23 Weeks, 1 Day

The day Kinsey and Ryan were born.

The night we came home from the hospital we heard this song, and while we know it is highly over-played, it will always hold significance with us.

We are 3 days past that date with this pregnancy, but never past that date in our hearts.

Shhh...There's A Crib In My Garage

It was on clearance and their only floor model, so we had to take it off their hands within 7 days. It's white and folds down so my shortness can take her out easily. I'm a little bit freaked and a lot excited.

Not This Time, Kid

22 weeks, 5 days and all is well. The sonographer was a little concerned about increased amniotic fluid, but my blood sugar level was normal and the sonogram showed no GI obstruction, so Dr. B. isn't concerned. Sweet baby girl is measuring ahead of schedule by 5 days and my cervix looks peachy. However, she has decided that my cervix is a trampoline made for stomping. Let it be known loud and clear:

She can stomp all she wants, but coming out early really isn't an option.

No Longer

There will be many more New Year's Eve nights. There will be many more First Night Austin celebrations. But, someday soon it will no longer be the two of us. We will take her, bundled up and cozy in her hat with the puffy frays on top, wrapped safely in her daddy's arms.

We will find the best spot possible on the curb and wait for the parade. She will want to run out into the street with all the other kids to catch a glimpse of the start to the parade. She will say over and over, "Mamma, when is it gonna start?"

The parade will begin and she will squeal with delight, clapping her hands together and saying, "Mamma, did you see that one?" with each passing group. She'll want to eat kettle corn, funnel cakes, and drink hot chocolate. She'll want to buy the glow sticks and wave them around with vigor. The fireworks will start and she will say, "That one's my favorite," to every firework exploding in the sky.

I will relish in her happiness, her smile and her giggles. She will become cranky and I will try my best to distract her, talk to her, engage her until the time comes when we must leave. She will fall asleep in the car, sacked out until her daddy places her softly in her bed. She will hug his neck and whisper, "Thank you, daddy. That was fun."

There will be many more New Year's Eve nights. But soon, no longer will we spend them as a family of two.

Hurl Caution To The Wind, Fire, Pits of Hell

And while we're at it, let's register for baby items. Not just one registry...but two. Really? Who does that at all of 21 weeks, 5 days gestation with as much bad luck as we have encountered? Apparently me, and it started yesterday.

After a day of looking at furniture, discussing the details of the nursery, and buying primer, I decided to just "begin" a registry. I added 4-5 items and then went to sleep. If you know me well, you know my issues with registries, showers in general, etc. Well, I've changed.

My Babe left at 5:00am this morning for a "short" 9 mile run, because he is quite frankly, Superman. I tossed, turned, thought about the registry, and turned on the bedroom light at 5:32am. Downhill from there, friends. Hours later, I now have 2 registries. And, guess what, they aren't complete.

And I can't stop thinking about the baby's room. Most likely, the room will center around the traits of life found in the book, The Twelve Gifts of Birth, by Charlene Costanzo. The book uses pastel colors, but the room is going to be bright pink(!), bright green, and red. The focus will be the traits displayed around the room and in the built-in shelves My Babe is going to concoct.

My mind is frantic. Like there's an urgency, a fire, an emergency that must be mitigated right NOW. I can't wait to carry her around the room and tell her the meaning of each trait. I can't wait to hold her in my arms and, hell, maybe even sing to her. I just can't wait.

Caution has left this house.

Acknowledgment

Maternity clothes are the only clothes in my closet. We're discussing the nursery and going to start working on it this weekend. We've started researching cribs, car seats, and bedding. I smile when she kicks and My Babe has felt her. We've narrowed down names. When people ask me about the baby I can finally feel and express a little bit of excitement. Our 21 week sonogram was great and my cervix is cooperating for once. My fFn test was negative and I'm actually feeling pretty good. I've had several dreams where I've brought a live baby home. I held a newborn the other day and didn't burst into tears.

Everyone knows. There's no turning back and the stakes are very high. So much can still go wrong. However, I'm going to have a baby girl again, and this time she will come home with me. I have faith.

She Asked For It

Scene: Before Christmas, in line to pay...let's just say, lots of people behind me. A conversation with the cashier.


Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "So, are you pregnant?"

Me: "Yes."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Oh, I thought so. Because if you weren't I was gonna say, 'Girl, you better do something about that belly.'"

Me: "Ha, ha."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "How far along are you?"

Me: "20 weeks."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Oh, you're still early. {Pause} So, why are you so big?"

Me: "Well, I am little so I pop out pretty quickly."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Yeah, but people don't usually get that big so fast."

Me: "This is my fourth pregnancy, fifth baby, with no living children, so I show faster than normal."

Can't Keep Her Mouth Shut: "Good luck with that."

Me: "Yeah, thanks."

Laughter And Love

An evening spent with my team. An evening of relaxing, food, laughter, fun, joy and love. An evening listening to Christmas music and the beautiful sound of BMW's piano playing. An evening of teasing, jokes, gift exchanges, light-hearted conversation, and hints of deep moments too. An evening where I feel like the luckiest girl around to have such a bond with so many people at once. An evening where I can be myself, let my guard down, peek through the walls, because they will love me no matter what. An evening where I look around the room during the story telling and think there is no other place I'd rather be right now. And even though there are a few longtime team members missing, it was an evening to reflect on things of which I am thankful. The people that mean the world to me.

An evening of laughter and love...just what I needed.

All Is Calm...And Uncomfortable

Comfort is overrated during pregnancy. And, hey, I can deal with that. As long as my discomfort is truly, without a doubt, normal. And then there is trust. I'm finding it hard to trust any medical professional considering I trusted whole-heartedly with Kinsey and Ryan, and paid the highest price possible.

I will be 20 weeks on Wednesday and entering the danger zone in my mind. Our 20 week appointment with Kinsey and Ryan could have possibly saved their lives. It would have definitely bought us time had Dr. Jerk pulled his head out of his butt and taken notice. This pregnancy has patterned itself so closely with the pregnancy I had with Kinsey and Ryan and it freaks me out. My nausea (for the most part) stopped at 17 weeks only to be replaced by pressure. Now, the intense back pain just like before. I huff and puff like a race horse when walking up stairs or exerting any energy, my heart might pound right out of my chest, and I have varicose veins that will rival a 1/4" PVC pipe. Doctors say the difference this time is that I have a gigantic stitch holding this sweet baby girl in, but I'm scared of what my body will concoct next. And, can they be trusted?

My silence is from swirling thoughts in my head that make no coherent sense. I go from excitement to panic in a matter of seconds. I have a lot to say but would be committed if I said it out loud. I want to be knocked out and wake up at 28 weeks. Then, have a celebration and be knocked out again until she is in my arms. Not because I can't take the physical pain, but because I am fragile, weak and emotionally frail. I've fallen in love with her and don't want to give her up. I've allowed myself to enter Target's baby section on several occasions (only for about 5 minutes) and even stupid Pottery Barn Kids yesterday (only for 2 minutes). I actually read flipped quickly through a Parents magazine instead of tossing it in the baby's room like I have for the past 2 years. (Very big stack, I tell you. Never again will I subscribed to anything baby for 2 damn years when I am only 10 weeks pregnant. Idiot.)

Now, enough of that boys and girls...let's be positive!

I do take heart in the fact that even though I am uncomfortable and it is the same kind of uncomfortable as before, I am certainly not as uncomfortable as I was with the twins. And, I've found a nifty and very sexy contraption that allows me to walk upright (I ask a lot, huh?) without the pressure. Dr. S. will be doing the fFN test just for giggles and extra assurance starting on Monday. I will be monitored every 2weeks from here on and will have an ultrasound to check my cervix each time. I've been told that I may stop working as soon as I am ready, which sure beats the hell out of having to break Dr. Jerk's arm just to put me on half days. I know I am in better hands this time, and I am trying with all my might to relax. And relax I will do...just as soon as someone knocks me out. Any takers?

Let Us All Bow Our Heads

And give thanks for blessings of which we are not worthy.

Thank you FedEx man.

?

I had my first official dream in which I brought home a live baby.

However, not before I jumped from a cliff into a raging river with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. I did have the sense to give the baby to a stranger prior to jumping into Niagara Falls though, so that must count for something. And, my grilled cheese sandwich landed safely in a paper plate held by another stranger down on the rocks, so score 3 points for me.

After retrieving the baby that was at that time a boy, I found myself in my childhood home. 2 days later, I realized I hadn't fed the baby (now a girl) at all, to which I responded, "Well, she didn't tell me to feed her!" I successfully fed him (yes, him) for 30 minutes straight without stopping, while watching her (yes, her) belly begin to grow bigger by the minute. I finally burped her and placed her on the bottom of my bunk bed while I removed blanket after blanket, toy after toy, hazard after hazard from her crib all decked out in pink butterflies and ruffles.

And then I woke up.

?

Elf Eviction

Dear Elf,

It has been widely brought to my attention that you have taken up residence in my uterus next to the current (and legal) tenant, sweet baby girl. For the following reasons, I respectfully request that you pack your bags and hit the road, as I have 164 days left in this pregnancy.

The little spears of fire you throw so viciously are not appreciated nor are they necessary. You must be quite fast if you can throw a spear in my calf, my uterus and my eye all in a matter of seconds. Do you have more friends in there? I mean, we all know sweet baby girl wouldn't do any of this.

Thanks to you, I cannot get comfortable on most occasions and considering the days noted above, this is not acceptable. The heartburn you give me will someday cause me to spontaneously vomit mid-sentence if I can't force it back down my throat. You could at least give me some type of warning.

Due to the energy you suck from my body, you have forced me to do nothing but watch ridiculously bad t.v. from my couch. You continue to keep me from cooking any meal that involves work or real food, and as you know (and everyone in the McD's parking lot found out...including my shoes) you won the fight after lunch the other day.

Considering the above reasons, you are hereby notified to vacate the premises described in the address above (my uterus) within 24 hours of the date of the delivery of this notice to you. I am happy to escort you out in any fashion possible and will even help you find real estate that includes a little more room and is not currently occupied. If you fail to vacate within this period, court proceedings will be taken immediately to evict you from the premises via the honorable Judge, My Babe.

Thank you for your attention to this matter,

The Landlord

Better. And For That I Am THANKFUL

Thanks to a lot of prayer and some hefty steroids, Peanut is pretty much back to normal. And, considering the holidays are not the brightest of times for me, I am eternally thankful for this gift.

Thanksgiving Day 2000, was the day the doctor called to say my dad had incurable lung cancer.

Thanksgiving weekend 2005, was filled with work on sub plans since I was certain Dr. Jerk was finally going to listen and put me on bed rest. Two days later, I was in the hospital in a magnesium stupor, unsuccessfully trying to stop labor.

But today, Thanksgiving 2007, I am extremely thankful for this pregnancy and sweet baby girl growing as I type. It's just hard to shake the feelings of the holidays, and Thanksgiving marks the beginning.

Please Pray For My Sweet Puppy

Peanut isn't doing well and I experienced my first ever full blown panic attack. It wasn't pretty and I was even surprised at my unstoppable reaction. I guess I'm just tired of losing things.

The vet says she could have a tumor, could be having mini-strokes or her symptoms could be the result of geriatric vestibular disease. Either way, our time is limited as she is 13 years old. I have had her since she was 6 weeks old and she has lived a long life, but it doesn't change the devastation I will feel when she goes, whether it is today or 3 years from now.

Well, Looky There...I'm One Lucky Duck!

Thanks to Lori at "Eggs in a Basket" for honoring me with my first award within the infertility blogosphere. I did not bring my acceptance speech with me, but let me just say a hearty THANK YOU and...

I honor Lori over at "Losses and Gains" because she writes every single thing I want to say about losing boy/girl twins at 23 weeks. And, because she's just so dang wise.

I also honor Akeeyu at "herveryown" because she is the best writer I know (or know in my computer) and each day I hope and pray I turn on my computer and find a new post to keep me laughing hysterically.

And, finally, I honor Ann at "The Unlucky 20 Percent" because she just lost a sweet baby boy at 20 weeks. I know the unbearable pain.

Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Tonka trucks, rocks, crawdads, bikes from dawn to dusk, Hot Wheels, constellations, mud, playing army, GI Joe parachute men, spending hours in the creek, climbing and jumping out of trees, digging for treasures.

I'm certain our little girl will love all this and more...just like her mother.

If I Had A Mannequin Head, I'd Name Her Frankie

And I'd give her some serious streaks of red in her hair. Skunk like. And she would like it. Because that's what you do with a mannequin head. I'd tuck her under my arm and carry her around with me, hair flowing in the wind, red streaks causing envy everywhere.

That's what you do at the Paul Mitchell Beauty School. And, that's where my brave (and broke) butt went to get my hair trimmed. $15 and 2 hours later, I was out the door. But, not before learning many important things.

Did you know that alpha hydroxy acids are derived from fruit and milk sugars? Did you know that you must be the bravest soul possible to let a fellow student cut(!) and color(!!) your own hair. And I mean cut into super freak styles? Call me silly, but I believe that is what Frankie is for. Did you know that it is possible to have a hair supervisor giving advice to young, impressionable "future professionals" as their shirts boldly announced with a hair style that rivals Dog, The Bounty Hunter? For reals.

My sweet little student was 3 months into her schooling and had an adversion to hair..."Oh! There's hair everywhere!" She sectioned my hair into 10 (I counted.) sections and painstakingly cut each strand of hair with careful precision. At one point I almost snatched the scissors away and said, "For the love of Pete! Let me cut it Granny Moses!" But, I refrained and sat, magazineless, watching her every move. And every move of Death's Door Dora, the student sitting in the chair next to me watching the whole time. She was quite a ray of sparkles as she stared me down, scowl in tow. I brushed her off until hunger took over and I almost asked her if she wanted a piece of the hungry pregnant girl.

Honestly, she did a great job and even caused me to say a little "I will be better with my hair" mantra that lasted just for the day. I will return there. And, I might even have my own little mannequin head tucked under my arm just to pass the time.

Just Frankie and me.

November Resolutions

1. Start my iPod books again.
2. Buy a prenatal yoga tape before I die from missing my beloved Body Flow class.
3. Be thankful for every second of this pregnancy.
4. Pray harder, longer, more frequently.
5. BREATHE.

Who's That Girl?

No wedding is complete without wedding pictures...even if they make it to an album three and a half years later. Since I'm home bound, I thought I would do just that, which led me to a string of pictures of My Babe and me from the last six years we've been together. Pictures of camping, rock climbing, skiing, and bike riding. We've been sky diving, canoeing, hiking, and many more things I've always dreamed of doing. I look back and see a girl that resembles me, but not the me I know now. In my mind, I'm still that girl. The girl that used to have a slight bit of muscle tone, skinnier face, long hair with highlights, able (and willing) to wear tank tops without embarrassment, and open to trying anything (almost).

But, the last two and a half years have taken that away. I've spent those years gestating...with no end result. No product. Just a few short hours with two precious babies in my arms, a belly that never went away, and a box of memories that aren't enough to last. I feel robbed of the girl I used to be from my body, to my brain, to my heart. Those that know me and have been around me may or may not agree, but to me it is so obvious, especially after seeing those pictures. Especially when I can't physically do the things we used to do. And, while, it may be temporary, by the time I give birth, I will have spent three years of my life unable to do the things I enjoy due to trying to conceive, pregnancy, and pregnancy loss after loss.

I want the old me back. I want to be stupid and naive about pregnancy and the end result. I want to not have to think about my angel babies on a second to second basis. I want to push the play button since my life has been on hold for so long. I want to move on. I want to be the girl in the pictures again. The girl with the smile that wasn't covering the heartache. I want to find that girl again. If you see her, send her home to me.

Boo!

One can only painstakingly open the door, greet the cuties with a smile, and comment on their costumes so many times without going stark raving mad. I always vowed I would never put my infant child into a silly costume on Halloween. I've changed my mind. If I am fortunate enough to have a 5 month old child in my arms next Halloween, that kid will be in a hot dog costume. I'll be so happy to have a little trick or treater of my own, that we'll attend every harvest festival, pumpkin patch hoedown, and carnival in town. So what that the baby will sleep through it all.

So, here's to one more Halloween, one more Thanksgiving, one more Christmas, and one more Easter without a little hot dog of my own. And, while it scares me that I'm being so optimistic and (once again) naive, I definitely still have my moments of panic. And, I think my panic will increase as we approach 23 weeks. For now, things are progressing surprisingly well. The cerclage was a piece of cake, I'm resting comfortably, and I only have one more Halloween to endure alone.

Sew 'Er Up Tight, Doc

Bon-bons anyone?

I will gladly share as I sit on my patootie for the next 2 weeks after the cerclage tomorrow. That is, barring I make it to the surgery alive since I cannot eat after midnight. I requested triple knots in the cerclage string, and Dr. B. said he would quadruple it just for me. I really don't care if he performs a colorful 4th grade weaving project down there...whatever it takes. Just let this work.

My Give a Damn's Busted

As I sit in my bed, clothed in my robe and underwear (because it's actually 40 degrees in Texas and I'm cold), eating Natural White Cheese Cheeto Cheese Puffs, I realize that I officially do not care. I.Do.Not.Care.

I do not care that mom and I ate a full meal at 4:30pm after the appt. with Dr. B., and on the way home, at 5:30 pm, I went to Bill Miller's BBQ and ordered another full meal complete with 2 orders of hash browns, extra sauce, AND brownies.

I do not care that my body is going into complete and udder What The Hell Kind of Crap Are You Eating Now? mode. If it sounds good, I eat it, regardless of whether I would ever let it touch my mouth on a non-pregnant day.

I do not care that I have zero desire to walk down the stairs and out into the cold garage to get two rolls of toilet paper to replace the two empty rolls upstairs. In fact, my give a damn is so busted that I have a pee plan sans toilet paper in place for this evening.

I do not care that crap is stacked up on my side of the bed and cracker crumbs on the floor will soon be attracting a full blown platoon of ants.

I do not care that my afternoons, evenings, and nights involve a path from my garage directly to my bed, not to be traveled again until morning.

I do not care that my teeth are not being brushed for 2 minutes morning and night. A toothbrush and toothpaste are a sure fire combo for gagging and possibly puking. So, bring on the halitosis and funk.

And I certainly do not care that I am about to tell kindergarten parents that I am going to be out for 2 weeks after the cerclage. In fact, I welcome it. Look forward to it. Let's get the show on the road.

Frogger is measuring beautifully, the nuchal translucency test came back great, and things are looking brighter. We're on for the cerclage next week. Put me out, sew me shut and let's move forward, because my give a damn's busted.

Oh Yeah...And One More

Idiot HR Person (3 days after delivering): "And how long do you plan to take off?"
Me: "I get six weeks."
Idiot HR Person: "Well...that was before. I think the circumstances have changed now."
Me (almost coming across the table to rip her head off): "My doctor's paperwork said I get six weeks. I just delivered 2 babies that did not live."

Conversations That Need To Get OUT of My Head

Dr.V: "There's one heartbeat...and there's the other."
Me: "Will I be able to carry twins considering I am so small?"
Dr.V: "You can, but it's going to be difficult."


Butthead Parent 1: "I just heard a nasty rumor about you. Is it true?"
Me: "I don't know. Lots of rumors go on around here. What is it?"
Butthead Parent 1: "I just heard a rumor that you are having twins."
Me: "Yep, that's true - we're very excited!"
Butthead Parent 1: "Well, that's all fine and great, but what about our kids?"


Butthead Parent 2: "________'s mother is DEVASTATED that you are pregnant. She has just cried and cried. Who is going to teach the kids?"
Me: "I'll have a long term sub. It will be just fine."
Butthead Parent 2 (walking off while talking): "Well, she is just devastated."


Me: "Everytime I get up, I feel like a foot or a hand is going to pop out."
Dr. Jerk: "Hmmm...that's interesting. I've never heard of that."


Me: "I wake up at 6am. By 9am, I am hunched over and holding myself because the pressure is so intense."
Dr. Jerk: "Hmmm...I just can't figure out why. Maybe you should just take it easy and sit during the day."
Me: "I am a kindergarten teacher. I do not sit down. I am on my feet 98% of the day. If I need to be sitting, then I need to quit working."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we don't want you to quit working. Bedrest isn't a good idea all the time."


Me: "I am hurting. My back hurts, and the pressure is very bad."
Dr. Jerk: "Pregnancy is very tough - especially with twins. Hang in there."
Me (crying): "I don't know how this is supposed to feel, but I don't feel good."
Dr. Jerk: "Unfortunately, since you are so little, you've gone from 0-9 months is just 4 months. Just keep resting."


Me: "I feel awful and I can barely walk without holding myself."
Dr. Jerk: "What do you want me to do, MKV?"
Me: "I need to be taken off work or at least work half days."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we don't like to take you off work unless it is really necessary."
Me: "Do you think it is necessary considering the pressure?"
Dr. Jerk: "What do you want me to do, MKV?"
Me: "I don't know. I guess put me on half days because I cannot make it through a full day of work. I'm telling you, I do not sit down at work."
Dr. Jerk: "If you think that will help."


Butthead Parent 3: "So, are you sure you are going home after your half day?"
Me: "Yes, I am. I can barely walk by 11:30am when the half day is over."
Butthead Parent 3: "Well, I haven't seen your car in the driveway in the afternoons."
Me: "I park in the garage."


Me: "How many hours per day should I spend in bed?"
Dr. Jerk: "There are no restrictions."
Me: "So, it's okay to do laundry, dishes, go upstairs, etc.?"
Dr. Jerk: "There are no restrictions. In fact, I want you up and doing."


Me: "What about a cerclage to sew my cervix up?"
Dr. Jerk: "You are not a candidate for a cerclage."


Dr. Jerk (at our 20 week appt.): "Wow! You're having twins?!? I have twins too."
Me: "What do you think about the cervical length?"
Dr. Jerk (finally picking up my paperwork from the 20 week sono): "Oh, what was it?"
Me: "It was measuring at a 2.8.'
Dr. Jerk: "Oh, that's fine. Anything below 2.5 is cause for concern."
Me: "Well, isn't that close?"
Dr. Jerk: "It should be fine. Just come back in one month and we'll recheck."
Me (crying): "I don't think I can wait a month. Is there any way I can come back in two weeks."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we're just going to listen to the heartbeat. That's all."


Dr. P (who checked us into the hospital two weeks later): "What we have here is an incompetent cervix. There were signs of this at your 20 week appointment. We have to check you into the hospital."
Me (crying from relief, naively thinking I am finally going to be monitored closely): "Well, good. I knew this was going to happen. Now I can make it to at least 28 weeks."
Dr. P: "You will not make it to 28 weeks. You will deliver in a few days."

Mommy of Four Angels

On this day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, I will never forget you my sweet babies...from the ones I held in my arms to the ones I held in my heart. And will continue to hold forever.

MKV to Pregnancy: Really...Let's Just Be Friends

10 Weeks Pregnant + Field Day with Kindergarten = Near Death

All Is Well In Frog Land

The antibiotics have officially kicked in, Zofran is back in my system, My Babe is in the process of making me a grilled cheese sandwich cut neatly into 4 triangles, and Frogger is an official overachiever, measuring a few days ahead of schedule. I could not ask for more.

Sending Out An SOS

...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---...

That's Morse Code for, "HELP! GET ME OUT OF THIS BODY!"

I'm throwing in the towel. I give up. I'm sick of being sick. Last week I had a major puke fest, complete with broken blood vessels in my face from the violent heaving and now I'm sick, with fever and a sore throat. AGAIN. I missed work AGAIN. We've had 30 days of school and I have officially missed 5 of those days. I GIVE UP.

The Kindergarten Hell Holes

No, not the classrooms as you might think...but the bathrooms.

Have you ever smelled toilets that 40 five year old girls and 40 five year old boys use? It ain't pretty, friends. And, it isn't making for an easy time when I must visit this place frequently throughout the day. It's not even the unflushed poop that I see on a daily basis, or the lovely findings on the toilet seat. It's the smell of urine. I must say that my girls need to drink some serious water to dilute their pee because it smells BAD. I hold my breath as I am walking through the hallway that connects my classroom to D's room, right past the nasty little pots. Going into the bathroom is worse, of course. I keep my nose covered with my shirt, but then sometimes my own body smell (on non-pregnant days when I have energy to care, I smell like flowers) starts getting to me and I have to uncover quickly. I just can't win, as going down the hallway and around the corner really isn't an option as frequently as I must go. Lots can happen in a unsupervised and even semi-supervised kindergarten classroom in 2 minutes. Heck, lots can happen in a completely supervised kindergarten classroom in 2 minutes. Lots, I tell you.

Alas, only 2 more days of the Kindergarten Hell Hole for this week.

At This Point, I Don't Care If I Give Birth To A Frog

As long as I can bring it home, wrap it in a blanket, and stick it in a crib, I'll take it. A frog is exactly what the baby looked like today. Frogger is still alive, measuring ahead of schedule, heart was beating away, and I am quite relieved.

After an emergency "I Have To Eat Right NOW" trip to McDonald's (big fat yuck), we arrive at Dr. B's office. The nurse took my heart rate at 110 bpm confirming my extreme fear and apprehension for just being there. We've never had good luck at Dr. B's until now. Unexpectedly, I was all emotional in the room before the sonographer walked in, and even after she gave us the good news and left. My fears were not calmed until Dr. B, in all his cocky glory, came in. Normally we do NOT deal with doctors that have a cocky presence such as his, but this time I could care less. He can be cocky all he wants as long as he gives me a real live, take home baby. So, we will return to him on the 11th for a "peace of mind" check that I requested (yeah, me!) after he originally said he would see us in 3 weeks. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but he will also see us on the 23rd for the cerclage consultation. For now, I'm keeping all my crossables crossed that Frogger makes it out alive.

October Resolutions

I missed September, but only because I felt like dog and school was kicking my butt.

1. Think positively.
2. Walk Peanut a little after school instead of heading directly for the bed.
3. Swim once a week.
4. Rely on prayer throughout the day. I'm good about it going to sleep, waking up, and during the "moment of silence" at work, but that's about it.
5. Continue on the "no" path when it comes to extra responsibilities at work.
6. Advocate for the care I feel I need, even when I am feeling shy, defeated, unsure, like a wimp, etc.
6. Remain thankful for the little human I am busy growing.