hello, mr. obvious!

a son in september

Well....helllllo! As you see in the above posting (I'm finding I have to post pictures seperately or the text morphs into some itty bitty unreadable mess that gives me a headache to try to read)....we're having a SON! It's DEFINITELY A BOY! Our appointment wasn't technically until Monday, but I've had some discomfort this week that kept me up with worry most of last night, which made me call in this morning to see about a nurse visit today. I was uneasy and knew the weekend would drag if I didn't just go in and get seen. Stress isn't good for me or the bambino, I figured. They brought me right in and I even got a bonus Dr. S visit!

The ultrasound began and.....wow! He's a HE! How's this for a typical boy- the nurse first tried for a cute face shot. Moved all around, jiggled at the tummy, no go. His hands were firmly in front of his face, rubbing at his ears, blocking our view, wiggling fingers in front of our faces. She then decides to head to the nether region. What happened to the modesty, kiddo? There it was! Legs spread, unmistakable penis. I saw it before the nurse even said anything, and my belly laugh sent the little guy jumping all about in there. Thrilled, in awe, relieved. The other issue I was there to check on turned out to be absolutely nothing, but I was reminded once again how fortunate I am to be under the care of Dr. S. He came in to do the measurement and put me totally at ease.

He's measuring big- 17 weeks today (I'm 16 weeks along)! Mom's measuring big too- let's just say the scale hit an all time high this morning, and I'm not so upset about that. It means I'm growing, it means he's growing, it will come off next fall. Or winter. Spring. Whatever. Definitely by summer. Our test results from the 12 week testing were gorgeous. Our risk for Downs Syndrome and another disorder called Trisomy 18 are as low as can be- 1:10,000 chance. Happy day!

We still go back on Monday for our "official" 16 week ultrasound and gender check. I'm playing coy with J and telling him I know for sure what we're having after today's ultrasound (he wasn't there) but that he has to wait for Monday to see for himself. Cruel, I know. But I just want to see the look on his face when he discovers for himself that his first child will be a SON!

16 weeks already. 4 more weeks until halfway. 11 more weeks until the 3rd trimester. So incredibly grateful and ecstatic to be here, and so thrilled to be expecting a son. My son. Our SON!

oh boy. maybe.

Monday was the biggest day of all big days in a very long time. I'll make this concise:

1) We had our 12 week appointment and NT Scan. "This prenatal test (also called the NT or nuchal fold scan) can help your healthcare practitioner assess your baby's risk of having Down syndrome (DS) and some other chromosomal abnormalities as well as major congenital heart problems.The NT test uses ultrasound to measure the clear (translucent) space in the tissue at the back of your developing baby's neck. Babies with abnormalities tend to accumulate more fluid at the back of their neck during the first trimester, causing this clear space to be larger than average." It was a wonderful morning! Baby Cinco is suddenly looking gigantic. In reality, he/she is the size of a peach, but the first look at the ultrasound image made us both gasp- it's a baby! Nose, mouth, hands with fingers, feet with toes, and 6.4cm of pure cuteness. The measurement was perfect- 1.2. They want to see a number under 3.0, so I breathed a big sigh of relief at baby's low measurement. They took blood as well, and good results will rule out 99.9% of chromosomal issues. The amount of confidence this test gave me is remarkable.

2) There was a possible PENIS SIGHTING! J saw "it" immediately (or so he says), and the tech asked a momet later if we planned to find out the sex. She said she's "fairly certain" that we'll be having a BOY!! She added that we need to wait another month to know for sure, and cautioned us not to paint the nursery just yet. After she left us in the exam room to dress (me, not J) we stared at each other, eyes wide, speechless. J's grin made me happier than I ever could have imagined- although he's still quick to say he'd love a boy or a girl- he was thrilled. I was just relieved that the test had gone well, and trying to take in the idea that this may very likely be our SON! Afterward, when we chatted with the nurses during my nurse visit, they said this particular tech isn't a guesser, and that if she's not sure, she's not saying anything at all. They too reminded us that it's early and our next scan could prove the tech wrong, so April 7 will be a big day! J's itching to buy the airplane wall decals, but mama's holding him back.

3) J got a new job! He's been waiting for 5 months for this to happen, and when it happened, it happened fast! He found out about the position opening on Saturday, emailed his interest minutes later, chatted with the dealership manager Saturday night, and received a call for an interview with the general manager right after our ultrasound Monday morning. Three hours later, he called to say he had the job, effective immediately. He looked so happy this morning in his big boy clothes, heading to his big boy job, in his big boy office. I'm one proud Mrs. His former manager sent him off with his blessing, saying he had no doubt that within a few years, J could be running the dealership. Proud, proud. His new hours will take some getting used to (he'll work until 8pm or 9pm five days a week)......but on the bright side, that leaves me with unrestricted remote control ownership in the evenings. Always a good thing. But seriously, we'll manage. It's worth it to see his dreams beginning to come true.

Monday evening found us exhausted, thrilled, and feeling on top of the world. And gosh darn it, we kind of deserve that kind of happiness. At last. 2008, so far, so good!

that's one hungry baby

I'm blaming it on baby. Today, despite the tantalizing plethora of restaurants available to us in the Austin metropolitan area.....I had to have Applebee's. Yes, Applebee's. Not one of the approximately three billion unique, tasty, well thought out restaurants the Austin area has to offer....I wanted to do as the apple says and eat good in the neighborhood. (The neighborhood located inconveniently far from our house and close to nowhere we needed to go.) Random.

I ate my salad, and half of J's (the veggie part....gotta get those veggies in). I resisted the urge to lick my salad plate for the Thousand Island droplets. Next I polished off my Fiesta Lime Chicken, and tucked into the fries. I stole a few chicken strips of J's plate. As he pushed his plate away, loosened up his pants, and began to look ill, I chewed my fries, asked if he wanted that last chicken strip, and whipped out the dessert menu. "Seriously?" he has the nerve to ask. Bad idea. "THE BABY WANTS IT! SHUT IT!" And shut it he did. As did the waiter after I placed the dessert order, when he asked "two spoons?" and I frantically shook my head no. "Just one." Mama's hungryyyy. (I'm not selfish, J doesn't even like what I ordered. And he still looked ill.) I totally showed that maple nut blondie what was UP. The ice cream too (calcium!) The sad part is, as I looked over the ruins of my 8,000 calorie meal, I wasn't even that full. We left, ran a few errands, and my phone rang. It was my aunt, wondering if I'd like to join her and her boys for Mexican. I'll be damned if I wasn't tempted. J looked afraid. Or grossed out, who knows. (I didn't go.) Anyway, morning sickness seems to be fighting a losing battle here. It wants to hang out longer, but its time seems to have come. I'm feeling more cravings, fewer gaggings. There are still moments of misery, but overall, I'm sensing a change. And a rapid outgrowing of my pants in the not so distant future.

I had another ultrasound on Monday, and it was beautiful. And so exciting. As I emerged from the bathroom, cup o' pee in hand, Nurse K was waiting outside, looking ecstatic. "11 WEEKS! SWEETIE, THAT'S WONDERFUL!" I put my pee down, and we hugged as she congratulated me and said how happy she was that things looked so great. (I love this place.) My nurse practicioner was just as excited, and I couldn't help but feel special to finally be the patient they're happy to see. The ultrasound looked wonderful. Baby was wiggling all over and making it very difficult to get a good photo or measurement. Heartbeat strong, measuring ahead of schedule, every part looking perfect as can be. Next up, Monday's 12 week appointment and NT scan. After this, we tell the whoever will listen.

At home, the doppler continues to be my very best friend. I love it. I love laying there, listening to the proof that baby Cinco is in there, working away at growing big and strong. I'm 12 weeks now and amazed that I've made it this far, that the "second trimester" chapter in my pregnancy books will soon apply to ME. More and more, we talk about the baby in "when" terms instead of cautious "if" terms. We've got names on the short list. Of course, there are still moments of worry, where I'm afraid to feel too happy, too attached, to hopeful. But those are fewer, and we are happier.

a-chugga-chug-a

Not THAT kind of chugga chug! Although it is Friday night.... But no- a chugga chug of the heartbeat sort! Major excitement today. On a weak moment on Wednesday, I decided I absolutely positively had to have a doppler machine. They can be rented online for $20-40 per month, and as I thought ahead to the long, torturous month between my 12 week and 16 week appointments, I realized I'd need some reassurance. I'd tried to hold myself back, figuring it may cause more worry than excitement. But in my new, positive way of thinking- I hopped online and minutes later, it was on its way. And this morning, on my doorstep! I coulda kissed the UPS guy!

It didn't start off very well. I moved the listener-thingamabobber all over my gel caked stomach, and heard only my own (rapidly increasing) heart beat and lots of background digestive noise (thanks to that Cap'n Crunch breakfast, perhaps). The cats crouched nearby, taking turns having moments of bravery and sneaking toward the alien sounding machine, taking a verrrry cautious sniff, and retreating with haste back to the safety of the corner of the bed. After 10 minutes of searching, the worry crept in. See, I'd rented one of these things before. Back in my first pregnancy, I ordered one with so much excitement around 9 weeks. I couldn't wait to listen with J before bedtime, and just figured it would be a fun thing to do. I finally tried it out at the 10 week mark......nothing. At that time I was still blissfully naive and figured it was just too early, I'd bring it out the next week. Instead, I ended up packaging it back up in a Vicodin haze and slamming it out on the porch for pick up a few days after my D&C. So as I laid there today, the bad thoughts crept in. After taking a break, during which I chugged more water than it would take to fill a wading pool (they say a full bladder helps), I was back at it. Seconds later, THERE IT WAS! Clearly not my own (much slower around 70)- it was baby's!!! Chugging away at 170-178, way up on the high end. If you believe the old wive's tale (which, for what it's worth, I do not) that's firmly in "girl" range. Time will tell.

So, so exciting. Oddly enough, this feels more official to me than that 15,000 ultrasounds we've had so far. I can't explain why....but something about this makes me feel really pregnant. For me, it was much like the moment most women have when the second line appears on the stick. That "wow, we're going to have a baby, for real" rush. And wow, is that exciting.

Now, somebody hide that damn thing so I don't start carrying it around in my purse, just in case I get stuck in traffic or the line at Panera Bread is too long. Kidding.......

home again

I'm home! After five fun filled days under the California...er....clouds, I'm back. The trip, as expected, was fantastic. Nothing better than spending time with my family, and we had a great time looking at houses and narrowing down the areas of interest for mom and dad. But flying, I could do without. When we got to the airport yesterday morning, I breezed up to the self check in kiosk and was alarmed to receive a printout reading "see agent" instead of the anticipated boarding pass. Damn. Flight cancelled. I was rebooked, but the next two flights to Dallas were full, leaving me on the third option, 5 hours later. 5 hours in the entertainment challenged Orange County airport. By the time I boarded I'd read half of my book, read each word of my Us Weekly and In Touch magazines, gone back to the newstand for a Reader's Digest (desperate times), back once more for a local newspaper (desperate measures), and clogged both mine and Cinco's arteries with two McDonald's cheeseburgers and a medium fry. I figured I'd snooze through the flight, since it was about naptime anyway.

The bratty 2 year old behind me had different plans. As soon as I laid eyes on the tottering munchkin, I pretty much knew I was screwed. He looked owly and I swear he stared me down as he waddled past my seat. Just moments later, he was in the throes of a MAJOR temper tantrum, complete with gaspy breaths and shrieks that sent dogs barking miles from the runway, and kicks to the back of my seat that would have been helpful had I been choking or something, with their heimlich effect. And as I learned from his mother's pleas for his cooperation, his name was Braden. Braden's mom enrolled immediately in my shit list with her feeble attempt to silence B-man's tantrum- teach him how to work the seat back tray. The seat tray on MY seat back, mind you. For ten minutes, I worked through the jolting that resulted from Braden releasing the tray with a crash and kicking the tray back into place...deep breath, happy place, deep breath. But then, I'd pretty much freaking had it and shot his mom a look that made it clear I didn't find Braden's trick as cute as she did. To which she responded by looking at me as if I'd just stomped on the head Braden's kitten- I was an evil, child hating wench, obviously. Because anyone who truly loves children would be *totally* okay with being thrown all about in her $400 plane seat because someone didn't get his nap. Right?

The fun didn't end with Braden. There was also a barking puggle three seats over who escaped mid flight, an angry mother berating her kids for the world to hear because they wouldn't "JUST TRY ONE MORE TIME TO PEE BECAUSE YOU'RE REALLY MAKNG ME MAD RIGHT NOW", and the same angry woman telling her husband "THEY WOULDN'T BE SUCH BRATS IF YOU WEREN'T SO FUCKING INDUGLENT". We were in row 24, folks, and that last bit was spewed at such high volume I'm fairly certain the pilots heard. It was super awesome, I tell ya. Did I mention the urine on the bathroom floor? The stinky, sticky urine that held my flip flop firmly to the ground and induced another round of gagging and nausea? We really need to strike it rich and buy a plane. This public flying stuff's just not working for me. And at least then, when it's *my* precious darling having a total toddler meltdown, we won't be ruining anyone else's flight with our seat back tray acrobatic act.

Otherwise, all is well. I had another ultrasound the day before leaving for California, and things looked very good with the little one. When I told the nurse practicioner how excited I was that we'd made it this far, she smiled and assured me to "relax, because you'll be carrying this one for the long run". Hearing that from the mouth of a medical professional was so, so wonderful. The ultrasound pictures show what looks like an actual BABY! He/she was dancing all about, arms and legs moving....it was miraculous. Here's the latest picture of the little munchkin just over a week ago, at 9 weeks 4 days.

valentine's redemption

I'm not a Valentine's girl. It was all fun and games in elementary school. Build a cool cardboard mailbox adorned with construction paper hearts and glitter, diligently go down the class list addressing a valentine to each and every classmate in my best cursive (saving the grodiest looking valentine for Matt Kro, aka the booger picking kid), ending the day with a sugar high that sent shudders through the mommies in the carpool line. But in junior high, Valentine's Day turned into a "prettiest girl" contest where we all waited, breathless, to see who would gather the biggest bundle of carnations sent by fickle, squeaky voiced boys....I could just do without that kind of stress. Or carnations for that matter- the floral equivelant of beer can coozies and mullets doesn't exactly spell romance to me. Then came high school, and the disgraceful (albeit temporary) V-Day dumping from my tempermental high school boyfriend. Add in the fact that I don't look good in red, and that I have a general distaste for having my emotions manipulated by a greeting card company...just not my style. Then came Valentine's Day 2006, and the heartbreaking passing of my Grandma Rita. Put a fork in it. Done. Mark me firmly in the anti-V-Day camp.

However, I think that after today, I'll rethink my position. Something great happened today. Another ultrasound, another milestone passed, another peek at our rapidly growing little one! There were LEGS! In my belly! How weirdly fascinating is that? We saw a great heartbeat, a little wiggle, and our already over acheiving little embryo growing one day ahead of schedule. But before this, when I got to the doctor's office, they were clearly running behind. I got into an exam room and waited. And waited. And in that time, worry mounted. But then I thought, for the 10th time in one short morning, of my Grandma Rita. Strong doesn't touch the will this woman possessed. I know that today, of all days, she's watching over her loved ones. Reminding us not to be sad, not to dwell, not to waste a single day with worry when there's so much joy to be experienced. And I felt her there, in that quiet exam room, her trademark calmness bringing my heart rate down. And when the news was good (so good) I felt her spirit there, too. Patting my hand, rolling her eyes a bit at my tendency to panic, reminding me to keep the faith. The only tears I shed after my appointment were for her, or moreso, for me for missing her. Sadness that she won't be knitting an afghan for this baby, that I won't be calling her with this wonderful news of her first great grandchild. And since my radio is psychic lately, as I merged onto the interstate, on came the perfect song to turn the tears into sobs. Although my white, midwestern, conservative Grandma Rita had very little in common with Puff Daddy or his murdered pal Notorious B.I.G., the song still fits. That is, if you remove the whole "bust in the six, shop for new clothes and kicks" business (since neither I nor my grandmother, nor anyone from the state of North Dakota for that matter, would even know how to begin to "bust in a six"). So on this Valentine's Day, I rethink my position. Not on carnations, not on Hallmark's reign of terror....but on the possibility of sunshine on an otherwise gray sky day. On the power of hope, of love, of Rita-sized strength. And I send up my love- to Grandma Rita, to Turkey baby, to Grover. XOXO. And yes....Happy Valentine's Day.

It's kind of hard wit you not around
Know you in heaven smilin' down
Watchin' us while we pray for you
Everyday we pray for you
Till the day we meet again
In my heart is where I'll keep you friend
Memories give me the strength I need to proceed
Strength I need to believe
.............
Still can't believe you're gone
Give anything to hear half your breath
I know you still livin' your life after death
Every step I take
Every move I make
Every single day
Every time I pray I'll be missing you
Thinking of the day
When you went away
What a life to take
What a bond to break
I'll be missing you
Somebody tell me why
One day morning
When this life is over
I know I'll see your face
Every night I pray
Every step I take
Every move I make
Every single day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSYswqi9ZhQ