Friday, December 9, 2011

One Month

Dear Alex,

You've been with us for five weeks. We're starting to get the hang of taking care of you and figuring out what the issue is when you cry. (Hint: it's usually that you want food. You stick your tongue out as a very early sign that you're thinking about eating AGAIN.) You make the cutest, funniest faces, and when I'm tired and frustrated, watching you make some funny faces will cheer me up again immediately.

You are still in a Pavlik harness, but I think that very soon, maybe even at your next appointment to Shriners in three days, you'll be graduated to a smaller brace. This means you'll (probably) be able to wear normal onesies again instead of the side-snap T-shirts and we'll be able to see your feet again and wear normal sized- socks and leggings. None of this seems to phaze you at all, even the shoulder straps rubbing against your neck. The worst of it for you is that the straps slow us down while changing your diaper.

Over the last week or so, you've begun making sounds that aren't grunting and crying, words like "blerg" and "blat" that are very cute. You have started to reach your hands out toward things, though not very accurately, and I've seen you look at me and at Daddy more often, especially when you hear us. Less and less often are you looking to the sides or over the tops of our faces. You also get crossed eyes more often, which is really funny looking and, luckily, perfectly normal for young babies.

You want to eat more or less constantly. I pump milk regularly in self-defense, otherwise I'd constantly be sitting on the bed with you nursing. This way I can pump, which is faster than you getting milk directly from me, and feed you from the bottle, which you also drink more quickly than you would nurse with me.

This means that you're alert and just hanging out more often, too. I talk to you a lot, and make faces at you, and occasionally sing. (You don't like the singing part too much yet.) I feel like we should read to you more often. When we do, you look at the pictures, so you'd definitely be getting something out of it.

You've met all the major players in your life now: all of Mommy's and Daddy's "immediate" families (in Mommy's case that's more than her parents and siblings). I'm working on -okay, thinking about starting to work on - a photo book for you of all their faces and names so you can see their pictures more often. With all this time at the pump you'd think I'd have started it already, but I haven't. I haven't finalized your birth announcement yet either, although it's all ready to go except a second picture.

You are a total cuddle-bug. You never want to be put down. Very often I'll finish feeding you and hold you snuggled against my neck and shoulder. If I try to put you down, you'll wake up and protest and want to eat until you fall asleep again. I'm getting better about getting you back to sleep without the feeding. If you'd only learn to keep the pacifier in your mouth, that would be going a lot easier too.

Your Daddy and I love you a lot and are so glad you're part of our family.
Lots of love,

Saturday, November 12, 2011

You're here!!!!!!

Dear Alex,

You arrived a week ago today! You were scheduled to come out this past Monday, but you decided to come a couple of days early. Your dad and I had some plans for those last couple of days, like a last date out to the movies, taking some pregnancy pictures, and resting up for your big debut. We'd finished all our appointments and work commitments and were looking forward to relaxing over the weekend. I think maybe you sensed that all the important stuff had been done and that we were ready for you. I was certainly more relaxed. We had boneless wings and mac & cheese for dinner that night (yay comfort food), and watched "The Happiest Baby on the Block" DVD twice.

Around 3:30 in the morning I had a dream that I was in labor and trying to get hold of your dad on a cell phone so we could go to the hospital. I woke up to a feeling that things weren't quite right and i asked your dad to turn on the light so I could see if the sheets were wet. They were, and when I tried to get up, there was a gush of more wetness. I told your dad that my water broke, and he panicked a little. He got me towels to lay on, and I told him to call the midwives and our doula. We were told to come to the hospital for 8 and to call back if you stopped moving. Dad started to pack his bag. I was able to get up and get myself dressed and ready, and while I was doing that, some mild contractions started. They felt more like moderate period cramps than anything else.

We got in the car and to the hospital without incident. Dad tried to wheel me into the hospital and down the hall quietly, but the wheelchair had something wrong with it and was fantastically loud. Jodie, our doula, was waiting for us. We all went into a labor/delivery/recovery room and Dad and Jodie took pictures of me, as we hadn't taken that many when I was pregnant and this was our last chance. I got changed into the hospital gown & tried to knit/ relax as a parade of nurses and doctors came by to ask questions, introduce themselves, and poke me in various places. I didn't get much knitting done, and relaxing was pretty impossible too. There were just too many interruptions. We made our preferences known, that I wanted to have skin-to-skin contact with you as soon as possible, that Daddy wanted to announce your name/ sex, that Daddy wanted to cut the umbilical cord, that things be quiet when you came out. Daddy also wanted to see the entire operation, and the anesthesiologist told him no, that he "wouldn't be able to see anything anyway", standing behind the big blue curtain. She wanted him to sit on a stool and not even stand up, in case he fainted from all the blood and everything that goes with a surgery. All the other doctors were fine with it, though, and everyone advocated for him. Finally she allowed him to be able to move between the sides of the curtain, as long as the midwife went with him.

There came a time, though, when they gave Daddy and Jodie scrubs to wear into the operating room, and soon after that started to get my bed ready to wheel away. That's when it all became very real to me: when I next came back into that room, I wouldn't be pregnant anymore, and we'd have a baby. This is what we'd waited years for. It was finally happening. I started to cry. Daddy leaned over and kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand. Then all I could see was the ceiling moving as we went out of my room, across the hall, and into the operating room.

It was very white and very cold and reminded me a little of a spaceship - very sterile and empty of everything except equipment. There were only a few people in there, all scrubbed up and busy doing something. Two or three people helped me transfer to the operating table, and after a couple of false tries, the anesthesiologist gave me a spinal block, which is a shot in the back to make you numb from the chest down. The needle pricked a little, but it wasn't bad at all. The spinal made my feet warm up, then my legs and all the way up to my chest finally warmed up. Meanwhile, my arms were being held out to the sides and a pulse clip was put on my finger. The IV was hooked up, and the blood pressure cuff started to work every couple of minutes. My feet felt like they were asleep, and I couldn't feel anything else, really, below my chest. A couple of weird tugs as the OB was putting this orange-colored stuff on my belly. That was the last thing I saw happening to the rest of me before someone put up the blue curtain, only a few inches away from my face.

Suddenly there were a lot of people in the room. Jodie was next to me, and Daddy was there too. I asked him to hold my hand, and I started crying again. Things were getting close to the important stuff, and having them in the room just made me realize it more. Jodie said that having them there made it feel more human. I said I'd rather just distance myself from it so I could relax and not cry, and she said that was okay too. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and concentrated on what I was feeling, or not feeling in most cases. They tilted the bed a tiny bit to the left, and with my arms out to my sides and very limited field of vision (and an oxygen mask on), it felt a little like I was flying.

I kept breathing with my eyes closed, or else staring up at the blue sheet, and everyone got very focused. I couldn't feel anything, but from the sounds people were making, I knew something had started. Jodie narrated for me: "There are feet!" "There's just the head left to come out now." Then I heard "28" and knew that you had been born - they had just announced your time of birth but I hadn't heard the beginning part. I didn't know if it was closer to 9:30, 10:30, or 11:30, and I didn't care. I hadn't heard you yet. Jodie said "you have a baby!" and then, finally, I heard you crying. (You sounded mad.) I saw some action over to my left- you getting to the warmer near the pediatrician, who examined you and declared you stable. While she was doing that, Daddy came over and whispered to me, "We have an Alex." I knew that meant that you were a girl, because we'd decided to name you Jonas if you were a boy.

A couple of minutes later (after I'd thrown up), Daddy brought you over to me. You were wearing the yellow hat I'd knit for you and were wrapped in one of the hospital's receiving blankets. You didn't look like I expected, but I was really happy with how you looked - better than I could have made up on my own. Really cute, especially for a newborn. You weren't crying anymore, just hanging out in your Daddy's arms with your eyes closed. I could reach your head only enough to kiss you and rub your ear with one hand. You and I and Daddy stayed like this until I was stitched up and beginning to be a little sore. We were ready to go back into the recovery room, and I was tired. Jodie tried to help us begin to breastfeed, but I was so tired I was fighting to keep my eyes open, and you weren't much more alert but were doing better than I was, anyway. I fell asleep and could vaguely hear your Daddy and Jodie talking. I think Daddy got something to eat. He helped the nurse give you your first bath and cut the umbilical cord.

When I woke up, it was much easier to focus on what was going on around me. Pretty soon after that, we moved to our post partum room, which is where we would be staying for the next 4 days. There was more practice with nursing, and more sleeping, and lots of people coming in and out to take vital signs for you and me and show your daddy and me the basics of newborn care (like changing diapers - your dad did almost all of those, since I still hadn't been given the ok to get out of bed.).

There is a lot more I could write about recovering from birth and our stay in the hospital, but I don't think it would really interest you much. A couple of highlights:
The nursing info board in our room had a place for a daily plan. In that space when we moved in was written "get to know Alex, breastfeeding, skin-to-skin".
We had incredible nurses over the weekend, even overnight.They were friendly, helpful, patient, and thought you were just adorable (you were).
All your grandparents came to visit that night and again on Sunday. They all held you. Many, many pictures were taken.
Your auntie, Bubba, and Nana came to visit on Sunday night. More pictures, more holding. That was a really fun visit.
We had some trouble getting started with the breastfeeding, so they gave me a nipple shield to use. You wouldn't suck more than a couple of times without one, and even after that and after using a pump, we had to supplement with formula a little because you never seemed "satisfied" after feeding on both sides and getting whatever milk I could pump.
Your newborn going-home outfit was enormous! The pants fit okay, but the top went down to your knees and the sleeves were nearly double the correct length.

I'm really glad you're home and that you've been doing okay. There are concerns about your weight (not gaining it back after birth quickly enough) and your hips (loose joints). We're doing round-the-clock feeding with you, and it's definitely not easy. Round-the-clock means every 2 hours during the day and every 3 hours at night. You seem to always want to either eat early (or really long after I'm supposed to have stopped) or sleep past a feeding time. Or both. Your newest trick is to nurse for longer than you should, and then cry for more when I go to pump. Today your Daddy was at a meeting for 5 hours and you wouldn't let me put you down for four of them.

Tomorrow you have two doctor's appointments: One in the morning for your hips and one in the afternoon to check your weight again. I hope it's been going up so we can stop going to the doctor's every other day.

Right now Daddy has taken you to his office, and I am alone at home. This time to be quiet and take a shower and maybe sleep for a little bit is nice, even though I'm wondering how you Daddy will be able to work and hold you at the same time. He hasn't brought anything with him but you and a big blanket.

I love you,

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

You survived 2011

Dear Flash,

Since you have existed, you have been through/to the following:
Tornado (June)
Your mom's job lay-off (June)
Athens, Rome, Pompeii, London, Sicily (June/ July)
Greek strikes (July)
The premiere of the final Harry Potter movie (July)
London riots (July)
Your dad's new work location (July)
2 apartment moves (July, October)
Earthquake (September)
Hurricane Irene(September)
A car accident (September)
3 speech contests (September/October)
Record-breaking, unseasonable blizzard (October)

That's a pretty eventful nine months (well, 5 months - that tornado you conjured up seems to have started everything)! I'm just waiting for the locusts to descend tomorrow morning and for Mt. Tom to erupt sometime over the weekend. I'll probably be waving to a couple of nice pairs of horsemen in the sky on my way to the hospital Monday morning...because you're scheduled to be yanked out by your butt on Monday, and those are the last couple of things that need to happen before I can be convinced that I'm actually going to have a baby, and that all the infertility crap I've been enduring for the past 3-4 years has actually resulted in success.

Love, Mommy

P.S. Feel free to cancel the locusts, volcano, and horsemen. I'd really prefer to be calm when you finally join us here on the outside.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Update on what's been going on

Dear Flash,

Lots of stuff has been happening in the last few weeks, and luckily you have decided that you don't want to be part of it. That's fine, as we have a New Plan for your birth.

We moved into our new apartment, and it's wonderful. Ok, the layout is kinda weird, and really inconvenient for doing laundry, but everything's shiny and new and clean, we have a dishwasher, washer, and dryer, and plenty of room for all three of us, plus the occasional overnight guest. All the grandparents came over the day after the move and helped us unpack. By the end of that weekend, the entire kitchen was unpacked and finished, and the bathroom and our bedroom were about 98% done too. I've been working pretty hard on getting your room ready, and the office....well, that's still a work in progress, but we *are* making progress. Just very slowly.

You're still breech. We even tried to get you to turn with an external version, where the doctor tried to push your head and butt around so you would be head down, but you weren't having any of it. Dr. Kueny said that he could only move your head about 5-10 degrees in either direction. He and the nurses & midwife all agreed that you were a very happy baby, based on your heart rate monitoring, and that everything is going right except you were upside-down. My belly was sore to the touch for a few days after all this went down - not fun.

All this means that we had to choose a date for a planned c-section. Our choices were a weekday between Nov. 1 and Nov. 7. We chose the 7th to both give you more time to develop and to give me more weekdays in the hospital where we will have more regularly-scheduled staff instead of on-call people to help with recovery and nursing and everything. So, we have a date and time to expect you. Assuming, of course, that you don't decide to come early or turn head-down before the 7th.

This past Thursday, you and I drove an hour and a half out to the Berkshires so I could compete in a speech contest. I was nervous because that's far from our hospital, and at 38 weeks, it was possible I could go into labor. Also, snow was in the forecast, which confounded a lot of people, as it's still October. It did end up snowing, which I didn't mind, as I love snow, and I got to and from the contest without incident. (I placed third and got a little trophy. Not my best speech, but at least I did it.)

It was my first time this season wearing my winter coat, and guess what? Even with you sticking out way ahead of me, I could still button it! I think I'll be substantially thinner after you're born and I've recovered from the surgery. Going to a personal trainer for this entire pregnancy has helped me on so many levels.

It's snowing again today. A lot. Like, a Nor'Easter level of snow. Your Daddy and I slept REALLY late (we're stocking up before you get here) and now he's out buying curtains for your room. We're both so excited for you to be here! (But, please stay in until the 7th. As much as I love snow, and as cool a birth story as it would be to be born in an October blizzard, I'd much prefer a calm, leisurely surgery as opposed to a mad rush to the hospital and into the OR.)

Relax, hang out and enjoy the hospitality of my uterus for another 9 days, and we'll see you very soon! Daddy and I love you very much!


Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Breech baby, Breech baby

Dear Flash,

You are freaking out everyone but me. You've been breech (butt down, legs piked up near your face) for about 10 weeks now, with no sign of wanting to flip head-down. Everyone else is wanting me to be in body positions that have my head lower than my hips, go to acupuncture/moxibustion/chiropractics, turn everything in the apartment upside down, pray, and do all sorts of things to get you to turn NOW. In fact, if you haven't turned head-down by next Thursday, they're going to schedule a version, which is when the dr physically puts his hands on my belly and pushes hard to move you around so you're facing the right way. Not comfortable for me, and not comfortable for you. In fact, "not comfortable" is an understatement.

While everyone else is wanting me to do this stuff on a nearly constant basis, I would like to sleep and not obsess over your position. You seem pretty comfortable where you are. I figure that you'll move when you're ready. If you don't, though, they'll be scheduling a c-section, which we'd all like to avoid. Wouldn't you rather come out on your own time and your own terms instead of having a doctor yank you out by the butt through the hidden side exit? I mean, I wouldn't be traumatized by a (planned) c-section, but it sounds like everyone else in the family would be.

The other little bit of excitement was your first visit to the ER/ Childbirth Center today. I was in a car accident, and even though I felt okay, I needed to go get checked out to be sure that you were okay too. I was a little worried that you wanted to make an appearance early, but the midwife said that you look "awesome". Excellent. :)

The only other major stressor on my plate (aside from your grandparents on my side, but that's another story, and fairly chronic) is The Move. We're supposed to move to a different apartment next week, but the university hasn't given us a move date. So it may be the week after. Which is making me extremely nervous, as I'd like to be settled in before you arrive. All your clothes, diapers, and gear are still in boxes and bags, and the vast majority isn't even here yet - it's at the grandparents'. Hopefully we'll get word that we can move in on a certain day and I can feel more confident about packing and asking for help settling once we move.

I am so excited for you to get here! I keep picturing what life will be like when I can see your face and hug and kiss you and play with you.
Your Mom

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Hurricane Irene

Dear Flash,

You've been getting bigger. And moving more. I think I've felt your head (or your butt. Hard to tell.) You like music but don't like when I put my laptop or a book on my belly. The other day you gave me an extremely violent push when I was resting on my stomach.

Tomorrow we are going to see your first hurricane. We're living in an apartment on the university campus, and the university is taking care of a lot of things, like where to park the car so a tree won't fall on it and where we can live if we lose power for a long time. I really love storms, so I'm excited. I have plenty to knit and read, and your Daddy will be here too.

Medically, you're measuring a bit big, according to the midwife's tape measure. You'll be getting another ultrasound on Tuesday to check. I'm not too worried. Worst-case scenarios aren't that bad. And I'm glad I'll get to see you again. :)

Keep growing (but not too much or too fast!) and enjoy the hurricane!

Love you,

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To Viability and beyond!

Dear Flash,

You've gone from an impossible dream to an enigma to a squirmy little "thing" that keeps poking my belly button. In the past month/6 weeks, you've been all over Europe, kissed, rubbed, spoken to, and lectured. Today, you came with us on a very short-distance move across campus to a temporary apartment. I like the apartment, and that I didn't have to do any of the lifting or moving, but the loss of control is tough to deal with. There's a table in the middle of the living room, for example, that I would really like in the second bedroom. Also, as the second, more permanent, move is scheduled (tentatively) for early October. You're due in early November. Even with a best case scenario where you're late and Thanksgiving is all at Nana's house, that gives me only 4 or 5 weeks to get not only the nursery set up but also the ENTIRE APARTMENT. While enormously pregnant.

I'm also enormously pleased that we've made it to 25 weeks. That means that if you decide to come early, you have a pretty high chance of surviving, even if you have to spend a long time in a NICU. I have a feeling you're going to come too early, but since I was wrong about being pregnant at all, it's entirely possible you'll continue to be contrary and wait until mid/ late November to decide to make your debut.

I really like being pregnant with you. Getting you conceived was a long, hard process (to say the very least!), but I'm glad that part of this whole "get a baby" thing is easy for me.

I love you and love to know you're doing well in there. Just...please stop using my bladder as a trampoline.


Sunday, June 19, 2011


Dear Flash,

For the past few days, I have been able to feel you move a few times. It feels like a heartbeat in my tummy. It's really cool. :) We're trying to decide now whether to find out if you have boy-bits or girl-bits at the ultrasound on Wednesday. We don't want a ton of gender-specific clothes, so if we find out, we're not telling anybody. I just want to know what to call you, instead of Flash. The day after the ultrasound, I'm off to Europe! (Daddy's been there for about a month already). We're also moving to a new apartment, where we'll be living when you're born. There's a LOT going on right now, little one. I'm almost glad you're not here yet, since if you were, there would be no trip to Europe and the move would be a lot more complicated.

I'm doing lots of reading and preparation for your birth. I have no idea what it's going to be like, but I know what I don't want, and that's about as much as can actually be planned. I like reading stories about natural births, because it gives me confidence that I can do this without a ton of interventions and medications.

There are only two days left in this school year. I'm glad it's almost over. Very soon I can concentrate on you, and the new apartment, and setting up how things will be for the next couple of years. The trip to Europe isn't going to be too bad either! :) I'll be researching family history and seeing the premiere of the last Harry Potter movie.

I love you and can't wait to meet you. Life is going to get calmer in the next couple months, and then you're going to explode into the middle of it like a comet. :) It's going to be terrifying and amazing all at once.

Keep growing in there!

Thursday, June 2, 2011

You've Got Superpowers!

Dear Flash,

I'm not sure how you did it, but you managed to get me two free days off work without losing any sick days. You did it with a TORNADO. It made the national news. Every day that I've been at work or doing exercise, my heart rate has been shooting up extremely quickly. So I went to the doctor, who said it would be a good idea to rest for Thursday and Friday (I was planning on calling out on Friday anyway.) Just as I was making the decision to go to the doctor that night, and was considering taking two days off anyway, you managed, somehow, to form a funnel cloud in Westfield, then West Springfield. The cloud jumped the Connecticut River and traveled up the hill through Springfield, spreading destruction over more than a dozen communities. I was driving back from work when all this was going on, and although I got caught in some spectacular lightning (nice work on that, btw) and an insane downpour, I was far out of harm's way. Around the same time as my doctor was telling me to take two days off, Springfield canceled school. And today, just now, I found out that we're closed tomorrow too! If you happen to pull something like this again, child, keep in mind that loss of life is NOT acceptable. At least four people died. I'd rather use the sick days than have people die.

I'm still impressed with your power, though. I'm going to have my hands full after you're born, I see.

I love you anyway,

Monday, May 23, 2011

16 Weeks

Dear Flash,

Tomorrow you'll be 16 weeks. You've been a pretty good fetus so far. I've forgiven you for your early transgressions (nausea, loss of appetite, aversion to chocolate, etc) and am enjoying some extra energy, better appetite, and all around better feeling. I can't wait to feel you move and see you making my belly bigger.

Tomorrow night your Daddy leaves for Europe for awhile. In a month you and I will join him. I'm really hoping for the movement and showing by the time we get back, so I'll have some good stories about feeling you move in Europe. :)

I can't wait to meet you. I love you.


Friday, April 1, 2011

Gummi Bear

Dear Flash,

I got to see you today - you look funny. Like a gummy bear with a really creepy, skeletal-looking face. You have a head that's just as big as the rest of your body, tiny little flippers for arms and legs, and a heart that's taking up a bunch of room. You're kinda cute, in a gruesome sort of way. I'm positive you'll get cuter as you grow. (When you see the pictures, you'll know what I'm talking about.)

I'm getting nauseous less often, but other symptoms are kicking in, although I'm still really tired. I love you so much and can't wait to have you out here (fully formed and at maximum cuteness) instead of making me have to pee every half hour.

I love you,

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Updates: All grandparents & aunts/uncles know, and the scare you gave us

Dear Flash,

Everyone in the close family knows about you now, and everyone's excited. The day after we told Daddy's parents we all took a trip to the Museum of Science in Boston and saw a planetarium show, and out to dinner at a sushi restaurant to celebrate Daddy's birthday. We told Aunt K about you in the car between the two places, and Uncle A with a text message of your first ultrasound picture. I've been very tired, and nauseous here and there, but I'm relieved that I'm finally having symptoms. They mean that you're doing okay and less likely to miscarry (especially the nausea).

Seeing you on the ultrasound a couple of days before these last few announcements was amazing. Daddy took video, and we got to take home a couple of pictures from the ultrasound machine. I texted the photo to all your relatives who already knew. :)

Last night, though, you gave us a HUGE scare. I started bleeding and passed a clot that I thought was you. (There was a lot of blood, and the clot was shaped and sized about the shape and size that you should be at this point). Daddy drove me down to the hospital, and they did another ultrasound to show us that you were still in there and your heart was still beating. We thought you'd miscarried. I was crying a lot, thinking that we'd lost you before we even got to meet you. Once I saw your heart beating again, I was more relieved.

I'm still feeling cramps, but I'm hoping they're nothing serious. It's hard to deal with since I can't take any painkillers that actually help, like ibuprofen, but I'd rather have them and you than be pain free without you.

Please don't scare us again. I mean, at least not until you're older and making your own choices about whether to scare Mommy and Daddy half to death.

I love you and can't wait to meet you,

Monday, March 14, 2011

Welcome to the family

Half of your family knows about you - Daddy and I told your grandparents, aunt, great-grandmother, and various others in the close family that you're on your way, and they are thrilled (Your Papi cried before anyone else!) I asked them not to tell anyone else yet, just in case you can't stay to meet them. We went to mass for my Grandpa in the morning, and my prayers consisted mostly of "please please please please let Flash be born healthy and grow up healthy, and let me be around to witness it all. Please please please please please." After mass, and after everyone who had come over for coffee afterward had left, your Papi gave your Daddy and me a gift for you - a small baseball glove. Whether you turn out to be a boy or girl, you probably won't be able to get out of learning to play ball with him. (Which is good, because Daddy and I stink at sports.) It's your first gift and I put it in the same box as your dot picture, FET summary sheet, and the hospital bracelet from your transfer.

Your other grandparents (and aunts and uncles) will find out this weekend. We are all so excited to meet you.

Saturday, March 5, 2011


Dear Baby,

I think you're finally on the way! I've had several positive pregnancy tests between Wednesday and now, and I haven't gotten tired of watching that second pink line form or listening to the voicemails the IVF nurses have left me with my blood test results (high levels!) Your nickname is "Flash" because during the embryo transfer on the 21st (Presidents' Day) the ultrasound tech, Amy, pointed to the dot on the screen of where you were and told us that that little flash was you. It stuck. Inevitably, the name got me thinking about Flash Gordon and his silver underwear, so today I stopped at Webs for grey yarn and sparkly silver thread to make you some silver diaper covers.

A lot of my time has been spent fantasizing about how to tell the family that they're going to be grandparents/ great-aunts/ aunts/ great grandparents/ etc. We're getting together next weekend because there's a mass being said for Grandpa, and I think that's going to be the perfect time to announce it. I'm just trying to figure out the best way to do it.

I have no symptoms yet. I'm not sick in the mornings, no physical changes, and I think my tiredness today is more because I had a tough session at the gym yesterday than because of you. I'm almost looking forward to getting a least a few symptoms, because that'll make me believe a little more that you're actually there. I'm still nervous that you're going to go away, but until I get bad news, I've made up my mind to be happy and excited just as if I'd never heard any of the stories about miscarriage.

You are so wanted, so anticipated. I can't wait to see you on an ultrasound in a couple of weeks, and meet you sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving!!

Love you so much,

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Betas at 16, 25 three days apart

Is it you in there? Somebody started to put down roots, but I'm not sure if it's you. If it is - KEEP FIGHTING. Grow. Live. You are very, very much wanted. It's okay to let go if you have to, but we want you to stay if you can. With your family background (including my and your great-Nana's stubbornness) I know you're a fighter. You can make it. I'll do whatever you need me to do in order to give you a chance to grow and develop enough to be born healthy.

I love you.