Good News

The medicine I was put on that makes me shaky turned out not to work pretty much at all. That means that the Braxton-Hicks contractions have been just as uncontrollable as usual, but if it doesn't work, why should I be on it? The doctor decided to make a final decision about how crucial it was to stay on the medicine after another of those tests at last Thursday's appointment. We got the results today, and I'm still not at high risk of pre-term labor in the next few weeks. That's good news for the obvious reasons and because it means I can quit taking the shaky medicine.

Unfortunately, I haven't been off it long enough for the shakiness to have worn off yet. When I have, hopefully you can expect more frequent postings again. And more hopefully, I'll have pictures for you. Despite the shakiness, I've been continuing to accumulate pictures on the camera (although they might be kind of blurry...hehe), so once I get them on the computer there will be lots of picture posts.

Reluctant Blogging Break

I did start that anti-contraction medicine last night. I seem to be on a pretty high dose of it. Unfortunately, its main side effect, on me anyway, is that it makes me extremely shaky. I think eventually I'll get used to it, but until that happens, I may be blogging more sporadically for a while. It's tough to type when I'm like this. I'm sorry. I really want to show you all the great pictures still sitting on my camera, but I guess they'll have to wait a while longer. It's too bad; Patrick is super cute in some of them, especially the ones I got of him with Gigi while she was here.

Ultrasound

I won't get into the details of the ultrasound, but it was aggravating. We were clearly operating on a Friday afternoon schedule, and what should have taken about fifteen minutes took closer to three hours. Yes, really.

The good news is that it is unlikely I will end up qualifying for the home health care thing. It's annoying that I won't get the meds in the form the doctor wants, but it's good that nothing is wrong enough to require anything special. Of course, I should probably mention that this is in the uneducated opinion of the ultrasound tech (she was really hesitant to tell me anything about whether anything she saw was normal or not). I'll find out for sure sometime next week after the report has been sent back to the doctor.

There were a few scary moments when the tech called the radiologist in, who wanted to see something in Nathan's abdomen a bit closer. Neither said anything as he checked that, and I started to get worried that something was seriously wrong and they weren't saying anything. Finally I just asked, and he was willing to tell me that they couldn't get a shot of the right kidney. Most likely this is nothing and he was just positioned wrong to get a clear shot of it, but because we couldn't get a good shot at the first medical ultrasound way back when, we'll need to keep a close eye on it. I'm not worrying about it because the odds are good that nothing is wrong at all.

Anyway, I'll keep everyone updated when I hear what the doctor has to say officially and when I get put on medicine of some sort. In the meantime, I'm glad that ordeal of a hospital ultrasound is over.

Thirty Weeks

Yesterday I went to my thirty-week appointment. Other than the itchy, rashy belly, not much has been happening, so I wasn't expecting a long or exciting appointment. That's not exactly how things worked out, though.

The appointment was a little longer than usual, first of all, because the practice is helping train a new nurse-practioner right now. I ended up seeing her and then my doctor, so it took a bit longer than I thought it would. (By the way, I really like the new nurse-practioner; she's nice.) I was quite glad that Gigi was here (still is until tomorrow) to watch Patrick. Knowing he was taken care took a load off my shoulders.

As soon as the nurse lifted my shirt to listen for Nathan's heartbeat (consistent in the high 140/low 150s), she commented on my belly rash. It seems as though it's perfectly normal and quite common, as I'd started to figure out already. I told her and the NP that I couldn't find anything to help it, so the doctor prescribed a cream to help it. Until it starts working--or in between doses--I'll probably start trying all the other remedies you guys have suggested (thank you so much for the ideas!).

Then my doctor came in at the end of the appointment. She obviously had a mission in mind from the start. She's still concerned enough about the Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having and that they haven't eased up much yet that she wants to make sure she's doing everythng she can to treat them. She's starting by seeing me every week from now until Nathan's born. Usually until about thirty-six weeks, she'll see patients every two weeks. Personally, I feel a bit relieved that she's taking this precaution. I've always wondered if my appointment with my doctor when I was pregnant with Patrick had been that Thursday that contractions started instead of the next, if she could have caught his imminent birth and at least postponed it. That shouldn't be an issue this time around.

My doctor also wants to help calm the contractions by putting me on a medication that is supposed to prevent contractions. It's called terbutaline (I'm probably butchering the spelling; I haven't bothered to look it up yet) for those of you who may know anything about it. Unfortunately, that's not as simple as it sounds. The oral medicine apparently has an uncomfortable side effect of giving you a racing heartbeat because of the sudden introduction of it into your system when you take the pill. It's better given in a slow, regular dose all the time, like in an IV. Thank goodness my doctor doesn't think it's serious enough to give it to me that way. The third option, from what I understand, is similar to a patch that is placed under the skin. It's much less invasive than an IV but doesn't make your heart race like the pills do.

The only problem with this patch thing is that it's not something she can do in the office. I have to be on a home health care program and have them take care of it. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it seems that our insurance won't approve us for the program at all, no matter what the reasons are for it, unless I meet certain qualifications. To determine whether I meet those qualifications, I get to go in for an ultrasound today. Thank goodness Gigi is still here to watch Patrick during this today. If the results show that I qualify, I'll be getting that patch through the home health program. If I don't qualify, I'll be put on the oral medicine, regardless of the side effects.

I know it sounds a bit annoying to go through all of this, and it sounds like a big deal that I go on this medicine. But I know the doctor just wants to do everything in her power to prevent a repeat premature birth without doing anything to interfere with my normal life since I haven't actually gone into labor yet or anything. I appreciate that she's being proactive about it, so I'll do what I need to do to make sure nothing bad happens.

By the way, I'll try to update later today if I find out anything at the ultrasound this afternoon. Check back later if you want to hear about the next chapter of the story.

Itchy Belly

My huge belly has gotten super itchy lately. There's also a red rash covering it, especially when the itching is at its worst (and after I scratch--I know, I'm bad). Matt and I are pretty sure it's PUPPS, a common and harmless problem for pregnant women. What I want to know is this: Have any of you recent or current preggies dealt with this? If so, how did you treat it? I'll be getting advice from my doctor on Thursday, but I'm hoping to find something to at least help between now and then to keep me from going crazy with the itching. So far, I've tried hydrocortisone cream (doctor's advice), and different lotions rich in vitamin E. The lotions help a little, but if you know something better, please tell me!

My Kid's a Genius

Rookie Parent Mistake #415: They hear and understand just about everything you're saying, even when you don't think they're listening.

I learned this the other day when Patrick was randomly in a cuddly mood, sitting in my lap on the floor and talking to me. I heard him repeat a lot of his phrases (that he knows when to use specifically but enjoys repeating at random as well) to me and then suddenly break into a new one. It sounded suspiciously like, "Talk to you soon." And where would he have heard that? Hmmm...perhaps when I talk to my mom on the phone. Or to Matt on the phone. Apparently I spend too much time on the phone, and Patrick listens to every word I say.

It's also surprising to see what he not only hears but understands. He may not tell us much that we can interpret, but he certainly gets what we're saying. For example, the other day I was getting ready to go with Matt and Patrick to pick up some dinner. As per their usual routine, Patrick was helping Matt get his shoes on by handing him each shoe as he needed it. He's all too eager about helping because he thinks he'll get to GO sooner, and that seems to be the ultimate goal each day. But this time since I was going on the outing too, I also needed my shoes. I asked Patrick to bring me my shoes while holding out my feet towards him. He looked at me for a second, then toddled over to my shoes and picked them up. When he glanced at me with a question in his eyes, I encouraged him and he brought them to me. I can't believe he understood what I was asking--and did what I asked! Now I wonder how many more of my instructions he understands and ignores because they aren't things he wants to do.

But the real reason my kid is a genius happened at bathtime today. I swear this story is true, as unbelievable as the story sounds. He was playing with his stacking cups in the bath, trying to figure out what order they stacked in. He'd tried any number of combinations but couldn't get it to work. I decided to try helping him without getting in the way, so I gave him simple instructions verbally. "Try putting the green one in the yellow one." And he did it. "Now put the blue one in the red one." And he did. He followed each of my instructions perfectly. What's so crazy about this? I didn't think he knew his colors. Evidence suggests that my not-yet-two-year-old knows at least four of his basic colors. Next week he'll probably sing the alphabet for me, and the week after that he'll read me Moby Dick. Seriously, what else does he know that he can't--or won't--verbalize to me?

Learning by Example

At least, I hope he's learned this one by example. It's been quite some time since Patrick's said something new that we were able to decipher, but he said the clearest one yet tonight. After I thanked him for something, which happens often, he answered, "Yawacah." I looked over at Matt and asked, "Did he just say, 'You're welcome'?"

"That's what I heard," he answered.

So we spent the rest of his waking hours this evening finding excuses to thank him. More often than not, we got the same exact response. It's quite obvious that he's figured out the proper answer to a "Thank you."

I couldn't be more proud that my little man is already learning manners. Now if only he would learn to eat like the gentleman he sounds like.

Just When I Start to Forget

Patrick has been a more typical toddler lately, whining and throwing tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants, totally self-centered. But every so often he lets us see a glimpse of the sweet little boy hiding behind the toddler. Today I got several of those glimpses.

The first happened when we were playing together before his afternoon nap. He loved that I was on the floor with him--not an easy feat these days. He was rolling around being silly and accidentally hit me in the face while he did so. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but somehow he smashed my glasses into my face, hurting me. I took off my glasses and rubbed my face as I tried to recover. Patrick realized pretty quickly that he'd hurt me. I tried not to say anything to him to put blame on him because that tends to make him cry, and he really hadn't done anything wrong. Still, it was obvious he felt bad that I was hurt. He crouched down next to me, watching me carefully. Then he did the only thing he knew to do to comfort me. He told me, "It's okay!" in a loud singsong voice. And funny enough, after that it was. I had to smile at his response to my pain, and that made everything better for both of us.

Then tonight during dinner, I had trouble swallowing a bite of food and ended up coughing. Patrick didn't worry about me this time because I recovered quickly, but a minute later I caught him fake-coughing, badly, as he watched me to see my reaction. Of course I laughed. The rest of the night, any time either Matt or I coughed, Patrick would imitate us badly. He also started the coughing on his own if we weren't paying him attention at the moment. This is apparently the newest fun game. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery after all, isn't it?

Twenty-One Months

Dear Patrick,

Today you have the great fortune of turning twenty-one months on a momentous day--07/07/07. People everywhere are certain that today is an incredibly lucky day. Maybe we should buy a lottery ticket for you. Or not. It's just silly superstition anyway.

This last month has been one of great change--although not much for you. For the most part, you are simply continuing to advance in your talking and coming up with new antics to entertain us. The only major change you have made in the last month is hitting that twenty-pound mark at last. You are finally riding in your carseat like a big boy, and loving it. Your main task in the car is no longer to keep yourself entertained, but to entertain everyone in the car as well, now that you can see us.
Most of the changes that have happened this month are changes in Mommy and Daddy. We are deciphering more and more of your jabber. My favorite new phrase is "Ibawabock" or "Iwawabock," which we're fairly certain means "I'll be right back." We still have a lot of translating to do, though; you repeat a lot of the same words, sounds, and phrases over and over all day long, and I think it's starting to drive all three of us crazy that we can't understand all of them.

Daddy and I are also starting to figure out your tantrums. You have two main kinds of tantrums: I'm-not-getting-what-I-want tantrums and frustration tantrums. I actually don't mind the frustration tantrums as much because I see where you're coming from. I've been tempted to throw some of my own when things don't work the way I know they should. These tantrums are particularly impressive to me because they show real persistence. When something won't fit into your alligator the way you know it should, you keep trying repeatedly, not even giving up altogether after throwing your tantrum.

I'm also impressed while watching you play because for one you are meticulous in your play much of the time. You know what you want to do, and you keep trying to hone those fine motor skills so that you can do the detailed tasks you have in mind for yourself. And did you inherit that spacial reasoning skill from your daddy? I'm constantly amazed at the objects you try to cram into that alligator. I feel bad that you get frustrated about it sometimes because I'm sure no matter how hard you try they'll never fit. Then you (or Daddy) finds a different way to position it, and sure enough, it fits perfectly. That's not something you can learn; you must come by that talent naturally.

The other day you went with Mommy to the doctor--my doctor, not yours--and one of the nurses there showed genuine surprise when I mentioned you were a preemie. You'll never recognize how much you truly have grown in the last twenty-one months. Even if you're still tiny for your age, you've caught up completely developmentally. That size is the only hint of your early start in life, and anyone who has met your daddy and me totally understands where that size comes from. I think that encounter this week was a monumentous occasion, for me if not for you, because it showed me that the only way your prematurity comes into play anymore at all is in worry about Nathan. That's a big deal to me anyway.

One more fun story for this month, Patrick. Ever since one of the first visits to Nana and Grandpa's, your grandpa has been trying to get you to do something he remembers me doing at about your age. Apparently when the family was gathered together, like at mealtimes, I would put my arms in the air, waiting for everyone to imitate me. Then we'd all laugh together. You probably thought we were all crazy sitting around with our arms in the air in hopes that you'd mimic us. Finally in the last week or so you've understood this game. Now when you're eager for attention, you'll make a cute noise and put your arms in the air. As soon as Daddy and I get our arms up too, you'll drop them quickly as you make a different noise. Your grandpa would be so proud.

I can barely believe that in only three more months you'll be two years old. It can't possibly have been that long since you were born. And before that happens, you'll be a big brother. We have a busy few months ahead of us with some big changes. I hope we're all ready for them. I also hope the easygoing nature you've had for the last twenty-one months sticks around to make those first few months with Nathan a little easier. But even if you do decide to be a more typical toddler, we'll still love you just as you are.

Mommy

Twenty-Eight Weeks

...and some change. I just got home from the doctor's office for my 28-week check-up and thought it was the perfect time for a Nathan update.

I'm measuring 29 weeks, which is perfect considering everyone other than my doctor says I should be 29 weeks. Either way, I'm somewhere in the 2-3 weeks range to have caught up to how far along I was when Patrick was born. Anything after that is uncharted territory for me! I'm down to doctor's visits every two weeks now. That more than anything reminds me that I am truly getting down to the wire in this pregnancy.

The doctor also checked me today, which isn't typical. Since my sore throat infection thing last week, I've been having a lot more Braxton-Hicks contractions*, and given my history, Matt and I were getting a bit worried about how frequent they were. The doctor was just concerned enough to verify that they weren't an indication of early labor or anything. They weren't, and I'm okay for now. Still, we need to be careful and stay away from too much activity and try not to do anything that brings them on. I like her cautious but not paranoid approach to them.

I am also a bit anemic, which Matt and I suspected was the case ever since before our last appointment when she assured us that was unlikely. Fortunately, that's pretty easy to fix with iron supplements. It's only worth mentioning because it's amusing that Matt and I were right yet again, even before the doctor could verify it.

You'll all be glad to know that I am gaining weight finally. I'm still not quite up to the normal weight gain range for as far along as I am, but each appointment I'm just a little closer to that mark. Nathan's love of chocolate and sugary foods is certainly helping in that department (don't you love how I can blame that on him?). I might just break into the low end of the normal weight gain range by the time he's born, if he can make it full-term.

Nathan makes a point to remind me regularly that he's doing fine. His arms and legs are getting quite strong, and he's that perfect size to be able to stretch across my belly and punch and kick at the same time. Even when it hurts, I love feeling it. Matt has gotten to feel actual kicks several times, and he's always astonished at how hard they are. If only he knew how mild those were compared to the really strong ones. By the way, Nathan's heartbeat was at 152 yet again today. It's been consistently right around 150 since the very beginning. There's something quite comforting about that consistency.

Barring anything unusual happening, I'll probably update again about Nathan in two weeks after my next appointment.

*If you haven't heard of them, Braxton-Hicks are practice contractions that the uterus has from pretty early in the pregnancy. They're completely normal and generally not painful, just a feeling that your belly gets tight for a few seconds.

Bathtime

Patrick got a bath the other day, not an unusual occurrence. This kid loves his baths, and sometimes he gets them more because it's easy entertainment for him than anything else. Just for kicks, I'm going to tell the story of the most recent bath. It's pretty typical--at least up until the end.

Everything starts when I get up and head towards his bathroom. He gets excited from the start because he thinks at the very least, I'm going potty, which is also another exciting event for him. He loves going into the bathroom because normally we won't let him wander in and out of there alone.

As soon as we're through the door, Patrick toddles happily over to the tub to pick up his shampoo and/or soap to carry around. I grab a towel and washcloth from under the sink, which Patrick notes is different than usual. He watches me carefully as I lean down next to the tub. The second he hears the water turn on, he squeals with delight. Now he's figured out what's coming next.

Perhaps for privacy's sake or more likely because he loves doors, he closes the door during one of his wild trips back and forth across the bathroom while I start filling the tub. As soon as I can catch him, I strip him down. He loves being naked almost as much as he loves the bath itself. I lift him into the tub to get an early start playing as the water finishes filling the tub. He immediately dives (not literally) for his toys, choosing one or two favorites that he will hesitate to abandon for any other toys during the whole bath.

I try to sneak in the cleaning without him noticing. He tries to duck his head out of the way when he sees the water and shampoo coming for his hair, but he eventually submits. I've learned to wash his hair quickly so as not to interrupt his play time for long. He seems to enjoy the soap, though; I make a game of it, tickling him as I wash his belly and arms in particular. The giggles echo off the walls of the bathroom, and he laughs harder when he hears the unusual sound.

During this last bath, the standard yellow rubber duckie was one of his chosen toys. Several times he handed me the duck (we're learning sharing), and I oohed and aahed appropriately before he snatched it back up. Not being one to turn down a learning opportunity, I reminded him it was a duck and that ducks say "Quack, quack" as he grabbed the duckie. For the first time, he repeated, "Ca, ca" after me. The next time I reminded him it was a duck, he was telling me it says quack before I could get to that part. Then a few minutes later I made the duck quack, and Patrick looked at me and said, "Dah!" For those few minutes anyway, he got it.

Finally I start to worry about the pruny feet and consider ending the bath, even though Patrick is clearly still enjoying it. This time he happened to mutter, "Ah-dah" right as I was considering that, so I took advantage of the moment to agree that it was time to end the bath. He refused to let go of his bath toys as the water drained, and I still had to pry one from his hand after lifting his slippery body out of the tub.

He never fights as I wrap the huge towel around him and pick him up to take him into the other room for diapering, lotioning, and dressing. His favorite part of our post-bath activities is the lotion. Long ago we made a tickle game out of it, and I tell him what part of his body I'm lotioning. He loves it when I get to his belly, and he giggles and fights my lotiony hand. Eventually his whole body gets lotioned, but it does take longer with the play fighting. I don't mind.

This time, I planned to put him in a new outfit from Gigi. The weight suggestions on the tag told me he should be about to outgrow it already, and I wanted to make sure he wore it at least a couple of times (I needed pictures anyway) before that happened. The shirts and shorts didn't seem too tight when I was putting them on him, though, so I was already questioning their size suggestions.

Finally he was dressed, and he told me "Ah-dah!" and I repeated him, as usual. He got up, grabbed his lotion before I could return it to its official spot on his dresser, and toddled into the other room while I put up the wet towel and dirty clothes. By the time I got into the living room, this is what I found:
I think he might just get to wear this outfit a few more times before he outgrows it...

After laughing so hard I almost had to change my own pants--and capturing his embarrassment on camera as any good mother would do--I gave up and made him comfortable for the day. The pants and outer shirt disappeared, and he spent the lazy day in a diaper and T-shirt. It's summer; he can get away with that.

I think he was a little happier with that compromise:

Definitely silly boy!

Goofy Boy

So the first picture is more cute than goofy, but I love the smile.

And what about the muscle shirt? He looks like he belongs on the beach, doesn't he?

Um, no idea what he's doing here. He does this all the time, either being silly or curious or throwing a tantrum. I think this one was a silly one.

Peek-a-boo!
This is my favorite picture of him playing peek-a-boo with us. I still think this is one of his favorite games, and he plays it with anything and everything, but his favorite is the blankie.

Not goofy, I know, but you can't resist this picture. Patrick had done something that unintentionally hurt Daddy. When Daddy asked him not to do that, he broke down. His face slowly morphed into the "I think I'm going to cry" face, and Daddy had to pick him up to comfort him. You can see he's not quite happy again yet, but he loves the Daddy time. (Notice the shirt tightly clenched in his little fist.)

Overdue Pictures

I'm going to try to make an effort to catch up on the pictures and posts I've been meaning to write but haven't. Here's the first, the non-ultrasound pictures from our Dallas trip. You can thank my mom for all these pictures, since we forgot our camera.

The family--yes, we're one of those families with the matching shirts and all

Papa and Gigi and Patrick and Matt and me and Nathan--he's getting harder and harder to miss!

Patrick playing with Grandpa's hat--we'll forgive the Cowboys hat because he's cute enough to pull it off.