December 19

So apparently, I am only going to use this blog to write Amalia's month letters now...I'm a terrible blogger. BUT!  I'm procrastinating laundry, so here goes.

December 19.  Somehow, I let December 11 pass by without a second thought, never thinking of the importance of that day.  I couldn't do that with December 19, for a very good reason.

My niece turns two today.  A bright star, with a contagious laugh and the sweetest cuddles and love for her brother, a whole person that I wish I could see every single day.  I love you, Anika.
Two years ago today, your mommy and daddy braved snowmaggedon in DC, endured an incredibly long and difficult labor, and were blessed with this whole new life, a beautiful baby who would grow to be an incredible little girl. Two years ago today, we were anxiously awaiting the news of Anika's birth, wishing we could be with Johanna, ready to welcome the newest member of our family.  But instead, two years ago today, we were celebrating the life of an incredible woman.  Two years ago today, we officially said goodbye to my Aunt Suey.  Standing room only at the church, and some people didn't even get let in.  I couldn't keep my tears from flowing.  My heart was breaking.  At the party afterward, it was hardly even standing room only.  The entire party barn was packed, all three floors, with all the people Suey loved.  It was incredible outpouring of love, but all I could think was how much Suey would have liked to be there.  I miss Aunt Suey every day.  Since I was 14 and stayed at her house while my parents were in the Bahamas, she was my person.  She treated me like a friend, not like a child, and was so easy for me to talk to.  There is so much I wish I could share with her now.  Instead, I remember and try to celebrate her life by living the way she did.  And on December 19, I remember how one incredibly bright star left this world, while another entered.
Aunt Suey would have loved you, Anika.

3 months

Dear Amalia,
You are three months old, yesterday. (see?  I'm getting better at this!)  Yes, really. Though it feels like just last week that we first saw your precious face, it has, in fact, been three months.  In those three months, you have become a part of us, and completely altered our family forever.  And we are so grateful.

You are funny.  You smile and giggle and talk and talk and talk, almost like you are trying to get us to smile just as much as we are trying to get you to smile.  You get fantastic dimples on your cheeks when you smile, and your whole face scrunches us in complete joy.  Your chunky legs kick and your arms wiggle.  Your entire body is involved in your ever-joyful smile.  Your giggle is deep and from your belly.  You are ticklish under your chin  (when we can get under there!), on your chest, and on your feet.  You laugh also when your daddy laughs with you.  It is too adorable.

You are tolerant.  There are times, as the second child, where your face gets bopped by the stray sleeve of your sister's shirt, or Mommy has to lean over you to get to something else, or an entire host of other ways you are inconvenienced.  You don't seem to mind.  You watch us closely, and sit contentedly until the situation rights itself.  Then you coo at us some more.  It is awesome.

You are discovering your hands.  They can manipulate things.  They can manipulate themselves.  You can use them to put things into your mouth.  Or you can put them into your mouth!  Woot!  It is quite fun to extract your had from your mouth in order to feed you.

You are sleeping longer (thank goodness).  Just this week, you started sleeping 6 hour stretches.  It is fantastic.  Please to continue.

You have incredible lung power.  Your cry is not quiet, nor is your complaining.  When you are tired and ready for bed, or hungry and Mama is not feeding you instantly, you can get quite upset.  Though most of the time you are a very calm, quiet, relaxed little chica, there are times (most notably 7:30 pm, almost like clockwork) when you are not happy at all.  At those times, nobody can hear anything other than your cries.  They are quite loud.  You don't calm particularly easy when you get upset that way, and it is always a challenge to discover what will be the trick this day.  Daddy discovered you like to be held belly-down (sometimes).  Mommy figured out that bouncing on the trampoline will often calm you down.  Grandma found out that it sometimes works to hold you tight in our bed with a nuk and just wait.  Grandpa discovered that you prefer reggae-type songs sung right into your ear.

You love your sister.  Sofia loves to talk to you and cover you up and play with you like a little doll.  You eat up every minute.  You talk to her, you seek her out.  You smile at her.  It is precious.  She loves you, too, though she gets quite jealous when you get the attention.

You love your daddy.  You and your daddy have incredible conversations.  He holds you out in front of him, and the two of you chat and chat and chat.  You have quite the stories to tell.  You make all sorts of sounds and use inflection and everything.  It is pretty wonderful.

You love your mommy.  Nursing is still your favorite activity, and you definitely calm best with me.  We love to snuggle together and coo and talk and kiss and hug.  You are so sweet.  I love every minute.

Happy three months, Amalia Susan.  We all love you so very much, and really couldn't imagine our lives without you.  Was there ever a time when you weren't here?  I can hardly remember.

Loveyouforeverandalways,
Mama

Giving Thanks

It's Thanksgiving Eve, and I have successfully made a pumpkin cheesecake, and my grandma's cranberry salad.  Two girls are bathed and in bed.

Julio and my dad prepared the turkeys this morning - I've never had one quite so fresh.

It is nearly 10 pm,  and I still have to concoct a harvest stuffing, pack for an overnight stay for myself and two children.  I should really finish folding laundry.

Yet, I have to take a minute to give thanks for all the blessings in my life.  Sure, life isn't exactly as I had planned it, and we aren't exactly in an ideal situation.  But there are blessings.  So many blessings.

Blessing number 1 - my sweet Sofia.  You are my star, my goofy girl.  I love your spirit, your sass, your heart.  You bring me such joy.  I love watching you be a big sister, getting your baby sister to laugh, hugging her, showing pure love.  I love your hugs and kisses, your jokes, your dances, your smiles, your silly stories, your tea parties.  You made me a mommy.

Blessing number two - my darling Amalia.  You are pure love.  I am so grateful to watch you grow, and be a part of you.  I love the way you talk, constantly.   Happy conversations, complaining sounds, talking always.  I love your big and plentiful smile, the way your cheeks dimple in lots of places and your whole face smiles.  I love your little laugh, and how silly we all are in trying to hear it.  You blessed us this year with your life, and I am so happy and grateful that you are healthy and here with us.  

I am grateful for Julio.  A daddy with more love for his daughters than I could have imagined.  A man who works hard for his family always, whose struggles might make things more difficult, but who has remained strong.  A man I love more and more each day.  Life's experiences have given us our share of challenges, bringing us closer than before.  

I am grateful.  Happy Thanksgiving.

Bumbo!

Amalia has a new view of the world.

She's still a touch wobbly, so can only stay in it for a few minutes at a time, but she seems to like it!  She's been trying to sit up while in her swing chair or being held, so I knew she was ready.  Can't believe this child is growing so quickly.  She'll be three months old on Friday.

I got the pink!

Way back when, when Sofia was a little thing, about two and a half, I think, she got a stomach virus.  I tried to get her to throw up into the bucket.  A few days later, she got pink eye.  She came to me, miserable and mucusy and said, "Want to put my eye in the bucket."  When she talked to her Aunt Sarah, in a somber voice told her, "I got the pink."

I was reminded of that time (which always makes me laugh) today when Sofia got off the bus from school. She's got the pink.  Definitely got the pink.

Quick trip to fast care and a bribery toy later, we've got two doses of medicated eye drops in her, and a bonus diagnosis of an ear infection.

She's most upset that I have asked her not to touch Amalia's face.

ARGH!

I am at my wit's end.  I've been doing so well lately.  I've been patient.  I've been empathetic.  I've tried to let the consequences do the teaching.  It has been working.  Until tonight.

Anybody want a slightly-used, quite cute but rather whiny and oft sassy four-year-old?

Actually, anybody want a tired, slightly tubby, impatient, overwhelmed at times thirty-year-old?

I blew a fuse at Sofia.  Her very best friends in the world are visiting (hi jay and ella!) and naturally, all the contents of her room is residing on the floor.  Getting close to bedtime, I advise Sofia that if she wants her friends to sleep on the floor with her, there needs to be space for them, so they should pick up the toys.  Now, I know it can be overwhelming to pick up a crazy-mess of toys.  (apparently, it isn't so overwhelming to put them there in the first place)  Fine.  I know it is easier with a grown-up helping direct traffic.  But Amalia needed nursing, and I expected her to at least try.  No.  She ran around screeching.  She played piano.  She had a tea party.  She didn't put one thing away.  Not one thing.  I came in the room, set Amalia on the bed, and tried to help direct her.  Nothing.  No response.  She cuddled Amalia on the bed instead.  I said, that's fine.  I'll pick them up.  But when Mama picks them up she takes them away.  I started to pick them up, putting them in the laundry room.  Still nothing.  Not picking up.  And not only not picking up, pointedly smothering her sister, to where I now have to remove the baby.  Am livid.  I ask her, one more time, to help pick up.  "No, I'm not going to."

AHHHHHHHHHRHGGHGHAGGHHH!!!

Mr. Young informs me that she does, indeed, possess the skills to pick up her toys.  She does it every day without complaint at school.  Not only did I yell, quite loudly and definitely out of control (which I hate doing), I now have a laundry room full of toys.  I can't quite make myself donate the toys to GoodWill.  They are expensive, dammit!  I need to do laundry tomorrow.  Now what?
I'm still so pissed. Breathe.
I wish I hadn't yelled at her.  That isn't productive and overshadows her own behavior.  The real answer is to actually get rid of the toys.  I can't, though.  It's too harsh.  Gah.

Seriously, Mr. Hyde?  I want Dr. Jekyll back.

Sniffle Snuffle

So, two girls and one daddy are suffering the cough, mucus, sneezy, basically miserable cold.  Miraculously, I feel healthy as can be, but everyone else in my family is hacking up a lung.  The baby included.  Her first cold.  Not exactly one of the things I wanted to mark off so soon. Poor angel doesn't know what is happening to her, and every time she coughs, she cries from confusion.  Sofia and Amalia, however, are getting off easy.  They are coughing and sneezing, but otherwise seem basically unscathed.  Julio, on the other hand, is just miserable.  Somehow, he always seems to get the worst of every germ that comes through this place.

Laugh on!

Okay, I know I've been all Amalia all the time, but - we have our first laughs over here!  I so wish I had a video, but at least Sofia and Julio and I were all able to witness it together.  I was holding her, Julio tickled under her chin, and she laughed!  Ahahahaha!  I can't resist trying to sneak those giggles out of her all the time, now.
And speaking of laughing...know who laughs all the time?  You guessed it...Sofia!  She keeps us laughing, as well.  When she isn't busy making us want to pull our hair out and cry, that is.

2 Months

and one week, two days (but who is counting?)

Amalia, my love, you are two months old.  How can one little baby grow so much in just two short months?  How can life have ever existed before you were born?
In two months, you went from a chubby, cheeky newborn, to a 15 lb 8 oz, chubby, cheeky two month old.  You have the most kissable and smunchable cheeks in the world.  Sometimes, they get in the way of your smile.  You are staying awake longer and love to be entertained.  Smiles come easily now, and you especially like whistling and silly, smiling faces.  You coo.  All the time.  Happy coos, complaining coos, just talking coos.  Like right now.  You aren't crying, but you are cooing, telling me that you want some love!  I'd better go get you.

Okay, now you are here in my lap, watching me write this letter.  Also, you are asking to nurse.  You are always asking to nurse, then promptly spit it up.  Your hands and feet are always on the go, and even when nursing you are trying to stick your fist in your mouth.  It doesn't always work.  You still have thick, black hair that isn't showing any signs of falling out.  You hold your head up high, and like to look around and be part of the action.  You tolerate tummy time much better than Sofia did, and will lift up your head to look at me, though you don't like to stay there for very long.  Your eyelashes are starting to grow, framing your dark brown eyes.  You still have your little dimple on your right cheek, and a very loud voice.  Just ask Grandma and Grandpa.  On Wednesday nights, when I am in class and Daddy is at work, they get to look after you.  And boy, you don't like it!  At least at bedtime.  When you are tired, you work yourself up into such a state, and it is impossible for anyone other than Mommy to comfort you.  You cry and cry and cry, making both Grandma and Grandpa want to cry, too.  Eventually, you fall asleep from pure exhaustion, usually cradled in Mama and Papa's bed, where you can smell us.  When I get home, and you wake up to nurse, I can feel your relief as you melt into my arms, sighing a comforted sigh.  Oh, how I love you.

6 Weeks (and some change)

So, like everything with the second pregnancy and baby, I am a little behind the ball.  Sorry, Amalia.  I meant to write at one month, but all of a sudden we are getting closer and closer to two months and I haven't yet written.  I'm still proud I wrote your birth story before you turned one.  Better late than never, and I will try, I promise, to get your month letters done on the month.  Really, I will.
Amalia,
You are now six weeks old.  A marvel.  The chubby cheeks you were born with have gotten yet chubbier, and your big brown eyes have the power to melt grown mommies and daddies into puddles of love.  You have brought such joy to our lives and our home.  I cannot believe how fast the time has flown, how you are no longer a tiny newborn (not that you were ever very tiny) and are rapidly becoming a baby.  From the moment you were born, you have graced us with the most beautiful grins in your sleep.  Constantly.  You must have very happy dreams, because a couple weeks later, you began to giggle in your sleep.  It is the cutest sound in the world.  At three weeks old, on your daddy's birthday, you gave us your first voluntary smile.  You love to stare intently at mommy and daddy, hardly blinking, but holding us captive in your eyes.  This time, Daddy was holding you and talking to you like he loves to do, and you gave him the greatest birthday present - a real smile!  You don't dole out smiles to just anyone for any reason, though.  Getting a smile from you is a special time, and we all stop whatever we are doing to come see.
You make the funniest noises.  You are hardly ever quiet, even when sleeping.  You make all sorts of groans and grunts and sighs.  Sometimes, you sound just like a horse, other times like a car squealing its tires.  You have an incredible cry.  I don't have to worry about your lungs, because the volume when you are unhappy is certainly loud enough to get our attention, even if we don't happen to be nearby.
You love your big sister.  In fact, this morning, you and she were cuddling together in our bed, and you gave her some of your biggest smiles yet.  She loves to hold you and kiss you and hug you.   You watch her with the same intensity you watch us.
Mommy and Daddy have both been bathed by you.  You are a 'happy spitter' and spew impressive amounts of partially digested milk, usually once a day or so.  You are content and gaining weight, so the doctor isn't worried, but the milk takes an arc and flies several feet away.  It's quite the sight to see.  We do a lot of laundry, my dear.
I adore being your mother.  I love every inch of you.  I love to smell your neck and stroke your hair.  I love to rock you and cuddle you.  I love how you grab so tightly to my finger (or my hair or my necklace).  I love how you snuggle in.  I love your sounds, I love your smile.  I love everything about you.  Happy six weeks, honey.
Love,

Mama

Amalia Susan

A Birth Story

Even though we went late in my pregnancy with Sofia, for some reason, I was convinced (and so was everyone around me) that I wouldn’t go late with Amalia.  For one, I started having regular Braxton hicks contractions and cramping starting at about 30 weeks.  For another, I was ginormous.  Seriously huge.  

For a third, at 37 weeks, contractions that started to hurt and occur at regular intervals kept me awake, and happened throughout the day.  Frustratingly, they always stopped eventually.  The belly, which had always been relatively low, dropped noticeably at 38 weeks.  “Can’t be much longer,” I thought.  Every day, I waited for labor.  And waited.  And hoped.  Every day, when Julio left for work, I would say goodbye by telling him that I planned to call him that day.  Never happened.  At my 38 week appointment, I was only 1 cm dilated, and about 50% effaced.  At 39 weeks, I was 3 cm, and my doctor assured me progress was being made and that it wouldn’t be much longer.  At 40 weeks (and three days), I was almost a 4, but still no real signs of labor. 

            “What day do you want to have a baby?” my doctor asked. 
“Today?” I replied hopefully.  We scheduled induction for Thursday, August 25 at 6 am.  Three more days.  I could make it.  I had hoped to avoid induction, because I really wanted to do this labor without an epidural, and I knew it would be harder if I was on pitocin.  I was Group B positive, though, so needed an IV anyway to administer the necessary antibiotics. 

“I don’t think you’ll make it to Thursday, anyway,” said Dr. Andrews-Fike.  “Though, I didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

I went to class that Wednesday night, and everyone was as surprised to see me as I was dismayed to be there.  I really thought I’d have had a baby by that point.  Mom came with me to class just in case I went into labor on the drive or in class, though our extra preparation probably stopped labor from happening.  Or not.  She was just comfy in there.  I was not so comfy.  I couldn’t sleep very well – I was getting up to pee five or more times a night, could only sleep on my side, but got such terrible hip pain.  Poor Sofia was ready to have a lap to sit in once more.

I kissed Sofia goodnight that night, telling her Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t be home when she woke up, that we were going to the hospital to have baby Amalia.  I packed and repacked my bags, and tried to make sure everything at home was ready and waiting.  The next time we’d be home, we would bring home a baby and finally be our family or four.

            We got to the hospital just past 6 am, and got settled into our room.  The whiteboard in the room said, “Welcome Rebecca and Julio!”  How sweet.  I felt ready and anxious to get things going.  We got my IV started and paperwork filled out, and waited for Dr. Fike.  She arrived just past 7, and we decided to break my water, to see if that would put things in active labor.  I was on the monitors, and was having contractions every 5-7 minutes, though I couldn’t always feel them.  “How long have you been this regular?” asked the doctor.  I’d been that regular for months.  At that point, I was at a 4, and they were hopeful that breaking the water would be all that was needed to start active labor.  Water broke at 7:30 am, and we had 4 hours to see if we could get things moving.  Julio and I watched bad tv, and went for a walk around the hospital.  I willed my body to contract, already!  It didn’t work.  I could usually feel the contractions, but they definitely weren’t active labor.  We started pitocin at 11 am.  I was scared of it, since I’d heard the pain was so much worse, but opted to try without the epidural.

            The nurses monitored the pitocin and my contractions carefully – they wanted to be sure that active labor was starting, but also that contractions weren’t too strong or too close together.  Once pitocin was started, I could definitely feel when I was having contractions, and they started to get closer together.  I could feel them, but they didn’t hurt yet.  My mom had gotten to the hospital by that point, and kept me company while Julio took one last nap before I would really need him.  Mom said Sofia had a great morning – she woke up looking for me, but when Grandma came in to remind her that we were at the hospital, said “Grandma, do you know how to make chocolate milk?”  and that was that.  She and Grandpa were doing great at home, and was excited to hear that she would be a big sister soon.

            About 12:30 or so, the contractions started to hurt.  We were in active labor.  Julio was, once again, a fantastic labor coach.  We had Pandora playing, and as long as I was clutching onto Julio’s neck, could make it through each contraction.  Not too much later, I began to have back labor.  I had brought my rice pack, in preparation for that, as the same thing happened with Sofia.  With Mom pressing the hot rice pack onto my back, and Julio holding onto my front, I made it through each one.  I had about a minute rest between them, and felt like I was doing great.  The nurses came in to monitor contractions and the baby’s heartrate every once in a while, and everything was doing fine.  I was checked at about 2 pm (or so) and was only 4.5. I was disappointed, but doing well.Things were starting to hurt more, and we decided to labor in the shower.  Having the water hit my body was quite relaxing for awhile.  After the shift changed, and I got a new nurse, my labor really picked up.  Korinna was my new nurse, and she was wonderful.  A few times, I started to feel panicky.  With my wonderful labor team, I was able to calm myself down and remember not to suffer.  Amazingly, the pain was so much less when I didn’t give myself into it.  At about 4:30 or so, I was fading.  I was tired, and it took so much more concentration to not suffer through each contraction.  I asked for some nubain, a pain medication administered through the IV that would take the edge off.  With the medication, I was able to relax quite a bit.  The contractions still hurt just as much, but I was able to keep calm through them.  Not too long after getting the medicine, my belly starting to push down at the end of each contraction.  I didn’t recognize it as the urge to push, but after half an hour of that, I decided to mention it to the nurse.  After a few more contractions that way we decided to check my cervix.  “Oh yeah, you can push that kid out now!” said the nurse!  Mom and Julio were overjoyed, but I was just in pain.  I remember feeling relieved that it was almost over, but the pushing part felt so different than it did the first time.  Dr. Andrews-Fike came in, and with Korinna and Mom and Julio, they gave me time, encouragement, and exactly what I needed.  I focused on my doctor, her telling me that yes, I can do it, and the sight of Amalia’s head starting to move down my birth canal.  With the mirror, I would just watch her while I geared up to push again.  And finally, release!  She popped out, screaming and just perfect.  The doctor put her on my chest, and I just stared at her.  She was rather blue, so she didn’t get to stay on my chest very long.  They brought her to the warmer, and made sure that she was doing okay.  After a few minutes, when she was pink, I got her back, and she instantly latched onto my breast.  What a latch!  What a suck!  She was born a nurser.

            When Sofia was born, Julio had apprehension all over his face.  That fear was so sweet, of not being sure what to expect, or how this tiny person would affect his life.  This time, with Amalia, he did not have that fear.  I saw an intensity of joy, he melted at the sight her of body.  This time, Daddy was ready.

            As soon as she was born and brought to the warmer, I could tell she was bigger than Sofia.  I said so.  “You’d  better believe it!”  I was stunned when she weighed at 9 lbs 9 oz.!  That’s a big newborn!  I pushed that baby out of my body, I created that perfect human being, born with a double chin and cheeks made for kissing.

            There is nothing that compares to giving birth to an entire human being.  The intense feelings of love are beyond explanation.  Love doesn’t even begin to describe the feelings of the moment I brought my daughter into this world, the first moment I saw the face of the person I’ve gotten to know for nine months.  

            Amalia Susan, I love you more than I will ever be able to explain or understand, or even show to you.  You are perfect.  You are a miracle.  You are such a blessing to me, to your daddy, to this family.  I hope you have a happy, beautiful life.  I hope you find love, kindness, and happiness, and I hope you bring love and happiness to those around you.  You are so loved, and are already making the world a better place.  It has only been two and half weeks, and already I know you.  I know your cry, and I see who you are in those beautiful, big, brown eyes of yours.  You are special, you are incredible.  I’m excited and honored and lucky to be a part of your life, to be your Mama.  I love you, angel mine.

Will I get these brain cells back?

So, I wrote that last post on August 17, actually one day after Sofia's birthday.  I didn't get around to actually posting it until today.  Finding actual thoughts to put together is difficult.  Finding nouns and putting together sentences is sometimes impossible.  Remembering things?  A thing of the past.  I went to the grocery store today without a list.  I floundered around, circling the place several times and walked out with milk (which we needed!  score!) and some other random crap.  I cannot be trusted.
40 weeks 2 days.  Not particularly late, but more than ready.  Today, I've been having increased contractions and more pain.  I also had several bouts of shortness of breath and racing heart that made me sit down.  I keep trying to convince this kid that it is time to evict, time to meet the rest of us.  She's unconvinced.  I have an OB appointment tomorrow, and am hoping to get some sort of plan of action.  Actually, I'm hoping to be 7 cm dilated and sent to the hospital for the most painless labor ever, but that seems unlikely.
Hello?  Labor?  I'm ready and waiting!

Happy Birthday, Princess!

Sofia turned four yesterday.  How did that happen?  Wasn't she just born?  She has been extraordinarily excited about her birthday for months, and yesterday was no disappointment.  She woke up at 6 am, and asked her usual morning question, "Is it 7 o'clock yet?"  I answered that no, it wasn't, go back to bed.  "But Mommy, today's my birfday, vemember?!"  Yes, of course I remember, but Go. Back. To. Sleep.
At 7:15, her curly head got out of bed and found the balloons we had waiting for her.  She squealed with excitement.  She gave kisses, hugs, thanked us for saying happy birthday to her.  She ran around the house shrieking with joy and saying "Happy Birthday to me!"  We frosted her cupcakes and prepared for her party.  The friends arrived at 10 am, and they had a marvelous time playing bubbles, running around in the gorgeous day, and playing in her room.  Sofia was just so excited.  We had lunch (though I don't think any of the girls ate much), cupcakes (of which the kids just licked off the frosting), and sang happy birthday.  Sofia wore her birthday crown, which she insisted upon, and looked ever the princess.  Then, finally, she was allowed to open her presents.  From us, she got a big-girl bicycle, which she adores.  She still hasn't quite figured out how to make it go on the gravel, but she's outside with her daddy right now practicing.  She also got a princess helmet and bell to go with it, and she's certain that the helmet helps her ride better and will keep her from falling.  She had quite the birthday.  I was even able to convince her to take a much-needed nap with me for a couple hours in the afternoon.  Grandma got home from work in the afternoon, and we had yet another plate of cupcakes complete with candle-blowing and singing, where she got to open the present from Grandma and Grandpa.  She was so excited.  Her unbridled joy was such a fun thing to experience.
Sofia is quite the four-year old.  She is starting to figure out reading, and absolutely loves to read stories.  She can write her name now, and is practicing the other letters.  She creates fanciful games to play, and narrates to herself what she is doing at all times.  It is hysterical.  She loves playing babies and doll house and reading stories to herself.  She loves helping in the garden, which requires some patience, but Sofia claims herself to be an excellent corn husker and tomato picker, so it is worth it.  She loves playing with her friends, though she doesn't get to do it as often as she should.  Jay and Ella still reign supreme in her heart.
We're going through changes.  She's about to start 4K, and she's really nervous.  She says she doesn't want to go, that she wants to go to her old preschool.  I'm trying to tell her how much fun she'll have, but she'll have to see for herself.  She is very excited to be a big sister, and is constantly hugging and kissing my belly, and loves to look at the baby's clothes and toys and even mundane things like diaper cream.  Because of these changes, however (and lord, how I hope it is because of the changes), Sofia has been whiny.  And whinier.  And manipulating of Mommy.  She wants to control what I do and when I do it.  Sometimes I wonder if she even has a voice that doesn't whine.  You know that nursery rhyme?  "There once was a girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.  And when she was good she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid."  That describes Sofia perfectly.  Except that the good times can make me forget the bad ones instantly.

I love you, precious girl.  You are going to be a fantastic big sister, but you'll always be my baby.  Forever.  Happy 4th birthday, sweetheart.

More of the same

Still pregnant.  Still enormous.  Little girl is pressing down big time on my bladder and pelvic muscles. It hurts to walk.  I can't reach the sink to wash the dishes.  I'm so ready to get this child out.
I was über cranky on Monday, with emotions running wild with tears I just couldn't stop.  I was just desperate to get the baby out.  It was one of those days.  Not a good day.  Sofia told me I just had to cheer up, and then I'd have a good day!  I had a doctor's appointment, where we discovered that hey!  She's low!  I'm also 50% effaced and 1-2 cm dilated.  I also lost three pounds.  We planned to tour the hospital afterwards, but when I called, they said they had no rooms to show me, and no staff to spare.  Seriously, we've tried three times now, and they've always been too full.  Will I have to labor in the hallway?
This child could hold out for another three weeks.  Yikes.  Due date is now nine days away.  I can make it.  I can.  Really.

Drop it, girl!

And...the baby dropped.  Big time.  Look at this!

Please to ignore the stretch marks.

I'm very ready.  I promised myself I wouldn't get overly anxious this time, that I'd let the baby decide and try not to obsess over when labor will start, is labor starting?  how much longer until labor starts?  Turns out, it's not that easy.  I'm just over 38 weeks now, pretty early for any baby to make an appearance.  I probably have another two weeks.  I can be patient.  I can.  Really.

But I don't want to be! :)  I want to hold this little girl, welcome her into our family.  Not be pregnant anymore.  Though, I know I should be relishing in every minute that I'm pregnant with this girl.  This could be my last pregnancy, our last child.  We could stop at two.  That is a decision we'll make down the road, but still. This could be it.  Every time I feel her sweet little feet, I rejoice.  Every instant she is a part of not just my soul, but of my body, is a miracle in itself.  I love being pregnant.  

I'm just ready.  Show me a pregnant woman not anxious to meet her baby at 38 weeks - I don't think they exist.  All part and parcel of the amazing journey of creating a baby.  

I love you, Amalia Susan.  I am so honored to be your mama, and so grateful that you are growing healthily and perfectly inside my body.  I am so excited to meet you, to hold you, to cradle you, to kiss you.  We're ready whenever you are.  

So close I can taste it! yet so far away...

I spent much of last night awake, feeling my rock-hard belly as it had yet another contraction, lasting most of the night.  I tried not to be excited, to go to sleep, remind myself that this was probably not it, that baby probably still has a while to go.  I couldn't help it.  Each tightening made me smile, and as they started to hurt, I felt butterflies in my stomach.  And then...morning.  Gah.  Not only am I not in labor, but now I'm tired.  Ah, well.  It is still far too early to be optimistic (I'll be 38 weeks on Friday), but I can't help thinking that it is going to be soon.  Relatively soon, anyway.  Within three weeks or so.
So, I'm spending this morning trying to decide what to put into a hospital bag.  A going home outfit?  For me?  I just don't have enough clothes to put something in a bag that I won't see for awhile.  Toiletries?  I need my contacts and glasses every day until then.  Nursing bras?  Yeah, I'd better find some of those.  I hear Target is a good place.  So far, my bag has my slippers, socks, the one nursing/sleeping bra I could find from last time, the boppy pillow without a cover, and some sample shampoos.  I'm washing baby things to pack for the little one.  I have to dig out the car seat and wash the cover.  I did manage to find the Ergo and a diaper bag, both of which are currently in the washing machine.  I think I might be starting to feel that nesting instinct that people talk about, though instead of crazily cleaning, I am just panicking and walking around aimlessly.  Less productive.

Every morning, when she wakes up, and before she starts screaming for no apparent reason, Sofia cradles my belly, gives it a kiss, and says, "Good morning, Amalia."  C'mon, sweetie.  We are all so ready to meet you, even though we may not be actually ready.  Must go put in another load of laundry and find the bassinet.

Photobooth

So, we got a new computer this week.  Sofia and I have been having fun playing with a silly photo program.  Enjoy!

36 Weeks

I can't believe we are almost at the end.  This little girl has grown so much, and firmly implanted her soul into our little family.  Some days it seems that we just found out she was coming a few days ago; other days it seems that I have been pregnant forever and that she's never going to be born.
Yesterday was the latter kind of day.  It has been hot.  Very hot.  And humid.  Very humid.  We're talking real temperatures up to 100 degrees with 80% humidity.  Sadly, I'm not exaggerating.  Yesterday wasn't quite that hot, but it did reach 90 and the humidity topped off at about 77%.  Not comfortable, especially when pregnant.  I can't really bend over, I'm getting a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions, and I'm hormonally cranky.  I apologized to Sofia many times yesterday for being so crabby, but I couldn't seem to shake it.  I couldn't get myself to do anything.  Literally, anything.  I didn't do dishes, I didn't start laundry.  I didn't do homework, I didn't vacuum.  I did do the chores, but only because I had to and Julio was at work.  I didn't even cook.  We had Sunday night popcorn on Saturday, because that was ambitious as I could get myself.  The baby felt like she weighed a million pounds.  It was one of those days.
Today dawned a tad less humid, a tad less hot, and a lot kinder on my moods.  My belly feels lighter, as does my head.  I actually laughed today.  Today I feel that another six weeks of being pregnant won't kill me, and if this baby does decide to go over her due date it won't be the worst thing.  Because really, who wants to cuddle a newborn in this heat in a house with no air conditioning?  Tomorrow, of course, I'll be wishing on my lucky stars that she'll be one of those amazing babies that comes at 37 weeks in a labor that only lasts a few hours.
I'm not sure what it is, but this baby really likes my right side.  Funnily enough, so did Sofia.  Today, I felt the baby mostly on the left side, and it kind of weirded me out.  What is she doing over there?  :)  I feel hiccups at least once a day; the other day, we even got to see the hiccups.  She's no longer kicking so much as rolling and repositioning.  When she does kick, however, it isn't aimed toward the outside.  It is aimed toward my bladder and other vital organs on the inside.  Good news, that probably means she isn't posterior, right?
Sofia is going to be an incredible big sister.  She gives the baby belly hugs and kisses, and tells me how I am going to have two girls, and they'll both always be my babies.  She wanted to get on my lap, and I told her that soon, after the baby is born, she can cuddle on my lap again.  "But Mommy, the baby will have to nurse!"  I reassured her that the baby will not be nursing ALL the time, and that Daddy can hold the baby and I can hold her sometimes.  "Okay.  But then the baby will need to nurse again, and you can hold the baby and Daddy can hold me."
She can crack me up.  There is a memory-type game featuring the characters of the Arthur book series that she loves, and is forever trying to get people to play with her.  One day, Sarah was in the livingroom, and sad-sounding classical music was on the radio.  "Sarah, why are you sad?"  Sarah told her she wasn't sad.  "Oh, but the music is sad.  I know what will cheer you up; we should play the Arthur game!"  Little manipulator.
We had a baby shower the other day - the women at Julio's work got together to throw him a surprise baby shower.  It was the sweetest thing.  There was a potluck lunch with all the residents, and everyone was incredibly generous and loving.  We got a bunch of really great gifts, including a baby comforter made by the residents.  I absolutely love it.  Sofia was enthralled by the whole thing, oohing and ahhing over every present.  She was so proud to help Daddy open them, and genuinely excited about each tiny baby thing.  She even received a present; bubbles and some great bubble blowers and sidewalk chalk!  Julio often tries to bring her to visit the residents, but she is so shy, she mostly hides her head on Daddy's shoulder or behind my legs.  Friday, however, she warmed up after 20 minutes or so, and showed them all her great personality.
We went to Hartman Creek State Park beach afterwards, where we played in the water, which felt great on my heavy belly.  Sofia was very excited to use her new bubbles.  She also discovered that her life jacket will hold her upright in the water, and loved swimming by herself.  I hope it helps her gain more confidence in the water.
So, little lady, this whole family is so ready to meet you.  I can't believe you are almost here, and that soon, I'll be kissing your head, holding you close, and loving you completely.  I can't wait.

Seriously Braxton? Give it a rest!

I'm not sure I ever had a Braxton Hicks contraction while pregnant with Sofia.  Perhaps at the very end while on my daily 3-mile walks in 90 degree heat; then I had a few that lasted the whole walk.  This time around, however?  Braxton Hicks Central.
I'm not quite 31 weeks, and I feel like I'm getting these tightenings all day every day.  Every single time I woke up last night (which was at least five, welcome to pregnancy bladder, and nightmares for a three-year-old) my belly was rock hard and even hurting.  They say to call the doctor if you are having more than three an hour, but truthfully, I haven't timed anything.  Pretty sure I'm not in preterm labor or anything, but I hope all this 'practice' leads to a faster labor than the last time.

I think we have also chosen a name.  Well, a first name, at least, which is the most important.  I'm so excited, though it feels strange to call her by a name now, and not constantly wonder what we should name her.  On the plus side, though, perhaps I can focus some energy of SOMETHING ELSE.  Seriously.  All my mental energy lately has been captured by the baby.  And the baby's name.  And wondering what the baby will be like.  And calculating just how many more days 10 weeks is.  And contemplating the likelihood of remaining pregnant until September.   Let me tell you, the house and school is suffering because of it.  Why can't I get that nesting instinct I've heard so much about?

29 Weeks

I am a terrible blogger.  However, as I haven't made any other sort of pregnancy journal this time around, and as I am sitting at the computer procrastinating the paper I have to write for class, what better thing to do than remember that I have a blog.
Little Chickadee, or Gomerina, as Grandpa has now christened her, is doing wonderfully.  She is such a delicate little baby, that though she moves often, she doesn't kick very strongly, which worries me.  The belly is definitely growing, however, and when I try to count kicks, I always get enough, so I'm trying not to be concerned.  She's just kind to her mother, that's all, and perhaps the inner-womb calmness will translate to out-or-womb calmness as well.
We spend a lot of time these days (or I should say I do, as it isn't Julio's favorite activity) trying to figure out her name.  Sofia likes to do this with me, and her suggestions range from wonderful to no-way-in-hell.  Lily is her favorite, but as Daddy has nixed that idea, we have to convince her that it will not be her sister's name.  We have  a list.  A short list that doesn't contain any names I am crazy about, but it is a list.  We have 11 weeks left.  We'll get there, right?
I've visited several rummage sales this spring/summer, and have found some new baby things, including the things we borrowed last time from Gavins who are now expecting their own new little guy this month. Chickadee will have her own room, as Aunt Sarah has signed a lease for an apartment in Chicago with a friend to start in August.  I'm so excited for her!  And glad to know I have a place to put the crib.
Both Sofia and Daddy have gotten to feel the baby kick against their hands, which delights them both.  Sofia loves to kiss her baby sister, and thinks that the baby is kissing her back.  I hope this complete, unadultered love continues to when that baby is more reality than fantasy.  For now, she tells me how much she loves her baby, what a great big sister she'll be, how she'll read her stories and share her toys and tickle her toes.  It's really sweet.  She says she's so lucky to have the baby as her baby sister.  I know the baby is lucky to have Sofia as her big sister, too.
When I was pregnant with Sofia, she seemed like such a reality.  I could picture the new baby and our family together.  This baby seems more fantasy to me.  I know she's there and she's growing, and every day gets closer to when she'll actually be here, but it just doesn't seem real.  Like she's still just a flicker of my imagination or a hope in my heart.  I can't picture our life with her yet, but can't imagine a future without her, either.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that she doesn't have a name yet.  Carrying a second baby really is so different from the first, even though the pregnancies themselves haven't been all that different.  Life is different, her place in our family is different.
I've been getting so tired lately, and headaches more often.  I try to get the same amount of work done as I did before, but I just can't seem to.  My body falls asleep and my belly feels tight.  Sleeping is getting difficult, as my hips get so sore and my arms fall asleep and I have to get up to pee so many times.
Sofia just woke up from her nap, and we promised a trip to a playground on this beautiful day.  Gotta run.