Thursday, August 28, 2008

Sex, sharps, and blood.

Well, I just thought that title would get people's attention. :o)

Sex - I would just like to state for the record that I was sure this little silly was a girl. If asked, I would always say, "Well, I think it's a girl, but who knows." It is always awkward to say, "It's definitely a girl." There is that fear of being wrong, and feeling like a fool when it comes to your own child. Although, with Sophie, we just absolutely, unquestionably knew she was a girl. And, with Eleanor, I was desperately hoping she was a girl, but I really did think she was a boy. This time, it definitely felt more like Sophie - as in, I just felt she was a girl. And, she is. I couldn't be happier. (Bill is happy too, because he loves the idea of having a bunch of little girls. And, he thinks as long we have girls I'll be willing to keep trying for a boy. We'll have to hash that one out. Haha.)

Sharps - Isn't it amazing that, after literally hundreds of times injecting myself, I still haven't got the hang of when and where it's going to be painful.

Blood - Dr. EK basically told us our titre of antibodies is so low that we should simply not worry at all about them. And, I've decided to do just that. I asked about best (nothing happens) and worst (in-utero blood transfusion) case scenarios. He gave me both, but told me that we are so far into the realm of best case scenarios that it would be ridiculous to even consider worst case scenarios. Likely, here is the what happened. Bill is c-positive. I am c-negative. When we had Sophie (who must have been c-positive), I was exposed to c-positive blood. So, now I am predisposed to reactions to c-antigens. But, of course, this didn't show up with Eleanor, which must mean she is also c-negative. This baby must be c-positive, and the normal and tiny mixing of fetal and maternal blood has activated a very low level of my c-antibodies. So, that's that. That explains why Eleanor didn't have this problem, why this baby does. And, it also did nothing to explain Sophie's passing. (Still they say it was total fluke fetal-maternal hemorrhage.) But, it DID let me learn one more thing about my first little girl! New knowledge about Sophie doesn't happen often. But, to learn that she is c-positive is just a silly, neat little thing to know. Something fun in common with her daddy. And, with this baby. Anyway, so that is good.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

OH BOY!

It's another GIRL! Haha. Yay!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Optimism!

I talked to Dr. EK (one of the high risk fetal maternal doctors) and he told me, in all honesty, not to worry about the antibodies. The titre is so low that, despite what is in greater doses my body fighting the baby, nothing at all is going actually going on. So, I need to have the titre checked every month or so until the end of the pregnancy to make sure it stays this way. For today, optimism reigns.

And, tomorrow, we get to see Miss or Mr. Silly Pants. :o) Excellent.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Simply Incompatible.

So, it looks like an incompatibility in our genotypes is to blame for the spike in my antibodies. It could be bad, or not. Let's just say for now that it's been a hard day and we have quite a few questions for the high risk OB Wednesday.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Eleanor can't be the first one year old...

...to LOVE walking around with (clean) underpants on her head and around her neck. She currently is walking around with two (clean) pairs of my underpants on - one on her head and the other around her neck. She is also trying to put on sunglasses and is turning the TV on and off while excitedly screaming "Dog!" at the pandas on the WWF commercial.

She is dopey.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Little, Microscopic, and Giant.

Our newest little silly has started kicking and really gyrating around. Of course, now the stakes feel much higher, as I've started really feeling some love for the little guy or girl. (Naturally, I did before, but now it's started feeling really real.) I've been nervous since the movement started about how much I'm feeling, but I'm trying to keep cool for everyone's sake.

According to the receptionist at my doctor's office who looked at my labslip, Bill's blood "is ok." Clearly not going to cut it in the information department. But, I am going through the weekend feeling good and hoping to talk to our high risk doctor on Wednesday (when we're there for our "big" appointment!).

As for the giant information, Eleanor took her first terrifying tumble today. She's started really running, and it's like the faster she moves, the worse her judgment becomes. We were getting Chinese food this evening at our all time favorite place. The owners, our buddies, always ask about Eleanor, so we decided to bring her in. We took her out of the car and Bill set her down to walk on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. After two running steps (just to gain speed and force), Eleanor took a total face smash onto the concrete. Total skull on hard ground. We called everyone we could think of with kids, nursing degrees, or MDs. She seemed fine (after crying it out), but we almost had her in the emergency room. After talking to the pediatrician, and answering her myriad questions, we were convinced that taking her home and keeping an eye on her was the best option. She seems fine now, although we've kept her up WAY past her bedtime and she is starting to fall apart. Bed time. I'll try to wake her up in a few hours, as per the pediatrician's instruction.

So, things are good for now here with the Busy Baylys, minus the Redskins being simply destroyed (34-0 at halftime) by the Panthers. Great start, gentlemen.

Monday, August 18, 2008

little c

This title is kind of funny for one reason and a potential suckfest for another.

One, Little C was my nickname at Burt's Bees (kindly dragged out through my pregnancy with Sophie when I was no longer a very "little" C). :o) That brings me very fond memories of people I really care about (hello!).

Now, though, little-c has taken on a second meaning. My bloodwork has come back with an antibody called the little-c antibody. This means that my system is fighting something. The immediate danger is that that "something" is our baby. Bill is being tested ASAP for the little-c antigen, which could give us some possibly difficult insight into what might be going on. The consequences can be many with something like this, but we are going to go forward with hope that our genes combined are not causing problems for our newest little silly pants. (And, then also (very much in second place) that the next step doesn't mean my elevated antibodies are evidence of my own system in distress.)

But, my understanding of this stuff is so very limited. I am asking all sorts of questions right now about what impact something like this might have had on my previous pregnancies and whether it might have had something to do with Sophie's totally unexpected passing. And, that would only matter in that it would likely terrify me into believing the worst will happen again (so better that I don't know).

If you know anything about this particular thing - please please write me a comment. If not, a quick prayer would be great! We go in next week for another chance to look at this silly baby via sonogram (and see the sex!!!).

Hope all is well!!!

aoihfjstesguasgdjk (Love, Eleanor)

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Updates on three.

Sophie's birthday is coming up. I am planning a little special something (details are likely to come). The autumn pre-season was starting out with some hard feelings and sadness. It is definitely difficult to be pregnant at this time, and to have Eleanor this wonderful, verbal, emotional, clever, and alert. This was a week with many tears, much writing, and at least one very meaningful and reassuring (and sweaty) conversation. But, after all that, I am feeling much more positive going forward, at least for the next couple of days. It is a constant and fine balance between mourning her death and celebrating her life. I have lots of thoughts here, but they need to incubate more before I throw them down in type.

Eleanor is a crazy person. She is the wildest little lady ever. She is walking, sometimes running - but that results often in falling. So, right now, she has a terrific shiner on her cheek. She is laughing, talking all the time, vehemently saying "No!" when she means it, giving kisses, and just being a loon. She continues not to be a snuggle muffin, to be super tiny, and to have an extraordinary energy.

New Bayby Bayly is pretty much chilling non stop, we assume. No kicks yet, but I am just over 16 weeks. (I felt Sophie at 16 weeks and Eleanor at almost 20 - so any time now.) This pregnancy has been different in that the third pregnancy is three times more exhausting. Also, it has been different because I have only gained a two or three pounds. But, of course, my stomach is pretty huge. We find out in exactly three weeks the sex of the baby. I am so excited. About 60% say it's another girl. And, 40% say boy. Both sides are emphatic. And, I get that girl feeling again, but I got a boy feeling with Eleanor. (This feels more like Sophie, like
"oh, definitely girl.") But, that makes me think I must be wrong and that it must be a boy, which would be wonderful! So, I am SO excited to find out, but will be surprised either way!!!

That is the update for now. I am off right now to force Eleanor to hug me.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Christmas 2005.

Recently, I've been back into daydreaming of Sophie Salome as her birthday gradually approaches and the mornings get cold, and remembering the lovely and painful parts of the past three years.

Today I thought of how, when I registered for my shower, I asked for (and received) a fleece and stitched-suede baby-wearing cover and hat. I had a distinct image that day of myself wearing her in it while we picked out a Christmas tree. We would go somewhere and chop our own tree. Bill would actually do the sawing, while I stood back and watched, Sophie barely peeking out of my long, green and white hounds tooth winter coat. In hindsight, I was naive - she would have been so much smaller than I'd imagined at not only two months old. She might have been crying. I might have been nursing in the car while Bill picked out and haltingly lugged down some lopsided fir. We might have gone to a garden center and chosen a pre-cut tree, because trekking a new baby out in snowy December might have seemed foolish. But, in my mind, I was humming carols. And, our cheeks were rosy. She was there, raven hair peeking out from suede hat, and the moment was real and perfect that way.

Then, I think back to the reality of that Christmas. And, I wonder, how did we go through with it? How did we go to a farm and find a tree for our tiny, broken family? Alone, the two of us, silent and absorbed in tears and thoughts, we went through the motions. The still-installed car seat was empty there in the dark back seat. What was there to talk about? We drove there in silence. Out in the world, but entirely inside ourselves. In the evening. We chose a tree. We tied it to the roof. We drive home in silence. We moved the tree into the house. I put away the bouncy seat, after brushing off the dust that had gathered in its creases and folds. And, in its place, stood our pitiful little tree. We decorated it in the dim, candelit living room, taking great pains to place the tiny twinkling ornaments just so.

That tree that stayed until the last needle dropped to the floor is a symbol of something. Maybe the human spirit. Or some necessary resilience. Or just going forward. But, it breaks my heart when I imagine it, standing lit-up there - promising warm meals, and the rustling of bows and paper, and the padding of excited feet. It was the twinkle of lights from windows, hummed songs, and small red velvet dresses. Today I am grateful to that pathetic, blinking, little tree, because I will never forget that room, or its smell, or running my hands over that leather stitched carrier with matching hat. Or what it is to cry these agonizing, real, I'm-alive-and-missing-you tears. I just know, as life winds and cranks forward, there are times like these and that, no matter how the other moments sting and ache dully, as long as this one heart is beating, Sophie will never go away.