Layla, it is!

Last Friday night, in the midst of some turmoil with Baby A’s mom, I told Skip that we needed to name this baby!  I was tired of not having a name to call her and I needed a positive distraction.  We’ve been going back and forth between Layla and Shylie for a while now.  I’ve loved the name Shylie for years, but Layla is a name we’d never really discussed before.  I like L names a lot for some reason, and when I saw Layla on a baby name list, I knew it was in the running.  Skip liked it, too, but he was not ready to commit to either until a week or so ago.  When we looked the name Layla up, it meant night and/or wine, which I found funny but not ideal for a meaningful name for your child.  Shylie is such a rare name that I couldn’t even find a meaning for it.  We were disappointed to find Layla in the top 50 baby names of the year, and we thought that was going to be what swayed us from Layla to Shylie.  We were both so bummed, however, that we decided we didn’t care if it was more popular than we thought and that being bummed could mean it was meant to be.

I wasn’t in nearly as big of a rush to settle on a name this go round.  Maybe there’s some detachment strategies going on unknowingly or something, I’m not sure.  I haven’t been consciously trying to remain detached, I just haven’t been in a rush to do as much as I was the first time.  Chasing a one year old could have something to do with it, too!  Anyway, with only eight weeks  or so to go, I wanted this baby to at least have a name and Friday night, we decided on Layla.  Then, on Sunday, as Skip was on his way to take Baby A for visitation, I get this text: “Layla, it is!”  Turns out as Skip was driving, he just felt this peace about the name and like we’d made the right choice.  So, her name will be Layla June Erdman.  I’ve had her middle name picked out for as long as I can remember.  Long before I ever really thought I would be the mama of a girl.  If the first name didn’t sound right with June, it didn’t make the list.  My Nanny was such an important part of my life and someone I want my daughter to feel like she knows even though they’ll never meet on this side of heaven. I also love the possibility of initial nicknames.  LJ and LE are both really cute to me, and LE are Levi’s initials and we’d talked about whether or not he’d ever be called by them.  Having a name to call her has made this whole pregnancy feel more real, so that’s a plus, too.

I guess I am finally starting to believe in this pregnancy.  Just today I had my 30 week visit and discussed a plan for induction. Monday, I had an “unplanned” ultrasound (The MFM had planned it, I had not!) and got some adorable 3D pictures of our girl.  Everything looks good, but my new MFM is very cautious and has scheduled me for ultrasounds every three weeks for the remainder of the pregnancy and NST (non stress tests) TWICE a week starting at 32 weeks.  I have a new MFM because the Women’s Institute at the hospital recently brought on a full time MFM.  I’d met with the last full time MFM for a consultation 10 weeks after losing Levi; I really liked him and he up and moved back to Michigan.  Then, rotating MFMs from the Charlotte practice would come to my office and see patients, so I saw two more MFMs around 20 weeks.  One, I liked, one, not so much.  So, in the past year, I’ve seen four MFMs when one is more than most pregnant mamas ever see.  Dr. Bower (my amazing OB) sent me to the new one because we wanted some back up on inducing at 37 weeks.  Without prompting, she offered her suggestion: induce between 37 and 38 weeks.  I was thrilled, AND, unlike several of the others I’d seen, she is not a stickler for an amino before induction, so that’s one thing I won’t have to do.  Inducing early does mean I’ll have an increased risk of having a C-section, and there’s a 1% chance her lungs won’t be fully developed and she’ll have to go to the NICU.  Stats haven’t historically worked in my favor, but I feel good about those odds.  I feel better about not going much past when we lost Levi (37 weeks, 3 days) than the other possible risks. 

The whole C-section thing threw me for a loop for a minute because the actual act of labor with Levi was kind of a breeze.  They began my induction at 7PM on a Friday and I delivered at 12:10PM on Saturday afternoon.  I just assumed that it would likely be the same way.  Dr. Bower explained to me today that since the baby’s health wasn’t at risk the last go round, I got higher doses of labor inducing drugs and that would not be the case this time.  There’s no reason to automatically assume I’ll have to have a C-section, but it is a risk she wanted me to be aware of.  She also said since she won’t be taking any chances, she would “cut you (meaning me) open at the first sign of distress.”  And that is why I love this woman!

I’ll start the NSTs on September 29th which is also the day of my 32 week check up and my next ultrasound.  I’ll go Mondays and Thursday or Tuesdays and Fridays every week from then until delivery.  Since they don’t schedule them later than 3:05PM, I’ll have to leave school five minutes before the bell, two days a week.  When I started getting a little frustrated making the appointments today, I reminded myself of how worth it they’ll be if they help get her here safely.  If someone had said all I needed to do was spend the last five weeks of my pregnancy in and out of the doctor’s office, and it would’ve prevented losing Levi, I would’ve gladly taken it.  So, I’m not going to complain about the monitoring or the extra attention. 

In case you’re wondering, the tentative plan for induction is to admit me Monday evening, November 3^rd and begin the induction.  Dr. Bower is on call on Tuesday and I should be ready to deliver by then.  I’ll be 37 weeks, 4 days on Tuesday.  We both feel comfortable with this. I’ll work until the previous Friday and go back to school the day before Christmas break.  It’s an early release day and a Monday, so I thought it’d be best to go back when lots of kids will be taking the day off and the day will be short, too!  I love a plan, but plans like these are scary, too.  It means I’m committed.  It means I believe I’ll need a substitute teacher for 6 weeks and that I’ll have a baby girl to bring home.  And while I really do believe it, it seems like a distance, far off goal and like I might be planning for someone who isn’t me.  It’s hard to explain.  If the last 8 weeks of this pregnancy go by as quickly as the first 29 and if NSTs take up as much time as it sounds like they will, I won’t have too much time for worry or fear, and that is just fine with me.  Come on, November 4th!       

These Days

I’ve been working on a post for the last few weeks chronicling the ever-eventful saga that is raising a stranger’s baby and falling so in love with her that you lose sleep, money, pride, and tiny pieces of your mind just to keep her a little longer.  I can’t post it.  It’s too much.  I can’t be as candid as I want to be and when I whittle it down, it’s just not me.  Most people know I am an open book, so ask me in person and you’ll get an earful!  But, instead of the “play by play” and accompanying emotions, I’m gonna try to get the gist out and move on to happier subjects to delight and entertain you J.

Just after Baby A’s first birthday, her mom informed us she was “going through some stuff” and wouldn’t be doing visitation for a while.  Less than a week later, she called to inform us that she would be taking her back full time the following week.  We were devastated and super unhappy with the uncertainty of her plans and the state of limbo in which she was willfully putting us.  With September looming in the background, I imagined our house, quiet and empty again, and pretty much cried every moment I wasn’t surrounded by people and sometime even when I was (including one breakdown in Target in front of parents of a student I’d had exactly one week).  Skip took over communicating with the mom because she responds much better to him.  I continued to cry and be a source of great worry for my friends and family who have worried about me enough in the past year to last a lifetime.  Emily tried to step back in and help “mediate,” but we realized that wasn’t really what the mom wanted either.  There have been so many plans and visitation schedules discussed in the past three weeks that I’ve lost track.  Instead of working, Skip has spent many hours on the phone with the mom or listening to me vent or calling attorneys.  I could not do this without him.  

For now, we think we have worked out an agreement with her mom, and she will be staying with us for a while longer.  February was mentioned, but as often as plans have changed lately, I’m not even penciling that in on the calendar.  The mom and her “sister” are going to come Tuesday and sit down and talk with us.  We are going to try to build a better relationship with the mom and get to know her and have her get to know us a little better.  That is not something I naturally would want to have happen, nor am I honestly looking forward to it, but it seems unavoidable.  She’s not looking to give us legal rights to Baby A anytime soon and we are not ready to give her up.  A custody battle would get ugly quickly because her biological father is in the picture just enough to not suck in the eyes of the law.  The attorney we spoke with sent us an email the other day that said, “we feel you are in serious predicament with no simple solution.”  Uh, ya think?! 

So, when people ask how things are going and how I feel, I’ve started comparing it to a roller coaster ride.  There’s a near constant knot in my stomach and my heart races every time we get a text or call.  But every time this little beauty learns something new like backing down the stairs or showing her tongue on command, I remember why we got in line for the ride. It’s magical, this parenting thing.  And just when I think the ride with bay A might be over, we start chugging up another hill and although I’m anxious, I am so glad we’re buckled in for the long haul. 

As for hitting the one-year milestone of losing our first precious baby, I’m still working on putting that into words.  And, as our new baby girl’s due date gets closer and closer, I’ve got a lot of new anxieties and excitements that hopefully I’ll find the time to write about, too.  If I could find a way to put more hours into the day, I think I could keep this blog more or less up to date!

Decisions, Decisions

This is a big week around our house.  Skip will be turning 34 on Tuesday and much more excitedly, Baby A will be a year old on the same day!  I’ve had a blast (and several minor panic attacks) over planning her birthday party.  I never realized there were so many decisions to be made!  Should we do a two-for-one and celebrate Skip’s birthday at the same time and location?  Should we have the party at our house or at the park?  How many is too many people to invite?  Who should take her one-year-old pictures? (This is a very tricky decision because of Skip’s relationships with so many great photographers.) On what day and at what time should the party be and what should we serve to eat?  There is/was so much to consider, but I had a lot of fun with it.

I pinned an adorable invitation and had Skip begin to recreate it for me in Photoshop.  When he casually mentioned the cost of printing and mailing the number of invites I was planning to send out, I scraped that idea and decided on Evites and a Face.book event.  Skip got prices from several of his photographer friends and although their work is amazing and I am sure worth their fees, we opted to have Skip take them instead.  I am so unsure of how Baby A will act during her first photoshoot, especially if the photographer is male, and I know how easy it is for Da-Da to get her to smile. Plus, he’s got a fancy-schmancy camera and doesn’t charge a sitting fee!  I priced a shelter at the Village Park and tickets to the Splash Pad and Train ride, and although it is really a super deal, it wasn’t free, so we’re having the party at home.  I won’t have to lug everything in and out of the park, and I’ll be forced to give my house a good cleaning before school starts back.

I hate to sound cheap (although if you know me, you know that I SO TOTALLY AM), but I never realized how expensive parties could be!  And I know she’s a baby and won’t remember this party or the next few to come, but I will.  And, if we get to keep her forever (you’re praying for that with me, right?) I never ever want her to look at things we (will hopefully) do for her little sister and wonder why it wasn’t done for her in a similar fashion.  I’ve also realized why other baby loss mamas have shared about the emotional toll that planning birthday parties after loss can be.  It’s been super fun, but some parts have just been sad.  Do you have any idea how many cute birthday party themes there are out there for little boys?  About a zillion.  And this is the time of year that I should be planning my first little boy birthday party.  I am so thankful and blessed to have one to plan at all, but it’s just not the one I should be planning, and that sucks. 

Choosing gifts and sweet baby girl wrapping paper has not sucked and has gotten me over the sadness humps when the come.  I shopped Craigslist and found a Cozy Coupe (the toddler smart car looking thing) for a steal.  Then, I found a Little Tykes climber with slide on Craigslist for another great deal.  I ordered her some books with African American children in them and her first Bible on Amazon.  My other gift ideas- a crawling tunnel, a monogrammed suitcase, and shoes- I farmed out to mama.  I’ve been really looking forward to giving them to her.  When we picked her up from her weekend visitation (that I survived like a champ!) we also ended up picking up a brand-new pink and white Cozy Coupe.  It was half assembled and part of that was done incorrectly but it was a nice present-nicer than anything I assumed she’d get.  Her (biological) father had apparently gotten it for her but they couldn’t get it put together properly.  Just as I suspected, she LOVES it and she and Skip spent the evening driving it around.  Skip only knows one speed, so she had to hang on tight, but she loved it.  I plan to try to re-sell the one I purchased from Craigslist after the party, so I’m not even bummed they ripped off my present idea. 

So anyway, we’re partying at home and my fabulous friend, Kimberly, is crafting an adorable smash cake and making cupcakes.  I’m also gonna serve hot ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit, and the goldfish’s cost effective first cousin-Aldi brand “penguins.” Skip’s parents are coming up from Atlanta and Nana Lou has made her an adorable onesie/dress that says “I’m one” and Christi let me borrow Paisley’s birthday outfit complete with a tu-tu.  I actually planned the party colors around the tu-tu, so like the diva she is, she’ll have a wardrobe change mid party!  I was worried no one would come, but now I think it’s just gonna be great!  And, if the birthday girl will either nap early or troop through a morning without a nap, it’ll be even better!

Legacy

To be so bad with numbers, I am awfully good (oxymoron, yes?) with dates.  So, there’s a lot going on today, August 17^th, but the thing that strikes me most about this date is that two years ago today, my Nanny went home to meet Jesus face to face.  Not a day goes by that I don’t either do something she taught me or think of something she used to say or laugh at how she would be dolling out the advice on how to handle visitation and “joint” parenting (I’m being kind with that wording).  And oh my gracious, how she would love this baby girl just like we all do. 

Enough time has gone by now that when I think about her, I don’t think about her sick and suffering like we did for so long after she fought cancer so dag-gum hard there at the end.  Instead, I think of our shopping trips and visits to the library and how intently she listened when I told a story.  I find myself regularly asking mom and Skip if they are really listening to me, and I never ever had to do that with her.  It’s one of the things I miss the most.  She was my greatest admirer and you better believe I worked hard not to let her down.

This summer, through their posts and pictures, I’ve watched two friends on Face.book say goodbye to their grandmothers.  My heart just broke for them, but it also was a great comfort to see that other Memaws and Grannys out there are just as treasured as my Nanny was.  I know so many in my generation that don’t make spending time with their grandparents a priority, and that’s sad.  Truthfully, I think we lose out on more by not being around than they do by not having us around. 

So, when I think about my Nanny today, it’s not bittersweet, it’s just plain sweet.  In many ways, I feel as close to her today as I did when she was still here.  I am a mother now and I get to try to do the task justice like she did.  I get to watch my mama be the Nanny my Nanny always was.

We didn’t get a whole lot monetarily when my Nanny died.  She’d spent our inheritances on our first cars, and spending money for me throughout college, and finally cancer treatments.  But what she did leave is a legacy and I am so incredibly thankful for it. 

It Happened

Well, it happened.  I was hoping it wouldn’t. I honestly didn’t think that it would. I made it 25 weeks and 4 days into this pregnancy without experiencing it, and then, just like that, it happened.  Indescribable, baby loss mama fear.  I went to the pool with mom and Baby A on Wednesday and right after getting there I, of course, had to pee.  I noticed very faint spotting, but there was no denying something was there that shouldn’t be.   I reminded myself that is was probably no biggie and even found a logical possible reason.  I calmly decided that all I needed was to feel some movement and set out to get her wiggling and ease my mind.

I’ve been feeling obvious baby movement for the past few weeks but not regular, predictable movement. I seem to feel her the most when I am up in the night either peeing or helping Baby A get back to sleep.  I knew that drinking a cold drink is suggested for kick counts (which I won’t start doing until 28 weeks) and decided a little caffeine couldn’t hurt either.  I hit the snack bar and bought an ice-cold RC co-cola and guzzled about half the bottle.  The only movement I got was yucky burps.  I hiked up my maternity tankini top to let the sun beat on my bare belly.  Last summer, Levi all but danced every time my belly got hot in the sun, but his little sister wouldn’t budge.  I laid on both sides and pushed her around a bit and even thought at one time I felt a little kick, but it wasn’t followed by more kicks which is usually the case, so I dismissed it.  I remained outwardly calm, but while mom and Baby A were swimming laps/sitting on the stairs I called my OBGYN. 

It was 2:15PM and they had an appointment for me at 3:45PM.  I figured that’d be plenty of time to get home from the pool and hoped Skip would be home to keep the baby by then.  I didn’t want to worry Mom and having her keep the baby would have prevented her from getting our other big girl, Amy, before church that night.  I sent Skip a couple texts while at the pool, but didn’t get a response.  Luckily, he called just as I was leaving the pool.  Unluckily, he was in Concord and could not be home in time to stay with her.  We decided he would meet me there and drive around the sleeping baby while I went in to be checked. 

I remained calm, which I know I keep saying but that is so important to me for some reason, and went in by myself for the appointment.  It felt a little too familiar and like brand new territory at the same time.  I have never gone in for an appointment because I was worried about a pregnancy before.  Anyway, I waited for the doctor, one I’ve only seen once in the last two pregnancies, and texted with Skip who cruised around the mall “like it was Jericho” as one of this texts relayed.  The nurse was very sweet- they all remember me well from last year- and didn’t placate me but wasn’t indifferent either.  She was the perfect mix of optimism and understanding. 

When the doctor came in, she explained that I really should’ve been sent to triage for monitoring, but since they made me an appointment, she would see me first.  I got a little panicked that she was going to make me wait, but then I noticed the Doppler in her hand and relaxed a bit.  When I laid down for the jelly application, a flood of familiar feelings rushed in and I was crippled by fear that the sound on the Doppler was going to be the same sound I heard with Levi almost a year ago. My eyes filled with tears as she quickly picked up what I knew to be a heartbeat.  I started apologizing for my worry and texting Skip the good news.  I explained through tears that I hadn’t known anything was wrong with Levi until the Doppler was silent.  She did a physical exam and explained that because of my history, she would still be sending me to triage for monitoring.  I told her I didn’t think that was really necessary because at that point, this little girl had started cutting flips, but she said it was for peace of mind (and I could tell a little bit of covering her butt, too).

So, I set out on an all too familiar walk from my doctor’s office over to labor and delivery with my yellow slip in hand.  I went to the same counter and actually got the same lady who admitted me when they sent me to be induced with Levi.  I distracted myself with my phone while I waited to confirm that my life’s history had not changed and that they had all the proper information needed to bill me. I walked through the same, big double doors you have to have a badge to make open and just when I thought I would be put in a labor room, we turned down a new hall and I could breathe a little easier.  Baby girl was still kicking up a storm (nice to know she’s gonna keep me on my toes) so I wasn’t scared anymore, but the whole scene felt a bit eerie and I was just ready to get it over with.  In an effort to make nice with her mama, the little one immediately started moving and showed proper heart acceleration to which the sweet nurse responded with impressed noises and reassuring words.  I stayed hooked up for about 25 minutes and got to hear her heart beat faster as she made movements I could feel.

The whole ordeal- from realizing there could be a problem to making it back home in a hospital bracelet- lasted less than 5 hours.  Everyone was very reassuring and told me to call and come in for monitoring anytime, which I plan to do if I get worried again, but I can’t help but feel kind of silly.  Had I waited another hour or so, I would probably have felt her somersaults in the comfort of my own home and not received a bill.  But then again, if something had been wrong and I hadn’t gone, the guilt could have done me in.  All in all, I think I did the right thing.  Now I know what to expect.  Now, the last memory I have is of a strong, healthy heartbeat. And hopefully, the next 12 weeks are going to be remarkably uneventful.

Speaking of...

I am ashamed of my lack of blogging this summer.  When I was sitting on the side of the road waiting on Skip to come rescue me on our anniversary, I was thinking- I need to write about this.  My next thought was that I needed to write about a lot things that have happened this summer.  As summer is quickly winding down, I can’t believe that it’s almost over. 

So in no particular order, here’s a little update:

Thursday was our four-year anniversary.  We made plans for a couple’s massage at Massage Envy (we had a gift certificate!) and a cookie skillet at Afton Tavern.  We haven’t gone overboard on anniversaries the last two years- not gifts, no fancy dinner, just some scheduled time together.  It’s plenty special to us.  I realized in my quest to make an insta-collage of our pictures that we don’t take enough couple pics, so I am making it a new (marriage) year’s resolution to take more pictures together!  I got tickled at how many pictures I found of Skip sleeping.  Maybe I’ll do a collage of those for his upcoming birthday.  Anyway, despite my car trouble, it was a great day. 

Speaking of car trouble, in my never-ending pursuit of a silver lining, here goes: My check engine light came on at the beginning of the summer.  Skip took it to have the codes read, had the light turned off and brought it back “good as new” at the end of June.  The light came on again, but it continued to drive just fine, so I didn’t worry about it-just call me Penny.  Then I realized my inspection was due, so I set out Thursday morning to get the light re-set, drive the miles needed to get me a good inspection, and be on my merry way.  I took Baby A to summer camp (more on that later) and ran some errands.  I went to Salisbury and back and when I was a little over a mile away from home, I lost power.  I coasted another ½ mile or so while I called Skip to report that “it has happened.”  I got tickled calling him because I was just barely rolling down the road and it struck me funny.  Here’s the thing: it could have been SO MUCH WORSE.  I had been on the interstate minutes before.  I had been in another town an hour before.  Baby A is with me nearly everywhere I go these days.  But instead, I was alone, near home, and getting adorable video via text from Ashley of Baby A living it up at summer camp.  Oh, and the next day was a “gully-washer” of nonstop rain all day, so I was very thankful my break down happened the day before.  I ended up needing an alternator and a radiator.  My 2005 Nissan Altima has 203,500 miles and has had neither of these replaced before, so I couldn’t be too upset.  The retired mechanic down the street had me back on the road in less than 24 hours.  Interestingly enough he called at 11AM with the following information.  My car was ready.  He closed at 12.  It would be $1083.  He didn’t take debit/credit cards.  Or checks.  I should bring cash.  It’s a darn good thing for him that we’re Dave Ramsey disciples and had access to that kind of cash in the form of our emergency fund.  Anyway, the car runs great once again and all’s well that ends well.

Speaking of ending well, this week will be the last week Baby A goes to summer camp.  She spent her first day at camp in June when mom and I spent the day at the spa.  When I picked her up, it was obvious she’d had a great time.  Skip and I had a little mini-vacation to Hilton Head planned for July, so it seemed like a no brainer to send her back to camp while we were away.  When I did the math on paying per day vs. paying per month, it made the most sense to sign her up from mid July- mid August.  She also got quite clingy after I’d been out of school a few weeks and I do not want her to be that child who puts their mom in a choke hold when strangers speak to them in Target.  I’ve read all about separation anxiety at her age and know that it’s normal for the most part, but I also want her to know how to interact with other children and listen to other adults who may or may not be able to cater to her like ma-ma and da-da and nanny do at home. So, overall, it’s been a good decision.  She missed a few days with a stomach virus and a few more because of terrible teething days, so this past week was the first week she’s gone 3 days.  The first and second were great.  I got the videos I mentioned earlier and she was all smiles.  Fast-forward to Friday’s pick up.  When I got there she was a crying, snotty mess.  She had one foot randomly painted pink (due to a craft gone bad) and when I went to put her in the car seat, I noticed she was no longer wearing pants.  The director stopped me on the way to the car to ask if I’d been told “what was going on.”  Turns out, there’s been a little outbreak of hand-foot-and-mouth disease and I should watch her tiny (black) hands for pinks spots that indication infection.  I remained outwardly calm, but was a little panicked inside.  Remember that I joined this active parenting club four short months ago and this is my first experience with daycare of any kind.  Before I got home, I’d sworn of daycare forever and had Googled and had the center for disease control on speed dial (just kidding).  Of course, once Baby A stopped crying, took a good nap and has shown no signs of infection, I am ready to pack her up and send her back to camp next week.  This ma-ma just needed a few minutes to process the events that transpired at pick-up.  Ultimately though, it did settle for me that we will not be putting her in pre-school until/if/when the new baby comes and Nanny cannot keep them both at the same time.  We’d been debating the need for social interaction vs. spending money we didn’t really need to spend, so Friday helped make that decision a bit easier.

Speaking of easy decisions, when we decided to go to Hilton Head for three nights, it seemed like an easy decision.  I’ve written about the sweet deal I scored us on the fancy resort, so I feel the need to disclose how it really went down: they sent a voucher to print when I booked the trip, but to ensure I didn’t lose it, I didn’t even attempt to print it until the day before we left.  And of course, the website was down that day.  About half way to Hilton Head, I got it pulled up on my phone.  We were to check-in at the HH welcome center before proceeding to our hotel.  We assumed the welcome center would be in HH.  WRONG.  After getting to the island, we discovered the fine folks in HH like to welcome you to their island 35 MILES before you get to it.  So, we backtracked.  Then, a very unconcerned check-in lady explained that our accommodations were actually only for two nights.  If I wanted to clear up the mix-up, I would have to go stand in the parking lot in the 90-degree heat to get a decent enough signal to call someone who might be able to fix it for me.  Long story short, the “free” bonus night was not booked (even though it so totally was) and we would have to call back daily to see if a cancelation would make a third night a possibility for us.  Which I did to no avail.  Their best solution was to put us at a way-less-swanky-but-still-nice-enough hotel a few miles away.  The silver lining here was that the time-share tour was the easiest one we’ve ever done.  It took less than the 90 minutes allotted and the dude did not pressure us at all.  I guess when you’re visibly pregnant and talking about an 11 month old at home, they know you’ve got bigger fish to fry than a time-share payment.  They guy did ask us to drive him (and us) to the resort which we found odd but a small price to pay for being out in a 75 minutes.  We also used every dime of the $100 food vouchers they “gave” us and really enjoyed our meals.  The food was probably the high light of our trip.  Anytime I get to eat Key Lime Pie three nights in a row is a good time for me.  I must confess, too, that we did not stay the third night in the way-less-swanky-but-still-nice-enough hotel.  We showered, napped, and got ready for dinner there and after dinner on our last night, we hit the road.  Had we been in the super fancy resort room still, we probably would’ve stayed, but driving home at midnight helped us make great time and we missed that little girl something fierce.  This parenthood thing really does change everything.

Speaking of parenthood, I’ve got lots of things to share about Baby A, her upcoming birthday, and the joy that has been summer visitation.  I’ve also hit 24 weeks, which is supposed to be a major pregnancy milestone that feels just like any other uncertain day for me.  But, this has gotten way long (and I hope not too boring) and it’s past even my summer bedtime, so I’ll save those updates for another day. If you read to the end, thanks for the love J.

Confession and Our Day in Review

My plan (and you know how I love a plan) for this summer was to write a lot.  I wanted to chronicle our time with Baby A and our subsequent pregnancy and ENJOY leisurely writing.  So far, I’ve failed miserably.  I could (legitimately) blame it on not having as much time as I assumed I would have to write and on regularly forgetting/blocking out the fact that I am, in fact, pregnant again, but I don’t really think that’s it.  You see, I am nothing if not an honest writer and sharing about Baby A with 100% honesty is complicated.  It’s scary to admit how attached we are to her and how much we’d love to keep her forever.

Here’s the thing, and I feel a little dumb even admitting it: I didn’t think I would love her this much.  Honestly, I am not sure I’ve ever felt this kind of love before. Yes, I loved Levi fiercely.  I loved the tiny bundle of joy I imagined he would be.  I loved how much he looked like his daddy when he was born, despite the other horrific aspects of his appearance.  I loved all the hopes and dreams we had for our firstborn.  I still do.  But, I didn’t know him like I know Baby A.  I haven’t gotten good at anticipating his needs or identifying his cries.  He doesn’t reach for me for bedtime snuggles and when (like she has been today) he is sick.  I desperately wish I had been afforded those opportunities with him but I wasn’t.  But, I have been with her.  I almost feel guilty for enjoying her as much as I do when I don’t get to enjoy him in these ways.  So, we’re three months in and I cannot imagine not being her mom.  I cannot imagine losing her, too. To all those people who said from the beginning, “how on earth will you give her back?” I have to say now, “I have no idea.”

It’s not like Skip and I thought it would be easy.  We went into this saying that our motto has kind of become “we do hard stuff,” and it’s true.  I just didn’t think it’d be this hard for several reasons.  I thought the progression towards reunification with Baby A’s mother would be speedier than it has turned out to be.  I also did not have a clear picture of her goals for herself and her baby.  There have been several turns of events (turn of events?) that have put us in a different position than we thought we would be.  I had been a mother but I had never been a parent, so I had no idea what kind of bond could be created between a mom with empty arms and a precious baby in need of some to spoil her rotten.  I know now.

The initial “reunification” date was set for August 19^th, Baby A’s first birthday.  Being just a little over a month away from that date, it’s obvious that that is not going to happen.  Her mom is not anymore prepared to take her now that she was when we got her and we are certainly not prepared to give her back.  The thought of having this new baby girl (more on that later) and a 14-month-old Baby A terrifies me and excites me.  Although I’ve never wanted “stair step” children, when I imagine having this new baby, I cannot imagine Baby A not being there, too.  I used to look at moms with kids that close in age with pity in the Target check out line, and now I start and end my day praying to be one of them!

We’ve (hopefully) made it through our first bout of illness with Baby A.  She was extra sleepy on Saturday, and by Sunday afternoon she had the early signs of a stomach bug (which at first I attributed to teething).  By this morning, she was full blown sick.  I began texting my mama friends and asking for advice, calling my mama, and running through possible causes with Skip.  I’d had plans for today for weeks with Ashley and Jenilee for a full day of visiting in Charlotte.  I could not decide if I felt comfortable leaving her with my mom, but I knew she could not go with me and be around Luke, Ashley’s son.  I mulled it over for hours in between some of the nastiest diaper changes I’ve ever been witness to, and decided I could go for an abbreviated visit.  She was just going to sleep (and poop) and mom could handle that.  I checked in with mom mid-visit and decided to go ahead and look into taking her to the doctor tomorrow.  The only “local” doctor she’s been to is in Myers Park (Charlotte!) where her mother took her for her 9 month check-up.  I called the pediatrician I plan to use here only to find out they don’t take Medicaid patients.  My second choice also could not accept her Medicaid, because it’s been issued in Mecklenburg County instead of Cabarrus (even though the office is in Davidson- which is in Mecklenburg county!).  I gave up and called the nurse line at the Myers Park office.  I was pleased with the nurse, satisfied with her recommendations and amused by her questions (no, she has not been out of the country in the last 30 days; no, she has not been in close proximity to reptiles in the last 14 days).   We made a pit stop for Pedialyte on our way home from Ashley’s and I picked up a still very sick baby and brought her home to nurse back to help armed with only cherry punch “cocktail.”

She did a lot more sleeping (and pooping) and kept down very little Pedialyte, but after her bath tonight she played (nekkid) in the nursery floor with Skip and me for about 45 minutes.  We’re praying that’s a sign of better days to come.  She tried so hard to feel good enough to play today, which just made her even more pitiful.  I guess we’ve experienced yet another parenting first, and it’s one that I hope doesn’t come around too often.  I have been grateful for a hands-on husband and nanny and especially for my mama friends who’ve been there-done this before and have infinite wisdom to bestow upon us.  I’ve talked more about poop today than I ever care to again, but it’s been so comforting to have someone to ask, “does red Pedialyte make a diaper look like it maybe/possibly/could be blood?” at 10PM.  There are perks to bringing up the rear on this child raising stuff and today, I definitely reaped the benefits. And even when she’s puny (and poopy) there’s no where else I’d rather her be.