2 a.m. is never a good time to write a blog post. But I can’t sleep, and have the urge to write. So here we are.

I’m sitting here with my two boxes — Abigail and Jack — and wondering what I’m supposed to do. I’m stuck. My body very much wants to never be pregnant ever again. My heart very much wants another baby. My mind just can’t make sense of it all. And so, I wait, undecided, unable to move forward because I don’t know which path to take. In any other situation I’d let the fates take me where they may, but I’m fairly sure in this situation it’s not the fates talking, it’s just biology, and biology doesn’t have feelings.

There are more reasons than I can count to not have another baby. For one, I just never envisioned our family with more than two children. My body is not in great shape, my back hurts a lot, I am overweight, and I don’t want to do any more shots. I doubt, at this point, that pregnancy really poses any serious risk to my health, at least in the blood clot department, but there’s still the possibility that you can’t ignore.

I want to move on. I love my children but kids can be a pain in the ass. I’m looking forward to a life with no more diapers, no more breastfeeding, and while I’m sure the tantrums aren’t done, I do appreciate the use of words. I look forward to more time to craft, to doing more elaborate things with the kids, to trips, and discussions, and sharing movies and books. I like the idea of older kids. I’m not so enamoured with the daily rigors of a newborn. I feel more like myself now than I have in at least five years and it’s hard to give that up for another three or four years. I might even get a job one of these days.

And yet. I sit with my boxes and wonder. I’d get to revisit all those things I thought I’d never see again. First smiles, favorite clothes, belly laughs.. another chance at all the wonderfulness that is a baby.  Pure adoration. Nobody loves you like your baby loves you. My oldest would adore a baby, and there’s nothing like seeing your children grin at each other. Truth: I expected to have another baby and I want what I’ve lost.

I wonder at how unfair life can be. I fear what could possibly be next if we did try again. Could we tolerate yet another loss? Are we fighting a losing battle? Should we cut our losses and run? Nevermind all of the run-of-the-mill things parents get to worry about with illness and birth defects. I was naive enough with Jack to think that nothing could go wrong, because it just couldn’t after what happened last time. And now I know never to think that way ever again. Sometimes I’m amazed I can make it through the day just knowing how things can go wrong in a mere second, how life can change, hell, life can just end. I’m almost constantly aware that I should be living every second for what it’s worth, but that’s so exhausting I can’t summon the effort.

So we wait in limbo for our minds to decide, for our hurt to heal, for our hearts let go. The fact is I’m not sure I want another baby, I think I just want Jack. But I can’t have Jack. So I hold a box. And wait.

It’s been one week since we lost Baby Jack, as he’s referred to on a daily basis around here. Boo was much more attached to the baby than I realized (in fact, so was I), so we’ve had a lot of discussions about how these things happen, how sad we all feel, and what comes next. When we told him what happened, he cried, “But I wanted the baby!” and threw himself sobbing on the couch. So sad.. so did we, my poor Boo, so did we. It’s so cruel that we had only just reached the point of not only acceptance, but looking forward to our lives changing. While we knew this might happen, that there was always that chance, that this wasn’t a surprise, it still hurts an amazing and horrible amount.

I’m still mostly at a loss for words. I spend most of the day actively ignoring everything bubbling just under the surface. That’s not too hard with such active kiddos to care for — and I feel incredibly lucky to have them. They don’t need Mommy falling apart on them, so I don’t. Lying on the couch all day, eating ice cream, and crying isn’t really possible right now, as much as that’s what I’d rather be doing. It’s sort of crazy that one has to actually find time to mourn.

Unfortunately for me, that time is hitting at night, around bedtime, when there’s nothing left to do but think. I know mourning is a process and there’s a lot to work through with this whole situation, but it still sucks. I’m actually afraid of going to bed because I can’t stop crying.

There have been some precious moments this week.. moments I hope to never forget. Not only Jack’s birth, as terrible and painful as that was, but the crystalline moment when I felt so grateful to at least be able to see him and hold him and say goodbye, which didn’t happen with A.B.

Another gut wrenching moment was watching Boo hold his tiny baby brother at the funeral home, wrapped up in a blanket that Boo picked out. Boo wasn’t remotely afraid or aware that what he was doing in looking at and holding this tiny body might be gross or unsightly somehow. He was curious, he was sad, and he obviously really loved that little baby. I am so proud of him, even as I’m so sad and lost with everything that’s happened.

One of the strangest things I’ve experienced with losing a baby whilst caring for other living children is the juxtaposition between feeling extreme distress, anger, love, and pain, due to the loss of the baby, or more accurately that baby’s potential, but simultaneously continuing to enjoy your living children, laughter continuing to ring through the house, kisses and hugs still being given, and stories at bedtime still being read. It seems almost wrong that the world continues to spin; yet it does.

And so the days pass, Boo walks up and says, “Baby Jack came out too soon and Abigail was a great swimmer but tied a knot in her cord,” and life goes on. We really miss the baby, Baby Jack, and I wonder where we’ll go next. My whole life is still flipped upside down, even though this even has effectively brought us back to where we were several months ago. Yet nothing will ever be the same. We may have another baby some day, or we may not, but we’ll always have those memories of Jack and how we re-evaluated our family and our life. I honestly thought I’d feel some relief, but I don’t. I just want my baby back. I want my life upside down. I want my big boy to have the little brother he so loves.

But I can’t have any of that. And so, one week in, I’m still lost. Aimless. Hurting. But life goes on.  My kids need me, even if for some of them that only means answering questions about memories.

About a month ago we found out we were expecting another baby. It has taken this long to figure out what to say about that!

I guess it’s easiest to start from the beginning. Several weeks ago I was feeling really crap. Tired, nauseated (especially at night), grumpy and generally just unwell. Finally after a few weeks of that, I remember talking to H one night and saying, What on earth is wrong with me? Do I have some sort of bizarre extended food poisoning? Very mild but persistant flu? Why do I feel so bad?

It sunk in then that, in fact, these feelings were very familiar, only since I was on birth control it hadn’t occured to me as possible that I could be pregnant. I have (I’m using present tense on purpose here) an IUD which has a .04% chance of failing. I even asked at the doc appt wherein I acquired said IUD what the chances were of getting pregnant and they were insistant that it’s very rare and never happens. Don’t even worry about it.

Well, suddenly I was really worried about it.  I scrounged up an expired pregnancy test and that came up positive incredibly quickly. So I made a doc appt, wherein they looked at me like I was crazy, but lo and behold their test was positive too. At this point the doc got worried because eptopic pregnancies are indeed possible, so they did an ultrasound and, thankfully, no ectopic pregnancy. It was just a normal pregnancy.

Right.

I was — and in many ways still am — in shock. Although we’re quite happy to have a third child, and were ironically even talking about adopting a third child some day, it was not in my plans to be pregnant again.

I have a hard time writing things like this down because I don’t want to hurt the child’s feelings should they read this in the future. It’ll probably suck enough to know they weren’t planned. But the truth is it’s been a monumental adjustment of my attitude and life plans to get used to the idea of another baby. I spent several weeks being mad at my body, thinking, What, blood clotting wasn’t enough of a challenge, now you had to subvert the flippin’ IUD as well?

Because that’s the other tricky piece of this saga: the IUD is still in place. They couldn’t get it out. I can only assume I was far enough along by the time I realized something was up (9 weeks) that the string had been sucked up and retrieving it would almost certainly prompt a miscarriage.

My gut reaction was that this baby, obviously already as stubborn as my other children, had made it this far under less than ideal circumstances, I figured s/he was obviously very special and deserved a chance. The risks of miscarriage are extremely high with an IUD in place (some sources say up to 50%) and if the baby can not only get attached with a foreign object invading its space, but it can avoid being miscarried, then yeah, it deserves a chance to live.

So here we are. Now we’re 13 weeks pregnant and things are going as well as can be expected, I suppose.

I’m back on my Lovenox shots, much to my displeasure. I’m absolutely paranoid about gaining too much weight and am continuing to work out when I can. Sleeping during this heatwave has been obnoxious. I still feel sick although that’s getting better. I’m tired, I’m grumpy, I’m… well, I’m just pregnant.

There are so many things that will need to change that I’m still thinking of them almost on a daily basis. We’ll have to get a bigger car. We’ll even need to buy a new carseat as our old one expired. I’ve already given away most newborn stuff so we’ll need to acquire more of that. I have no idea how we’ll organize bedrooms. I’ll probably break down and get a double stroller for the walks to our new preschool. Many, many, many projects, plans and ideas will be put off for yet another two years, at least. I won’t be able to visit home in the near future. I’ll be totally and completely out numbered. It will cost so much for all of us to visit relatives in the UK that it’s entirely likely that I will never be able to go back again. And on and on and on.

Of course there will be many brilliant things as well. All of the baby things about the Bean that I was trying to cherish as I expected him to be my last baby, I’ll get to experience again.  Boo is a great big brother and he’s looking forward to having another baby too, although I’m sure Bean is not as he won’t even be two yet. Poor H keeps telling me that he knows it will be hard, but it will be great. I know this. Really, I do.

But it is so hard to wrap my head around everything — breastfeeding again. Baby food again. TWO in diapers (I thought I had escaped that dreadful prospect!). Nevermind my own goals and dreams.

Two weeks before all this started I had even hit rock bottom and sobbed to H that I had to find a way to take care of myself because I couldn’t go on in the shape I was in — of course now I know that may have mostly been hormones talking. Nevertheless instead of getting in shape I’m now just staving off excess pregnancy weight.

Ah well — I’m very much in a “it will be what it will be” mode. I’m bleeding near constantly thanks to the IUD continually to do its job of irritating the uterine lining, so every day that starts again I wonder if it’s just irritation or if today is the day we’re going to lose the baby. Bean is still just a baby himself and I’m finding it extremely hard to take care of both him and Boo when I want nothing more than to relax and prop my feet up. Thank goodness H is taking good care of us all because otherwise I’d be a mess and the house would be a pigsty. I’m sure we’ll all be happy when this phase has passed.

So this is why the blog has been silent. I’ve been reading Harry Potter in an attempt to escape reality. I haven’t knit more than 10 rows in a month. My creative juices are zilch. I don’t feel like doing anything but sleeping. Mentally I’m re-inventing my life plans and trying to stay calm and positive. I have no idea what the future will hold, it’s day by day at this point. I do hope to return to normal at some point. I just hope it won’t be years.

The day was supposed to start with a call from the hospital telling us when to come in. “Morning” to a hospital is not the same as “morning” to me, so I had taken my cell phone to bed with me because 5am is not a time I am accustomed to being awake (anymore, that is). I actually kept waking up all night, checking my phone, which didn’t ring. Finally at 8am both H’s phone and my mom’s phones rang and my OB left a message about how I was supposed to be at the hospital! Eek! (They must have had the wrong number for me or something, never did get to the bottom of that.) So I called back and said we were coming!!! And off we went.

Therefore we didn’t really get started until 10ish. The induction took off right away though, apparently my body decided it liked Pitocin this time, and things progressed nicely. It was very nice that my OB wanted my body to be mostly ready, as opposed to last time, and I think it was. But that’s another blog entry!

So Mr OB said we would break ye olde waters in a bit, but then around noon they broke all on their own. I was SHOCKED. Not having had that experience before, I was in the middle of a conversation with H and our nurse (We had our very own dedicated nurse. How cool is that?) when I stopped talking, and after a moment said something along the lines of “Either I just peed, or my water broke.” Thank god it was the water. Having your water break is plain strange, it’s like peeing without your consent! And then it continued to leak the rest of the day. That’s all I’ll say about that!

So this kiddo had meconium in his amniotic fluid, just like his brother! So we knew he’d be whisked off across the room to get that taken care of, and we were okay with that.

After the water event, things progressed quickly, as I knew they would because that’s when all hell broke loose with the Boo’s birth. The contractions increased and got stronger and for a long time (at least it felt like a long time) I was breathing through them and focused and calm and doing really, really well. I had wondered if I would want to get up and do different positions and things like that, but really all I wanted to do was to concentrate, focus on separating my body from the work of my uterus, and try to remain as calm as possible. Bearing in mind, of course, that we were still in the beginning stages.

Then I started to feel really bad. Jittery and nauseated, threatening to throw up, losing my ability to focus, and evidently reaching my pain threshold. By that time we were between 4 and 5cm and after three increasingly bad contractions where I started to feel like I was losing my grip, I decided I didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. I already knew how awful it could get if I lose control with the vomiting and the pain and more specifically the lack of pain management, so I decided I was done. The nurse chipped in that the pitocin should keep contractions going even with an epidural so there’s little danger of the labour stalling, which was one of many things I was worried about, so we decided it was time for an epidural. I have no idea if that’s actually true, about no stalling, but I was ready. I also dont know if it’s true that pitocin labours are harder, but either I’m a major wimp, or they are, at least a little bit.

It’s funny, I have mixed emotions about the whole natural birth thing. I do feel like it’s the ideal, better for baby, that women in general are more than capable of doing it, but … damn it’s nice being able to be calm and focused and fully aware. I know this issue is full of contention, so moving on!

Turns out I had the perfect epidural. Hurrah! It knocked out the pain while I was still able to feel everything. My legs were all pins and needles, which was mildly unpleasant, but I could still move them which was cool. I could feel most of the contractions but of course they didn’t hurt. Epidurals seem to speed things up for me, and this one did precisely that.

When we were “complete” the OB was busy dealing with something else, so we sort of hung out for a while. I kept getting this really odd sensation of something pushing down, uh, down there. That never happened with Boo, and in fact I think I had to push two hours with him. That sensation kept kept happening over and over, so when the OB came to check, he said we should do one experimental push to see if we were ready. Then he had to yell to stop because Hello! We were ready to have a baby!!

So the required people came in, we pushed and there was a baby. Seriously, it was that fast. The doc said it was one push but I do seem to remember at least two. But whatever. It wasn’t hours and there was a gurgling baby.

Of course he had the cord wrapped twice around his neck which nearly gave me a heart attack, but that was dealt with swiftly, and after the initial gurgling (I was thinking, when is he going to cry?!) he hollered, got his cord snipped by Daddy, got his lungs cleared out, weighed and measured (slightly smaller than his big bro, but not by much!) and given back to us.

It was as perfect a birth as I could imagine, and our little guy is so happy. He nursed well right away, he looks almost exactly like his big bro, i.e. adorable, he’s very cuddly and remarkably calm. He has huge grey eyes that are constantly looking about in wonder. I am so glad he’s here!

I’m at 36 weeks and a bit, so it’s time to switch to Heparin.

Up to now I’ve been on Lovenox, which is a version of Heparin that is not easily reversible, like the real thing, but can be taken once daily, and thus is much more convenient. Since labour involves blood, the docs wanted to have me on something they could reverse. Works for me.

Unfortunately what I did not previously appreciate was that Lovenox comes packaged in previously filled syringes. Take and toss, if you will.

Heparin comes in vials. Like at the doctor’s office. I had to buy syringes! I have to learn to fill my own shots. I know this shouldn’t sound daunting, but damn. I’m nervous! I’m sure there are people who do this every day (do diabetics draw their own insulin?) but still… Eeek!

And since Heparin wears off so quickly I get to do it three times a day. Yippee! I am going to be so black and blue by the time this is over.
Thank goodness it’s only for another few weeks. 3 weeks if all goes according to plan. Insert another ‘Eeeek!’ here :)

I wasn’t sure whether or not I would want to write something today or not. It was one year ago that we found out that Baby Bea had passed away.

Honestly I can’t believe it’s been a year. It seems both so long ago and practically yesterday.

We’ve definitely moved on in many ways, first and foremost, I suppose, optimistically expecting a new baby in a few months. Although I may miss her and think about her often, I don’t think about her constantly or even every day. We even went through baby things the other day (something we’ve understandably put off, I think) and now have a bag of baby girl clothes to give away. I don’t even have her bear finished — it’ll get finished when it’s finished, I suppose. I’m not stressed about it.

What’s changed? Well I definitely just want this baby to get here no matter what. I no longer am paranoid about c-sections or the “best” way to give birth. I’m not into arguing with doctors (much) or doing it my way. Any way will do as long as the baby is okay. Since he’s currently in breech and seemingly objects to turning around, this mental state might come in handy. After all, even if things do work out as we want them to, there are still no guarantees after that either.

In some ways I’m sort of thankful for the timing of this baby — the Boo has taken an active interest in “baby brother” and even seems to be on the same wavelength sometimes, asking if he’s kicking when he is, in fact, doing so. He feels for the baby kicking and asks lots of questions. He doesn’t understand why baby brother isn’t here NOW. Although he may understand a lot of things about this process, I don’t think he gets that it will be a few years before he’ll have a playmate.

While Boo may still be very demanding and time consuming, I think he’s also much more accepting of Mommy needing to do other things, at least more accepting than he used to be. This will come in handy with a baby around, I suspect. Don’t worry, I’m not thinking everything is going to be peachy keen and that the Boo won’t have mommy withdrawal problems or bouts of jealously, I just think at his current age he’ll be more understanding of what’s needed and what’s happening than he would have been a year ago. He has needed us so very much over the past year that I’m sort of (and only sort of) glad that we’ve been able to give him that.

As for this baby being a boy.. I’ve thought a lot about that. Of course it’s only mostly certain and not completely certain that it’s a boy, so I hesitate to even say something about it. But.. I am glad it’s a boy. I think the Boo will benefit more from a brother, for some reason. And in a way it keeps Baby Bea special. Not that she wouldn’t be special and not that a baby girl wouldn’t be equally welcomed, it’s just a little feeling I’ve kept tucked away in my head. I have a daughter and she’s the only one and she’s special, even if she’s not here.

Bea’s “birthday”, such as it is, will be on the 22nd. I dunno if I’ll write anything then or not. The above is pretty much the sum of my thoughts on the matter, although of course I have several saved posts from last year that never got published. I dunno; we’ll see. It will be what it will be.

We’re at 25 weeks now with Baby Blip. Look, it’s a baby:

Nearly a year ago we got some very, very bad news about Baby Bea at 24 weeks, and I have to admit, over the last month (or 5) I’ve sort of been holding my breath. Not making any real plans. Being cautiously optimistic but knowing something could go wrong at any time.

Last week was our 24 week appointment with the Blip and the heartbeat is strong and so far, so good. Hell, I’m even gaining a respectable amount of weight (as opposed to eating enough for Alexander’s army). He’s finally kicking somewhat predictably.. apparently he really likes banana pudding. Anyway, it looks good. Cautiously, cautiously, optimistically, good.

So I’m trying to breathe out. We’re past that danger point of last time, we’re quickly approaching that viability point where it something goes wrong things can be saved, and we very well may have a baby in the near future. Wow.

I’m not at the point yet of setting up the crib or getting out clothes or sorting through diapers (there are benefits to having the same gender.. we’ve already got everything!).. but still. We’re getting there. So here’s to hoping. Baby blip, you’re doing good. Hang in there.

The other day we asked the Boo if he thought Brother/Sister (what we’ve been calling Blip for him) was in fact and Brother or a Sister.

He declared it was a Sister.

Should be fun to find out next week!

Incidently, this is quite possibly one of the worst phases to be in during pregnancy for those prone to worrying whether or not their baby is alive. Vague kicks but then nothing for a long while. My doc says I can come in to get it checked whenever I want to, but dragging the Boo there isn’t easy so I’m just trying not to worry. I keep meaning to check into getting one of those doppler things.

Oh well — last check the baby’s heartbeat was nice and strong and I think I’m feeling it move more now. Surely my bowels aren’t that acrobatic!

Finally! I’ve been yearning to talk about this stuff!

Due date: April 25th or thereabouts.

Gender: No idea! I was having serious nausea early on so I thought it was probably a boy since my pattern so far has been 24 hour sickness with a boy and nada with a girl. This one though is throwing me.. I’ve been very nauseated but not enough to throw up. Somewhere in between. Boggle! Just goes to show every pregnancy is different, right? We’ll find out at the 20 week scan. :)

Cravings: Whee! I’ve had cravings! I remember with the Boo I was SO looking forward to sending H out for strange food and I didn’t have any cravings! Nothing! This time though it’s balsalmic vinegar. How wierd is that? I’ve been tearing through Greek salads with balsalmic vinaigrette. YUM. Better than cheeseburgers and fries! Plus I even lost some weight since the last doctor’s visit. Good start, now I just need to not gain too much the rest of the time!

First Trimester Scan: I was excessively worried about this. Felt like the tech took too many measurements, and they took a picture of the baby’s face which I’d never seen them do before. I had days of nightmarish scenarios in my head with lots of crying before they called to tell me the test results came back great! Best numbers possible! Yay! Brought into sharp relief for me the fact that I might be a teensy bit sensitive this time around.

Hmm what else.. other than being the usual tired, hormonal and cranky, things are going great :) Boo is very cute as well, talking about his “baby brother or baby sister”. Lots of his little friends have younger siblings so he’s pretty well acquainted with the concept. There are lots of things to figure out.. logistics like which grandparent can come stay for the birth so the Boo gets looked after.. how to position our furniture (I feel this need to not have to get up in the middle of night).. do we need a couch? Names.. diapers.. clothes.. car seats.. but honestly I’m not giving it all a lot of thought at this point. I don’t think we’ll truly relax until we get much closer. My mother maintains I must think positive but I have to admit it’s hard to get overly attached at this point. I have high hopes.. but I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, if you will.

Due at the end of April, 2008!
(You mean you can’t decipher the blob above? :)