Insert Clever Title Here

Seriously, I can't think of anything interesting to call this post. Here are some pictures.


Hey look her eyes are open! She's in her bouncy chair, where she loves to be when she's awake and happy (don't try to put her there when she's not already happy...). And yes, I know the year is wrong on the camera. I'll fix it. Someday.

We're plugging along. Did some Official Business today, and now Miss Ava has insurance coverage and has some daycare set up for March. Errands are a bit easier now that I have a better idea of how to deploy. It's best to leave after her last bottle of the morning when she's about to start her afternoon naps. Everything else goes in the car before she does. She falls asleep by the time we're out of the driveway, and generally stays asleep until she is taken out of the car. Awesome. She sleeps through music, conversation, and even the mild road rage that I can't quite get over (it's better than it was--no gestures, less profanity).

She's been a little congested this week--evidently this is pretty normal for infants. We're on a Saline Drops and Blue Sucky Thing regimen, with a side of Cool Mist Humidifier for good measure. Yesterday was rough; she was pretty snorty and unhappy about it (no bouncy chair for most of the day...). Today is much better. I fear that she may have inherited my faulty sinuses, and that will certainly be no picnic for any of us. Ugh.

I've gotten a lot of email about the whole Breastfeeding Thing. One of my friends sent me a link to a great blog that really hit home. There's so much emphasis on how breastfeeding is the ideal and formula is a distant second choice at best. I think the lactation hippie meant well and really did give me a lot of help, and I'm going back to her for a follow-up on Friday. She emphasized (read: pushed) nursing over pumping, and now that I know what to expect I think I'll be able to better steer the discussion toward "Feeding The Baby" rather than "Nursing = Superior Bonding". She means well, but there just aren't enough hours in my day to implement all of her methods. Hell, I can't even find a minute to change the date on my goddamn camera and she suggests a three-step process for Every. Single. Feeding? RIGHT? Whatever. I will pick up another bottle of voodoo supplements--I can't dispute the fact that they have helped out with the milk supply.

And so that, hopefully, is the end of the What Do We Feed Her saga.

I blame the lactation hippie.

It's hard not to be the crazy mom. There's so much that we just don't know about what is and is not normal. Any snake oil salesman can come along and tell me that Ava is missing out on XYZ and we need to buy/sell/do ABC in order to make sure she's OK and I will bite.

Case in point: Wednesday, I met with a lactation consultant to get some pointers about nursing and such. Ms Tie-Dyed In the Wool Earthy Chunky Organic Granola immediately sets forth assessing what we're dealing with (namely, The Girls, if ya get my drift) and how we can help Ava have more milk and less formula. Before I can even say "age of Aquarius", I'm buying a new nursing pillow ("My Brest Friend"), a ten-day supply of herbal supplements to help increase my milk supply, and am on the phone with the pediatrician's office to schedule an immediate appointment to take care of Ava's tied tongue, which is a HUGE impediment to her successful latching-on and will result in her NEVER BEING ABLE TO BREASTFEED OMG WE NEED TO FIX THIS STAT. As luck would have it, we can get in at 4:30 that same day! Hooray! Never let it be said that my baby girl suffered for my lack of action.

OK, so I drag our tired butts to the doctor's office, which, fortunately, is super close to home. Two hours later, we return home with the knowledge that yes, she has a bit of a connection betwixt her tongue and the bottom of her mouth, but, in the words of our Very Wise Doctor, "if she can latch on to a bottle, she can latch on to a breast." Furthermore, in 25 years of pediatric practice, he has never corrected such a thing, nor even seen one that he thought was worthy of referring out to a specialist for correction. He then patted us both on the heads, gave me a lolly, and sent us on our way. And when we got outside it was raining, which was the cherry on the cake of that crazy stupid day. Poor Rob. He was waiting for us when we got home, and he pulled my exhaustedly sobbing self out of the car, somehow got Ava into the house, put us both in comfy pajamas and declared Wednesday over.

I didn't intend to go insane and be That Mom. Really. At no time did I insist that My Child Needs Immediate Attention. It just worked out that way. Thank God we found a doctor who takes things like this in stride and is able to keep a straight face and reassure me that, really, there's nothing wrong with our kid and we can relax about her nursing. She's fine.

Good lord. This post-partum hormonal thing sneaks up on you. I mean, I knew that stuff would get to me in new and exciting ways but I had no idea how quickly I would go from "I'm fine, we're cool" to "OMG WHY IS THE WORLD SO AWFUL?!" So now we have some rules about how my errands are managed; namely, no same-day add-ons. If something new comes up, it can wait until tomorrow or next week or whenever.

This morning I took Ava to the lab for some bloodwork--just a follow-up for the PKU that they performed last week in the hospital. Routine stuff, kind of unpleasant as they do what is called a "heel stick" and it's probably 30 seconds of aggravation for babies and two days of anxiety for moms (even moms who are working very hard not to be high maintenance). Again, she's fine, resting comfortably, and I celebrated the completion of the blood draw with a diet Coke and a fancy cupcake.

I was talking to my friend Tina today about this hormonal thing that's happening. I feel good and I don't feel overwhelmed (read: this is something I'm pretty sure I can handle). But the second anyone asks "So, how are you doing?" I get a bit teary and pherklempt and I have to take a second to get on top of it. Tina recalled feeling the same way--super tired, but generally OK until someone asks if you're OK and when you start to think about just how much Everything has changed you feel overcome by how amazing and different and hard and wonderful it all is and how it all changed in one exhilarating minute (must stop, getting weepy...).

Rob's back at work and that's been an adjustment for everyone. His first day back was Wednesday, and that made for a long Tuesday night and a tough Wednesday morning (even before the hippie). We had a better night last night, as Ava decided that sleeping after each bottle would be acceptable to her. That made a huge difference, as when she sleeps, everybody gets to sleep. I'll still take a nap in a little while, but it doesn't feel like such a necessity today ; rather, it's kind of the way my naps used to be back B.A. (Before Ava) when I was just lazy instead of justifiably tired ;).

Oh, and the herbal supplements that Sunshine Von Acid Trip recommended seem to have helped with the milk supply. Go figure.

One Week of Ava

Whoa, that went fast. First, a picture from this afternoon:


We have a lot of pictures that look like this. When she's wrapped up like a little burrito and asleep in her crib next to a rolled-up blanket so she doesn't roll over, this is when we have a chance to get a camera in hand. We have one shot of her with her eyes open...


Yeah. Kind of hard to tell, but they're dark dark bluish-gray. And how about that proud papa?

We're doing all right, I think. She sleeps in 3-4 hour stretches, and the longer naps tend to happen during the day. She's a bit of a night owl. We'll work on that when she's a little older. For now, we're at her beck and wail and it's not so bad. She's on formula for the most part, with 2-3 bottles of breast milk a day. I'm going to meet with a lactation specialist this week to see if we can't get some help increasing that--I'd like her to have more milk than formula.

We have awesome friends. They are bringing us dinners this week, and the first one just arrived. Katie and Bob and their kids just stopped in with what looks to be some tasty chicken and salad and a bottle of wine. I've missed wine!

Ava saw her pediatrician on Friday. He was recommended to us by some other super cool friends (Tina and Jay) and we really like him. He answered our questions (most of his answers were, "yes, that's normal") and told us what to look for as far as common issues that arise with newborns. Ava was down a few ounces ("yes, that's normal.") and was given a clean bill of health. We go back to him in a month.

That's about it. Rob has one more day at home and then it's back to the grind for him. We're not really looking forward to that--it's been so great to have this week together. We've divvied up how we'll handle night feedings (anything after we both go to sleep is mine; anything after 5AM counts as his alarm clock). We'll see how that goes. That's been the theme for this week--we'll try something and see how it goes. So far, we've been right more often than not.

Hi. We're parents now.

We are having the time of our lives.

Rob and I look at each other and look at her and wonder how we ended up with such an amazing and perfect little girl. She's a riot. She's little--so little that we're thinking that she wasn't really late, she just took longer to get to just the right size.

I went into labor on Sunday night, about 11:00 and we got to the hospital at about 2. The rest is a blur. Except for the last part, where it was time to push. That part is pretty clear, even though it happened so quickly. There was a brief discussion about a possible need for a C-section after all, because my doctor could see the umbilical cord near Ava's head and thought that it was wrapped around her neck. She asked me if I thought I could push her out quickly and I said I could. Actually, I think I may have screamed it. Whatever. So I pushed and out she came. Rob was amazing. I'll say that again. Rob. Was. Amazing. He held my hand when the pain blocked everything out, rubbed my back when it stopped, and watched in wonder as his daughter came into the world. He's home with us until Wednesday and it's not a matter of him being here to help out--we're learning how to do this as a team. Even when neither of us knows what to do, at least we're lost together.

Since Monday, we've figured out some rules that seem to be important to remember. This is a list that will inevitably grow over time. I'll do bulletpoints.

• There is a period of time after a good feeding that we call Happy Baby Food Bliss Coma. Happy Baby Food Bliss Coma is fleeting and is not to be trifled with. When Ava enters this state, her eyes are open about halfway and she gets a big lazy grin and she goes all relaxed. Never ever ever interrupt Happy Baby Food Bliss Coma. Do not try to take a picture of Happy Baby Food Bliss Coma. Do not change a diaper, do not swaddle, do not make any sudden movements. Burp her and let her ride the wave.
  
• Any time she sleeps is precious. Take advantage of it. Shower, make a phone call, try to find where you put your purse, get some sleep.
  
• If she's not wet or in obvious pain, she's crying because she's hungry. That's it. Feed her. And it doesn't matter if she gets fed by nursing or by formula. Just feed her. Right now, food is love.
  
• Always always always have a burp cloth and the blue sucky thing handy.

We have an appointment with her pediatrician tomorrow, and we've made a list of questions that probably all show up on some list of New Parent FAQs and that's OK. We're quite proud to have survived the first three days as well as we have.

Here is her first picture from about a minute after she was born. Rob took it. Awww....


And here's about half an hour ago...


Seriously. All we can do is just stare at her.

Meet Ava Carolyn

January 12, 2009
1:38 PM
7 pounds, 8 ounces
19 1/2 inches long

We don't have a baby, but at least we have a plan.

It's frustrating, but I think we made the right choice. I had a very frank discussion with my OB, and then with Rob, about where we are. At 40 weeks 2 days, I'm not dilated. There is good news, in that the contractions on Saturday/Sunday did bring about some positive changes (I'll leave the details out...). However, if we were to decide to proceed with an induction at this point, there's about an 80% chance that I'd have at least 24 hours of labor that would result in a C-section. I've been hoping to avoid a C-section, just because there has been no reason thus far to go in that direction. The baby is healthy, there's plenty of amniotic fluid, my blood pressure is very good, and neither of us is in any particular distress. I'm not going to lie; I'm hurting and there really is no time when I'm comfortable. I'm exhausted and I have no energy because I don't eat or sleep enough. But that's not distress--that's just late pregnancy.

The plan is to give it another week (OH MY GOD ANOTHER WEEK WHAT THE HELL?!) to give nature a chance to take its course. I'm back at the perinatalogist on Friday, and again on Monday for fetal assessment (check fluid and heartbeat, rotate the tires, etc.) and then to the OB on Wednesday for one last look. At that point, we are going to go to the hospital, either for an induction with a better chance of natural delivery, or for a C-section with the knowledge that we gave this as much time as we safely could. Dr Jameson will not let me go past 41 weeks, because that's far enough past the due date for new and horrible complications to arise.

This was a tough choice. I do love Dr Jameson, because she gave the information and likely outcomes and made sure that we had the knowledge we needed to make our decision. And then once we made the decision, she proceeded without judgment. We could have decided that my discomfort was enough of a factor to change our minds about the C-section and we'd have our daughter in our arms by Saturday night after a labor that probably would be very hard on me. Tempting. Very tempting. But the whole point of this is to have a baby who is healthy, not a delivery that is convenient, and with that in mind, we're willing to give this a bit more time. Not an infinite amount of time, but another week feels like the best path for us.

Ideally, I will go into labor naturally sometime before Wednesday. It could happen. Rob is predicting that my water will break on Sunday afternoon, about 3:30--right before the Chargers game (Christ, we're still talking about football?!)--and we'd be OK with that as well. We could also still end up with a C-section. We'll deal with whatever outcome we get, because in the end, we still get to come home with our girl :).

It's going to be a long week, though.

Well that was sort of anticlimatic.

From the moment that the pregnancy test came up positive and I put my info into the due date calendar on babyfit.com, we have been staring at January 5, 2009, on the calendar. This has become one of those red letter days, against which every other date is compared. In our minds, January 5, 2009, was an important day.

It is now 5:39 on January 5, 2009, and the high point of today was my trip to Walmart.

We thought that the excitement was starting on Saturday night about midnight. I had regular contractions, and they continued through mid-afternoon on Sunday. We were stoked! And then, they just stopped. We were less stoked after that. And so now, we don't have a date that we're shooting for. There's no longer a deadline for having everything done. The clock really isn't ticking anymore. We're just.... waiting.

It's liberating, actually. The frenzied preparation of the past months is over. We've been able to slow down and look around at the things that we can do now that we may not be able to get to after she's born. Rob winterized the yard last week--not a huge project, but necessary and unlikely to be a priority with a new baby in the house. I've gotten some stuff around the house out of the way--things are clean that haven't been for a while. It's not the stereotypical pre-natal nesting instinct; we just finally had the time and the inclination to get some stuff done.

We've also had a great chance to relax with each other for longer than we'd anticipated. We're both sleeping better. We talk about what sort of parents we hope to be, beyond the previous "our kid will never do xyz" conversations. So while we're both excited for what is inevitably going to happen at some point in the next few days, we're not anxious about it.

So while I'm still going to have the conversation with my OB about maybe helping things along, it won't be because of a circled date on a calendar. She's not a library book that has a stamp in the inside cover (do they still do that?). Tomorrow's big highlight is lunch with the girls and maybe a trip to Home Depot for some weather stripping for the patio doors. Anything else that happens will be a bonus.

We know you're out there; we can hear you breathing.

According to my handy dandy tracking software, we've had about 60 unique hits on our little blog in the last two days. The downside of this is it doesn't tell us who is checking on us. If you're passing through and looking for updates, leave a comment so we know who you are!

No baby yet. We'll keep you posted. If nothing has happened by the time I see my OB on Wednesday, I think she and I are going to have a Come To Jesus talk about how we are ready to meet our daughter. I'm just exhausted. It's time.

She gets her own birthday; I get to keep mine.

I did have high hopes for a 2008 tax deduction, but it doesn't look good. This morning, it was made abundantly clear that she's going to be a January baby, and we won't be winning any "first baby of the year" awards either. And that's fine. She's healthy and active and will be here in her own time. I'm kind of relieved that we won't have to worry about getting across town to the hospital in a panic tonight when the crazy New Years Vegas party is in full force. Sure, we kind of scrambled to get everything ready, but we're so glad we did. It's hard to wait for her to get here, but it would be harder to try to do all of the scrambling with a sleeping/crying/wet/hungry baby in the house.

There's not much else going on. We're going to celebrate an early New Years with some friends tonight--the ball will be dropping at Jay and Tina's at midnight sharp, east coast time, so that the kids can enjoy it as well. We often laugh at how the parties in our circle have evolved over the years. They're much calmer and usually (but not always) quite a bit more dignified now, but no less fun.

Happy New Year!

Hello My Baby, Hello My Darlin', Hello My Ragtime Gal

You know the song, don't deny it. In the cartoon, the guy finds the frog in the cornerstone, and the frog starts singing.


The guy gets dollar signs in his eyes and takes the frog to a booking agent where the frog sits in the box and gives an indifferent croak. The guy tries to make him dance


And the frog does nothing.

How does this relate to us? I have come to the conclusion that this child is a reincarnation of Michigan J. Frog. For hours a day, she is jumping around, moving, poking, and doing high kicks. And this is reassuring to me because it means that she's OK, so I'm not complaining.

But the moment that I put someone else's hand on my belly, or that she's on deck for an ultrasound that is supposed to track her movement, there she goes, collapsing into an indifferent crouch, doing her best "No, really, I'm just a frog" imitation. Yesterday, the tech at the perinatalogist's office actually commented on her lack of movement, and said "Hmm, looks like we'll have to zap her." I'll say that again: "LOOKS LIKE WE'LL HAVE TO ZAP HER." What?! She brings in this device that can only be described as a miniature cattle prod, puts it on my belly, and pushes the button. I jump, baby jumps, Rob looks on in horror because they are evidently electrocuting his wife and child (it really wasn't so bad, just startling). And all of this because Speck only performs for me.

I've spent months trying to get other people to see this show. There have been nights where I slept 30 minutes at a time because she was so active. I've had to walk out of meetings because I couldn't sit comfortably because of the movement. And the second anyone looks at it, or I give in and say "OK, come here for a second" and try to let someone else get in on the action, she goes back to her peaceful slumber. People look at me like I'm nuts. Rob thought I was making it up until he snuck a peek one night (when Speck obviously wasn't looking) and caught sight of a couple of backflips for himself.

*sigh*

Everything is good. Probably too good, in fact. Her heartrate is still strong, she's in no distress, my blood pressure is really good, plenty of amniotic fluid. My OB took a measurement of my belly, and said "I don't know where you're packing this kid!" because while Speck's a normal size, I'm running a bit small. She's got another patient who's also 38 weeks who is "big as a house" and can barely move around. So I'm lucky there. And I'm taking comfort in reminding myself that she can't stay in there forever.

Can she?

A Weary World Rejoices

I started maternity leave on Monday about halfway through the day. I've been running pretty tired lately, and on Monday all signs were pointing to "OH just go home already!" So I did. It's been a good week ever since. I'm getting some stuff done around the house (OMG the kitchen positively sparkles!). I'm catching up on my daytime TV, and chick movies. I have reacquainted myself with the Wii, and I'm unlocking all sorts of marvelous worlds on Super Mario Galaxy. Maternity leave is pretty dull with no baby, though. I'm confident that once she gets here, things will pick up. I'm off through March 23. YAY!

Rob is at work today, but will have the next 6 days off and will be off Thursday and Friday of next week as well, and we're both looking forward to that. I don't think we realized how necessary having a few days off together before the real fun starts would be.

We didn't decorate for Christmas this year. It just felt like too much to deal with. And while it's weird to have a Christmas tree-scented candle instead of an actual tree, I feel like it's letting me see how different this Christmas is from last year, and all previous years, and how next year is going to be a whole new ball game. Ever since my mom died, Christmas has been kind of an iffy time of year for me. We spent a lot of years just grinding through the holidays because we felt like we had to. Some years, it was so comforting to bake the cookies and unpack the decorations that I grew up with. Some years, not so much. With the addition of Rob and Florence to our fractured family, we've rediscovered the joy that we used to have every year when I was a kid.

Last Christmas, we had the usual big lit-up tree and all the holiday stuff out and it was just wonderful to come home to see that every evening. Rob and I opened our presents on Christmas Eve (as usual because I can never wait and I'm a grown-up now so I don't have to) and it was just nice and quiet. On Christmas morning, we had breakfast and as we were waiting to go over to Dad & Florence's for dinner, I remember just thinking how quiet it was. Really quiet. Too quiet. It was serene and peaceful and we were very contented, but I felt like something was missing.

So here we are a year later and it's a whole different type of quiet. It feels more like Christmas than last year. There's a sense of anticipation--like when you're 8 years old and you KNOW there's an Atari under the tree but you have to wait and it's so hard but it will be so cool when you can finally tear into that one gift and spend the rest of your life being hypnotized by it. Yeah, it's like that. And no Christmas ever again will be spent waiting or hoping for more than we have right there with us.

Now go drink some egg nog. If you're feeling extra sassy, put some brandy in it and raise it in our direction. Next year, we'll return the toast. Merry Christmas from our family to yours.

I'm thinking he was kidding.

"Please please please don't go into labor next Sunday!"

Perhaps I set the bar too high by not insisting that our wedding be at a key moment in a major sports season. It was in May, which means that baseball season was just getting underway. There were no high-impact games happening on our wedding weekend, and we had a lovely, non sports kind of day.


Seriously.

I'm a planner. Everybody who knows me, knows this. I'm very much interested in making sure that the stuff that happens to me happens in a nice, orderly fashion. I've kind of let this go as far as the whole "having a baby" thing is concerned. We're not in charge here, and we've accepted that as a fact.

At least, I have. It wasn't easy, either.

So now, here we are at the end of the regular football season. The Cowboys may or may not make it into the playoffs, and we'll know next week after they play the Eagles. While I am interested in the outcome (GO COWBOYS!) I have a few other things going on that are just a bit more, um, pressing. I accept the fact that I may miss the game. Because I may be DELIVERING A CHILD INTO THIS WORLD.

Rob is a Chargers fan. Oh, wait, let me amend. He is a Chargers SUPER fan. We have stickers on the back of the Honda that proclaim his allegiance to his team. He has a vanity license plate that refers to the "bolts". License plate frame is Chargers. We have one of those pink football Ladanian Tomlinson jersey onesies that should fit Speck perfectly next season. I knew what I was getting into before I married him. We went to a Chargers/Cowboys game in 2005 and he was rather displeased when the Cowboys won and I was happy and vocal (or "mouthy") about it. Hmpf.

Next Sunday night, the Chargers play the Broncos for the AFC West title. Being a SuperFan, he's SuperExcited. And as he's skipping around the living room making grunty noises about beating the Broncos (let's face it, beating the Broncos is always a good thing) and how awesome it will be to watch that, he notices me standing in the kitchen and says, and I quote "Please please please don't go into labor on Sunday."

Oh. OK baby. I'll get right on that. Because I'm in charge of all of this. And even if I weren't in charge, I'm sure that we have created a child who is not only already aware of our hopes (like being able to watch the games next weekend) but also entirely willing to delay (or hurry) her arrival in order to make us happy.

But I'm not mad. Oh, no. I understand that there are things going on in this world besides the birth of our child. If I do decide to go into labor on Sunday (because after all it is up to me) I'm sure there will be a TV in the delivery room and we'll be able to watch the Chargers beat the Broncos, and even after having watched the Cowboys beat the Eagles. And we'll laugh about this business about how we worried about missing our games. I do hope the Chargers win, and that they win through the playoffs and make it to the Super Bowl.

Where they will meet the Cowboys again, for the first time (besides pre-season) since 2005. Go Cowboys.

No baby yet.

In case you're checking. But things are happening. At the perinatalogist on Thursday for the weekly fetal assessment, we determined that I'm having contractions. Not the Big Important "BOIL SOME WATER! GET SOME TOWELS! " contractions, but the kind that mean that things are moving in the right direction. My OB said on Wednesday that we'll most likely not have any excitement for at least a couple of weeks or so (I feel like I've been in "couple of weeks" mode for a month now...), but the contractions are a good sign.

It snowed this week! Twice, in fact. And not the usual insignificant Vegas flurry that makes everybody freak out for an hour and then it's back to normal. No, this was an event that began around 11AM and continued through the night. I left work around 4, and it took me over an hour to make the 10 mile drive to Dad & Florence's where I ended up staying the night. Here's what our backyard looked like that night.


WEIRD. This was the most significant snowfall that has been seen here since January of 1974, and I have pictures of that one as well, as it was my first birthday. Truly, I've come full circle as far as snow is concerned. Naturally, the snow from this latest blizzard is almost entirely melted. But it was cool to watch.

I have three days left of work and then the university closes for Christmas and New Years (or "the holiday", as we PC State Employees are required to call it) and I'll officially be on maternity leave until March. HOORAY! This last week was tough--I found myself wishing I'd taken these two weeks off because it's just such an effort to get there. My fabulous assistant (see pic of bride below...) is trained and ready to cover for me. This next short week will consist mainly of me cleaning out my desk, clearing my internet history (me? surf? what? never!), and just tying up the loose ends. It's so strange to do all of this; it's like I'm moving out of the house all over again.

That's the latest, then. We're starting to focus on the process of Getting To The Hospital when it's time. We have a code that I'll text to Rob if he's at work when it happens so he can hit the door ASAP. Our bags are packed (this was also handy on Wednesday because I had jammies and get-ready stuff with me when I crashed at Dad's...). The hospital is kind of a schlep across town, so we're hoping that when Miss Speck decides to show up, it's not during rush hour (unless Woman In Labor with Imminent Baby Coming qualifies me for the carpool lane). We're not taking the laptop with us, but we'll have our phones and will keep people updated as best we can.

A Synopsis of How Rob and Kristie Handled Pregnancy

You know, it hasn't been too bad.

It's 3 weeks before the due date, and we may not have the time to look back until after she's here. And frankly, actually seeing her is going to color our glasses rosy, so we think it's a good opportunity to assess how we got through the last few months, and perhaps answer a few of the most popular questions once and for all.

• Are you excited? Yes. Of course we are. This is the biggest thing that has ever happened to us, and we can hardly stand to even go into the nursery because the fact that there's going to be a baby in it is overwhelming. SO. EXCITED. And yes, Rob is too.
  
• What are you going to name her?! We covered this one early on. Next question.
• How much time are you going to take off? I'll be off from Christmas Eve until March 23. Three full months, and I'm so lucky to be able to do that! Rob will take off a week, and then more time as we decide he needs to.
• Daycare? How can you put your child in daycare? Well, we don't have a lot of choice here. We both work full time, and we need to continue doing that so we can keep things like a house and cars and food and premium cable. And unless one of us hits Megabucks, that's not going to change.
• When are you going to get a bigger house? Probably not for 3-4 years. We figure we have enough going on right now, and we know where everything is in our current house. It's not a palace, but it's big enough for what we're doing for a while.
• You're really not telling people her name? Nope.
• Are you going to vaccinate her? Of course. We're big believers in not having to deal with polio and mumps. We also appreciate when other people vaccinate their own kids.
• When are you going to have a second baby? Probably sometime between January 2009 and the year 2050. We'll keep you posted.
• Are you going to use drugs during labor? You betcha! A calm, non-freaked out mom makes for an easier experience for everyone involved. There's research about this. I have nothing to prove.
• How much weight have you gained? 27 pounds. True story. Quite proud of that. And I'm not positive, but I think Rob's weight has been holding steady. Thanks for asking.
  
• Come on, what's her name? People. Seriously. At this point, the only reason we're still holding on to this one is because it's evidently driving everyone nuts and we love doing that. It makes us laugh evilly.
• Do you like being pregnant? This is a tough one. Overall, yes, it's been an easy ride. The first couple of months were scary and the last few weeks have not been my most comfortable. I have only had a couple of real hormonal mood swings--the last one hit me in August and is still going strong. I have two pairs of shoes that fit because my ankles and feet have swollen up to an alarming size. But this is truly a miraculous process, and it's been one amazing moment after another. Do I like it? Most of the time, I do. Will I be glad when it's over? Yes. Do I think anyone who does this more than 3 or 4 times is crazy? Sure do.

And that's where we are. It's been fun, overall. There have been surprises (like how much Maalox can actually be consumed in a 24-hour period) and things that happened just like they're supposed to. We often marvel at just how blessed we are.

No one you see, is smarter than she.

Join me in singing the theme to Flipper, because that's what our little Speck has become. She has flipped over, demonstrating that she has inherited my internal compass and innate sense of direction. Today's visit to the perinatalogist was different from previous ones. It began with a quick, rather low-tech ultrasound to check on position, amniotic fluid, and whether she is practicing her breathing. Position? Good! Fluid? Good! Lung function? Good!

They also hooked me up to an industrial strength Doppler for 20 minutes to monitor her heartrate and determine whether she is experiencing any stress or distress. If there is evidence of either, or any issues with the position/fluid/lungs, they start talking about scheduling an induction or Cesarean section. Today, there was no indication that anything is wrong (great!) and it looks like I'm going to be pregnant for a bit longer (um...great.). I'll go back weekly for this ultrasound/monitoring for, well, the next 3-4 weeks.

Her newly-established orientation means that while there is no longer a head periodically wedging itself amongst my lungs, new and exciting shapes have begun appearing on my right side where her arms and legs are pointing. So, last night, for example, we should have known something had changed when a "limb-y" shape (according to Rob, who saw it live) emerged from under my ribcage instead of the usual "head-y" shape to which we had grown accustomed.

So what's next? We have three bags to pack: one for baby, with a couple of outfits, some blankets, and some extra space for the diapers and other swag we've been told to hoard at the hospital; one for me, with comfy clothes for coming home, various and sundry specialized undergarments, and travel-sized toiletries; and one for Rob, with a change of clothes, snacks, magazines, and other Rob-friendly items that will help him pass the time between our arrival and the baby's. We need to get the car-seat installed, because they won't let us leave the hospital with the baby unless that's done. We have a few things left to buy. And then we wait patiently for this little girl to decide that she's ready for a change of scenery.