Happy Anniversary - Featuring Baby Doo

What is it about our kids (weird to add the 's') that they think that EVERY holiday (er, day) is about them?

Today is mine and Steve's 3 year wedding anniversary, and, despite it being during the workweek, I thought we might enjoy some some time celebrating...

Alas, in true Kowalski baby fashion, such has not been the case... instead we have made a trip to labor and delivery (not for either labor or delivery, but because wee Baby Doo has decided that s/he doesn't want to be upstaged by his/her big brother's pregnancy/birth story nightmare, and wants to mess with my head and apparently the heads of all those in the medical profession and screw with his/her heart rate) for an evening of being strapped to machines and monitored. All is fine, I suppose (one test looked not so good, but the other more reliable test looked much better), as I was released after 3 this morning to go home and sleep for a few hours before coming into work today... however, thanks to the wonky way this baby is behaving and all the bad medical history Sir Cooperton imparted upon the world / my body, I will now be trekking it up North for bi-weekly appointments, including my usual shot, a baby stress test and ultrasounds. Yippee!!!!!! Or something.

BIG PICTURE HERE... We are not still in the hospital. I have no idea what the last part of this pregnancy will bring, but am relieved, somewhat (though incredibly stressed out) that I will get to peek in and make sure little Doo is trucking along as we cross the finish line.

I think about all we have done in the past 3 years... babies, moves, graduations, matriculations.... we be crazy... but if we can still like to be with each other more than anyone else, still make each other laugh, and still find a way to make memorable days (like a third anniversary) wonderful (holding hands going through a drive through at 3:45am) in spite of the universe's (Baby Doo's) best efforts, then I think we are in good shape.

Love ya Steve - wouldn't want to go through this stuff with anyone else. The next 50 years are bound to seem like a breeze!

Change

Everyone in my group is pregnant right now... well, not everyone as only about 15% of my group is female, and only 4 of the 10 are pregnant, but OMG... that is a lot. I am apparently quite the trendsetter (or completely brazen and idiotic as the rest of these women have been here quite a bit longer and "put in their time" before procreating and I went and announced my pregnancy a half year in before the rest of them were even gestating little ones).

I am the only one on number 2 (as people tell me here , ALL THE TIME, I am a "young mom"... um, I am from the South... I was a full 7 years removed from high school before I got pregnant... I am ANCIENT).

I LOVE it.

I love pregnancy, whether I am pregnant or not, but what fun to have all these babies at different stages in their development nestled under suit jackets (or flowy dresses, cause OMG.. no suits when pregnant in the summer please).

I cannot help but laugh and remember when one of these other expectant mommies talks about their bellies. NONE OF THEM HAVE BELLIES!!! I mean, maybe one has a little pooch, but at 10 weeks pregnant, I was bigger than ANY OF THEM... which is totally fine by me, because I remember feeling what they all talk about now and wondering when will I start to really show?!?!? I was so eager too, so excited to have a really big baby belly that made me look like the expectant mommy I was (and felt like in the not-so-good way) if for no other reason than some physical affirmation that this was REAL. I don't think about that hardly at all with this one. First, I was "showing" immediately and second, I know this is real - I am a mommy already and I know what the real change is about.

Now, when I hear a siren, I don't think "how loud" or "I hope everyone is ok"... at least not initially. Instead I crane my neck around looking for where it is coming from, so that I can point it out to Cooper and scream "fireguck!" (at least / even in my head when he is not around).

Forget the stretch marks and other physical scars / marks / beauty marks / badges of honor... some day my whole body will look all jacked up and different from in my early 20s and the physical changes that pregnancy and motherhood brings with it will blend in with wrinkles and age.

It is in these other ways, the ways no one can see on me, but rather the way I see the world, that motherhood has irreversibly changed me. I cannot wait to see what this one will have to show me.

All is well...

So, I didn't want to write about it because I couldn't deal with it, but in fact, all is well, so I will write about it now that it is a non-issue (how thrilling). The doctor had thought I was having serious issues, as in, my liver was malfunctioning (or rather, not functioning at all) and all the bad things my liver was supposed to be ridding my body of, were instead being deposited in my skin (not healthy). It started with 2 weeks ago, leaving my ultrasound and telling Steve how much my hands itched - and look! they were all red and splotchy.

Must be allergies.

Then I saw on some website that red palms and itchiness should be reported to your doctor, so I told my doctor at my next appointment a week later, and she was intrigued, but then said it was probably not something we should be worried about, because if it is a symptom of something serious, it is accompanied by a rash around the midsection...

Oh, I say, um, well, see this (at which point I show her the hives / rash that are covering my sides and my back.)

At which point extra blood was drawn, and when I asked her if she seriously thought something was wrong, she said "Yes, in all seriousness, I do, but we can treat this now." Yes, now meaning that back in the day this couldn't be dealt with using meds...

Thus embarked a long week. A week where I continuously monitored how spoltchy my palms were and how ithcy I felt. A week when I considered what this would mean. Would I be able to handle MORE meds, MORE appointments, MORE missed work, MORE missed sleep, MORE missed time with Coop and Steve. Well, yes, clearly I would, cause HELLO, that is part of the deal, and even if all that MORE came, it would still not be enough to make me not want to do it. But, how well would I be doing things? And that's where things get shaky for me... I like to do things WELL, and at some point I can't.

So, today when I went to get my weekly shot I was called into a room for results of the liver function tests (they take a long time to get back) and feeling that this was clearly a sign of bad news, got ready and blinked and wiped wet eyes... only to find that my blood tests are NORMAL, "beautiful" in fact. Phew!

My doctor just wanted to see how I was coping with these symptoms.

Ah SYMPTOMS... I am nothing but a freak show of pregnancy symptoms, but so long as I have a healthy baby and none of my symptoms are a sign of a real problem, then BRING IT ON SYMPTOMS!!!

In other news... I am HUGE, like GLOBAL. I took a picture of my belly at 18 weeks, but who knows where that is now?! I could take another one at this 25 week mark, but it is rare that I am feeling photogenic. Basically, people say "So not much longer, huh?" to which I say "...."

In all seriousness, I don't mind it one bit. I have not gained some crazy amount of weight (and probably wouldn't really mind even if I had), I just have a ginormous belly and ginormous belly = big healthy baby. And I am just not one of those people who minds when people comment or touch my belly or ask me questions... I figure that my baby and my boys are about all I like to talk about, so if I want people to listen to me talk about them, I sure as heck better be grateful when someone cares enough to want to listen. I just feel bad sometimes when I tell the random commenter that my due date isn't until November and they look mortified.

Serenity Now

I have half written a couple of posts, but they are all just that... half-written... even if completely written... cause my brain is, at best, half on. Especially once I leave work...

Emotionally, I am a bit wrung out. Like a dishcloth. Only unwrung, because, so help me, I will NOT cry in downtown Chicago when I miss my train because I accept a ride to the train station that ends up taking longer than walking would have and end up walking even farther than the walk to the train station would have been to try to get near the interstate from which Steve will exit since he and Coop were called upon to save me from waiting for the next train... that came in an hour. No, I will not cry. I will shrug, say it's ok, and then blink a lot.

I will not cry when, after drinking the nasty glucose drink and getting my blood drawn I see the doctor who wants to run more tests (3 more tubes of blood, which I don't mind the needles, but OMG, did I need some solid food) and I have to wait a WEEK to find out the results. (As an aside, the baby and I are fine in the sense that, even if these tests come back with bad results, it is clearly not URGENT, or I would not be working and waiting for test results, and can be dealt with, but OMG... really?) I will go to work, dry heave in the bathroom, then go in the sickroom for an hour and lay in the dark, and if I cry there, well no one can see me and the door is locked, so I will never tell.

There are no words to describe how happy I am with this baby - Doo is growing awesomely and is getting so big and active that I can feel when s/he moves more regularly. Cooper is the most stellar big brother in the making, and honestly makes me smile from ear to ear when I am in the same room with him... or thinking about him from 13 miles away. But, again, OMG... sometimes I WANT to cry.

Thankfully the weather is in the 70s here and BEAUTIFUL and work is that rare combination of busy but steady... (clearly I am TRYING to jinx myself).

Coop is a master repeater now, which means, Mama needs to watch what she says in downtown Chicago traffic. Last night, at bed time, I told him "go turn your fan on, baby" because he is still my baby (won't he always be?) and he said "fan on, baby" only when he said the words it didn't sound like a phrase followed by a loving term of endearment, it sounded like someone from a foreign country who hardly knows the language using a wrong and stilted pick up line at a sleazy bar at last call.

I was so exhausted and so strung out, I laughed until I cried.

Hey-o, It's time to go fishing

Coop went to a music class back when we lived in Austin. It was all original music and we were lucky enough to get some CDs to take with us to Chicago. And we listen to one CD in particular a LOT. And we listen to one song on that one CD a WHOLE LOT. The song is the fishing song. Cooper has taken to playing his guitar and serenading us... the cats... himself... the wall.

Probably the cutest thing EVER!

Say Cheese!

I always thought that smiling was a learned behavior, not "nature" but "nurture". Babies don't smile right when they are born - they smile at 6 weeks. Apparently this is NOT true... I think the actual truth is that they don't smile in response to smiles right away, but they DO smile spontaneously earlier than 6 weeks... like WAY earlier... I have proof that they smile as early as 23 weeks.

Today we got some 3-D pics of baby Doo. And s/he is SMILING! I told the doctor my prior pre-conceived notions about smiling, expecting him to tell me that I was right and what we were seeing was not actual baby smiling, but he confirmed that, yes, my baby is already smiling. So advanced! And just like Coop this baby is measuring big - already well over a pound.

Keep on growing baby! There are many more weeks to go (but many less than when we first met!)