Baby Babble

Oh, the cuteness. It breaks my heart sometimes.

Patrick had his four month appointment today. (He'll actually be four months old on Easter.) This picture was taken while we were waiting for the doctor-- and before his vaccinations. (Which he handled remarkably well. I hope that never changes.) We were almost late to his appointment because I-- believe it or not-- overslept. Which is not an entirely accurate statement because I went to bed after midnight and was up at 1:30, 3, 5, 5:30 and 6:40. Technically, I got up way too early. But when I went back to sleep sometime after 6:40, I fully expected Patrick to wake me up with his baby calls somewhere between 7 and 7:30. I woke up on my own at 8:22 and he was still asleep. Which is also not entirely accurate, because I remember hearing him babbling to himself sometime after 5:30. (For the record, I woke up at 1:30 and 3 for no reason, 5 and 6:40 because of the elderly blind cat, and Henry needed to go out at 5:30.) Patrick is very good at putting himself back to sleep if he wakes up too early (translation: before I'm physically able to crawl out of bed). Of course, I was kind of counting on him waking me up this morning. Silly baby.

So, I jumped out of bed at 8:22, checked on him (still sleeping), brushed my teeth and hair, got dressed, put on some makeup, gently woke baby (opened his blinds, made some noise, touched his face), changed his diaper, took him downstairs, got him dressed, slapped a bib on him, warmed and fed him a bottle, called Jay on Skype, cleaned the litter box, let the dog out again, turned the television on for Lola (the bird who gets grumpy if the television isn't on), packed the diaper bag, loaded Patrick up in his car seat and we were out of the house at 9:12 and at the doctor's office at 9:27. Whew. (I wasn't sure if his appointment was at 9:30 or 9:45 and never did find out.) I could have cut 8 minutes off my time if I hadn't bothered to straighten my hair.

It's nice to be so quick and efficient when I have to be. It wasn't that long ago (almost four months!) that it took Jay and me over an hour to get ready, get Patrick ready and get out of the house for his first doctor's appointment. And we were still late.

I have certainly adjusted to life with baby. Funny how that happens.

The irony, of course, is that Patrick sleeps through the night and I still don't. Eight hours in bed last night and I got up five times. Five! People told me that taking care of a baby would be so exhausting that I'd probably sleep better at night. Of course, they forgot about the old blind cat who gets lost in my bedroom and the old deaf dog who is still recovering from his inner ear infection (and still needs help up and down the stairs). Not to mention my own crazy insomnia. But I'd rather Patrick sleep through the night than me. It most definitely works out better that way.

Except now I'm quite tired and it just dawned on me that I haven't managed to take a shower yet today.

I Have a Secret (3w5d)

So far, other than Jay (who got to be here this time when I tested!), Sheri is the only one who knows I'm pregnant. Of course, I haven't known myself very long, but by this time last time, I think I had told at least ten people. Plus a few random strangers and coffee baristas. This time is different. I'm holding onto this secret for a little while, I think. Not because I'm worried about something happening (and that is certainly a possibility, given my history), but because I'm rather enjoying carrying this little happy secret around right now.

I don't think I'll be able to keep it to myself too long... I like sharing happy news (even when the happy news must be punctuated with caution). I'm blogging about it here, but it's unlikely anyone who knows me will stop by. (And if you have-- and I haven't yet told you I'm pregnant-- please don't get your feelings hurt!) I'm also copying these blog posts to my main blog, but those blog posts are closed for the moment. Right now, I'm just keeping a record of my experience until I'm ready to share it with the world (or my corner of the world, anyway).

I have an appointment tomorrow to confirm my pregnancy. Which basically means I get to pee for another pregnancy test. But it's the first step to getting my ob/gyn referral. I've been here before... and I'm hoping this time around results in a healthy baby.

According to my calculations, my due date is December 9. A holiday baby, to be sure. That's something to celebrate, right? It's too early for real symptoms (I think?), but I have the tender breasts again this time and a little bit of queasiness every day for the past three days. Every pregnancy is different, they say. So, we'll see. For now, I have a secret that makes me smile.

It's Official (4w5d)

So, I’m officially pregnant according to the military health care system. After a brief appointment that included a pregnancy test and a check of my vitals, as well as verification that all the medications I’m taking are safe during pregnancy (which I already knew they were), I was sent on my way with a pamphlet printed in what looks like Comic Sans font congratulating me on my pregnancy and giving me the usual basic information as well as the usual vague, but certainly dire, warnings. In 48 hours I can schedule my first prenatal appointment.

When the charge nurse came in to give me my test results, she acted rather grim. Pushing the sheet of paper across the desk and putting her finger under the word POSITIVE, she said, “The test is positive. You’re pregnant.”

I blinked and smiled. I knew I was pregnant, of course, but couldn’t figure out why she seemed so somber. “Good!” I said, enthusiastically. I may have even added a thumbs up for emphasis.

“Oh, you’re happy about it? This is a good thing?” She said, smiling, but looking a bit confused.

“Definitely. We’ve been trying,” I told her. Then, as if to ease her discomfort, I explained how it happened on a mid-deployment getaway. It didn't seem to make her feel any better.

“Oh. Well, I never know whether it’s a good thing or not.”

I suppose I could understand that, and her attempt at remaining neutral, but the pamphlet she gave me said “CONGRATULATIONS from the entire staff!” across the top. Talk about mixed messages.

After leaving the doctor’s office, I pondered why she would think I’d be anything but happy. I’m clearly not a fresh young Navy bride who couldn’t afford a box of diapers much less a crib. Is it because of my age? I suppose I’ll have many months to consider people’s reactions to the news that I’m expecting. At least, I hope I have these months to ponder.

The last time I was pregnant, in 1997, I didn’t make it from the pregnancy test appointment to the prenatal appointment. I had a miscarriage in between. So, now that the doctor’s office has confirmed I’m pregnant, here is my first mile marker of many to come: to make it to the first prenatal appointment.

Waiting for Confirmation (4w0d)

I have a doctor’s appointment Thursday afternoon to confirm I’m pregnant. Because, you know, I’m just a dumb woman who took a couple of tests and I can’t be trusted to know I’m actually pregnant until the lab at the doctor’s office does the same test and says it’s true. Then I can begin dealing with the medical healthcare system. Fun!

I have moments, hours even, when I forget I’m pregnant. I guess that’s not unusual, given that I don’t have any symptoms yet. My period isn’t even technically late yet. But I’m definitely pregnant. The question is whether I will stay this way. I haven’t had the best luck in the past, but somehow things seem to be aligned this time around. Strange coincidences abound. I think that’s why I tested so early.

When we lived in Charleston, I was lucky enough to have a wonderful civilian doctor within the military health care system. Dr. Belil is Algerian with a beautiful, lilting French accent. “Mrs. Wright,” she would say, “you have allergies and should not have pets!” I didn’t listen to her, but I still liked her. She is the best doctor I’ve ever had—a true believer in the mind/body connection and a wonderful, warm and funny woman.

We left Charleston in January 2000 and I sent Dr. Belil a couple of Christmas cards over the years. That was the extent of our contact in over eight years until she called me on July 11. I remember the date because my wallet was stolen on July 10 and when I heard her message: “Kristina, you’ll never believe this!” I at first thought it was someone calling to say my wallet had been turned in. Then I recognized the voice as her message went on to say she’d found my address and looked up my phone number. She wanted to catch up.

We missed each other's phone calls a couple of times over the next few days and then she left for Europe, but the coincidence struck me, even then. Dr. Belil was the one who told me I was pregnant when I lived in Charleston. She was the one who helped me deal with the aftermath when I had a miscarriage that left me devastated. She was there, this calm and peaceful woman, to comfort me. The fact that she called me a week or so before I conceived just seems like a sign. If you believe in such things. Which I do.

I told someone Dr. Belil is my guardian angel. Perhaps she is. There are others, too, I think. I’m hopeful my guardians will get me and baby through this pregnancy safe and healthy. I’m trying to be at peace with all of this, not stress and worry, as is my nature. What will be will be, and all that. It’s hard. If this works out, my life will be forever changed. Scary. Exciting. Scary. Am I ready for it? Are we ready for it? I hope so. I think so. I guess we’ll find out.

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