Good News

I’m delighted to share nothing but good news about our little one.

We went to our ultrasound today, and learned that the baby’s heart is beating well (praise God!), s/he is still just the right size, and what was identified as a potential problem at our last exam has developed into absolutely nothing of concern.

I was worried at the start of the exam that our baby wasn’t moving much. Visions of Ethan—visions I’ve been reliving recently—seemed they might be a reality. But then there was a heartbeat, and wiggling feet that the ultrasound tech thought were just too cute. I thought they looked like bunny feet, which I hope is not true later on.

By the end—once our little one was prodded enough, I guess—there was definitely motion. Motion, in fact, that reminded me of another little one of ours, minus the climbing on the couch and pointing.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSArzIQQmKM
(You may need to turn the volume up on this one . . . except when I talk. Sorry.)

 

We saw the same doctor in the hospital that we saw last time around, as no one else was available. He made it clear that he received my letter and he was not pleased about it, but then, that wasn’t my goal. Motherhood has taught me to speak up when something isn’t right with me or my kids, and I am grateful for finding strength I really didn’t know I had.
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John and I launched immediately into celebration mode, sharing a cupcake on the return subway ride. There will be lots of prayers of thanksgiving, and I hope those of you who so graciously offered your time and hearts in prayer will join us in doing that. As my friend Alex remarked earlier today, “Rosaries work!!!”

 

To get us started, here’s a clip of Jacob joining in his new favorite bedtime song, “Immaculate Mary.” It hasn’t entirely replaced “Don’t Stop Believin’” but it’s certainly come close.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECdnSCzDzMg&feature=endscreen&NR=1
(You’ll definitely need to turn the volume up now.)

 

I am relieved, hopeful, and peaceful. I am ready to start enjoying this pregnancy. I have spent too much of the last eleven weeks in fear. I want to choose love over fear every moment, but sometimes that’s much easier said than done. The results today make choosing love and hope effortless.

 

They also mean it’s about time to start knitting an elephant.

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A Weekend-long Prayer Request

Friends, Romans, countrymen (and women), I come to you today with a request for prayers. I’ve told those of you I’ve spoken with over the last week or so that our next ultrasound is this Monday, June 18. At that point, I will be two days shy of twelve weeks pregnant.

 

While our first ultrasound in this pregnancy went relatively well—our baby had a heartbeat and was just the right size—the on-call doctor on the hospital’s fetal imaging floor gave us cause for concern. Our real doctor told us not to worry, that he believed what the other guy saw was not a problem. Either way, there was nothing we could have done.

 

This last week has been tough, just as the week before this little one’s debut ultrasound was tough. A friend asked me earlier this week if it felt like the longest week of my life. Surprisingly, in both cases, it didn’t. The days felt just long enough. Time passed at its regular pace. What’s different is me.

 

The best way I can think to describe how I feel is in-between. Nothing feels quite right. I’ve been knitting, trying to eat and sleep in healthy ways, indulging in some television, attempting to maintain something that looks like routine prayer, but nothing really fits. Writing is helping the most, and I am grateful for that, for the outlet of this blog, especially.

 
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It’s such a strange thing to think I’m pregnant, but I might not be. I think it’s just my body and mind working trying to protect me, but I’ve had a couple of nights this week where I didn’t think I was hungry for seconds at dinner, as I normally would be in pregnant mode. I realize I’m not hungry, and think I must not be pregnant anymore. Then an hour later, I have a headache and I’m so hungry I could cry (and sometimes I do), and I think I must still be pregnant. But the part of me that’s afraid of getting hurt just won’t believe it. I hope Monday’s exam proves that cowardly part of me wrong.

 

And so I ask for your prayers. First, that this child is alive, healthy, and has a positive future, if that’s God’s will. Second, that no matter what God’s will is, we accept it wholeheartedly and with peace. Third, in thanksgiving for John and in petition for his continued patience with my emotions and my appetite.

 

If you are Catholic, please say a rosary . . . or twelve. I have found this to be an incredible means of bringing oneself into communion with God. If you are not Catholic, pray however you do. If you don’t pray, either give it a try (it’s not hard and you can’t really do it wrong—just start talking from the heart) or send good thoughts our way.

 

We’ll have an update Monday evening or Tuesday morning. I really, truly hope it will be good news.

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Battle of the Uncles

One of the things I love most about John’s siblings is how competitive they can be. You haven’t seen competition until you see Pictionary in that house. There are words, there are tears, but in the end, there’s always dessert.

 

Now that everyone’s getting older, competition isn’t quite a fierce as it used to be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend it is. The two of John’s brothers who live in California were recently home for a few weeks. On the last day we’d all be in the same state, I made an effort to get new photos of them with Jacob, since we won’t see them again until December—eek!

 

Thus begins the Battle of the Uncles.

 

Michael’s off to a good start. Cute, but no faces.

 

 

Joseph gets points for goofy, but smiles aren’t quite priceless yet.

 

 

Michael puts his all into getting a good smile out of the little man . . .

 

 

 

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. . . and gets pretty good results.

 

 

But even with the setback of a sippy cup block

 

 

and a whole lot of blurry shots

 

 

 

I think Joseph ultimately wins this round.

 

 

Sorry, Michael. You’ve placed a very close second.

 

Until next time, boys.

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