Saturday I was at work, sitting at my desk trying to catch up on the mounds of paperwork I had been greeted with upon return from my vacation. I was hunched forward a little bit, leaning into my computer screen as I typed something in. And then… pain! My right ribs. I felt like there was something stabbing me, I couldn’t breathe, I gasped a little bit and clutched at my ribs as it ebbed. It left me wondering…. Shit, what was that? Was that the baby? It didn’t happen again.

Today as I sat on my left side, legs drawn up on my right, I could feel baby girl kicking my right side. I felt around a little bit and realized she was kicking just below my ribs. The past week she’s been kicking higher and higher – she was very rarely above my belly button, and suddenly it feels like she’s expanded upwards. It now bothers me to slouch, my belly presses upwards and my boobs fall downwards and it just creates a very uncomfortable meeting in the middle.

If that wasn’t her kicking my ribs on Saturday, it most certainly will be soon enough. This child makes me nervous – she kicks hard. She is going to hurt me.

Dear baby,
There is still 3 months of growing left to do. I love that you are so active in there, it does my heart a lot of good. But I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make me too black and blue in there. Try to aim for the front and sides where there are no bones or organs to hit.
Love, mama.

::

She remains a very active baby. I start kick counts tomorrow, at 28 weeks, and it will probably be a very quick evening chore – though I do need to ask the Midwife how I count “drumming,” the boomboomboom as she kicks me nonstop.

This will also be the start of me seeing the midwives every two weeks from here on out. Time is moving along. I’m really happy to see things move forward at a good pace.

::

In the meantime, this week I’m planning the dinner for Devin’s second birthday. We’re inviting “just immediate family” but with Den’s family that still adds up to quite a few people. So I’m planning the menu and trying to get ready for that. I don’t feel sad about it, not really. I’m sure I’ll have my moments, but for right now I’m in a good place with this baby on the way and am mostly just in shock that it’s been 2 years already. What a long two years it has been, in some ways – it feels like a lifespan all of its own – but on the other hand I’m still not really sure how I got here.

But for now my only question is…. do I buy a cake pan in the shape of a dinosaur, or no? Questions, questions.

Tonight I started asking Den about names again, re-hashing the same things. I said, “I’m naming a PERSON! I have to make sure it’s RIGHT!” Finally I just put my head down on my arms and moaned, “Being a parent is so hard.”

Den sighed in exasperation and replied, “Honey, I think being a parent is going to be ridiculously easy compared to deciding on a name!”

::

Today was indeed my 28 week appointment, complete with ultrasound. The ultrasound was first, and I was quickly seen to. Baby girl was kicking me, so not much anxiety presented itself. She measured the few things, telling me what she was doing as we went along. I craned my head to see the numbers pop up on the screen – everything looked pretty average. Heart rate was a good solid 158bpm. The abdomen measurement was a little behind, but she tried 4 times to get a good measurement and told me baby just wasn’t in a good position to get a good angle. When done she got me a few pictures of baby girl’s sweet little face profile. There was actually fluid in front of her face today, instead of being completely mashed up against my placenta (she looked like maybe her head was a little lower, below the bulk of the placenta?), but alas still a 3d shot was not forthcoming – her nose was getting cut off, making her look very strange indeed. And she is indeed head-down, as I’ve been saying.

The ultrasound tech sat at her desk for a few minutes calculating and printing it all off, said baby’s weight is estimated to be 2lb 6oz, perfectly average. Then she went to show everything to a doctor before releasing me – which they do every single ultrasound. But of course she didn’t come right back in. I sat there and swung my feet. I patted my belly. I looked at the screen over and over again – only that belly measurement was a little “off,” and even so it was still within the normal range. But you know how it is… the longer I sat there, the more nervous I got, straining my ears to hear her footsteps coming back in. I work really hard in moments such as those to just breathe and not over-think anything, to just tell myself that it’s all fine, all normal, nothing to worry about. Finally she comes back in, chuckling (apparently at something the doctor had said, I can only assume) and said, “He thinks everything looks great, you can go!” Breath exhaled.

From there it was off to see my midwife. I’m officially up 18lbs at 28 weeks, which is more than I would prefer (because I put on roughly 5lbs while on vacation, whoops), but right on track for a normal weight gain. My blood pressure was read at 127/69, which is high for me, but no one said anything. (Not too surprizing, given the fact that I’d just been getting anxious waiting for the ultrasound results!) I also got to do the lovely sugar drink for the gestational diabetes test, yuck. It made me feel rather gaggy this time.

I got to see my favorite midwife today and chit-chat for a little bit. I’m third trimester, holy cow. Now they’re starting to ask things like how many contractions I’ve been having. I asked some questions about kick counting and hospital policies, nothing major. She said their standard procedure for monitoring during labor is a 30-minute strip when admitted, then a 1-2 minute strip every half an hour thereafter. In between they take the monitor off and you’re free to labor however you want to, which is nice. (Of course if you get an epidural they do want the monitor on, but you’re stuck in bed anyways at that point!)

The midwife did look at my belly for a few minutes. I was just mentioning to Den yesterday how around my belly button looks red and marbled and kind of odd-looking. The midwife confirmed that it is definitely not stretchmarks, but it’s not a rash either. She peered at it for a few moments, sweeping her fingers over the area a couple times. She said it’s probably just my very fair skin. Which makes a lot of sense, I know the back of my hands get red and marbled looking when I come in from the cold or when I’ve been exercising – probably from the increased blood flow. And my belly most certainly has increased blood flow. Plus my skin is getting stretched tighter (and thinner) and it’s the middle of winter. My poor see-through skin, ha.

My next appointment – just for the midwife, no ultrasound or anything – is in 2 weeks. Yikes.

I am annoyed because I have several things in my head that I really want to write about, but I have had NO time the past few days to do so. Like now, it is after 10pm already and I have just gotten a chance to open my computer. So every night I have a choice: do some of the things that I intended to do (clean, read, write), or sleep. One night I made the mistake of reading until midnight. I nearly fell asleep at work the next day, so apparently cheating yourself out of sleep is not an option when pregnant, even if you really want to.

So I’ll postpone the thoughtful stuff and just post that the baby’s bedding set arrived today! It is SO adorable, I hugged it and wanted to take it to bed with me. (And before you say “You should have!”, it was the copious amounts of fur in my house that had me tucking it back into the plastic bag.) I bought Zoey by Cocalo. Ever since I first got pregnant I would look through all the different options and kept coming back to this one, so I knew it was the one I wanted. However I wasn’t going to buy it because we don’t intend to actually use a bumper in the crib… but I showed my mom, and she insisted she buy it for the baby, and I’m so glad!! I’m going to hang the quilt on the wall in the baby’s room, it’s just perfect. I’ll try to get some pictures of it.

Oh, and as for the room itself? We decided to do a two-toned wall, pink on the bottom and beige on the top, with a white chair-rail (or painted stripe) in the middle. I picked out the pink very quickly and Denis has put that color up. But the beige color is being more difficult – all the samples I tried had some kind of strange undertone that I didn’t like. I’m hoping that now that I have the bedding that I’ll be able to find the right shade soon so we can get that all done! Sadly the room will still not be set up until after we get all the hardwood refinished (we’re getting it all professionally completely sanded down and everything, the floors in this house are in terrible shape), and who knows when that will happen.

Two and a half months to get everything finished. Spring had better come soon or we’re going to run out of time!

And for those wondering, I do have belly pictures from the past several weeks, but I have not had time to edit/resize/upload them. I will get to them this weekend!

Today is Devin’s second birthday.

I’ve been obsessing – again – over baby names, and getting progressively more upset about it. I write down names on scraps of paper, I hold them up to ultrasound pictures, I whisper them under my breath to my belly. I still mostly like both of our name choices (but with some reservations/dislikes about each). If I mess around and combine the two names I can find something that makes me excited. But Denis refuses to venture beyond those two names, they are set in stone to him and he is just. so. done. listening to me. “I don’t know what you want me to say!” he says in exasperation after I’ve reiterated the same thing for the tenth time. Yesterday I was sitting at work feeling anxious and frustrated – overwhelmed, really. It wasn’t until I was driving home that I started thinking that maybe there was more to this than being indecisive about a name.

I’ve been planning the party: making the dinner list, making the invite list, buying the ingredients, planning out my prep and cleaning time. I had everything under control until yesterday we were out all day so I got nothing accomplished, then today I came home to get started and Denis wasn’t home yet. I completely melted down, sobbing. And while my head was screaming about cleaning and food preparation, my heart was just simply crying. All of it just bubbled up, turning into a small frustration into a big emotional deal. Not 5 minutes later Den walked in the door and found me like that, face red and eyes glittering with tears.

I am sure that the party tomorrow night we be just fine, I just need to give myself the time and space to grieve and feel sad. I’ve been so wrapped up in this baby I am carrying that I haven’t been thinking of Devin much – he’s always present in our lives, our conversations, but I just don’t think too hard about what we are missing. Not that I feel guilty about that at all, right now she’s who I need to focus on, and I am so glad we have something happy to spend our time and energy on. But apparently if I don’t make the time, it will come bubbling out sooner or later, piled on top of whatever else I am struggling with.

Happy birthday, baby boy. We miss you every day – it’s hard to believe it’s been 2 years. I still picture you as my sweet little newborn, perfect and innocent in my arms. Even though time passes, you will never grow up in our hearts. We love you more than you ever knew, and we carry that around with us, forever.

Devin’s birthday present, engraved:
“Always in our hearts
For Devin, 2 years”

Dinner went well, everything got done thanks to my absolutely fabulous husband who did practically everything while I was at work. I walked in the door prepared to really dig in and get cleaning and cooking, only to find that not only had he followed the list, he’d pretty much done everything. He is awesome. The day passed quietly, peacefully, with just the right amount of remembrance and respect. We had a couple of family members mention that they’ve bought something for baby girl, but they didn’t bring it tonight because they felt it was Devin’s day, not hers. But mostly it was just a gathering to eat and chit-chat and just come together as a family. As it should be.

It appears that I have a tradition of getting a photo of myself, Sheepie, and the gift I buy for Devin every year on his birthday. It just feels right to do.

I wanted to respond to my friend Virginia’s comment about kick counts, but I realized that my reply would be way too long for a comment. I also thought it was something I should mention here.

My midwives have asked me to do kick counts this time, because of the previous stillbirth. They did not mention kick counts when I was pregnant with Devin. I’m not entirely sure if they think it’s something medically useful, or if it’s something that they suggest for those of us who are a little bit more paranoid than your average pregnant woman. Either way it is something I am doing.

The thing is, kick counts might have saved Devin. It very well might not have – he was probably pretty oxygen deficient at that point, given how long his cord had been compromised. But had I noticed his distress earlier they might have gotten him out, maybe. At the very least his death would have been discovered sooner than it was.

My last week of pregnancy remains pretty clear to me, or at least some parts of it. I know that on Thursday night – a week before I was induced – Denis mentioned that the baby had been really quiet that day. I felt a shock at this because I hadn’t really noticed, but then started to sweat a little when I thought about it. He had been really quiet all day – really quiet. I got some juice to drink, I layed on my left side, I poked and prodded my belly. And in response he did kick me – but only a couple of times. The next day, when I was at work, he was very active, to the point that I remarked to a coworker that he was going crazy in there. Me in my naivete took that as reassurance that the previous day’s lack of movement was nothing. I promptly forgot about the whole thing – and, indeed, got wrapped up in my life so that over the next few days I didn’t notice the complete lack of kicks.

After the fact, after he had died, after he was born, after I started reading and talking to other loss-mamas, I started thinking about what could have happened. If I had noticed that Thursday night that a couple of kicks was not normal. Or the next day, if I had been aware that his hyper-activity was not normal. He was extremely consistent up until that point. Those two days he was alive, but something was wrong. And then he was gone.

That’s what kick counts do. They’re not a measure of “are you alive in there?” but rather a means of evaluating what “normal” is. Some people have very active babies, some have very quiet babies. It’s a change in the pattern that is of concern, that could show a sign of distress.

Now I agree, it is far from perfect, but it’s better than nothing. Every day I time how long it takes her to make 10 distinct movements – not just kicks. I try to do them when she is most active, which is not always at the same time every night (it’s usually when I sit/lay back after eating dinner). I also make note of what her overall movement has been like over the day. I have a pretty good sense by now of what her normal pattern is, but writing it down and having some solid record to refer back to is invaluable to me. It’s much easier to shrug something off when it’s just in your head – it’s something more tangible when it’s written down in front of you. It can also help convince a nurse/doctor that there is cause for concern if you ever do feel like something is wrong, it gives weight to your concerns.

So I do that all and hope very much that she never gives me reason to worry.

::

Also, belly pics are now up to date on the page. Just thought I’d mention it. ;)

I am not really the “go-getter” type. I am not highly motivated, I do not exercise regularly, I do not feel like I can’t sit and do nothing. In fact, sitting and doing nothing is one of my favorite pastimes. So when I come home on a gorgeous, bright, relatively warm day and announce to husband that we are taking the dogs! For a walk! In the park! it is somewhat surprizing. So we leashed them up and hopped in the truck…

… where Zeeke started flipping out frantically. He has car anxiety. He loves getting in the vehicle… just doesn’t like the whole movement thing. He starts off whimpering and within 2 minutes is letting off an ear-piercing bark and pacing, pawing at windows and doors. “Oh yes,” we said to each other, “THIS is why we never take them anywhere.” By the time we got to the park – a full 5 minutes away – our nerves were already pretty frazzled.

And then we discovered… mud. And a little bit of snow/ice, too. There were parts of the trail that were lovely to walk, let the dogs sniff around, but most of the time I spent looking at my feet, either trying not to get sucked into a big squish of mud or trying not to slip on the mud/ice. Denis held my arm for a couple of parts, just in case.

By the end I was dragging. I don’t know how long it took us to do the loop, half an hour? But my plodding became slower and slower and turned into more of a waddle. “I’m having trouble walking so slow,” Den said to me. “I’m having trouble walking,” I grunted. My belly ached heavily, my back ached. Ever noticed that when pregnant it always kinds of feels like you’re walking downhill? Because of the weight of the belly, leaning back slightly to adjust, it all just sat right on my lower spine.

Back to the truck where the dogs jumped in. We have an SUV, we put them in the cargo area – which is carpeted, of course. Muddy footprints everywhere. And apparently Zoe felt that was not enough, because she immediately jumped into the back seat, causing us both to scream, “Get back! GET BACK!! OFF!!” So, yes, a lot of dirt. We need to get one of those metal grates to keep them in the back. (We had one, once upon a time, but it broke.)

It is now two hours since we got home and my lower back hurts. All I can think about is having my chiropractor lean on my tailbone to stretch it out. I’ve been trying to stretch it out myself, but to little avail. The ligaments on the side of my belly are really achy, too, but thankfully that part eases tremendously when I sit or lay down.

So apparently I am a lot more pregnant than I think I am. I really didn’t expect it to feel that hard to go for a walk in the park, but it feels like I just hiked up a mountain. I get over-confident because day to day I don’t feel it very much – but, as I said in the beginning, I am not fond of activity.

Now that Devin’s birthday is over and my emotional stress has receded I think I have decided on a name. I spent a lot (A LOT) of time thinking about it, but realized that my first instinct/choice is usually the right one, at least for such emotional decisions such as this. Denis did a lot of reassuring and cajoling during my many freak-outs, but his opinion was very clear: he was totally fine with whichever of the two names we had previously come up with, and was completely unwilling to consider anything else. (Both names have been talked about and decided on over the last two years.)

Her name is Kate – officially Katherine Elizabeth. (Our second choice name will be used if we ever have another girl.)

It still scares me, a little, to commit to a something as important as a name, but I don’t think it will ever feel not-scary. It feels like such a huge responsibility, and I’m obviously getting overwhelmed by that. I think I just need to trust in my gut feelings and just go with it.

I think Den will be happy to be able to call her by name. He must get so frustrated by my indecision on things! (But thankfully he is very patient with me!)

EDIT: Well Den and I apparently completely disagree about nicknames so at this point I give up. I am calling her Kate.

::

Baby is rockin’ the belly this evening. She is not constantly active, mostly just chill. I can feel her feet moving around on my right side, just under my ribs (she is getting dangerously close). The lump slides left to my belly button, then later slides back again. Silence. And then BOOM BOOM BOOM! My belly shakes side-to-side like a mini earthquake, from the force of her kicks. Then quiet once again. Sometimes gentle little pokes before another good, hard kick. A couple of times today I have had a large, firm object poking out indignantly – a bum one time, another I think it was legs – long, with round, moving ends. And now she is quiet again. She must have worn herself out!

And any time you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders
For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder

I am a little bit of an emotional trainwreck this pregnancy. I felt so smug during Devin’s pregnancy that obviously pregnancy hormones don’t affect me very much – oh, I had my days, but no more than usual. But this time? This time I kind of feel like I’m on a bungee cord and I keep being snapped out over a canyon. Now I can’t rightly tell if it’s the hormones running wild, if it’s the previous loss, or maybe it’s just me – at this point it’s pretty hard to separate things out into neat little boxes of emotion. When I get upset I tend to get upset in a sobbing, losing-my-grip kind of way. And it is always over something that is most certainly not a major disaster. I end up feeling slightly foolish and more than a little disoriented. I mean, really, if these little things are the worst things I have to worry about right now then I’m not doing bad at all.

::

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it’s all right

I would say that from what I have observed with my friends that it is a normal in your second pregnancy to fear that you won’t love the baby as much as you did your first. I’d say this is especially true of those of us who don’t have a baby here with us, just memories that – as memories do – seems so pure and perfect. You are so desperate for a baby to love, to fill that void that grief now lives in – but at the same time you are so very scared that the new baby will fill that void. How could anyone else live up to the standards that your baby set… but what if you forget? It’s a path full of shadows and surprizes.

I can say is that I love my daughter more than I thought possible – as her own person, as a thing separate from my son. I expected to feel moments of confusion, of deja vu, of thinking I was pregnant with Devin again… but it never happened. For all that this pregnancy has been similar to my first one it has been a very different journey. I am a different person now than when I was pregnant with Devin. I still mourn that, I still mourn who I was, but who I am now isn’t bad either. And this child is different, too. Maybe it’s a lot of projection and anticipation, but her patterns, her movements, they’re all so different from Devin’s. She’s made the distinction clear from the start.

I miss my baby boy as much as ever – he will always leave a hole that cannot be filled. Every kick I feel from my daughter gives me joy and yet reminds me of what I have lost. I don’t take as much time to be sad anymore, however, because I have something so good and happy to spend my time on – and I choose to remember him by celebrating her. I frequently go through all the pictures and files I kept from him, comparing and remembering. I feel like being pregnant again has helped me remember those times without the stabbing pain of something lost and unable to be found. The only thing I have not done yet is read my journal entries from that first pregnancy; I wrote with such innocence, and that is something I have not and cannot get back.

Having a little girl has taken some getting used to, after the time with Devin spent anticipating a boy. I was ready to let him go, but I don’t think I was ready to let go the idea of a boy. Now I find myself getting used to all the pink, slowly relaxing into my new role. It is different, certainly, and I still have my moments in stores when I turn left instead of right – I still stop at a cute boy outfit, lightly touch it and whisper how cute it is, then turn my back and walk away before the tears start. At the same time I’m looking forward to having a little girl. I think about seeing her, my little girl, alive and being held in her daddy’s arms, and my heart fills with joy.

(Her baby bedding)

Wednesday evening was supposed to be the monthly pregnancy-and-babies-after-loss support group at a local hospital, but it ended up being just me and the coordinator. Since we know each other pretty well we just went out for tea instead of sitting in a meeting room at the hospital. It was a lovely little coffee shop, dark and buzzing with college students with laptops. She and I sat there, her with her tea and me with my hot chocolate, talking for nearly 2 hours about dead babies, pregnancy and newborns. What people on the outside don’t get when I talk about “support groups” is just how wonderful it is to talk to someone who has been in your shoes. We didn’t sit and cry – we laughed.

I drove home feeling at peace, grateful for knowing all the different people I do, so many wonderful people. I grew up very isolated – my own choice, and that of the depression and anxiety. Now my life feels so full. I have friends of every kind, I have family all around us, I have coworkers, and of course I have all of you online (not something I would ever discount!). My life has turned out pretty amazing in so many ways.

::

In talking with a friend we mentioned how the anxiety after a loss is so interesting, how much it’s like a black hole. I go through my day constantly repeating to myself, everything’s okay, everything’s normal. I’m handling it all well so far, I’m able to enjoy the good things and laugh at the discomforts. The baby hasn’t given me much reason to worry, she’s so active. But there are moments… moments where the thought sparks, when she hasn’t kicked much in a while, when my memory travels too far back to the wrong mental snapshot. Those moments take my breath away. I can feel it reaching out, sucking me in, hammering at the door. It’s a slippery slope. I worry that once I go “there,” once I lose my calm, I’m not so certain I can get back out. So I constantly throw up a mind block and just refuse to go there. Everything’s okay, everything’s normal, and I’m not going to let myself get sucked in by the fear if I can help it. I’m doing well, so far. But I’m never sure what tomorrow will bring.

::

When I got home that night I layed in bed and baby Kate woke up from a long nap. I told Den so he could put his hand on my stomach and he got to feel all kinds of kicks and rolls and pushes. He kept jumping in surprize, looking at me with a startled look on his face. I just laughed. He was so thrilled she did all that for him – he never got to feel any of the big movements of Devin’s, just a kick here and there. Devin liked to hide from people and only came out in the quiet, just for me. Kate is thankfully very different. I’m just so thrilled that he gets to experience more for himself this time. He needs that, too.

He’s been telling his friends and coworkers how “crazy” his daughter is, a big grin permanently stuck on his face.

::

I’ve been getting more BH contractions over the past few weeks – not to the point that it’s concerning, but I still stop and make mental note when it happens. Some days I’ll get one every hour for a few hours in a row. Some days I don’t get any. I’ll mention it to my midwife on Tuesday, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to tell me it’s normal, it’s fine, just make sure they don’t become more frequent and rhythmic. I have been making sure to drink water and resting often – they happen even when I’m just sitting there at work, doing nothing. It feels like my uterus practicing. But I still sometimes get little flashes of worry that it’s doing something it shouldn’t. But then I don’t want anyone doing cervical checks unless it’s necessary, either.

My bones pop more often and it’s getting harder and harder for me to lean forward – putting on socks is starting to make me grunt – but still, all in all, I’m in very good shape. Other than the major backache I got from that hike earlier in the week – but that was my stupidity! Normally my lower back is only slightly achy, but not bad at all. My wrists haven’t been bothering me lately, the foot and calf cramps have really slowed down to very infrequent inconveniences, my boobs don’t ache. I get some cervical twinges when Kate pokes me down there, but it’s brief. My tailbone aches if I sit back on it too long, but in most cases I can avoid that. I have no swelling. I sleep beautifully (I get up once a night to go pee, then fall right back asleep).

Of course as I’m writing about all the physical ailments I am not having Kate stretches out into my ribs and I have to bolt upright and press down on her feet to help me breathe. LOL

::

I am so torn. I love pregnancy, and it apparently loves me (after the first trimester). I love beyond words feeling a baby move in my belly, I love sharing my body with this new little being. My discomforts are few and my enjoyments are plenty. I like being the pregnant lady at work. I like the anticipation and the planning. The thought of being “just me” in my body once more makes me quite sad.

But at the same time I’m counting down the weeks this time in a way that I never did with Devin. I love this, but that anxiety I mentioned sits there, too. Neither Den nor I, for all our planning and excitement, can actually picture bringing home a live baby. It’s not that we don’t want to – we simply can’t. It doesn’t feel real, and won’t until she is in our arms. We’re holding our breath, waiting to see. Among ourselves we still say “if everything works out…” And that part I am eager to move on from. I am desperate to have her here, safe, breathing. I want so badly to see her being held in her daddy’s arms, to know that she’s okay and that she’s really truly staying with us.

My plan at this point is not to be induced. I really want to let my body go into labor on its own and see this thing through the way I never got a chance to with Devin. It’s just a waiting game – and I have a feeling it is going to feel like a very long wait.