbeat? That was your little grandchild!" I chided with a smile.

This is just too much fun.

Fourteen weeks left today

I never thought we'd make it to this point. You're told that a miscarriage means you're fertile. You're told that you're the most fertile after one. But I never thought we'd make it to 26 weeks.

Our little girl made it 17 weeks past Morgan. She beat the massive blood clot that grew right next to her. She defeated the odds the doctors gave her, laughing in the face of a 30-percent survival rate. Amelia grew and grew.

I'm truly amazed at the miracle this child is. While all children are a blessing, this one is a fighter. I'm so proud of her, and deep down, I know this scrappy attitude will most likely come back to haunt her daddy and I!

At 6.5 months, her eyes are starting to open and she weighs about two pounds. Unbelievable. Read more here.

I'm not lucky, I'm blessed

A story came across the wires the other day at work. After my posting about our wedding anniversary, I was reminded once again how blessed I am to have Brent. Yes, he can drive me crazy sometimes. But without him, I wouldn't be me. And without his strength, I still would be stuck in that scary dark abyss over Morgan.
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Another loss can follow for couples who lose a pregnancy

By Karen Kaplan
Los Angeles Times

LOS ANGELES - Scientists have had a hard time finding data to support the widespread notion that parents are more likely to divorce following the death of a child. But a new study finds that the risk is indeed higher for couples after a pregnancy goes awry.

Researchers from the University of Michigan Medical School used nationwide data on U.S. families to track the outcomes of pregnancies and the effects on parents. They calculated that couples who experienced a miscarriage were 22 percent more likely to break up than couples whose pregnancies resulted in the birth of a child. The increased risk persisted for three years.

Things were even worse for couples coping with a stillbirth - their odds of splitting were 40 percent higher, and the risk persisted for nine years, the researchers found.

About 15 percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage (the loss of a pregnancy during the first 20 weeks of gestation) and 1 percent end in stillbirth (loss after 20 weeks), so the number of relationships that end in the wake of these losses is significant, according to the researchers.

The study will be published in the May edition of the journal Pediatrics.

Extremely powerful documentary

Children are a miracle, a special gift from God. Not all parents deserve children, not all parents are, well, parents at all.

This is a film produced by the York Daily Record. It keeps the memory of 2-year-old Darisabel Baez alive in the hearts of many. Child abuse should never be ignored.

See the 20-minute video here. You will never be the same.

Our anniversay

April 5, 2008, was one of the happiest days of my life, and it still held true in 2010.

Hubby brought me a dozen beautiful red roses and the most perfect card. I think it was written just for us. I'll have to type it up to show you the ooey gooey-ness.

On top of celebrating our wedding anniversary, we also had our 3-D ultrasound. Words can't explain the emotions ... or the happiness ... or the utter excitement. Pictures get that across a little better.

On top of the 10 pictures ultrasound technician Tim gave us, we also have a DVD.

A. MAZ. ING.

Our little girl wriggled, sucked her thumb, gave us the thumbs up and yawned twice. (Although Brent thinks she's warming up her vocal chords with Bob Dylan lyrics.) She's absolutely breathtaking.

One step at a time

We made it through. Five days after Morgan's due date, I still can't shake the sadness. I awoke at 5 a.m. this morning just thinking about him. After lying in bed for a half-hour, I finally decided that the sandman would not return. So, I went into the kitchen, made myself a snack and started writing.

I wrote down the thoughts swirling inside my head about Morgan, the circumstances we dealt with and the process of grieving that never seems to completely disappear. In a way, I'm happy that the sadness isn't gone because that would mean I'd be forgetting. And I never want to forget.

But as I wrote about the funeral, I was reminded of the future by several light kicks from within. Our little one on the way in July is who we live for, who we keep putting one step in front of the other for. And I never want to forget that either.

How is it possible to still grieve, yet rejoice in the same moment? Motherhood sure is confusing.

March 25

Brent went to three different stores to find the perfect present for his first little one. And what he found was simply perfect. The fluffy, soft lamb and the beautiful wreath gently leaned against the flowers we put there a few weeks earlier.

Darkness was creeping up on us as we stood, hand in hand, looking down at our baby's grave. But we didn't care. Nothing was going to rush our visit -- we prayed, told Morgan how much we miss him and plopped our kisses on the stone.


The real news was that when we walked up to the marker, there was this little bunny stuck in the ground right next to the stone. Brent and I quickly looked around at the other baby's graves, but Morgan's was the only one who had it. Who put it there? It wasn't my parents, and no one else really knows where Morgan is.

In the end, all that matters it that our child has more visitors than just his parents. And that warms my heart beyond words.

It's disappearing

Last night, I opened Morgan's box. It hadn't been opened since I closed it a few weeks after his funeral

My fingers delicately touched the dried flowers. I leafed through the cards -- both congratulations and condolences -- people sent us. My eyes met the ultrasound pictures with sadness.

As I stared at the photo, I realized that it seems to be getting darker. The little peanut in the picture is fading into darkness. And that was the end of me keeping it together. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why is it fading? What is going on? This is my only tangible memory.

And it's disappearing.

I think that is the hardest realization today.

Missing you always, my little love

My due date was March 25.


We guessed at when the baby would come -- March 22 on Mom's birthday? Or maybe on one of the other extended family member's birthday? Or would the baby have a day all to himself?

Turns out, Morgan does share a birthday with one of my uncles, September 5.

I'm missing you always, my little love. Daddy and I will see you tomorrow.

I won

After nearly two weeks of being haunted by the plague, I've made it to the other side. (But still taking meds for me ear infection.)

News in babyland: I witnessed the strangest thing since becoming pregnant -- seeing my stomach move. I've felt the little peanut in there since week 17, but the other day I saw something roll across my stomach from the inside. If that's not enough to make you giggle, I don't know what is.

The only unfortunate part was when I saw her acrobatic moves at Mass. I was following along in the missalette. Lo and behold, during the second reading, she bobbed and weaved. I started smiling and then had to stifle my laugh. (No one else found the adulteress being stoned funny, after all.)

Looks like Munchkin is getting me into trouble already!

Nursery time

As some of you know, I had a bit of a squirrelcidence Thursday night. But that is one blog post that is simply too exhausting to rehash right now.

Saturday morning, my family is coming to paint the nursery!! I'm so excited. My brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law gave me a "day of labor" for Christmas, and I plan to use those (give-or-take) eight golden hours carefully. As a super-added bonus, Mom and Dad are helping with the house. (This is on top of Mom basically disinfecting our entire house on Friday. Not sure I'd ever get close to repaying her for that one.)

I promise to post pics of our little one's new abode soon.  In the meantime, I'm still

Now, it's official

On Sunday, we were lounging around before heading to Mass. I was on the couch, and Brent in the papazon chair. (You know, those things that Pier 1 sells.)

The baby has been rolling a lot more lately, and every so often the kicking/punching ups the power amps. As my stomach came under assault, I hurriedly told hubby to come over. He jumped up, spilling a few drops of coffee and sending the puppy flying off his lap.

(Now, usually, he'll get to me and then there's nothing. Or, there's movement, but only I can feel it from the inside.)

I told him to stick both hands on my tummy. And then, WHAM, a big kick/punch right below my bellybutton. I stared at Brent for his reaction. He was still looking down. Annoyed at the lack of reaction, I asked, "Did you feel that?!"

His steady answer (as only Brent can answer): "I felt a fluctuation where my thumb is."

"THAT'S THE BABY, SILLY!" I half-laughed incredulously.

"Hm. Then, yeah, I felt her."  (Gotta love the German stoicism.) Just wait until he can see her moving inside of me! That will really freak him out. Although, deep down, I envy his calm nature. That is certainly going to come in handy come July.

Happy 20 weeks, two days, munchkin!

This morning, we had our ultrasound and regular OB appointment. On our drive there, I asked Brent if he was anxious. He put into words what I was thinking, too.

"It's weird driving here without the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. And that's making me anxious."

 Good point. Sadly, we're so used to go to the doctor's preparing for bad news or just so-so news. This time, it's allllllll goooood.

The baby is in the 60th percentile for weight, the stomach, kidneys, bladder, spine, etc. are all in working order. Tim (our ultrasound technician BFF) told us "everything looks textbook. And this is the one time you want your baby to be average." (AMEN!)

 Beating the odds never felt so good. Happy half-way, baby Burkey!

Day care update No. 1

Friday night, we headed to a woman's house close to our house. She has an in-home day care, which I found on Craigslist. My expectations weren't the highest, but I thought it was at least a place we check out first. Boy, was that a mistake! She didn't show us around the house (despite us prompting), she had to get the certification and license that is required by the day (why wouldn't you offer that first?) and a whole host of other negatives. So, she's crossed off.

Then, on Monday, we stopped by a bigger day care on Route 30. While exciting and much better organized, Brent and I went into sticker shock. This baby isn't even out of my womb yet, and she's going to cost a fortune! We go to see a few more in the next week and a half. Hopefully, some place will meet our needs, expectations and budget.

To the ends of the Earth

We finally had a free weekend all to ourselves. No working. No parties. No nothing.

It was blissful. All three of us, including puppy, slept in until about 9:30 a.m. We had a leisurely breakfast and planned out the day. The biggest event was to visit Morgan. Since the temperatures were melting the snow, we thought it'd be perfect to spend some time there without feeling rushed.

And we were wrong. When we arrived, there was still a six-inch layer of snow and ice on top of the grass. We donned our galoshes, Brent walked over to where we thought the grave was, and he started digging with his heel. The snow barely moved.

I ran to the car and grabbed this mini ice-scraper out of my trunk. Then, Brent started digging holes all over the graveyard, hoping against hope that we could find our little baby. Every time we reached grass, our hearts sank lower and lower. I gripped the bright purple and orange flowers in my gloved hands, refusing to let them go.

After a bit, I asked Brent if we should just come back. I was defeated and depressed. But hubby was not. 
His rosy cheeks turned toward me and then he looked down. He struck gold and uncovered "Burkey." Furiously, he continued slashing and wiping the ice away.

I sobbed and sobbed, crying harder than I have in a long time. It was an unbelievable relief that we found our little one. We jammed the fake flowers into the ground and stood hand-in-hand. Brent triumphantly smiled, his eyes dancing. Looking down, he said, "Don't worry, buddy. Daddy wasn't leaving without finding you."

Day care No. 1

At 7 tonight, Brent and I are heading to our first day care, which is actually an in-home jobber run by a woman named Anna. She has one child (not sure of the age) and no pets. I'm a little cautious walking into this, as I found her ad on the local Craigslist.

I have a checklist I found on Childcare Consultants. It contains all of the certifications to ask about, questions to ask and what the right answers are. Stay tuned for details!

Hello, dear baby

It's official.
I can feel her!
I can feel the punching and kicking.
I can feel the wriggling and rolling.

The very first occasion was on our trek northward to Berrysburg Feb. 7. I was one day away from 17 weeks, so I didn't think anything of it. All of the books says first-timers don't feel "quickening" until 18 to 22 weeks. But as I sat in the passenger seat, I whispered to hubby, "It's moving in there. I think it's moving."

He looked over with a goofy grin as big as his head ... and only slightly pale.

At 19-and-a-half weeks, I feel her more and more. It's not quite every hour yet, but it's every once in a while. I'd describe it as a flick on the inside of my tummy or a muscle twitch. Not painful at all. Although, I hear that's not too far away.

Hey, for a healthy little one, I'll take it! (After all, she needs to perfect her lacrosse/field hockey/basketball/running skills early. Practice doesn't make perfect -- perfect practice does.

What a world of day cares

When I thought of having a baby, images of snuggling a wriggling baby in my arms all but consumed me. And now that this little munchkin seems to be healthier than ever, reality has smacked me in the face yet again.

Brent and I are on the day care quest. I've been putting this off for five months because it seemed all too impossible. When I started researching places in the area last week, tears welled up. Not because I was happy for this baby, but more because I had this aching in my heart for Morgan. I miss that child so much. Then, guilt filled my heart for this baby. I've spent more time carrying this child. Oh, I don't know.

Anyway, I never actually thought that I'd morph into a stay-at-home Mom, but I never really pondered what would happen to the kid. After all, Lucy can roam the house, but I think certain organizations might frown upon that for children.

So, we're on the books for two local places next week. I'm looking forward to scoping out the infant rooms, but I'd rather just skip the enrollment rates. (I might need reality to pay a visit again.) Luckily, my mom has offered to supplement the daycare for baby Burkey. At least I know there's time with Momo built in the schedule for lots of hugs and snuggles during the day!

Interpretation of comments

It seems my stomach has popped overnight. For once, it's not attack of the chippers! My normally "big" sweaters are now a little snug, and I even had to retire my warm, festive red one this morning.

I always know when clothing doesn't quite look right by Brent's reaction. Here's an interpretation:

"It's fine" means "Hurry up, we're running late, and you've already changed three times, and I said the first outfit looked great."

"I don't think you've worn that yet" means "Didn't you already wear that this week?"

"Beautiful" means "HOMERUN!"

"That might be tight" means "Take it off, take it off, it no longer fits." (That was this morning. I already knew this looking in the mirror at the back fat.)

Ah well, baby keeps growing and growing and growing ...

Kudos to pregnant Olympian

A friend sent this story to me, and I had to read the story twice. Canadian curler Kristie Moore is 30  years old and five-and-a-half months pregnant.  She's an alternate, which means she won't see the ice unless one of her teammates is hurt and unable to perform. But, can you imagine? She's only a month ahead of me, and I couldn't imagine balancing my growing belly on ice purposely. Walking the dog around the neighborhood is dicey enough!


Check out the story here.

Happy birthday, Brent!

Up at 5:30 this morning, I baked my first-ever attempt at a birthday cake. I thought I had two round pans, but alas I didn't. Just one 13-by-9 pan. After it was finished, I thought I'd cut it in half, so that I could make a layered cake,

It smelled delicious as it rose in the oven. I let it cool for about 45 minutes. Cutting it in half, I frosted the bottom layer and then moved to the top. So far, so good.

I started smearing the chocolatey goodness onto the sides. Then, it happened. The cake started to crumble and crumble and crumble. Desperately trying to keep the creation upright, I started shoving my fingers onto the icing to better smear it. (PS. That doesn't work.)

Might not look like the Ace of Cakes, but it sure will taste scrumptious! Now, for the candles.

Happy Snow Day

Lucy loved the recent snowstorms. And I must admit, Brent and I didn't mind it too much either. Must be because we're winter babies. Looks like our little one is going to have much different feelings about it! (I should ask my Dad, who was born July 17!)

 

  

 

Regularness

At our regular OB appointment that followed yesterday's ultrasound, the nurse took my vitals and the baby's heartbeat was 157 bpm. (It can range anywhere from 120 to 170 depending on what I've eaten or drank in the last two hours.)

Then, the midwife Felicia came in and said that the restrictions were lifted! I can now walk our little puppy and generally move about as I please. (No running still, but I'm OK with that. I'd probably gas-out after a mile anyhow, and that's just depressing after finishing a marathon.)

So, now I'm just a regular patient. Ahh.. I never thought I'd be happy to be ordinary.

Quick update

Breathe. I'm breathing and I'm smiling and ...


Our ultrasound showed unbelievable news -- the baby is huge, the clot is small and I'm off restrictions! Oh, you should have seen the little wriggling bugger waving at us. Then, a little turn. And then a yawn! So precious. I was tired just watching.

We also found out some other news. It's (most likely) a girl! I know, I know. I was a big proponent of not finding out, but Tim asked and said he couldn't be 100-percent positive. So... I said OK. I think Brent nearly fell out of his chair.

I'm glad we know, though. Strangely enough, it makes me even more excited to know. And I feel like I have this overwhelming sense of connection with her now. Instead of him/her or he/she, it's less complicated. Of course, if the baby is a boy, he'll certainly be confused by the time he arrives!

Check out how big! You can see her baby teeth forming above the gumline, her spine and ribcage. It doesn't do the ultrasound justice at all, though.

Hanging with the girlies

Today, I'm heading to Ze Mean Bean in Fells Point, Md., to see my high school girlfriends, Clare and Kathryn. I can't believe I've known them for practically 14 years. Oy, I feel old.

They know the news, but I haven't seen them in forever!

Jazz Brunch here I came. (Sans mimosas.)

Couldn't wait any longer

Gulp. I just couldn't wait any longer. I'm anxious and antsy and impatient. (And, yes, I realize this needs mastering with the impending arrival of a child.) But I still have five or six months.

Our original appointment was scheduled for Feb. 8. The time was perfect: 8:20 a.m. for the ultrasound and 8:40 a.m. for the regular OB appointment. Like I said, I couldn't wait that long.

Here's the thing -- I was supposed to see the doc in four weeks. Four weeks from our last appointment would be Feb. 3. So, really, the Feb. 8 date was past the date they wanted to see me. (This is me rationalizing.)

After debating and obsessing and talking it over with a few close friends, I bet the bullet and called.

"Hi, I don't know if Feb. 8 will work for me. (white lie. Something could come up.) Is there an appointment the week of Feb. 1 perhaps?"

After the extremely patient receptionist (and I mean that sincerely) informed me that it would be difficult to find two appointments back-to-back, she did the what seemed like impossible.

We get to peek at our little pumpkin at 8:50 a.m. Feb. 3. (The OB one is at 9:15.)

Let the real obsessing and worrying and anxiety begin.

Lucky? Never thought of that

A bit ago someone told me I was lucky.

Lucky? "Sure," I was told. "Lucky you are able to get pregnant so fast."

I'm not sure if luck in the baby department is really my speed.

No. 1) I bled, saw Morgan alive, then buried our first child. (There was a 2 percent chance of the baby dying after seeing him alive.)

No. 2) I bled, saw the baby alive, then was told we had a molar pregnancy. Then, was told it was a lab error. Then, was told we have a subchorionic hematoma that was growing larger with a 60 to 65 percent miscarriage liklihood. And now we seem to be on the upswing.

When I think of lucky people, I think of my brother who seems to be in the right place at the right time -- sharing town cars to the airport with famous athletes, catching homeruns at clutch baseball games, hitting it big when the blackjack tables are hot.

I consider our latest journey an exercise in faith. I feel blessed to have the people I have around me. I know I am blessed to have this healthy baby growing. And I hope I am blessed to give birth in July. (Just not on July 23 or 24, if that's possible. Thanks)

I should have waited

I'm at the point where I want to know what my baby is doing and how s/he is developing. I'm slowly working my was passed the what-if phase. So, I logged onto whattoexpect.com, which is a Web site that gives daily e-mail upates about your progressing pregnancy.

I entered my username and password. And then the screen popped up slapping me in the face.

"Congratulations! At 32 weeks, you're baby is moving and kicking like Muhammad Ali."

Right.

I just stared at the screen. Then I wildly searched for something to take me off this page. I didn't want to close the window because I'd eventually have to log back in and see an even farther along pregnancy.

I found the settings page. On it, there was "report a birth" and "report a miscarriage." I quickly clicked the latter button. Breathing again, I tried putting in my new due date. But page after page after page kept glaring at me as I tried to navigate the site.

"Dealing with a miscarriage"
"When your first hello means good-bye"
"How to grieve"

I should have waited perhaps to rejoin the pregnancy online world. But would that be fair to this new baby? Morgan will never leave my thoughts or my prayers. I still need to make room for this healthy child, though.

Making Lemonade

On Wednesday night, I traveled to Baltimore for the long-anticipated bridemaid dress fitting. Brent and I are in my brother's wedding, which is July 24. We're due July 19. See the predicament?

Naively, I thought this would be a grand ole time with the bridesmaids and, oh, won't it be fun to try on cute dresses.

"I was wrong" is the understatment of the year so far. (Good thing it's only January, right?)
Anyway, luckily my mom was there. I'm going to avoid divulging the painful details.

The key points were a) I left with no dress; b) there is no way I could have left with a dress because they don't make the dress big enough for a possibly nine-month-pregnant woman; c) I sobbed the whole way up I-83 on the phone with Brent and Megan.

Oh, the humanity! Thank goodness my future sister-in-law is a gracious, laid-back person. She said it was fine for me to find another maternity dress in silver, and then we could make a sash out of the hem from one of the girls' dresses.

So, I'm over the disappointment of having to be the odd-ball walking down the aisle. After all, how selfish is that? Everyone will be looking at Jess and Tom, not at the tent bouncing down the aisle, right? Right.

Now ... Mom and I are on the hunt for the perfect, tasteful wedding dress fit for a nine-month-pregnant or recent-newborn body. This should be interesting.

Carpe Diem!

I'm not usually a fan of e-mail forwards, but I thought I'd share. This came from one of my aunts:

To realize
The value of a sister/brother
Ask someone
Who doesn't have one.

To realize
The value of ten years:
Ask a newly
Divorced couple.

To realize
The value of four years:
Ask a graduate.

To realize
The value of one year:
Ask a student who
Has failed a final exam.

To realize
The value of nine months:
Ask a mother who
Gave birth to a stillborn.

To realize
The value of one month:
Ask a mother who
Has given birth to a premature baby

To realize
The value of one week:
Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize
The value of one minute:
Ask a person
Who has missed the train, bus or plane.

To realize
The value of one second:
Ask a person who
Has survived an accident.

To realize the value of a friend or family member:
Lose one.

Time waits for no one.

Success in the pants department

Oh, the joys of clothing that fits. I didn't realize how uncomfortable I was these past few weeks with unbuttoned and sometimes unzipped pants. I'd walk around the newsroom covering up the bulge with a heavy winter jacket. While the newsroom is on the chillier side, oftentimes the coat was overkill.

Mom and I enjoyed a scrumptious lunch at the Paper Moon (me, the Hella Portabella and mom the Turkey Powerhouse), then fought traffic to get to the mall. You'd think it was the week before Christmas!

We found Destination Maternity, which was a store split between A Pea in the Pod (which Seven jeans, yikes) and Motherhood (think Old Navy). After 30 pairs of pants and maybe a dozen shirts, I found the motherland. (pun intended)

We ended up with three pairs of unbelievably comfortable pants -- black, brown and gray -- and a cute blue sweater. (I know, I know, another blue item of clothing, but it's cute!) These pants feel like sweatpants. I think I might wear these forever and ever.

The highlight? The prosthetic belly!Yes, folks, I tried on a seven-month belly. Oh, let the hilarity ensue. It was a strap-on belly that showed you what the clothing would look like into the third trimester. It was a little shocking, I must admit. So, there was only one thing to do -- put it on mom!

Is it wrong that I think Mom looked cuter with the belly? hahahahaha .... these next five-and-a-half months are going to be quite a ride! And isn't Mom a good sport?

Taking the next step

It's official -- I have only two pairs of pants that fit. And by "fit," I mean fit on my hips but still unbuttoned.

So, I'm heading to Baltimore today for a shopping spree with Mom. As some of you might now, shopping doesn't exactly run in our genes. But, now it's necessary.

I must confess that I am a little nervous, only because I still fear the worst sometimes. But, this baby is growing, and so must my wardrobe.

I am looking forward to trying on maternity stuff, but as always I'm more excited for lunch! Haha
Mom and I are heading to the Paper Moon in Baltimore today. It's one of my favorite eclectic restaurants.

After that, we'll head to the Towson Town Mall to scope out the maternity stores -- A Pea in the Pod and Maternity Destination.

Movie recommendation

Sometimes, I'm a little behind the movie curve. I can't even remember the last movie Brent and I saw in the theaters. (Could it have been the last "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie? How sad!)

A co-worker recommended newly released "Away We Go."  It stars John Krasinski (the guy from "The Office") and Maya Rudolph. It's about a short period in the couple's life when they're world is thrown into upheaval. His parents announce they are leaving for Belgium a month before the baby is due. Flabbergasted, they retort that they only reason they moved to the area was so their daughter was close to her grandparents.  (Her parents  passed away when she was 22 years old.)

The story focuses on their plane trips to Arizona, Montreal and other places while they try to figure out where they wan to raise their child. I wasn't sure if Brent would like the movie, but surprisingly he did!

Even though my friend warned me about the saddest part, it still hit me like a freight train. There's a scene where Burt (Krasinski) and Verona (Rudolph) are at a club with their BFFs from college. Even though the couple had several adopted children, they were unable to have any of their own. The husband talks to Burt divulging his wife suffered her fifth miscarriage.

My breath caught in my throat. Five? Brent looked over at me and grabbed my hand as tears rolled down my face.

Then, the husband reflected upon it in an almost sterile manner. Not meanly, not uncaring, just honest perhaps.

"You get excited when you hear the news. You see them grow inside. And then ... then you just watch them fade away."

In body perhaps, but not in my heart, Morgan.

The verdict is in ...

Here's our little munchkin at 12 weeks and two days!

From what our doctor and ultrasound technician said it appears the clot is smaller. However, since it's changed shape so radically, it's difficult to assign a percentage. But, they say it looks smaller. It's also moved closer to the "exit," which is also good.

Our next appointment is 8:20 a.m. Feb. 8. Since we're still considered high-risk, we will have monthly ultrasounds in addition to ultrasounds to monitor the clot and the baby.

Our BFF Tim, the ultrasound technician, looked flabbergasted when he squirted the jelly and put on the sonographer. There was another tech in the room with him. They just said "wow" in unison. I stopped breathing.

WHAT? WHAT?

"It appears that the clot is nearly gone. Hrmph. Honestly, I was pessimistic and I thought we were going to need to plan another miscarriage surgery counseling."

I stared back at him. I had no clue that he was this down about it.

"Oh," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath. "Well, I guess that's the power of prayer."

He glanced my way and smiled, as he continued the examination. "You know, Tim," I said, "we're not the ones in control."

And I thank God for that.

Oozing postivity

Yep, that's me. I'm heading to work early to get my publication to the presses, and then hubby and I are heading to the doctor. Again.

Please let their be a heartbeat.
Please let that bloody clot be smaller.
Please let us be in the second trimester.

I want to be able to tell my extended family. I want to be able to talk about it freely without prefacing comments. Hopefully, our buddy Tim will give us the for which news everyone has been diligently praying.

Forget the scanner

I'm officially throwing up my hands and improvising. I still can't get this new-fangled scanner/printer/copier/dishwashing all-in-one machine to scan the ultrasound pictures. Instead, I improvised and used the camera on my iPhone to take a picture of the pictures. Then, e-mailed it to myself, downloaded and saved the photos to my home computer's desktop and uploaded them here.

Whew, I'm exhausted. Really, it's a poor excuse for the photos looking a little rough around the edges. Meet our second Burkey baby!

The first picture is at seven weeks. The black oval is the gestational sac, the big white ball is the yolk sac (what the baby lives off until the umbilical cord forms around 12 weeks), and the baby is to the left. There's an arrow pointing to the fetus that says "baby."

And this our child at nine weeks, five days. The baby is on its side and the bright white marks are its chin/mouth, and the little arms. One arm is underneath the baby, and the other is in the process of wiping her face. Since this photo, we've seen the baby at 10 weeks, five days. Our next appointment is Wednesday, when the baby will be around 12 weeks, four days. On a bittwesweet note, the big black mass to the left is the blood clot.

One more thing ...

In my previous Christmas post, I forgot to show off our very first handmade Burkey sign. Thanks, Cathy!

A belated Christmas post

Santa must have gotten me mixed up with another Laura Burkey this year. I had an unbelievable Christmas filled with awesome presents and more importantly, time with my close friends and family.

It started with a trek to Baltimore Christmas Eve with my dad's side, then back to York that night. Brent, Lucy and I awoke to our first Christmas in our new house complete with pumpkin bread and presents! Then, it was back to Baltimore to celebrate with my parents, brother and his fiance. And back to York that night. On Saturday (the next day), we partied with my mom's side thankfully in York.

It was a whirlwind, but what a great holiday! As always, it went too fast.

This was the Year of the Coats. Don't believe me?

Brent gave me this great black coat to replace my ratty, holey pea coat that has definitely seen better days.

My mom gave me this splendid red number that is funky, sassy and warm. Perfect for the drab winter days.

On top of it, I gave Brent a black pea coat for Christmas, without either of us knowing that we bought each other same gift! Mine was much better, though. Poor Brent.

And my mom gave my brother's fiance an awesome Northface jacket. Who knew?

And, in the spirit of good luck

I present to you my first-ever New Year's Day pork and sauerkraut dish. (No applause needed. ha!)

It was simple, and I know, I know pretty much everyone told me it was simple. But, folks, you've never seen me cook. And if you have, no explanation is needed.

Anyway, the recipe from allrecipes.com was stick the pork roast in the Crock pot, pour sauerkraut over it, add caraway seeds and turn it on. Thanks to mom, she gave me the oh-so-necessary hint of heavily sprinkling brown sugar on top of the cabbage (ick) and add about a half-inch of water on the bottom. Four hours later, perfecto!

P.S. In all honesty, the reason for my foray into the slow-cooking world was because my parents scooted off to Charleston, S.C., for a romantic and fun-filled New Year's. Next year, it's back to you, mom!

Come on, good luck

Brent and I rang in 2010 in style -- sweatpants, T-shirts and half-opened eyelids. I should specify. Brent had the opened eyes, and I had the closed eyes, so that makes it half-opened eyelids, right? I hit the hay around 10:30 p.m., which is pretty admirable considering I'm usually in dreamworld by 9.

Hubby woke me up at 11:45 p.m., when I stumbled out of our newly painted bedroom and onto our puppy-hair-covered blue couch. (Hand-me-down courtesy of my parents.)

Anyway, we counted down with Ryan Seacrest (shudder) and Dick Clark (yikes!). Brent dutifully filled two champagne glasses with apple-cranberry sparkling cider and we kissed 2009 good-bye.