When I was pregnant with Hazelle, I was in amazement of the whole process. The most fascinating of it was her connection with her dad. In utero, I would poke and prod her to move to no avail. But the minute my husband's hand touched my stomach she would kick it. It was uncanny. When she was born, she was wailing and he leaned down and said, "Hi Hazelle". The baby stopped crying, opened her eyes and searched for him, like she recognized him. This child hadn't been an hour old. And he was the only one who could calm her in those harrowing first few months. It left me feeling left out and like an awful mom, until I had Isla.
She was just the opposite. All those things that Hazelle did for Ben, Isla did for me. I swear I could think about wanting her to move and she would. I felt so incredibly connected to her from the beginning. When she was born, it was like I had always known her and her being in this world filled a piece I didn't know had been missing. Not to sound like a cliche but it was the truth. And I know she felt the same about me. It's no surprise that Hazelle is a daddy's girl and Isla a momma's girl, but we all change up every once in awhile so no one feels left out. Life is good.
So now... number three is cooking and Ben and I have been stupified by her. She responds to neither one of us like the other two. We're left to guess about her intentions. We do know she is one ferocious kicker and does not like when I change positions for any reason. She's also plotting her escape route. I'm pretty sure she's already drawn a map and is waiting for all her provisions to be in place before executing her escape. She will rise to power quickly and be a mighty dictator, that is just my prediction.
Tonight though, some other things clicked for me. Hazelle hopped on my shrinking lap and put her hand on my belly. She said, "Momma, I want to feel the baby kick". And as if on cue, that little baby gave me a whopper on the other side of my stomach that Haze could feel 10" away. She smiled and said, "She kicked me!" Yes, yes she did Haze, just like you asked her to, without waiting. Then several other occurrences came to mind. Like last week when Hazelle laid her head on my stomach and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if the baby kicked me in the face?" And that little kid inside me walloped her right on the cheek hard enough for Haze's head to bounce. Hazelle thought that was the funniest thing ever. She said, "Heeeey, she just kicked me in the face!" and laughed hysterically. I could go on, but the gist is, when big sis shows an interest, the baby responds in full effect. Never to ever be outdone, Isla routinely sings her version of the 'ABC's' to the baby via built in microphone (a.k.a. my bellybutton, apparently that's the only way to officially communicate with the baby, just talking aloud will not do). And although G-3 does not retaliate like she does with Haze, I can feel the baby moving, like happy, like dancing. Seriously... I'm not on crack, I'm pregnant, and that would be frowned upon.
So... now I'm getting it. Big sisters are it. They are going to be 'it' for this child. I think that is just the coolest thing in the world right now. And that kind of bond is what makes it all worthwhile.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Hot Mess
Today is June 24. June 21st, last Monday, was of course the first day of summer (my ass!). I actually heard we were headed for a cool-down on today. It will be a measley 89 degrees outside. Geez, and they call that summer! Please....
Keep in mind I'm queen cranky-pants at this moment. Ben has been put on notice that at least one of us has to be on speaking terms with the world, and I have a 'no pants fit me anymore' excuse as to why I will not be that person. I knew this would be rough, after all I am a seasoned mom of two and have been through final trimesters before.... just not in the dead heat of summer..
I remember a few months back I was talking with a mom whose daughter was born right around my due date in 2009. I looked to her for guidance on how she made it through. She said with a brightly lit smile, "Oh, it was actually a really cool summer, it was so nice and pleasant." And then I punched her in the face. No, no I didn't, really. I thought about it... but then I realized I might have to do an outside work detail for probation and decided I liked the air conditioning inside better than anyone smiling about giving birth in August.
I promise you 4 readers that at some point I will try to be cheery between now and November. I say November because if you've ever had a newborn you don't even count the first 8 weeks they are around. There's a strange vortex there that you get sucked into and one day (when they start sleeping longer than 3 hours at a time) it spits you out, back to the real world with days and nights. I call it "The Awful 3 Months: The Last Month of Pregnancy and First Two with a Newborn". It doesn't sound like much, but I plan on writing a book about it someday. Except now I'm going to add an asterisk next to the title and put in small letters at the bottom. *Please extend this to 6 months if you plan on having an 'end of summer' baby. And good luck with that. And don' t punch anyone in the face who said it wasn't bad, they must have forgotten already.
Keep in mind I'm queen cranky-pants at this moment. Ben has been put on notice that at least one of us has to be on speaking terms with the world, and I have a 'no pants fit me anymore' excuse as to why I will not be that person. I knew this would be rough, after all I am a seasoned mom of two and have been through final trimesters before.... just not in the dead heat of summer..
I remember a few months back I was talking with a mom whose daughter was born right around my due date in 2009. I looked to her for guidance on how she made it through. She said with a brightly lit smile, "Oh, it was actually a really cool summer, it was so nice and pleasant." And then I punched her in the face. No, no I didn't, really. I thought about it... but then I realized I might have to do an outside work detail for probation and decided I liked the air conditioning inside better than anyone smiling about giving birth in August.
I promise you 4 readers that at some point I will try to be cheery between now and November. I say November because if you've ever had a newborn you don't even count the first 8 weeks they are around. There's a strange vortex there that you get sucked into and one day (when they start sleeping longer than 3 hours at a time) it spits you out, back to the real world with days and nights. I call it "The Awful 3 Months: The Last Month of Pregnancy and First Two with a Newborn". It doesn't sound like much, but I plan on writing a book about it someday. Except now I'm going to add an asterisk next to the title and put in small letters at the bottom. *Please extend this to 6 months if you plan on having an 'end of summer' baby. And good luck with that. And don' t punch anyone in the face who said it wasn't bad, they must have forgotten already.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
June 1: Time for Summer
Seriously. June 1st. Wow.
Well, nothing new to report except where the heck did the last 5 months go? I'm still stuck back in December for some reason. It's strange though because I feel a sense that we are moving on, starting anew. The last few months have been focused on getting the house ready to sell, having it on the market, Hazelle in school, getting through this pregnancy, etc. Now it seems like those phases are ending and it's time for summer! (don't take the exclamation point as an indication that I'm all that excited about it, air conditioning is my BFF).
Today was the last day for our house on the market. We set this deadline for ourselves and said 'whatever will be, will be'. 'It be' that it didn't sell. And you know what? That's alright. It really was quite a learning experience. We'll know so much more for the next time. Plus it gave us so much hope & confidence that we could actually do it with two small tornadoes in the house. I think next time we'll be able to do it with three. Maybe. We had an eleventh hour showing yesterday and are waiting on feedback*. We don't expect anything to happen, but in either case, this phase will be over. Amen to not having to clean like that again for awhile!
Hazelle finished up her first year of preschool. I think it was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for her. It doesn't seem like it would make that much of an impact, but it did. We both grew up a little. It helped me settle into the role of a stay-at-home mom this past year and confirmed that trying to do this while working would have put me in a bad, bad place. At least I feel now I'm making an earnest effort to be a mom and be involved in her life. It's different than I thought and am growing more accustomed to it every day. The coolest thing is watching her open her eyes to the world. She truly is her own person. I sometimes look at her and wonder where she came from, forgetting the four years of child-rearing, it sometimes seems like we're meeting her for the first time. So goes one of the many new things you learn from your kids.
And finally, last Friday marked week number 27 in this pregnancy, which also means the beginning of the final trimester. Or better known as the beginning of the end. I received my first canisters of free formula in the mail today and find myself grunting to get up. Yes, we have reached the time when we focus on preparing for this new little girl (for those of you who didn't know, we are indeed having our third girl). She makes her presence known and I fear will be quite the dictator. She kicks to her sister's voices and makes it known when I have moved in a position she does not favor. I have a feeling she will hold her own... and probably drive me to drink.
All in all, June 1 is signaling not only the start of what is sure to be a very uncomfortably warm summer, but also one of new beginnings. For the first time in a very long time I can use the words 'optimistic', 'happy' and 'hopeful'. It feels good to let go of (most of) the anxiety and feelings of self-doubt that goes along with selling a house, being a stay-at-home mom & expecting another child. The last year has kind of proved that we, as a family, can do it... 'It' being life. I'm truly hoping some of these good feelings are permeating your life as well. I think we all could use a little sunshine.
*Feedback was good, we are#3 on their short list and delighted us by saying the words 'beautiful' & 'great space'. Also used the term 'surprised that they actually liked it'. It's still off, but who knows... maybe a meteor will hit the other two houses for sale and they will come back to ours :) Although, we're not holding our breath.
Well, nothing new to report except where the heck did the last 5 months go? I'm still stuck back in December for some reason. It's strange though because I feel a sense that we are moving on, starting anew. The last few months have been focused on getting the house ready to sell, having it on the market, Hazelle in school, getting through this pregnancy, etc. Now it seems like those phases are ending and it's time for summer! (don't take the exclamation point as an indication that I'm all that excited about it, air conditioning is my BFF).
Today was the last day for our house on the market. We set this deadline for ourselves and said 'whatever will be, will be'. 'It be' that it didn't sell. And you know what? That's alright. It really was quite a learning experience. We'll know so much more for the next time. Plus it gave us so much hope & confidence that we could actually do it with two small tornadoes in the house. I think next time we'll be able to do it with three. Maybe. We had an eleventh hour showing yesterday and are waiting on feedback*. We don't expect anything to happen, but in either case, this phase will be over. Amen to not having to clean like that again for awhile!
Hazelle finished up her first year of preschool. I think it was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for her. It doesn't seem like it would make that much of an impact, but it did. We both grew up a little. It helped me settle into the role of a stay-at-home mom this past year and confirmed that trying to do this while working would have put me in a bad, bad place. At least I feel now I'm making an earnest effort to be a mom and be involved in her life. It's different than I thought and am growing more accustomed to it every day. The coolest thing is watching her open her eyes to the world. She truly is her own person. I sometimes look at her and wonder where she came from, forgetting the four years of child-rearing, it sometimes seems like we're meeting her for the first time. So goes one of the many new things you learn from your kids.
And finally, last Friday marked week number 27 in this pregnancy, which also means the beginning of the final trimester. Or better known as the beginning of the end. I received my first canisters of free formula in the mail today and find myself grunting to get up. Yes, we have reached the time when we focus on preparing for this new little girl (for those of you who didn't know, we are indeed having our third girl). She makes her presence known and I fear will be quite the dictator. She kicks to her sister's voices and makes it known when I have moved in a position she does not favor. I have a feeling she will hold her own... and probably drive me to drink.
All in all, June 1 is signaling not only the start of what is sure to be a very uncomfortably warm summer, but also one of new beginnings. For the first time in a very long time I can use the words 'optimistic', 'happy' and 'hopeful'. It feels good to let go of (most of) the anxiety and feelings of self-doubt that goes along with selling a house, being a stay-at-home mom & expecting another child. The last year has kind of proved that we, as a family, can do it... 'It' being life. I'm truly hoping some of these good feelings are permeating your life as well. I think we all could use a little sunshine.
*Feedback was good, we are#3 on their short list and delighted us by saying the words 'beautiful' & 'great space'. Also used the term 'surprised that they actually liked it'. It's still off, but who knows... maybe a meteor will hit the other two houses for sale and they will come back to ours :) Although, we're not holding our breath.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Grace...not.
Last Friday as I filed out the front door to get my water bottle from a car parked on the street, I was waved to by a very nice Rumpke man getting our recycling and from my neighbor across the street. I looked up, smiled, shot my hand up to wave back at both of them and then promptly fell down the front steps. The poor Rumpke man looked in horror and yelled from his truck, "Are you okay?" I shouted back, "Yes, but apparently I can't walk and wave at the same time."
As I got up, I noticed a bloodied knee on one side and a throbbing foot on the other. This wouldn't be so bad if I weren't pregnant and hadn't severely fallen down the steps INSIDE my home back in January, injuring my tailbone. So now I have sciatic pain from the baby, an inch thick scab preventing my right knee from bending, pulled ligaments in my left foot and a tailbone injury that pops up at the least opportune times rendering me to beg for assistance. To say I look like a weeble wobble who had been partially run over by a mini-van would be an understatement. Yes, people. Me and stairs have an issue.
These incidents unfortunately weren't the first. I thought about all the times I had fallen down steps during the last 15 years. I'm remembering these in no certain order... well maybe in terms of pain it caused.
As I got up, I noticed a bloodied knee on one side and a throbbing foot on the other. This wouldn't be so bad if I weren't pregnant and hadn't severely fallen down the steps INSIDE my home back in January, injuring my tailbone. So now I have sciatic pain from the baby, an inch thick scab preventing my right knee from bending, pulled ligaments in my left foot and a tailbone injury that pops up at the least opportune times rendering me to beg for assistance. To say I look like a weeble wobble who had been partially run over by a mini-van would be an understatement. Yes, people. Me and stairs have an issue.
These incidents unfortunately weren't the first. I thought about all the times I had fallen down steps during the last 15 years. I'm remembering these in no certain order... well maybe in terms of pain it caused.
- There was the time I was carrying Christmas presents when I was a college student on Ravine Street and destroyed half the presents I had just meticulously wrapped.
- The first day of classes at UC I walked out of Dubois bookstore and fell down the one step on to sidewalk, saved by my face, but not saving face.
- There was that time on Christmas Eve as we were secretly placing gifts under the tree and I slipped on the wood steps at my in-laws and literally shook the whole house when I landed, waking up my neice and nephew and destroying their visions of sugar plums and Santa Claus.
- I once slid down the steps while holding my newborn daughter, stopping just short of the wall and scaring the bejeesus out of both of us.
- And finally (the only one I was fully intoxicated for) at OU when my roommate, our guy friend and I stumbled home from the bar to the concrete steps in front of our dorm and we fell BACKWARD... from the top. We woke up with a black eye, a gash on our head and most likely a concussion, although I don't remember who had what injury. Hmm, I must have had the concussion.
Aaah, good times.
My husband has been present for most of these elegant displays, or at least in the general vicinity. We are blaming one of two things. 1. I grew up in a ranch house. Steps were never part of my physical space and therefore I never developed the 'coordination' for navigating them. 2. The good Lord blessed me with loose hip ligaments, a slight pigeon toe and gigantic boobs. Walking on an even surface is fine, but you throw those elements in with something that involves balance and coordination and you have the perfect scenerio for an 'America's Funniest Home Video'. If only one had been present last Friday I might be on my way to $10,000 and the source of America's laughter. If only I had been so lucky! Here's to lack of grace. May it one day be followed by a video camera, huge payday and no more injuries!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Debbie Downer
Well, it's May 11th now. We officially put our house on the market 9 weeks ago today. Our original listing was up yesterday but we extended it through the end of the month. Big whoop huh? People have their houses on the market for years sometimes before selling. Well, me... well I hoping for a miracle. In fact, I was pretty sure a miracle was going to happen, especially when that beautiful tudor came on the market a week after ours. I knew it was meant to be. That beautiful house stood on the market for a solid 5 weeks or so. That alone was a miracle considering half of Westwood wanted to buy it, but everyone else was in the same boat, they needed to sell their house first. Of course it went pending to some lucky so-and-so. Today though my heart was officially broken when our backup favorite house went pending as well. So now, if we did by some chance get an offer, there's no place we're interested in moving to (in our price range that is).
Don't get me wrong, we're fine, we'll get by here with 3 kids just fine for awhile. In fact it will take a little stress off not to have to spend my last trimester moving... cause that would be a barrel of fun for sure. It's just I can't help feeling like a big fat failure (no pun intended for the 'big fat' part, even though I'm there for sure). I feel like I could be another line in Alanis Morrisette's "Isn't it Ironic" hit (Don't laugh! That CD changed my life... Ben was so much 'best friend with benefits'... good times in 1995) The point is isn't it ironic that a so called interior designer can't lure someone into buying her home? You know, that sanctuary created with 7 long, drawn-out years of design schooling and years of professional experience. Every other designer I know has had their place sold within 2 months or so, at a decent price. Some in as little as 3 days. Yet here we are, no hope in sight and we're looking at another year and a half before we can give it a go again.
Call it a pity party, please. And pass the Pringles potato chips. Just try not to spit on me as you repeat that phrase 5 times fast.
Honestly though I don't know which part has me in the dumps more. The fact I am an designer who can't sell one of her 'creations' or a mom stuck in a small house with no yard for her kids to play in. I just feel like a total failure. (Oh, haven't I warned you before of wildly shifting hormonal mood swings? Consider this one.) So if anyone wants to send me a nudge of encouragement, big hug or 'get over yourself you big fat crybaby' please do. I'm going to go encourage Isla to play with her poop some more now, you all need something of more substance to read about next time.
If you want a laugh after this Debbie Downer drivel, please view the following link. I wet myself partly because I'm pregnant and partly because it had me laughing in hysterics.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4
It made me feel not so bad about blaring 'Jagged Little Pill' in my fly Chrysler Town & Country.
Don't get me wrong, we're fine, we'll get by here with 3 kids just fine for awhile. In fact it will take a little stress off not to have to spend my last trimester moving... cause that would be a barrel of fun for sure. It's just I can't help feeling like a big fat failure (no pun intended for the 'big fat' part, even though I'm there for sure). I feel like I could be another line in Alanis Morrisette's "Isn't it Ironic" hit (Don't laugh! That CD changed my life... Ben was so much 'best friend with benefits'... good times in 1995) The point is isn't it ironic that a so called interior designer can't lure someone into buying her home? You know, that sanctuary created with 7 long, drawn-out years of design schooling and years of professional experience. Every other designer I know has had their place sold within 2 months or so, at a decent price. Some in as little as 3 days. Yet here we are, no hope in sight and we're looking at another year and a half before we can give it a go again.
Call it a pity party, please. And pass the Pringles potato chips. Just try not to spit on me as you repeat that phrase 5 times fast.
Honestly though I don't know which part has me in the dumps more. The fact I am an designer who can't sell one of her 'creations' or a mom stuck in a small house with no yard for her kids to play in. I just feel like a total failure. (Oh, haven't I warned you before of wildly shifting hormonal mood swings? Consider this one.) So if anyone wants to send me a nudge of encouragement, big hug or 'get over yourself you big fat crybaby' please do. I'm going to go encourage Isla to play with her poop some more now, you all need something of more substance to read about next time.
If you want a laugh after this Debbie Downer drivel, please view the following link. I wet myself partly because I'm pregnant and partly because it had me laughing in hysterics.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4
It made me feel not so bad about blaring 'Jagged Little Pill' in my fly Chrysler Town & Country.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Queen of Turdland
Tomorrow is May 4th.... in my home that means it's Isla's birthday! Or the day she decided to finally fall out of me without anyone being in the hospital room. Thank God I found that call button and was able to eek out 'Umm, I think I need some help please'. Anyway. This is the momentous SECOND birthday. Yes, my sweet angel face has now officially entered the terrible two's. But most experienced parents know this starts much sooner and lasts much, much longer than a year. Today it's like she KNOWS it's her day to officially enter that right of passage where you can be a total turd and people will just chalk it up to being two.
All of a sudden she shrieks like a cat getting stepped on, won't eat anything but constantly tells me she's hungry, ignores what we tell her and thinks it's hilarious to run parking lots with moving vehicles. Oh, and thinks any kind of shopping cart is a boat to which she must abandon ship. Turd, turd, turd.
This might be especially hard because I've been at home with her and we've had a special bond since she was in my womb. Ben lovingly (not really, more like sarcastically) refers to her as my 'third boob'. "Boober's world is going to implode when you have that baby". Thanks hon... let's just add GUILT to that growing list of hormonal emotions. Anyway, it's frustrating to say the least as well as a little sad. No, really it's just frustrating I guess because I'm getting huge and she's trying to take a flying leap from a Target shopping cart into the path of a moving vehicle while screaming, 'FOOD! HUNGRY!' *sigh* Only 2 more years before she becomes manageable...
Speaking of the baby, a few of you have asked for updates and I can give some GOOD NEWS! We had our level 2 ultrasound last Wednesday and everything the last ultrasound tech was worried about turned out to be fine. The little one (now weighing in at 1lb 4ozs) is coming along great and likes to move and shake it's booty. We're getting excited but a bit freaked out now because in just a few short weeks we'll be in the third trimester... otherwise known as 'when Stef gets huge as a house and grumpy as an ogre'. Not so much the celebrated thing, but we all got to pay our dues huh?
Oh crap, gotta go... I just heard Hazelle say, "Isla, do you want me to jump over your head?" Isla said 'Uh huh!' Sugar and spice my ass.
(Note: when I got off here I discovered Isla in the bathroom without her diaper on. She said, "Poop" and pointed to the toliet where a turd was. I was about ready to fall over with disbelief and awe until I noticed that she had actually pooped in her diaper, took it off and picked her poop out and deposited it in the toliet. This was noticed after a saw poop on her hands and on the floor beside a turd which had gotten left behind. She was at the sink bare-butted trying to wash her hands. I can't make this stuff up. I'm going to throw up now.)
And you might wonder why I don't blog more...
All of a sudden she shrieks like a cat getting stepped on, won't eat anything but constantly tells me she's hungry, ignores what we tell her and thinks it's hilarious to run parking lots with moving vehicles. Oh, and thinks any kind of shopping cart is a boat to which she must abandon ship. Turd, turd, turd.
This might be especially hard because I've been at home with her and we've had a special bond since she was in my womb. Ben lovingly (not really, more like sarcastically) refers to her as my 'third boob'. "Boober's world is going to implode when you have that baby". Thanks hon... let's just add GUILT to that growing list of hormonal emotions. Anyway, it's frustrating to say the least as well as a little sad. No, really it's just frustrating I guess because I'm getting huge and she's trying to take a flying leap from a Target shopping cart into the path of a moving vehicle while screaming, 'FOOD! HUNGRY!' *sigh* Only 2 more years before she becomes manageable...
Speaking of the baby, a few of you have asked for updates and I can give some GOOD NEWS! We had our level 2 ultrasound last Wednesday and everything the last ultrasound tech was worried about turned out to be fine. The little one (now weighing in at 1lb 4ozs) is coming along great and likes to move and shake it's booty. We're getting excited but a bit freaked out now because in just a few short weeks we'll be in the third trimester... otherwise known as 'when Stef gets huge as a house and grumpy as an ogre'. Not so much the celebrated thing, but we all got to pay our dues huh?
Oh crap, gotta go... I just heard Hazelle say, "Isla, do you want me to jump over your head?" Isla said 'Uh huh!' Sugar and spice my ass.
(Note: when I got off here I discovered Isla in the bathroom without her diaper on. She said, "Poop" and pointed to the toliet where a turd was. I was about ready to fall over with disbelief and awe until I noticed that she had actually pooped in her diaper, took it off and picked her poop out and deposited it in the toliet. This was noticed after a saw poop on her hands and on the floor beside a turd which had gotten left behind. She was at the sink bare-butted trying to wash her hands. I can't make this stuff up. I'm going to throw up now.)
And you might wonder why I don't blog more...
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Jeopardy: The Game of Answers & More Questions
Well, I got answers from the previous post. As expected, it was just... well... okay. The anticipation is off and I'm left to ponder. I hate pondering, I was never very good at that considering I'm borderline ADD.
First off, feedback from last Saturday was alright. 'House showed well', 'Had great potential for the couple'... BUT 'Too many rental and apt. buildings nearby'. We considered that a victory. We can't control our surroundings, but we can control the inside, and that they liked. Slight victory? Check. Do they even want to consider our house? Well, no. Defeat? Check, Check.
Then the showing yesterday couldn't have deflated me more. The people pulled up to the outside AND WITHOUT GETTING OUT OF THE CAR, sent the realtor to the door to say they weren't interested. Wouldn't have been as bad had I not just had a rough morning and only gotten 3 hours sleep and could see the people looking at me from the car. It was like sending a note to the cute boy only to have him rip up in front of you without looking at it. Hey bud, it could've been A MILLION DOLLAR CHECK! But you'll never know because you DIDN'T EVEN LOOK AT IT! But realistically, he and I both knew it was just note that said, 'Will you go with me? Check yes or no.' And we were pretty much on the same page he was probably going to say no. No loss, no foul right?
The kicker was our ultrasound though, which details keep going through my mind. If you are dying to find out what the baby is, let me squelch that one for you now. We weren't going to tell. But it didn't matter because our little one was breech and had it's legs in such a knot the ultrasound tech really didn't bother. But, the thing was, that didn't even matter to her... other things did. Which now concerns us too much more than if we need to buy any boy clothes.
Ultrasounds for us have run the gamut. I won't go into detail, but we've been devastated at the loss of our last pregnancy so unexpected, frustrated but entertained at watching Isla turn somersaults while we were trying to figure out her sex, in awe the first time we saw Hazelle's profile. We also know how the tech's act. And ours was all business yesterday, barely saying a word.
Basically, we noticed she was getting extra pictures of the heart and brain. She told us what she was looking for, but never said what she feared. Legally she can't. The baby was moving, measuring dead on my due date, and looked really good to me. When I met with the doctor she said I needed a level 2 ultrasound in a few weeks. The baby had some fluid around it's heart and they want to see if it gets resolved on it's own. She said probably not a means to be concerned, but they need to follow up to make sure things develop normally or if this could turn into something more. What she didn't mention was there was also a dilation in the back of the baby's brain.
I didn't put two and two together until I got home and googled a search term in my order and remembered asking the tech what part of the brain she kept measuring. I sent an email to my sister, who is enjoying a much needed vacation in Hawaii and asked her what this meant. Her response was quick and not as non-chalant as I would have hoped. Her first question was "How did your doctor act about it?" Well, honestly I don't know. I put a call in this morning and am waiting on hearing back.* My guess is she knows I've been a bundle of nerves and didn't want to make it worse, we'll know more in a few weeks.
*I talked to the doctor and she said everything was in normal range, but since we were having a level 2 ultrasound anyway, she was going to get a second pair of eyes on it, just to be safe. We feel better.
Anyway, so yesterday resolved many questions, but raised many more. So I'm just going to sit back, keep my house clean and enjoy the little kicks the baby has finally gotten big enough to deliver. And say a prayer in between that the important things turn out alright. You are more than welcome to say one too :)
First off, feedback from last Saturday was alright. 'House showed well', 'Had great potential for the couple'... BUT 'Too many rental and apt. buildings nearby'. We considered that a victory. We can't control our surroundings, but we can control the inside, and that they liked. Slight victory? Check. Do they even want to consider our house? Well, no. Defeat? Check, Check.
Then the showing yesterday couldn't have deflated me more. The people pulled up to the outside AND WITHOUT GETTING OUT OF THE CAR, sent the realtor to the door to say they weren't interested. Wouldn't have been as bad had I not just had a rough morning and only gotten 3 hours sleep and could see the people looking at me from the car. It was like sending a note to the cute boy only to have him rip up in front of you without looking at it. Hey bud, it could've been A MILLION DOLLAR CHECK! But you'll never know because you DIDN'T EVEN LOOK AT IT! But realistically, he and I both knew it was just note that said, 'Will you go with me? Check yes or no.' And we were pretty much on the same page he was probably going to say no. No loss, no foul right?
The kicker was our ultrasound though, which details keep going through my mind. If you are dying to find out what the baby is, let me squelch that one for you now. We weren't going to tell. But it didn't matter because our little one was breech and had it's legs in such a knot the ultrasound tech really didn't bother. But, the thing was, that didn't even matter to her... other things did. Which now concerns us too much more than if we need to buy any boy clothes.
Ultrasounds for us have run the gamut. I won't go into detail, but we've been devastated at the loss of our last pregnancy so unexpected, frustrated but entertained at watching Isla turn somersaults while we were trying to figure out her sex, in awe the first time we saw Hazelle's profile. We also know how the tech's act. And ours was all business yesterday, barely saying a word.
Basically, we noticed she was getting extra pictures of the heart and brain. She told us what she was looking for, but never said what she feared. Legally she can't. The baby was moving, measuring dead on my due date, and looked really good to me. When I met with the doctor she said I needed a level 2 ultrasound in a few weeks. The baby had some fluid around it's heart and they want to see if it gets resolved on it's own. She said probably not a means to be concerned, but they need to follow up to make sure things develop normally or if this could turn into something more. What she didn't mention was there was also a dilation in the back of the baby's brain.
I didn't put two and two together until I got home and googled a search term in my order and remembered asking the tech what part of the brain she kept measuring. I sent an email to my sister, who is enjoying a much needed vacation in Hawaii and asked her what this meant. Her response was quick and not as non-chalant as I would have hoped. Her first question was "How did your doctor act about it?" Well, honestly I don't know. I put a call in this morning and am waiting on hearing back.* My guess is she knows I've been a bundle of nerves and didn't want to make it worse, we'll know more in a few weeks.
*I talked to the doctor and she said everything was in normal range, but since we were having a level 2 ultrasound anyway, she was going to get a second pair of eyes on it, just to be safe. We feel better.
Anyway, so yesterday resolved many questions, but raised many more. So I'm just going to sit back, keep my house clean and enjoy the little kicks the baby has finally gotten big enough to deliver. And say a prayer in between that the important things turn out alright. You are more than welcome to say one too :)
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