Glad I Was Awake at Two A.M.

Last night--or technically, really early this morning--I was having difficulty falling asleep. It was close to two a.m. when I started hearing whimpers from Patrick's room. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night just enough to fuss for a minute, but he usually falls back asleep quickly, so I waited in bed for that to happen.

Instead of quieting down, though, the cries continued to escalate. They went from half-asleep whimpers to full-scale screaming. Thankful I was already awake anyway, I got up to check on him.

Patrick didn't stop crying when he saw me enter his room. He also kept screaming when I picked him up. Five minutes of holding and soothing and he finally started to calm down. He was too awake to go right back to bed, though, so I decided to change his diaper. It felt damp through his clothes anyway, and I (wrongly) assumed a dry diaper would help him feel more comfortable.

As soon as he hit the changing table, the screaming resumed. I'm glad I decided to change his diaper, though; not only was it wet and dirty, but he also kept reaching for his mouth, as though it hurt him. I'm expecting those bottom two canines to break through before long, so it's entirely possible he woke up from teething pain.

I attempted to give him Tylenol when the diaper change ended. For the first time I can recall, Patrick wanted nothing to do with it. Maybe he didn't recognize the Tylenol bottle in the dark or maybe it had been long enough since he'd had any that he'd forgotten what it was, but he fought me. Eventually, I snuck it in the corner of his mouth, and he was perfectly content at that point. He figured out what I was doing then.

Still too awake to go back to bed easily, I tried holding him and rocking him again, but he just reached for the door like he wanted a change of scenery. I gave in and took him into our living room. I didn't turn on any lights, using the night light from Patrick's room to light the way. Patrick was very curious about where we were. It looked different from any room he knew because he had never seen it so dark before. Looking around at everything kept him quite distracted, and I was able to sit on the couch with him on my lap.

After a few minutes like that, I started noticing the silhouette of his head dropping forward. I adjusted his position on my lap, and he settled face-down across my chest with his head on my shoulder. I think he dozed off for a few minutes in that position and then jerked awake, pushing himself back up. A few minutes after that, he started nodding off again. I readjusted him yet again, and he settled back down on me. When he woke up again, I decided he was probably drowsy enough to sleep in his bed again.

I very slowly walked him back to his room, let him readjust to his new surroundings, and placed him carefully in his bed. He smiled at me when I handed him his fuzzy blanket and was nearly asleep as I closed the door behind me. I have never had him go to bed that easily before.

When I went back to bed, I had an even harder time falling asleep than before. I kept remembering that sweet moment with my baby cuddled up against me, having him perfectly comfortable because Mommy was his pillow. These moments have started happening less and less frequently, and I couldn't help thinking even as it was happening that it could very well be the last time for a middle-of-the-night cuddle like that. Somehow that thought only made me cherish it even more.

Hollow Legs

When I was a young adolescent, I had an insatiable appetite. I ate like a grown man, and I was just a petite little girl. My parents would joke that they were feeding me to fill my hollow leg. I appreciate their sense of humor about it, because I'm starting to understand just how frustrating it could be. Patrick seems to have inherited the gene for hollow legs.

Recently we realized Patrick seemed ready to graduate to more normal meals instead of just baby food. We appropriately picked up some Gerber's Graduates to try. Although he's not quite capable of feeding them to himself yet, he is certainly ready to eat food that's not pureed. The problem is that these toddler-sized TV dinners aren't sized for kids with hollow legs. Patrick can devour one and still act like he hasn't eaten in days. Today for lunch, Patrick easily finished off one of the meals followed by a regular jar of baby food and then kept begging. I gave him the rest of my PBJ sandwich that I couldn't finish--about half--and then let him munch on some fruit puffs until he gave up. Even after that, I wonder if he just got bored of eating before he got totally full. And this is the routine for every meal. I don't know what we're going to do when he hits his teenage years; he's going to have to get a job just to help us afford to feed him.

Along the same lines, we discovered a couple of days ago that he has two more teeth, the cuspid (?)/canine teeth on the top. In retrospect, I wonder now if some of the change in sleep patterns he has had recently are due in part to teething. He showed no other signs, though, so I guess they weren't as painful as I would expect.

His naps have begun to get better since I found the teeth, but he still acts like he's needing less sleep than ever. He made it all day the other day with just one nap. He'd slept particularly late that morning and was ready for bed a bit early, but that's still a huge milestone for him. It won't be long until his regular schedule will include only one nap. I'm proud he's growing up, but I don't think I'm quite as fond of this milestone as some others.

Woo-hoo!

I'm feeling pretty good this afternoon. It dawned on me a few minutes ago that my good spells seem to be coming more frequently and lasting longer. And good spells no longer mean merely not hovering over the toilet but that I am truly not nauseous at all. Even when the bad spells feel overwhelming, I'm starting to have hope that this really will pass. I'm not about to give up my Zofran anytime soon, though!

Patrick astounds me every day by how much he's growing. It feels like he's growing up in leaps and bounds all of a sudden, instead of the baby steps I've come to anticipate. The other day he crawled over to the laundry basket sitting on the floor and voluntarily walked behind it while pushing it. We had been unable to convince him to do that very same thing on his toys specifically for that purpose, so it was amazing to see him do so on his own.

He is also looking for ways to play with his toys other than their intended purposes. For example, he'll put rings on his ring stacker deliberately out of order (he can easily put them on in order now) so that he can try to stack other toys on the top or balance balls in the indentation left by a ring that didn't settle all the way down. His play looks less and less random and more like he knows exactly what he wants to do.

A few of his toys are still somewhat complex for him, but it shocks me just how much persistence he shows in trying to figure them out. It takes him a long time to get frustated when what he tries doesn't work; I'm actually jealous of his patience. We're going to have to graduate to more complicated toys before long. I'm glad the ones we have don't bore him, though.

I love watching Patrick cruise at top speed around his pen, the easiest place for him to pull up and cruise. He is getting so incredibly flexible, balanced, and mobile. He loves hanging on and bouncing up and down. I think he thinks he's dancing. He does it more when music is playing and especially when he gets excited.

Unfortunately, he's growing up in some other ways too. He is almost certainly moving to a one-nap-a-day schedule. I'm sad about that. While I'm still sick from the pregnancy, I'll probably keep encouraging him to take two naps (I need the rest desperately), but as soon as I start feeling better, I think we'll be tweaking his schedule yet again. He will usually still rest during both naptimes and usually falls asleep after a little while. He just doesn't sleep quite as long each time as he used to. He's also been waking up earlier in the mornings. I'm not so fond of him turning into a morning baby again (although he probably needs to eventually), so maybe re-working his schedule so that he plays more during the day will encourage him to sleep later in the morning.

The other way I've seen him mature in the last week or so is his sudden insistence on showing symptoms of the terrible twos. He has started demanding things and making sure we know he's upset if he doesn't get what he wants right away. He can actually produce real tears in a short-lived temper tantrum. We don't usually see tears when he has a real reason to cry, so this is amazing. Obviously, these tantrums are frustrating, but Matt and I are learning to keep our calm about them. We just pay him no extra attention and do our best to not give him exactly what he wants right away. If it's something he would have gotten anyway, like lunch, he still gets it, but we don't jump to accommodate his wishes. He won't starve if we make him wait another minute or two to eat. Our theory is that if we cater to his tantrums, giving him what he demands, it will only encourage the tantrums. We want to teach him early that there are better ways to ask for things. Experienced moms, what have you found to work to suppress tantrums early on?

I hope everyone else is enjoying the beautiful springlike weather we are here. If so, take advantage of the early spring while you still can. If not, maybe thoughts of us basking in the 80-degree weather will help you feel a bit warmer in your typical February weather.

Having a Good Day

What? Two new posts in one week? I'm on a roll!

I'm having a good day. I feel pretty good for once, and I hope this holds for the three-day weekend. With any luck, I should only have three to four weeks of this left. I can't wait for the second trimester!

By the way, keep those guesses coming. It's very interesting to see what you think this next one is going to be. For the record, I kind of hope it's a girl, just for the change, but I still have the gut feeling that it's a boy. I did have a dream that it was a girl the other night, but as Lauren said, dreams aren't necessarily accurate.

Patrick is continuing to show how flexible he is, especially on the days when I don't feel as good and have to find different ways to take care of him than normal. He seems to welcome the change instead of fighting it. I'm proud that he continues to be a champion sleeper, something I always assumed was a side effect of the medicine that he is no longer on. He will still sleep about 13 hours every night and take two naps a day. The naps are slowly but surely starting to shorten, and I suspect he'll be down to one nap in the next few months. Until then, though, I'm taking advantage of the breaks I get during the day. I usually nap during at least one of his and rest during the other. I'm very glad to be able to stay at home and get all the rest I need during the day. Working moms, I don't know how you do it!

My favorite time of day, though, is shortly after Matt gets home from work. Most days that signals when I start to feel better. Matt also takes advantage of the time he gets to spend with Patrick and me, and the three of us will sit and watch TV together for a few minutes. Patrick usually sits comfortably on Matt's lap during this time, content to just be near his daddy. He'll lean back into his chest and play distractedly with the hair on Matt's arm or his fingers while he cuddles with Daddy. Emotional as I am these days, that sight always brings a lump to my throat.

Finally an Update

I hate how touch-and-go I'm getting with blogging these days. It seems like just when I think I can stand to be on the computer long enough to blog, either Patrick wakes up or the nausea hits again or the laptop's battery dies.

There hasn't been much happening around here. I'm still trying to learn to cope with the morning sickness and taking care of a near-toddler at the same time. It's tough, especially when Patrick's mischievous side comes out. For example, a few minutes ago Patrick was playing in his pen while I lay curled up on the couch, when I suddenly saw him grab at the curtains behind his pen. He knows he's not supposed to touch them; we're worried if he tugs hard enough that he might just pull them down, almost certainly hurting himself. The more I told him no, the more adamant his babbling got. He was talking back to me and testing my limits. He kept grabbing at the curtain, too. I finally got up to give him a light spanking, and instead of getting upset about it, he laughed and crawled towards me. He went right back to pulling on the curtain when I turned around to lie down again (getting up usually brings on the nausea). I warned him one more time, and when he defied me again, I put him in his crib in a short time-out as punishment. I know he's probably too young for time-outs to be effective, and using his crib as punishment isn't a good idea (although for such a good sleeper it doesn't seem to be too bad). Still, I had run out of options. I was too sick to take him out of the pen and chase him around, which would have been a reward to him anyway, and what I was trying obviously wasn't working. The good news is that the punishment seemed to work. He hasn't touched the curtains once since getting out of his time-out.

I love that he's suddenly "talking" all the time. He'll babble in full sentences of baby talk to us, his toys, and anything else around. We hold whole conversations where I have no idea what I've just agreed to. I have a feeling more decipherable words will be following soon. He is definitely practicing his communication skills, and the next step will be to find words that we can understand.

Patrick's balance skills are also improving. Several times lately he has stood completely on his own for a few seconds at a time. I think he could balance longer, but he gets distracted by something nearby and wants to crawl to it right away. He usually stops standing by choice, not by necessity. As balanced as he's getting, though, I don't think he'll be walking anytime too soon. He shows absolutely no interest in it yet. Crawling gets him where he wants to go, so why should he hurry into walking? That's fine with me. He's enough of a handful as it is. He can take his time learning to walk if he wants--as long as he's accomplished at it before this next baby comes. I don't know that I can carry him and a newborn at the same time very easily.

On the baby front, I'm starting to look more like I'm pregnant, even at only eight weeks. I'm losing a little bit of weight (not enough to be worried about), and still my belly manages to pooch out some. If I don't dress carefully, it's pretty obvious already. My one pair of jeans that still fits already doesn't button most days. I have a feeling that maternity wardrobe in the back of my closet will come in handy sooner rather than later.

I vaguely remember someone asking ages ago when we went to the doctor whether there was any plan to try to avoid another premature birth. I forgot to ever answer that. Yes, as soon as we reminded her that Patrick was born at 31 weeks, she asked if we had heard of this particular shot. When I hit 24 weeks, I will go in weekly for a shot that has good results in preventing a repeat premature birth. Matt and I were both relieved to hear that she wasn't worried about repeat problems and already had a plan in mind.

I had my first baby dream the other night. I dreamed that the baby was born incredibly easily and full-term. It turned out to be a girl, too. I hope this dream is a predictor of what will come, not just what I hope will happen. I know it will still be a while until we know anything about the gender, but I'm curious about everyone's early predictions. Matt thinks it's a girl, but I think it's a boy. What about all of you?

Prayer Request

I want to apologize for not blogging for so long. I start every day with the best of intentions, and then I just can't make myself do it. The computer aversion is starting to kick in, but fortunately not as seriously as last time. I'll try to keep blogging every couple of days if I can't every day until the worst of this is past.

On that note, that's what I need prayers for. Even on the medicine, I'm struggling with the morning sickness. I'll spare everybody the gory details, but mornings are killer. Sometimes I'm afraid the only way I'll make it through this is on the wings of all the prayers that are being sent up for me. So anybody out there who can send up a prayer for me, I would appreciate it.

I have lots more I'd like to blog, including Patrick's sixteen-month letter, but those will have to wait. Start those prayers, and maybe I'll feel up to blogging something with substance later.

By the way, thanks in advance for thinking of me.

Probably the Last Angie Post

I wanted to say something yesterday, but it was too full of good and happy news to ruin with something sad. Last night we handed Angie over to a new family.

We had been discussing the idea for some time, probably since we found out I was pregnant. But we were reluctant to make the decision to give her away. As frustating as she could be at times, she was also really sweet. And watching her interact with Patrick was enough to delay anything that would make either of them sad.

Then in the last few days as the morning sickness just got worse and worse, we knew something had to be done. I was fighting to do the bare minimum in Patrick's care. I couldn't think about getting up often to take a not-yet-potty-trained dog outside. Nor was I capable of picking up her messes when she didn't make it outside in time. She was spending most of the mornings in her pen simply because I couldn't be an adequate puppy mommy. When the worst of the morning sickness hit yesterday, I knew the time had come to make the inevitable difficult decision.

Things moved quickly after that. Matt had already mentioned our predicament around work and found somebody who was looking for a puppy to befriend their dog. They are also expecting a baby soon and needed somebody to give the dog the attention that they will transfer to the new baby (from what I understand). Angie was exactly what we were looking for. By lunchtime yesterday, plans were already in the works for them to come pick her up last night.

After meeting them, I feel better about the decision. They are nice people and Angie took to them right away. Matt told me today that he was told she got along with the other dog quite well, even sleeping curled up next to her, and was a perfect angel for them.

I'll be honest that I'm a little guilty about giving our puppy away. She was a part of our family, and it breaks my heart to think we could just pass her off because we didn't want to take care of her anymore, even though that's a huge oversimplification of the truth. I feel awful for Patrick, who expected Angie to come bounding in his room every time I got him out of his crib today. He was calling for her as he played and ate. I know he'll forget we ever had her in a few days, but until then he's going to miss her.

Honestly, I miss her too. All of a sudden I can remember how cute and sweet she could be, especially when she was sleepy. I have to make myself remember the puppy poop piles all over the house and dragging her behind me as I walked because she was latched on to my pants and the whining in the mornings and trying to steal Patrick's food out of his hands. I'll probably miss her for a long time, but I know we made the right decision. She is in good hands, with better and more consistent care and attention and a puppy friend. She'll have a new little one to play with in a few months, and by then she will have forgotten all about us. As difficult as this decision was, it was definitely the best one for Angie. The rest of us will cope and move on. I just hope another dog is in our future eventually.

Patrick calling Angie

It's Really Real

There's a real baby in there. It has a heartbeat and everything. As far as we can tell at this point, it's perfectly fine. It's so real that it's unreal.

I was playing that I was fine about the whole appointment, but I was hiding a major case of nerves. I was so afraid that something was wrong, that they wouldn't be able to find a heartbeat or a baby at all, or worse yet, two. When the sonogram began, the doctor got a funny look on her face as she stared at the screen. I nearly panicked at that moment. I just prayed repeatedly, "Please let everything be fine. Let everything be okay." And then suddenly I saw a little flicker on the screen, and seconds later a reassuring thumping filled the room, capturing even Patrick's attention. At that moment, I began thinking of a real little baby in my arms in only a matter of months.

Now, if only I can make it through the morning sickness so I can truly anticipate this baby's arrival. The doctor found out what a rough time I had with it with Patrick, so when I mentioned how bad it's been getting, she didn't hesitate to write me a prescription for the same anti-nausea medication I was on last time. I'd been hoping and praying that I would be able to avoid the medicine this time, but after the last few days I resigned myself to the idea that I needed help to make it through the next month or two. That prescription is the most valuable thing I walked away with today, after that beautiful first picture of our second baby.

The one surprise from today is that I'm not as far along as I should be. The baby measured at about six and a half weeks today instead of nearly eight. I suppose that could be a concern, but because of my irregular cycles over the past year, it's entirely possible and even likely that normal calculations based on my last period aren't the best predictors for my due date. That makes me now officially due on September 24.

In other even more joyous news, I found out last night that my older brother and sister-in-law are also expecting a baby, theirs in early October. For those of you keeping track, that makes another grandbaby in the family due in August (my younger brother), ours in September, and now this one in October. When it rains, it pours! And this is the best kind of rain there is!