A new life, a new blog.

20 weeks G.E.

I took a nice, long break from blogging as Guppy and I got to know each other. Plus, let’s face it, parenting a newborn is exhausting, and I’ve had to pour all my energy resources into keeping him alive. But now that we’ve hit our groove (she says, naively), I’m back to chronicling our lives together.

Since we’re no longer anticipating the Guppy, I’ve started fresh with a new blog. Hope y’all will follow us there: https://lifeofguppy.wordpress.com.

Free at Last: The Guppy’s Birth Story

3 weeks, 1 day G.E. (Guppy Era)

It is testament to the life we’ve been living the past three weeks (and one day) that the only opportunity I’ve had to even begin writing this long overdue post is a Guppy-free trip to the OB necessitated by some uncooperative sutures.

I have SO much to write about life with baby, and I will try to focus on the positive despite a particularly difficult morning, but I want to dedicate this post to the Guppy’s awesome birth story.

It started on Sunday, Aug. 24, when we’d made it to 38w5d. I was at least a week into being very tired of being pregnant.

3 weeks, 6 days G.E.

And here it is, nearly a week later. This Sunday afternoon, far from lazy, is the first spare moment I’ve found to sit down and write. Which I so miss doing, just for the therapy of it.

In my last post, I mentioned my concern about being induced on our due date. At our 37-week OB appointment, we brought up the induction yet again, fully expecting our OB to reiterate what she’d said on several occasions in the past: that an IVF pregnancy, coupled with advanced maternal age (those scarlet letters), means there’s an increased risk for fetal demise and that the recommended course of action is induction on our due date.

When our OB again mentioned being admitted for induction on our due date at that fateful appointment, I said, “Actually, we wanted to talk with you about that.” And I let her know how it was causing me stress. Without missing a beat, she said, “We can let you go longer. How about 40+5?” I was shocked. I had fully expected her to put up a fight. Since we weren’t interested in going beyond 41 weeks (we didn’t want to push our luck), we felt this was an acceptable compromise. Done.

And just like that, the weight was lifted from my shoulders.

A couple of days later, when the weekend rolled around, my mom suggested–in line with the old wives’ tale–that I attempt some heavy housework to get labor rolling. She recommended some good, old-fashioned, whole-house vacuuming. Since our furbabies produce enough tumbleweeds to fill the American southwest on a weekly basis, I thought this was a great idea. If it sent me into labor, all the better. So I vacuumed every nook and cranny, even sweeping the wand over the walls to dust cobwebs and collected fur off of them. I lifted and shifted and moved furniture. By the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat. But I was definitely not laboring.

That Saturday night, we went to a dinner party where everyone oohed and aahed over my very pregnant state. “Maybe you’ll go into labor here tonight,” the hostess said. Given the very expensive furnishings in our friends’ very nice house, I didn’t think that was such a great idea. But I wouldn’t have tried to stop it had it started. It didn’t, of course.

That night, stuffed to the gills on barbecue brisket, amazing sides and a healthy helping of lemon chess pie, I dreamed the same vivid dreams I’d had throughout my pregnancy. The one that woke me at 7ish featured me losing my mucus plug and my water breaking. I stumbled sleepily into the bathroom for my ritualistic early-morning pee, and when I turned around to flush, I noticed some bloody mucus in the toilet. My mucus plug, I thought. I also noticed that I was leaking fluid onto my panty liner; it was tinged slightly pink, and I’d nearly soaked the liner through. This was unusual, but it didn’t strike me as being the gush I anticipated from broken membranes. I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep.

At 10ish, I called the doctor on call and explained what I was experiencing. She said she couldn’t necessarily determine from what I was describing that my water had broken, but she invited us to come into the hospital for them to check. She said we didn’t have to rush in–that we should shower and get our things collected before heading over. So we took our time: We had a leisurely breakfast, changed the linens, did the laundry, showered and got our hospital bags (long packed) ready to go. As we were just leaving the house, the doctor called back. Apparently, we were taking too long getting there, and she wanted to know what had happened to us. I assured her we were on our way and would be there in precisely eight minutes (we’d timed the drive several times).

When we got to the L&D ward, they registered me and took us to an exam room, where I was asked to strip down and get into a hospital gown, and I was hooked up to a fetal monitor. My blood pressure and pulse were taken. They used a litmus strip to check for amniotic fluid, but it didn’t provide a readily apparent diagnosis, so they took a sample of the fluid I was leaking and checked it under a microscope. I was told that it didn’t behave the way they expected amniotic fluid to do so, and the fluid therefore was nothing more than “normal” pregnancy discharge. Odd. For me, it was in no way normal. The constant leakiness that made its way through liners and pads and undies was like nothing I’d experienced before. The hospitalist who saw me did a pelvic exam and said I was no more than a fingertip dilated. She sent us home.

We had planned to spend the afternoon at the pool, but with the ongoing leaking, that wasn’t an option. So instead we went down to my mom’s, where we took a long walk around the neighborhood and then went out dinner. All the while, the leaking continued and, if anything, increased in intensity. I changed my undies three times that day.

After dinner and back at my mom’s for dessert, I started getting a bit panicky. What if my water really had broken, and they had just misdiagnosed it? If that was the case, more than 12 hours had passed, and I was cognizant of the risk of infection. If it wasn’t that my water had broken, what was it? And could I possibly live two more weeks of my life with this fluid, whatever it was, making me fairly miserable on an ongoing basis?

DH convinced me to call the doctor on call again, explain the situation and ask for a recommendation. The poor doctor who had dealt with me that morning was on still on duty, and she encouraged us to come back in. So we went straight to the hospital on the way back from my mom’s house, not stopping at home to get any of our things. We went through the same routine we had that morning: hospital gown, fetal monitoring, blood pressure, heart rate and finally litmus strip. This time, there was no doubt: I was leaking amniotic fluid, and they admitted me immediately.

Settled into our delivery room, the nurse went through the entire admission process with us while I was constantly fetal monitored. I’d remain that way the rest of the night, precluding me from any good sleep. Every time I shifted, I’d lose the heartbeat, and I’d worry something was wrong. My mom drove the 35 minutes up to our place at midnight to pick up our things and drop them off with us, then spent the night at our place to take care of our furbabies and await news of my progress. DH settled in for a long night on an uncomfortable pull-out armchair.

The nurse said they wanted to start me on Cervidil to “ripen” my cervix immediately, in anticipation of inducing me in the morning. This, of course, was contrary to everything DH and I wanted; our ultimate goal was an entirely natural birth. We asked the nurse if we could hold off on administering the Cervidil until the morning, allowing me at least the night to see if I’d start laboring naturally. As soon as the meds started, I knew, I’d have to be constantly monitored, meaning I’d be bedridden and probably unable to labor without an epidural, which ultimately would increase our chances of C section, which we wanted to avoid if at all possible. The nurse said she’d have to clear it with the doctor. Some time later, she returned to let us know the doctor had OK’d delaying the Cervidil until morning, as long as we understood the risk of infection. Of course we did. I had had only one pelvic exam so far, and there was no sign of infection.

5 weeks, 2 days G.E.

Well, this is laughable. But the thank you notes are done, the announcements ordered (not addressed or sent, though) and time between feedings a bit elongated. Let’s see if I can finish this.

Somewhere around 4 a.m. (I believe, although it’s all a blur), I shot up in bed and screamed an obscenity loud enough to wake DH. That was a contraction, I knew. It felt like the worst menstrual cramp I’d ever had coupled with a swift, hoofed kick to the lower back. It passed immediately, I relaxed and eventually drifted back into a fitful sleep. A couple of hours later, the contractions began again, less intensively, more regularly. I knew I was in early labor.

After a shift change, my new nurse arrived and again began talking about the Cervidil. I explained to her our strong desire for a natural delivery and told her I was fairly certain I’d begun laboring on my own earlier that morning. The printed strip from the monitor backed me up, but she said the doctor would have to perform another pelvic exam to inform a recommended course of action. I asked if in the meantime, I could come off the monitor so I could walk around a bit and have breakfast. My nurse agreed to an hour off the monitor; I’d have to be back in the room at 8:30 for breakfast and additional monitoring.

So DH and I literally walked in (not large) circles around the L&D wing, stopping every so often to “slow dance” (one of the comfort measures we’d learned) while I got through a contraction. They were still bearable, although I could feel them start, peak and subside every 10 minutes or so. While we were walking, we ran into the husband of a couple we’d met in our childbirth education class at the hospital about a month earlier. His wife had begun laboring at home early that morning and had progressed to six or seven centimeters, but then she’d stalled, he said. She was getting an epidural, so he’d been booted from the room. We wished each other good luck and moved on.

Sometime around 9 or so, the doctor on call–the one who would ultimately deliver the Guppy–came to see me for a pelvic exam. It was extraordinarily uncomfortable, but she rattled off stats to the nurse. I was still only a centimeter dilated, unfortunately, but I was 100 percent effaced, and the Guppy had dropped to a -1 station. She said it was too late for the Cervidil (which would impact effacement only), but she recommended starting me on the lowest dose possible of Pitocin to encourage dilation. I hemmed and hawed. I really, really didn’t want to be induced; I really, really wanted to do this med free. I bargained with her for another hour and a half or so to see if I wouldn’t dilate on my own. She reluctantly agreed.

When she left, I got ready to do the same sort of haggling with the nurse to get 20 minutes of freedom from the fetal monitor every hour. Much to DH’s and my extreme surprise, she one-upped us. She needed 10 minutes of monitoring an hour, she said; otherwise, I was free to move around as much as I wanted. I was elated! In the meantime, DH had contacted my mom and my doula. My mom was on her way; my doula, who was celebrating her daughter’s birthday that day, said she’d join us at 11. After all, first-time moms dilate an average of a centimeter an hour. At one centimeter, I still had a good nine hours to go.

Given the strength and frequency of my contractions, though, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. They were beginning to come hard and fast. I labored on the yoga ball (bouncing seemed to help a lot), on my yoga mat, pacing the room and leaning on DH, who was my hero and my champion throughout the process. He never stopped encouraging me, telling me what a great job I was doing, springing into action when necessary, fielding the ridiculous number of phone calls and texts we were both receiving, advocating for what we wanted and just being there for me to lean on. There is absolutely no way I would’ve gotten through it without him.

When the doctor returned around 10:30 for another pelvic exam, I was in active labor. Just lying on the bed was agonizing. I held my breath for her assessment of my progress, and her face gave away her surprise: The Guppy had moved into 0 station, and I was–holy moley–five centimeters dilated. “I’m going to get out of your way and let you labor,” the doctor said. The Pitocin was off the table. DH and my mom both looked like they might cry; I thought I could kiss the doctor. My morale and energy boosted by the prognosis, I set my mind to getting through the delivery on will and desire alone.

Soon thereafter, our doula arrived. She got to work immediately, pulling all sorts of tools out of her kit, including fresh-baked brownies for the nursing staff. She was indispensable throughout the rest of our journey, coaching DH and my mom–also an incredible support (I wouldn’t have wanted to go through labor without her by my side)–and suggesting techniques to relieve the excruciating contractions that wracked my body, now every few minutes, and reminding me how and when to breathe. In between contractions, I’d zone out, closing my eyes and trying to go to a safe, quiet, calm spot in my head–something I know my weeks of yoga helped me with. For a while, I labored sitting up in bed, and for that while, it helped.

At a certain point, our doula suggested it was an appropriate time to get into the shower to relieve the pain as I worked through the transition phase. DH, having smartly packed his swim trunks, joined me and helped me through the peaks of the torment, now every two to three minutes. While in the shower, I felt an urge to push like I’ve never felt before. It consumed me. It was all I wanted in the entire universe. Our doula coached me to keep my breathing low and steady because I was on the verge of spinning wildly out of control. I told everyone there that I needed to push, so they rushed to get the doctor for one last pelvic exam. I have no idea how much time had passed between the exams, nor do I have any concept of how much time passed before the doctor arrived, but it felt like an eternity. At this last, most painful exam, the doctor’s face again revealed her surprise. She told me I was 10 centimeters dilated and that I was free to push, but she encouraged me to continue laboring as long as I could so as to encourage the Guppy along his journey without rushing it.

For a while, I labored on hands and knees on the hospital bed, keeping my breath in control. But then control went out the window. I needed to push, and so I was going to push. They summoned the doctor, I was turned onto my back and I had the go-ahead to push. I pushed like I’ve never pushed before, and I screamed like I’ve never screamed before. DH later said he was certain the entire ward could hear me; I was certain the entire world could hear me. At a certain point I screamed out that I couldn’t do it, that there was no way I was going to push that baby out of me without breaking myself into a million pieces. I was met with a chorus of, “Yes, you cans.” I pushed twice, through precisely two contractions, and our Guppy came sliding into the world at 2:13 p.m. on Monday, Aug. 25, after about seven hours of labor.

My first thought was “Let him cry.” And in response, he screamed air into his little lungs; before I knew it, he was on my chest, hot and slippery and crying. There was a flurry of activity–it’s all a bit of a blur–but after delaying for a minute or so (our wishes), DH cut the umbilical cord. The Guppy peed all over me. I cried, I think, out of sheer exhaustion and unadulterated bliss. DH cried too. And we gave our Guppy a name: Ethan, a wise man in the Old Testament, and the first name that DH and I both loved when we found it.

When they took Ethan over to the corner to get him weighed (6 pounds, 12 ounces) and measured (19 inches) and to give him the eye drops and whatever else they do right there in the delivery room, the doctor’s hard work started. I was hemorrhaging, and she spent an hour–perhaps even longer and more painful than the previous one–removing tissue from my abdomen and getting me sewn up. They finally managed to give me some Pitocin (to help suppress the blood flow), but I was fine with it being administered once the Guppy was no longer sharing space with me. DH described the whole thing as a “crime scene.” I was elated when it was over; the downside to being unmedicated during labor and delivery is what happens when your second-degree tear needs to be treated afterward. A local doesn’t really cut it.

But I survived. We all survived. And that is the moral of this story: Our Guppy is a survivor, a miracle baby who fought so hard to prove all of my doubts and misgivings wrong. DH and I survived three rounds of IVF and a pregnancy fraught with worry (my own doing). I survived an all-natural delivery to finally hold our baby in my arms. We have officially survived the first five weeks of parenthood. Sometimes I still can’t believe that we have a son who makes my heart burst with excitement, pride and elation every time I wake up to see him, that we actually made it to this point after so much failure and disappointment. We are so incredibly blessed, so lucky and so appreciative.

Sure, there have been challenges (I’m hopeful that I might find some time to blog about them at some point soon), but the fact of the matter is that we’re no longer anticipating the Guppy. He’s right here with us, infusing our lives with endless joy.

Full term.

37w6d

It’s the eve of two weeks to go. I’m fairly certain I’ve never been so anxious for anything to occur in my entire life as I am for this Guppy to decide he’s ready to make his big debut.

Things have changed since we hit 37 weeks: I’ve become what can only be described as “uncomfortable.” I’m not in pain; I’m sleeping fine, still, for the most part; I can work without any problems; I have not had any swelling (fingers crossed, knock on wood); but I’m just kind of out of sorts. I thought the Guppy had dropped as of at least a week ago, when I started breathing more easily (my lungs feeling less cramped), but the last few days–especially in the morning–have been tough. I feel like I can never suck in enough air, and it makes me feel queasy and claustrophobic. Also, I have no attention span; I’m distracted, bored, fidgety and, right around 2:30 p.m., very, very fatigued. I guess this is why people stop working before they give birth.

And the Guppy’s behaving differently, too. He’s pushing intensely–with more power and strength than he ever has. He’s jabbing his feet into my right side and mutating my belly as he shifts. He’s firmly planted head down (thank goodness!), so I think what I’m primarily feeling are his butt and back. There’s so much pressure, and every day, I feel like my belly can’t possibly stretch any more, can’t possibly give him any more room. I feel bad, like I’m providing an inhospitable environment. And then there are the hiccups–at least once daily–that make me want to cry for him. They last forever, and they shake my whole tummy, and I can only imagine how annoying they must be for him. I wish I could make them go away.

All of this is to say that now that we’ve made it to full term, he’s welcome to come at any time. I’m just waiting for some sort of sign or signal that he might be on his way. I’ve had some minor cramping–what feels like low-level menstrual cramps or even a kind of pinching or scratching down low in my pelvis–but it’s very, very irregular. My OB said it’s probably Braxton Hicks and that it means my body’s prepping itself for labor. I’m glad it’s practicing for the real deal, which I can only hope will arrive sooner rather than later.

I’m now somewhat obsessed with the idea of this baby coming before he’s due. Other than the discomfort, I’m a bit panicked about being induced. DH and I have decided we’re going to speak with our OB yet again about why she feels induction on my due date is necessary and ask her to give us an extra week–till 41 weeks–before I’m induced. I’ve had it corroborated by several sources that neither IVF nor AMA are indicators for induction on one’s due date, and I worry that it’s simply a liability thing for the doctor and the hospital. Plus, the Guppy’s been doing great during all of his fetal monitoring, and I’d be happy to agree to continue it for an extra week to make sure he’s still doing fine.

Also, we watched The Business of Being Born (on loan from our doula) the other night, and it scared both of us pretty profoundly. I’m certain that if we’d watched it before we’d made it to 37 weeks, it would’ve changed our approach to our birthing. We would’ve opted for a birthing center or even a home birth (eh, maybe not), but we most likely wouldn’t have gone for our neighborhood hospital. I start spiraling into a panic about this and then I remember the multiple friends who have delivered at the same hospital without issue, that I was born as a product of both a hospital and an induction and I’m fine, that DH’s mom labored for 32 hours (in a hospital) and had an epidural and he’s fine, that most people just assume they’ll give birth in hospitals and that up until 20 weeks ago, I’d never even considered a natural birth or a doula or a birthing center. And the Guppy’s health and safety have always been and continue to be our No. 1 priority. So it’ll be fine. I’m sure. And I need to stop stressing.

Should we get to 39-plus weeks without any sign of the Guppy appearing, I’m going to go hard-core into labor induction methods, including acupuncture and tons of walking, eggplant parm and pineapple, and some of the more TMI approaches that are out there. I will do whatever it takes.

Last Thursday, at our final growth ultrasound, we were told the Guppy’s weighing in at 6 pounds, 2 ounces–right on track. The doctor who followed up with us said she’d anticipate him arriving at about 7 pounds (7 and a half at the outside) if he goes to 40 weeks. This was reassuring, as I’m hoping it’ll make for an easier delivery. Everything else looked great, too: placenta, fluid levels, all of his organs, his practice breathing. We underwent another NST, for which I sit and read a magazine for 20 minutes to the super-loud soundtrack of the Guppy’s galloping heartbeat, and the nurse monitoring us said he’s doing fabulously. We’ll be back Friday for another NST and biophysical feedback appointment.

On Saturday, we had a two-hour-plus session with our doula, at which she walked us through a bunch of comfort measures, primarily with a rebozo (Mexican birthing shawl) and using a yoga mat and therapy/yoga ball. It was enlightening. She brought essential oils for us to sniff to determine what we might like during labor, and we talked about breathing and even just some body positioning that might be helpful. She left books with us (in addition to the DVD), and I’m feeling very empowered. I know I can do this; I just hope that everything progresses smoothly so I have a chance to labor naturally without intervention.

It’s funny how time has been flying through this third trimester, and now, all of a sudden, it’s slowed to a crawl. Patience is not one of my virtues. Please send positive prior-to-my-due-date laboring thoughts!

The end is in sight.

36 weeks on the dot

We passed the 30-days-out mark on Sunday, and all of a sudden, things are feeling incredibly real and kind of scary. We are preregistered for our hospital stay. We have a birth plan. I have a giant pack of supersized Chux pads sitting in the bedroom, with one laid neatly under the fitted sheet on my side of the bed. The car seat bases are installed and have been inspected to ensure all’s kosher. We finally have a crib, and when DH finishes working his magic and installing a new electrical outlet (so we can make our monitor work), the nursery will be done. I ordered a breast pump through my insurance. And this morning, I got my Tdap vaccine. Tomorrow, they’re coming to replace our hot water heater because the last thing I want with an infant at home is a flooded basement. On Friday, we’re going to Let’s Dish to stock up on frozen meals. And this weekend, we’ll get our hospital bags packed.

At that point, I think I’ll feel free to have this baby whenever he’s ready. If I don’t go into labor naturally beforehand, we’ll be headed to the hospital the evening of Sept. 1 for pre-induction prep (cervical ripening), and I’m hopeful I’ll deliver this little guy on Sept. 2, my precise due date. But secretly, I hope he comes a little bit early on his own. I’d like to avoid medical intervention if at all possible, and if he came Aug. 30 or 31, it would be ideal. I wouldn’t have to take any additional time off of work, and we’d be able to avoid the school conundrum created when you’re born right after the cut-off date (Sept. 1 herein Maryland). But he’ll come when he comes, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to influence him.

I realize I haven’t updated in several weeks–primarily because I’ve been focusing my limited free time on making my way through the enormous pile of thank-you notes I have to write (but I’m down to my last dozen–hooray!)–and so much has happened. A couple of weekends ago, we took an all-day birthing class at the hospital where I’ll deliver. A doula and certified child birth educator led the class, and she was excellent: engaging, lively, funny, didn’t take any of it overly seriously. She showed us videos and lectured; a pediatrician presented and answered questions; we covered everything from natural childbirth to C sections to birthing positions to what to pack and what you can take home. It was extremely informative and also extraordinarily scary. I realized I hadn’t thought about the labor and delivery part of this at all until the class (denial), and then it was all I could think about.

So DH and I focused on putting everything we learned into the class into our birth plan, a single-page bulleted list of what we’re hoping for, in an ideal world. We hope I can make it through without medical or surgical intervention. We hope labor progresses normally and well so that I can have intermittent fetal monitoring, allowing me mobility while I labor. We hope I can have immediate skin-to-skin contact with the Guppy, and we hope that he can remain in the room with us as much as we want him to. We also hope that I can breastfeed without problems. Having had breast reduction surgery in my late teens, I’m anxious about this, and I’m hoping to see a lactation consultant (I’ve heard great things about the team at this particular hospital) immediately. We also know things rarely go as planned, so we’ll have to remain flexible.

DH and my mom will be with me through my labor, and now, we also have a doula for support. In exchange for some graphic design work I did for my prenatal yoga instructor, who is also a certified doula, she’s providing us with doula services for labor and delivery. We have our first consultation with her on Thursday, and then we’ll schedule a private comfort measures session with her, during which she’ll teach us about breathing techniques and positions (and maybe even some reiki and rebozo stuff) that can help during labor. This is the area in which the hospital birthing class definitely fell short; they really didn’t cover comfort measures at all.

36w3d

Ugh. So here it is, three days later. The good news is I’m done writing my thank-you notes. But I’ve barely had any time to relax this week, let alone blog.

In the meantime, I had my weekly visit with my OB. It was uneventful; I’m up another pound, putting me at 25 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight, which is smack-dab average. Since the Guppy’s weight gain will slow after next week, maybe mine will, too. Guppy’s heart rate registered in the 140s on the Doppler, which I don’t think is very accurate, since the next morning, during our biophysical profile, the ultrasound machine caught it at 158 bpm.

Guppy performed beautifully during our nonstress test! He did everything he was supposed to and was extremely cooperative. The ultrasound tech commented on how active he was, and we watched his chest rise and fall as he practiced breathing (so diligent; he knows he’s going to have to get it right in a few short weeks). Everything looks good at this point: amniotic fluid, placenta, Guppy’s movements and his organs.

I sat for about 20 minutes with two monitors strapped to my abdomen as they measured the Guppy’s heart rate and my uterine activity. The results were fine, so we were released pretty quickly. I asked if the machine had registered any contractions, and the nurse said there were a few small blips but nothing of any significance. I haven’t been feeling anything at all, so this didn’t surprise me. We’ll be back again next week for another NST and a growth ultrasound (so curious to know what the Guppy’s measuring at this point) and then weekly after that for additional NSTs until I deliver.

Last night, DH met our doula (and liked her–he said he was relieved she doesn’t have dreds), the prenatal yoga instructor I’ve been seeing since I was at about 20 weeks, and we had a nice, long chat with her about our concerns, expectations and more. We told her our IVF story, and she listened intently and asked all sorts of questions. Her primary bugaboo with our delivery is the scheduled induction; she wants us to speak with our OB about why I need to be induced at 40 weeks exactly if our pregnancy is progressing normally. The response our OB has given several times in the past is that the combination of IVF pregnancy and advanced maternal age can lead to a slightly increased risk of fetal demise. Honestly, neither DH nor I are terribly fussed about the induction. I want to strive to be medication free during labor and delivery, but I’m more concerned about the Guppy’s well-being, and I don’t want to put him at any sort of risk. So I’m fine with it, if we get to that point.

My strategy: eggplant parmesan. Today, I chatted with a close colleague of mine whose daughter just gave birth to a little boy. He came about five days early. My colleague told me that two of her daughter’s friends had eaten eggplant parm and gone into labor, and then her daughter tried it and–wouldn’t you know it?–she went into labor, too. If I get to that last weekend before my induction and there’s no sign of the Guppy, I’m going to eat eggplant parm like it’s going out of style. This food-based strategy is apparently a traditional Italian labor-induction method, and I figure I’m Italian, DH is Italian, the Guppy will be Italian–might as well try it.

Our doula is also putting me in touch with her sister, who was able to breastfeed successfully after a breast reduction. She used donor milk to supplement (something I haven’t really considered doing), but I’m anxious to speak to her about her experience. While I’m not stressed, per se, about the breastfeeding, it is a source of anxiety for me. I can see myself feeling terribly guilty if I’m unable to breastfeed the Guppy, but I know I can’t count on it. I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

Otherwise, I’m feeling good and am just overflowing with joy at the thought of finally meeting our Guppy. I’m overwhelmingly excited, somewhat anxious, getting impatient and I just can’t wait to hold him in my arms. My only major complaints are about persistent sciatica/lower-back pain and the fact that I can no longer put on my shoes without assistance. I’ve been sleeping well, getting up only about once a night to pee (and usually not until the 4 or 5 o’clock hour). Sometimes, Guppy squirms about and lodges his feet into my right side, just below my ribs, but it’s nothing I can complain about. It feels funny–sometimes tickles–but it doesn’t hurt. He does a lot of pushing up–with his back or his butt, I’m imagining–which puts a lot of pressure on my belly, but I don’t mind that, either. I love that he’s so active and that he’s sharing this space with me. In a few short weeks, I won’t have it anymore, and I know I’ll miss it.

Here’s to three and a half more wonderful weeks of pregnancy! May they be as relatively easy as the past 36 and a half have been. Can’t wait to meet our boy!

(Oh, and as promised, some photos from my second shower have been speckled throughout … )

Filled with joy.

33w5d

Things are really starting to fall into place now, as we approach T minus six weeks and counting. The idea of having only six weeks to go is just amazing and slightly surreal. I feel like I’ve been pregnant for so long, I don’t remember what not being pregnant is like. Except I know at one time I was much, much skinnier than I am now. And also much less happy. This baby in the making has absolutely filled our lives with joy.

Last weekend, my mom and two of my besties threw an absolutely perfect baby shower for us. Every single little detail was carefully considered and beautifully executed. I don’t yet have any photos to share (another friend served as photographer and is working on the pics), but the entire party was based on the idea of the “Guppy” and therefore was fish or otherwise under-the-sea themed. My mom made fish-shaped finger sandwiches, Goldfish crackers filled petite fishbowls, one of my friends made clam-shaped cookies with little googly eyes and a marshmallow for the pearl and beautiful cupcakes with adorable onesie toppers, and bottled water was labeled “ocean water.” Everything had been lovingly crafted with care. And–very strangley and coincidentally–my graphic designer friend who envisioned the entire theme chose our nursery colors and scheme (blue, orange, gray, white and chevrons) for the invitations without my ever telling her what we had decided to do for the baby’s room.

There were 30-some-odd people who came out to celebrate, some from out of town and some as surprises, and the pile of gifts was enormous and overwhelming. I opened presents as fast as I could, ripping through wrapping and ribbons, but it took the better part of an hour to get through everything. At one point, after having opened gifts for what seemed like a very long time, I turned to my friend who was facilitating and asked if we were almost done. “Um, about 20 percent,” she said. I was just bowled over by the generosity and love that everyone showed for the Guppy. It took three vehicles to get all the gifts back to the house and three hours to get everything unpacked and somewhat situated. And you should see this kid’s wardrobe! He’s set for the first year.

We’ve received everything we need and more; the only real necessities that we haven’t yet gotten are the diaper bin and the second base for the car seat, which we’ll purchase once the registry completion discounts are available. My cousin very generously cleaned up and bequeathed to us her Chicco Keyfit 30 car seat and base and her Snap N Go stroller, which her youngest has just recently grown out of. DH has already set up the baby monitor, and yesterday, my mom and her boyfriend helped me hang the gray-chevron valances that my mom got us as part of her (second) baby shower gift and about millionth gift overall. The crib, which she also bought for us, is due to arrive Tuesday. This week, if we have time after work, we’ll start hanging some of the art and mobiles we’ve collected/received.

Now I have my work cut out for me in thank-you note writing. That’s on my to-do list for this week, too.

Next Saturday, we have our all-day birthing class at the hospital to look forward to. I’m excited for the opportunity to ask questions and to get a real sense of how labor and delivery might go. After that, DH and I will work on our birth plan and pack our hospital bags. And then there will be five weeks to go.

I’m still feeling fairly good, although I feel outright enormous. I seem to have crossed some discomfort threshold between last week and this one. Even my mom commented that I’ve popped more, if that’s even possible. I’ve been suffering significantly from lower back pain and sciatica, especially in the evenings and especially if I’ve been on my feet more than usual. I’ve taken to spending the evenings after dinner on the couch with a hot water bottle. And I’m constipated and therefore chock full of hemorrhoids. I’m actually scared to poop because I know what the consequences will be, and I think that’s adding to my constipation.

But Guppy’s growing just as he needs to, and I’m willing to do and undergo whatever it takes to have him keep it up. At our growth ultrasound on Wednesday, he measured 4 pounds, 15 ounces (almost five pounds!) and his heart rate was a perfect 147 bpm. I can’t believe I’m carrying around a five-pound baby; that’s a real, live baby weight! Obviously, we want him to put on more weight (two pounds would be perfect), but five pounds is still a decent baby weight, even at birth. Our next diagnostic appointment is in three weeks, at 36 weeks, when we’ll go to the hospital for our first NST/ultrasound. In four weeks, at our second NST appointment, they’ll do another growth check. This coming week is our very last one with no appointments; starting the following week, we’ll have a minimum of one appointment per week and most likely two, since I’ll start seeing the OB weekly.

Oh, we also received more than 75 fabulous shots from our maternity photo session with my very talented friend, who not only gifted us the photos but absolutely spoiled the Guppy at last weekend’s shower. I’m including a few of my faves here.

We are so lucky–so loved and supported, all three of us. My heart is so extraordinarily full. And I am so incredibly thankful.

Collecting satellites.

32w2d

Well, it’s taken 32 weeks, but I think Guppy and I are finally getting to the point where these close shared quarters are starting to get just the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s not terrible–really, I shouldn’t complain, hearing what other mammas-to-be go through–but it’s definitely getting more difficult.

Today, I think, I’ve been ultra-sensitive. I have felt, for most of the afternoon and evening, as if I’m going to pop (so much pressure!). And even though I know to everyone else I don’t look terribly huge, I feel as though I might start collecting satellites at any moment. I have a shelf just below my chest.

The Guppy’s movements have changed, too; they’re no longer flutters and pronounced kicks. Now I feel him pushing–with his feet, his butt, his back–against the inside of my abdomen. He particularly likes shoving something (his foot and leg, I imagine) into my right side, just below my ribs. I feel parts of him swipe across my belly as he jostles for room. Poor kid; he’s already so cramped in there, and we’ve still got eight weeks to go.

Additional aches and pains include back aches (although I think my shoulder soreness is due to a particularly intense yoga session last night), pain in my tailbone, some sciatica last weekend that thankfully seems to have passed. I was sleeping great earlier this week, so deeply that I wasn’t even waking up midway through the night to pee and that I couldn’t remember my dreams. But last night, I was up at 4ish for a potty run and woke myself up from a couple of dreams that weren’t so much nightmares but just annoying.

Writing about these minor issues brings to light just how minor they are, really, especially with so many good things going on. We celebrated the Fourth of July with friends and family over a very relaxed weekend.

On Saturday, one of my besties (the same one who recently was married in Key West) spent the morning with us, taking maternity photos. She’s an amateur photographer, like me, but she does a phenomenal job. And she’s gifting the photos to us so generously. She spent about two hours with us and made it fun and not at all awkward. I had a couple of costume changes along the way, and DH was very patient and tolerant through all of it, since he’s not a huge fan of photo shoots. We’ve only gotten one sneak peek so far, but I love it. Can’t wait to see the rest!

That night, we treated ourselves to a date night at a new restaurant in the city that we’ve been wanting to try. We both had delicious dinners (I had a giant pot of muscles–yum!–with huge frites), and when the waitress asked if we wanted dessert, we declined, since we had plans to head down the street to an ice cream shop that our friends own and run. We asked for the check, but the waitress indicated that the couple at the table behind us had already paid for our dinner. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly, so I tracked her down and asked her to repeat what she’d said. It was true: A lovely, middle-aged couple seated behind us, with whom DH had struck up some very casual conversation when I’d gotten up to use the restroom, just paid for our (not inexpensive) meal. I couldn’t believe it; nothing like that has ever happened to me. We thanked them profusely, gave them hugs and then headed on our way to the ice cream shop, faith in humanity restored. At our dessert destination, we decided we’d pay it forward (in some small way) by treating the two women behind us (unbeknownst to them). It all felt very good.

Sunday was dedicated to lazing at the pool and spending time with my mom and her boyfriend. By the time Monday rolled around, we were hugely excited for our rescheduled 4D ultrasound that evening. After work, we met DH’s parents at their house and went together to the private ultrasound studio for the big event, to which they treated us. We had to wait a long time–the ultrasound tech was running nearly half and hour late–but the time we had with our IMAX Guppy, in breathtaking 3D and on a nice, big screen, made it all worthwhile. I could’ve stayed there all night, if not all week.

We got to see his sweet little face, even though he wasn’t being terribly cooperative and instead was nestling his nose into the placenta. We even saw him lick it, which kind of creeped us out, but the tech said it’s totally normal and is a self-soothing mechanism for babies in utero. We watched him practice breathing, saw the soles of his feet, were reassured that he’s got some hair and just generally allowed ourselves to be entertained by the adorable baby faces he was making. We had a full 40-minute session and received a DVD of the entirety, some printed shots and (as a bonus, because we had to wait) a CD of photos. We can’t stop looking at him, he’s so adorable. I think from some angles he looks like me as a baby, but from others, he looks like DH. We’re so excited to see what he’ll look like when he arrives!

32w3d

I fell asleep last night with my laptop open on my lap. Guess I was tired.

This morning, we had our biweekly OB appointment, and everything is great. I’ve only gained a pound in the past couple of weeks (kind of incredible), and my blood pressure is low and steady. We heard the Guppy’s heartbeat on the Doppler; it came in at 140 bpm. I said something like, “Oh! It’s lower than usual,” and my OB assured us that anything between 120 and 160 is normal. To prove this, she grabbed my lower abdomen and shook (not comfy), then stuck the Doppler wand back against my belly. Guppy’s heart rate was up to 160 bpm, reacting to the stress, just like he’s supposed to.

We also talked about the iron supplement I’ve been taking to treat my slight anemia; it’s been making me constipated. To counteract this, I’ve been taking Colace. And then I get diarrhea. It’s a bit of a vicious cycle. My OB simply said to cut both of them out and to focus on infusing my diet with iron-rich foods like lean red meat and green leafies. So I’ll give that a go.

I’m so looking forward to this weekend–and to my second shower, hosted by my mom and couple of my besties, on Sunday. Can’t wait to do more celebrating of the Guppy!

This Guppy knows how to party.

30w6d

I’ve found time to post an update today because our 4D ultrasound, scheduled for this evening, was canceled (annoying). But we were able to reschedule for next Monday evening at a later time, even better because we won’t have to leave work early to make it. We’ll still be within the 32 weeks they list in the ideal gestational age range for 4D, so it’s really not a problem, just mildly disappointing as I’d gotten myself psyched up to see the Guppy’s face, finally!

So much to update–it’s been a whirlwind few weeks! On June 18, we had our first ultrasound in 10 weeks, and we got to see the Guppy flit about on the screen, although his movements are more limited than they were in the past because he’s all scrunched up in there. No more flipping over! I’m happy to report he’s head down, and they anticipate him staying that way. At the time, he was measuring about 2 pounds, 14 ounces, which they said was right on target. There’s plenty of amniotic fluid and good blood flow, and his heartbeat was measuring at 160 bpm. We didn’t get great captures this time because his hand was up over his face, but we got to see him plenty, and the ultrasound tech said all of his measurements look good. We now have a standing ultrasound order, so we’ll head back on July 16 for another growth check.

Before we left, the tech indicated that we’d start coming in weekly for nonstress tests at 36 weeks. I did a bit of reading up on this, and as neither advanced maternal age nor IVF pregnancy is, in and of itself, an indicator for nonstress tests, I asked my OB about it today when I saw her for my biweekly checkup. She said that it may not be every week, but given both circumstances, they prefer to keep an eye on the baby’s movements and to ensure everything is looking good, since we’ll have an ultrasound to accompany each NST. My mom reminded me about how I complained when we got booted from the IVF clinic at six weeks–thinking they weren’t paying enough medical attention to me–and so I certainly shouldn’t complain now that they want to see my weekly. And I won’t; I know this is important.

At today’s OB appointment, I heard the beautiful, blissful sound of the Guppy’s heartbeat, this time measuring his consistent 150 bpm, and my fundal height measured at 29 inches. I’ve also gained another three pounds in not quite two weeks, bringing my total pregnancy gain to 20 pounds. I blame it on vacation two weekends ago and the baby shower this past weekend. I need to start eating normally again and to lay off the key lime pie and the celebratory cake.We headed down to Key West for the wedding of one of my besties and what amounted to a quick, last-ditch babymoon. DH and I stayed in a lovely B and B with a scrumptious breakfast in the heart of old town. We did a ton of walking, despite the heat and humidity, and in addition to attending the beautiful wedding (on a gazebo at the end of a pier into the sea), we danced our pants off, ate a lot and went snorkeling. This was Guppy’s second in-utero snorkel! I hope it means he’s truly going to be a fish (like I was) and love the water. It was amazing–the water was a divine 82 degrees and crystal clear–and we even saw a shark. The life vest didn’t quite fit around me, so they gave me a noodle to use as a flotation device, and it worked fabulously.

This past weekend, my mother- and sister-in-law threw me my first shower, for DH’s side of the family. I was so ecstatic! After all of the pain and frustration of IVF that I know my mind and body are working hard to make me forget, and after the bitterness and heartache of being unable to conceive naturally, to have a party dedicated to the Guppy was almost surreal. My ladies-in-law worked so hard to make it perfect, and it was: The theme was based on the Radio Flyer little red wagon, and the decorations were beyond adorable. They even got a small replica Radio Flyer–the perfect size for stuffed animals to be carted around in–for the Guppy to play with when he’s older. There was tons of food, and oh, the presents! The Guppy was basking in all of the attention and is completely spoiled. DH’s best friend and his family, including his adorable, precocious 3-year-old, even came down from Massachusetts just to spend the weekend and celebrate with us. We are feeling so truly blessed, so surrounded and uplifted by love and support. I’m not sure it can get any better than this.

And the partying isn’t over; my mom and two besties are hosting another shower for me, this time for my side of the family and my friends, in a couple of weeks. The trick now is finding a place to put all the goodies that the Guppy has received. Our house is pretty small for all this baby gear, and already we’re starting to shove it into nooks and crannies. I also am committed to getting my first round of thank you note writing done before the second shower rolls around, so as not to let the work pile up.

For his part, the Guppy is in total party mode. He rocks out every night, squirming and stretching so my belly contorts and pulses and undulates. He’s gotten big enough so that I feel his every move, and he also seems to get a bout of the hiccups nearly every day. Today, during a meeting, he poked my side so hard that something popped out (An elbow? A knee? A foot?) and I pushed it back in. Luckily, nothing is terribly uncomfortable. I’ve had a couple of evenings of swollen feet, some backache and some side aches, especially after first waking, but otherwise I can’t complain. I’m sleeping well (although still doing that unconscious stretching) and feeling well, and I’m back to my weekly prenatal yoga sessions.

Life is good. I hope upon hope that it stays this way. Nine weeks to go!

Daddy’s turn.

28w6d

Turning the corner on 29 weeks and on what I know is going to be a whirlwind few weeks following some much-needed and -enjoyed quiet time. We’re off to Key West for a wedding this weekend, and then things start picking up speed in earnest: baby shower 1, Fourth of July, baby shower 2, birthing class, etc.

This past weekend, we mixed some low-key relaxation, just sitting in the gorgeous late-afternoon sun during what might have been the last weather-perfect weekend of the summer, with celebration and shopping (read: Guppy got spoiled). But we had reason to both celebrate and spoil. Last Thursday, we saw our OB for our biweekly appointment, and I got measured left and right. I’m now up 17 pounds from my first OB appointment at 9 weeks, when I was actually down a few pounds from my average. My fundal height is measuring 27 cm (plus or minus 2, my OB said, so we’re right on), my blood pressure is great and Guppy’s heartbeat is a very consistent 150 bpm. No matter how many times I hear it, I rejoice hearing that WOMP WOMP WOMP on the Doppler. It makes me endlessly happy.

Because I’d been feeling some pressure low in my pelvis, my OB also checked my cervix (not comfortable) and reported that it’s good and closed. So that gave me some peace of mind. We also talked about my most recent lab results (normal for gestational diabetes but low on some blood counts), and she told me that anemia is normal in pregnant women, who work so hard to produce so much blood. She recommended I begin taking a daily dose of Slow FE to increase my iron intake without (hopefully) the nasty constipating side effects. She also gave us an order for our next ultrasound (yay!), which is scheduled for Thursday morning at 7:30. It’ll be the first time we’ll have seen the Guppy in 10 whole weeks. DH and I are both so anxious and so excited to see him again and to ensure he’s growing as he should.

On Sunday, Father’s Day, we celebrated with DH’s extended family–and Guppy and I paid extra-special attention to his Daddy to be. DH and I love Star Wars, although he perhaps a smidge more than I. In fact, DH really wanted to name the Guppy “Jedi.” I exercised my veto power, but that doesn’t mean that the force isn’t strong in this little guy. So we kind of went all out … The Guppy gifted his dad a copy of Darth Vader and Son; a “Jedi in Training” bib, which the Guppy is excited to model; and some AT-AT and AT-ST walker decals for his DH’s car. (Yes, we’re that geeky.)

We needed to run some errands, which took us to the mall on the other side of the city, where I discovered my new favorite kids’ clothing store, Naartjie (South African for “clementine”). So of course, we had to stop and check out the clearance section and wound up buying a few things. Our spree also took us to Baby Gap and Target. I’m a bit nervous that we won’t make our way through all of these clothes; this kid’s wardrobe is looking way better than mine.

Tonight, after a long walk (it’s getting difficult to heft myself up these hills) and dinner, I decided to dig into some shredding. We have a bad habit of piling paper up on top of the shredder until we’ve got a good several pounds’ worth of documents, which then require several hours to shred. I made my way through all sorts of memories of our IVF treatment: endless prescriptions, LabCorp bills, doctors’ receipts. I thought it would be cathartic to shred all of it–to eliminate it, physically, from our lives–but instead I found myself kind of panicky. I think, unfortunately, I’ll never be able to leave the dread entirely behind. And until the Guppy is safely in my arms, I don’t think I’ll be entirely at ease. Sure, it’s gotten easier to think positively and be comfortable with this pregnancy the more it’s progressed, but I haven’t been able to ditch that tiny bit of franticness in the back of my mind. Or the shock and disbelief that this is is really real and really happening.

I am thankful–ecstatic, elated, endlessly appreciative–every day that I wake up to this healthy pregnancy. And every day I pray that it continues the way it has been. We are so very, very blessed.

Blogging bump.

27w6d

On the cusp of 28 weeks and feeling fine! Guppy has been particularly active today, and this evening, as I’ve sat–as I’ve so often done–with my laptop on my thighs and my bump intruding upon the track pad, he seems particularly active. Kick kick kick.

I just wanted to add a quick post documenting that I passed the glucose tolerance screening on the first go! Very exciting news indeed, as I was dreading having to do a three-hour repeat or, worse, face gestational diabetes. I treated myself to a bag of sour gummy octopi (yes, octopi) to celebrate. This sour gummy craving is ridiculous.

While I haven’t heard from my doctor following the results coming in (I get them emailed to me from LabCorp), they did show that some of my blood levels–hematocrit, red blood cell, etc.–were low. I called my mom, the trusty medical-esque person in my life (she certainly knows more than I do), and she said it may indicate anemia. I see my OB on Friday, so I’ll discuss with her then. In the meantime, I picked up my new prenatal vitamin prescription today (which I’d ordered primarily because I want to be able to use my FSA to pay for prenatals, rather than funneling post-tax funds to Giant), and they come chock full of iron, which my current supplement does not contain, in addition to the super-important DHA, which my current prenatal does contain, but not quite as much. So if I am indeed anemic, I’m hoping these new vitamins will help.

I’ll also talk to my OB about the pressure I’ve recently been feeling on my cervix. (I think it’s my cervix?) It doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does, it’s a bit concerning. I’m hoping it’s normal. My colleague-friend who has been my pregnancy-and-all-things-that-come-with-it guru says it’s normal. Have any of you been experiencing anything like it? As long as it’s not because I’m effaced or dilated, I’m fine with it.

Otherwise, I’ve just been enjoying my bump. I love that I can hug it, thereby hugging the Guppy. It’s glorious and round and apparent. And it’s now, finally, photographing decently. So I’ve been taking lots of pictures of it. We’ve also been baby shopping quite a bit. It’s addicting. Baby clothes are so tiny and cute and inexpensive. But before you know it, despite entire outfits costing less than $10 total, you’ve spent a solid $100. And my showers are still to come, so we need to start scaling back. The Guppy’s closet is looking quite filled out already. Lucky Guppy.

Twelve weeks to go. I’m so giddily excited and also hoping the time doesn’t fly by too quickly. Now that I’m truly enjoying being pregnant, I want to be able to savor it.

Hello, third tri!

27w1d

Here we go! Two thirds down, one to go. It seems unreal that we’ve reached this milestone and that the majority of this pregnancy lies behind us. Thirteen weeks until we get to meet the Guppy. It still feels like a long way off, but 13 is so countable. And given the way time has been flying by, I know it’s just around the corner. We’re so excited!

I don’t have much new news to report. We had our monthly prenatal visit last Thursday, and we heard the Guppy’s heartbeat via the Doppler immediately, loudly and clearly at 150 bpm. No fumbling about these days. I’m up three pounds since last visit for a total weight gain of 15 pounds. Our OB also measured my fundal height for the first time, and I measured 25 centimeters at 26 weeks. From what I’ve read, that’s about right–and the doctor didn’t say anything about it, one way or the other.

She gave us an order for the glucose tolerance test, which I underwent yesterday morning (I fasted for extra-good measure). I have to say the orange drink wasn’t so bad; it kind of reminded me of the stuff they used to give us in day camp, chock full of sugar. I sat in a big, comfy, overstuffed recliner and caught up on work and email. The hour went by quickly. The results, of course, are not so fast in coming. I have everything crossed for good news, and since I know there’s nothing I can do to influence the outcome, I’m trying not to think or stress about it. A friend at work who’s due July 1 tested positive for gestational diabetes, and she’s petite, active and in good shape with no history of diabetes in her family. She said it’s because of her age; she’s having her first at 37, which makes her only two years older than I am. I suppose that should the results indicate anything other than normal, I’ll just deal with it as it comes. As we have with every other step in this long infertility process. We’ve gotten good at crossing bridges when they make themselves apparent.

We’ll see the OB again on June 13; we’re now on an every-other-week schedule with her. At that appointment, she’ll give us an order for our next ultrasound, at some point before 30 weeks. My mother in law is treating us to a 4D ultrasound, too, which is scheduled for June 30, when we’ll be just about 30 weeks along. I’m intrigued and fascinated by this, as it’ll provide the first relatively clear shot of the Guppy’s face (we hope!). We’ll get some photos and a DVD for posterity.

In the meantime, we’ve got the nursery as complete as it’s going to get for a while. We spent the better part of our free time last week putting the finishing touch on our paint job: a four-foot mural of the Beatles’ yellow submarine to go with our “under the sea” theme. It’s situated just above where the crib, when we eventually get it, will go. DH borrowed a projector from work, and we projected an image from his laptop onto the wall. After tracing in pencil, we launched into painting (using acrylics), which was more difficult and more tedious than I expected. After our first night’s effort, I decided I hated the way the colors were coming out (darker than anticipated), so we painted over a portion and started again. The second time was the charm! The colors came out beautifully (we mixed our own), and we used an acrylic paint marker to manage the outline without too much fuss. I’m so proud of it, and I sneak into the nursery at least once a day to admire it.

We also received our glider and ottoman, a gift from DH’s maternal grandmother, and have it set up in the corner near the windows. DH’s dad brought us fantastic, room-darkening cellular shades (no cord!) that he picked up for us at work. They are so effective that when we pulled them down for the first time, I was momentarily blinded in the pitch dark–and it was full daylight! I think they will come in extremely handy where afternoon naps are concerned. We’ve also gotten two of our big-ticket gifts (other than furniture) already: our stroller, the Baby Jogger City Versa (selected after an extreme amount of painstaking research), from my mom’s boyfriend and a Pack N Play with newborn napper/changer from one of my mom’s close friends. The latter proved ridiculously difficult to wrangle when we set it up for the first time, like a “drunk octopus,” as DH described it. It may just be a permanent fixture in our living room for a while.

With all of this excitement, the Guppy has been extremely active. When I get into bed at night, he goes wild–and his movements are now visible from the outside. Last night, DH read a book to him, and he kept wiggling about. At a certain point, my whole tummy moved with a wavelike motion. It was the first time DH had seen it that clearly, and his response was “Woah! It’s like there’s an alien in your belly!” Except it’s not an alien; it’s our son! I love every kick and thump and flutter. It reminds me how real the Guppy’s getting. Sometimes, he’s so present, pushing on all of my organs and creating tons of pressure. I’d complain about it being uncomfortable (which it kind of is) but it makes me so happy that he’s in there, I don’t feel I should.

Here’s to loving the next 13 weeks as much as I’ve loved the last!