Toga Party!

PLACE: Owen's Crib
TIME: 5 minutes after waking from a morning nap
ATTIRE: Self-inflicted pajama togas only

This is exactly how I found him. I laughed my ass off for a good five minutes and then grabbed the camera. As you can see, he was pretty proud of himself this morning. I think this is an adorably charming fashion statement, that and his crazy bed-head!

{Thanks for the new big boy jammies Grampie Dick and Gramie Suzie!}

Twas the Night Before Christmas

and I was having lots of contractions. We called Dr. K, who IS ON VACATION UNTIL JANUARY 4th, and he told me to take my Procardia early (every 6 hrs rather than 8 hrs) and if it stopped the contractions within a half hour we didn't need to go to the hospital. This worked well, and allowed us to spend a lazy holiday with my family. We missed out on festivities in DC and Tennessee - but had a memorable holiday none the less, focusing on our most important gift right now.

Unfortunately, last night our luck ran out and around 4pm I started having contractions. They picked up, so I took my medication early around 745pm. Still not stopping. So after we scarfed down the turkey chili that Jeremy made, he cleaned up dinner, packed a bag and loaded us in the car. The roads were a little slick, and I've never seen him drive with such unabashed determination and caution.

When we arrived at the hospital we were sent directly to the perinatal triage area where they hooked me and baby up to monitors. Our little boy was thumping along in there, totally unphased by his mamma's uterine squeezes! My contractions were bothersome and in no way painful but definitely consistent. As each peak quickly approached on the monitor, we became more and more scared and tearful. Since Dr. K was out of town, the perinatologist on call for him determined that I needed a turbutaline injection to try to stop the contractions and a cervical length check. The doctor was trying to avoid coming in and when we heard the nurse say, "Okay so a resident will do the cervical check." Jeremy pipped up with "There are certain residents at this hospital who are not laying a finger on my wife." He asked for the Chief resident to care for us, otherwise we would wait for the doctor to come in herself.

The turbutaline made my heart race and my skin flush. I was trying to catch my breath and sob at the same time and could tell just how hard it was for Jeremy to stay strong for me when his mind was filled with fear and uncertainty as well. The Chief came in, remembered Jeremy and was happy to help us. She explained how we would proceed with an internal ultrasound to determine if the contractions were causing cervical changes and if I was in true labor. If so, they would do everything they could to stop it, giving us time for steroid injections to boost his lung development.

The ultrasound showed that I still have a good cervical length, and no funneling. His little head was down but there was little no shortening of the canal. The machine was brand new, so it was easy for us to see everything she measured. She felt confident that the contractions were not true labor and we could go home, especially since the turbutaline seemed to halt whatever contractions I was having.

Before she left, she honored a special request to see our little boy (scrotum and all) on the external ultrasound. We haven't seen him for over ten weeks, and that little peak helped give us the boost of hope that we needed. His tiny feet were crossed and tucked up under my right ribs (thanks for the bruising little one!) and his hands were in front of his face. He measured right on target for almost 30 weeks and that little monkey weighs 3 pounds 5 ounces already! They sent me home, back to bed rest and procardia with an appointment to see Dr. K next Monday. As long as I don't have bleeding or painful contractions - and stay on bed rest - we're hanging tight.

We drove home at 12:30am and I think we took what felt like the first deep breaths we've had in weeks. Our pregnancy with this wee one has made the two of us question the finite realm of science, while beginning to trust the infinite possibilities of faith.

And before I drifted off to sleep last night, all I could think about was that your prayers are working just as hard as my little body. And I'm thankful, truly, truly thankful for both.

No one ever asked me if I wanted a little brother because if they did, I would have told them that I wanted a barbie caravan.

I spent the weekend at home, escaping the loneliness of an empty house and retreating to a respite of childhood memories. It was nice to spend time with my family and rest peacefully without the fear of being ravaged by bed bugs in my sleep. My parents were able to feel the baby move punch and kick my insides like a gory game of mortal kombat, which I'm sure they wanted to do to me on several occasions in my angelic youth. Just one of the paybacks for grandparents to enjoy. He’s a feisty one, this little man, he likes to get the party started between 9-11pm and shows me no mercy until well after bedtime.

My brother Dane was traveling when we told people we were pregnant, so I had to text message him the news. To which he replied, “No way! How long have you been prego? Ahh, that’s exciting as sh-t [censored to retain PG content rating] congrats!!” When we found out the sex, I also had to text him. To which he replied, “Yay! I get to be an uncle! :)” From the number of exclamation points and emoticons in these text messages I assumed he was pretty stoked about the baby, but this weekend was the first time he actually saw me pregnant. And I wish wish wish I had an emoticon face that matched his expression when he walked into the room where I was sleeping and took a hard look at my rounded belly.

“WHOA! That’s totally weird. Even weirder because… well… it’s YOU!”

He seriously stood there staring at my belly for five minutes straight without blinking. It was almost as if he had seen a chia pet the size of a cantaloupe climbing out of my belly button doing the Macarena.

Since it was time for my morning rib mutilation – I asked him if he wanted to feel his nephew’s punching skills. He walked over to the bed and put his hand on my side – not two seconds later pulled it back as if he’d just touched a hot poker – “Yikes! That’s HIM?” He put his hand out again to feel him torture me a little longer, then smiled, said it was cool, and headed off to play his Xbox.

Being over six years apart, it was often hard for my brother and I to connect. I always wished for an older brother. I wanted someone who would beat up my boyfriends and drive me to school. I wanted someone to explain to me in layman's terms what “69” was before I embarrassed myself in my eighth grade health class or someone besides an obese driving instructor to show me how to parallel park. I think it’s human nature to want for what you don’t have – curly hair, perfect teeth, five million dollars – but never what is right in front of your face.

When Dane was a toddler he crashed my 8th birthday sleepover in his zip-up footed romper – so I paid him back when he was five by convincing him he was adopted from China because his eyes were more slanted than the rest of us. He is more adventurous than my pinky finger and uses more hair products than me and my mom combined. We wear the same shirt size and we have the same smile. He thinks I’m a genius and a hypochondriac. He’s the only person in our family that has more dents in his car than I do. His favorite color growing up was orange (and sometimes pink) and he annoyed me so bad that one time I wiped the inside of the toilet bowl with his tooth brush and made him use it. In 1995, he insisted on waking up EVERY MORNING to Insane Clown Posse blaring on his stereo – I will hate that band until the end of time because of it. He is the most laid back, neutral person I know and he pukes at the very mention of lemon meringue pie. He calls me for job and financial advice but is scared to introduce me to his girlfriends. Because of him my husband has gotten a tiny glimpse of what it is like to have a sibling. And before I left this weekend he said,

Hey Tam, I’m glad it’s a boy. I really wanted a nephew.

I have a feeling this baby can’t wait to meet his Uncle Dane – maybe they will have the same kind-hearted spirit or hatred for citrus-filled pie. This weekend I thought about how I was growing inside me a little boy who is destined to be a big brother one day – and then I thought about this adventurous guy standing before me who has perfected the art of being the youngest.

I used up all my patience today and I'm not getting a new shipment until next week

(Note the giant freckle on my abdomen. This thing use to be the size of a pin head and I'll bet 'ya FIVE BUCKS it's the size of brussel sprout by the time this kid comes out!
I hereby name him Fred. Fred the Freckle.)

How far along? 21 weeks
How big is baby? 14 ounces!
Total weight gain/loss: 0 lbs (but my doctor's scale said 2 lbs this week - so we'll go with that for all you peeps who are worried about my weight.)
Maternity clothes? Pants, YES. My shirts are getting shorter though.
Stretch marks? Nope.
Sleep: Lots of nightmares and restlessness.
Best moment this week: Seeing our healthy baby! He's measuring two days ahead and is perfect in every way.
Movement: This is one active little guy.
Food cravings: Getting my appetite back is nice, I've been craving smores so we'll have those this weekend when we carve pumpkins and light our fire pit. Also, Jeremy promised we can get Thai food!
Gender: It's a BOY!!
Labor Signs: No, praying for a full term baby.
Belly Button in or out? In, but I can barely get an M&M to stay in there these days.
What I miss: the energy I used to have and being able to hold in my farts!
What I am looking forward to: Being at home this weekend with my husband, trick-or-treat, and wearing my new winter coat (Thanks Mom!)
Weekly Wisdom: Boys are WAY easier than girls - (pretty much everyone says this)
Milestones: I have a penis growing inside of me and I couldn't be more proud.

Today we stood on line for over 3 hours to get my H1N1 vaccine. Most of the wait was outside, which was better than being closed up in a stuffy auditorium, but once we got in the building it was a total mess. Only ONE table was vaccinating the pregos and of course it HAD THE LONGEST LINE. With 20 minutes left in our wait some paramedics started asking the pregnant ladies if we would like a chair to sit down in... THEY ARE LUCKY THEY DIDN'T LOSE AN EYEBALL.

Hint: When approaching pregnant women who have been STANDING in line ALL AFTERNOON, do not offer them a chair. Instead, shower them with chocolates and massages while telling them they're skinny and reminding them they're next. Otherwise, GO AWAY.

Also, Jeremy was thoroughly amused by the pandemonium that is public vaccination of children. Watching other children scream like holy hell while your mom tries to roll up your sleeve and convince you it doesn't hurt - GIANT FAIL.

And my heart grew three sizes that day

This little child, may he grow big.

20 weeks, 4 days and weighing in at a whopping 14 ounces! Our baby boy!