*Another ultrasound (anatomy scan) on Monday with the Perinatologist in Peoria who diagnosed Tyler and gave us the all-clear with Keira.
*^^This ultrasound also meant a 3 hour (one way) drive with a 20-month old. Which turned out to be a justified concern because she was a bear on the way there.
*We were out of a ton of our normal groceries but somehow missed our "budget meeting" for the week.
*Even if we had done the budget, there was no time to go shopping because of the drive on Monday...
*We had a painter here all day on Tuesday to fix a spot we didn't like from the backsplash in the kitchen and **paint new baby's (Kimber's) room***.
*Thursday (tomorrow) is Thanksgiving.
The ultrasound on Monday went very well. The Dr. couldn't believe we drove all the way up there to see him specifically, especially after being told that our baby is healthy. The whole trip was quite a pain in the ass. Jim had to work his facility in the morning, stop by the house and pick up Keira and I, then stop by the main office (which happened to be on the way to Peoria), then finish the 2 hour drive. Keira, naturally, didn't sleep a wink all the way there and threw a full on fit just as we got into Peoria. A tech did the u/s and got some really great pictures. Kimber crossed her feet at the ankles, just like Keira does, and she even had her index finger and thumb on her chin. The Dr. looked at the images and confirmed that we, indeed, are growing a healthy baby girl! To get a clear report from him was very comforting since we trust his opinion so much. And Keira slept most of the way home! All in all, it was a good day, but there was much anxiety leading up to it.
The grocery/budget issue was, obviously, not a huge deal. We are big on budgets and having our budget meetings. It gives us a clear plan for the following two weeks and we both like seeing it on paper. The stressful part for me, was not having the time to go. I'm used to being "busy" once or twice per week, but we literally were not home all day on Monday, we had the painter here Tuesday (and the power went out for a couple of hours and I couldn't figure out how to create white noise with something battery-operated for Keira to nap...) and today, I had to wait around for a package that we weren't sure if I'd have to sign for. Thank you, UPS, for showing up at 2 freaking 30 in the afternoon, by the way. Not knowing if I had to sign for the package meant that I also couldn't even take a shower. I should partially blame Jim for this since he wasn't willing to wait until Friday (or whenever their deliveries resumed) if I happened to miss it, but it's easier to blame UPS for their broad delivery time (like cable or satellite). Instead of saying "8am-5pm", why don't they just say, "Wait around at your house all day since we know you have nothing better to do." See this bitchiness? It's been there for a good week and she isn't planning a retreat anytime soon, despite my desperate begging. I realize that UPS (or FedEx, cable, etc) can't give every customer an exact time for every delivery. That's absolutely ridiculous and impossible...but I'm still REALLY annoyed by it. Then, when the dude comes at 2:30, he just left the box on my porch while I ran around the house, trying to keep the dogs from barking and waking Keira. Of COURSE I didn't have to sign for the damn package I waited ALL DAY for. And my sweet baby girl, for whatever reason, was really whiny this morning, which made me want to hunt down a UPS truck and dig through the boxes myself. She does so much better when she has distractions...like a grocery store. Ok, seriously, bitching about today=over!
Soooooooooooooo, I don't really know why either of us thought that painting the nursery, while I'm only 21 weeks pregnant, the week of Thanksgiving, was a good idea. I don't know if I really thought the boy-colored room was going to be used for a boy or if it's more of the "we shouldn't get the house ready for a baby because there's a good chance she won't come home". To be honest with myself, there's a better chance that she WILL come home. But I just can't quiet that nagging voice. Maybe it's just there to keep me humble. To remind me that bad things happen everyday. To remind me that, even though we have already endured every parent's worst nightmare, we do not get a "by" for the rest of our lives. Having a room specifically painted for Kimber, throws me out of the shallow pool of denial I had been wading in. I kind of liked the comfort of that pool, even if it was shallow. But it's long gone now, and I have a White Dogwood (light, dusty pink) colored room to prove it. I felt the same way with Keira, like I had no right to expect her to come home. It feels wrong to prepare for a baby when life is so uncertain. I see other people having their baby's nursery complete before they're even in their third trimester and I cringe. You just never know what can happen and the earlier in the pregnancy you are, the better the chances of those fears becoming reality. I'm sounding like a negative Nancy, huh? This is why I hate being pregnant. My brain is constantly fighting with itself. And Thanksgiving is making it so much worse.
This holiday is just as significant as Tyler's birthday because it's the blatant reminder of what that day is "supposed to be". People traveling to see family, the grocery store nearly out of Butterball turkeys, the "what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"'s, the anticipation of Black Friday shopping (not for me...I'd rather pay full price than get trampled by crazies)...these all take me back. While everyone I knew was sitting around a table, surrounded by their families, I was on magnesium, getting a catheter, deciding whether to attempt a vaginal delivery or c-section, having a spinal placed and getting ready emotionally to say hello and goodbye at the same time. Feelings of relief and sadness, all rolled into one. I don't talk about it much, but I'll never forget the feeling of calm about the whole situation. Maybe it was just from being naive since it was the first time I was in labor, but there was no panic from either of us. We both just rolled with the punches and did what we had to do, given the info we had. Other than the fact that my baby still died, it was actually a really great experience. My dr.'s and nurses were amazing, my NILMDTS photographer got there in time, Tyler was born alive and crying, we got to see him open his eyes for a moment, his family got to meet him, I snuggled him on my chest all night long, recovery time was quick... We really were blessed with a best-case-scenario for the circumstances, which leads me to my next point. I've been DREADING this day all year. Fellow BLM'S will agree that, although it's a beautiful time of remembrance, we also dread our babies birthday because it's a reminder of another year gone by. Another year farther from our babies. Spiritually, we are another year closer to our babies, though! But our last memories, our sweetest memories, are holding our precious little loves and the more time that passes, the farther we are from that special time. On a larger scale, it's kind of like Rose letting go of Jack at the end of Titanic. She watches as his body sinks into the ocean, further and further from her, and that's how those memories of Tyler fade. Each birthday that passes is grieving another stage that I never got to experience with him. Each new number puts a new face in my head, even though he will always be a baby in my memories. He would be 3 years old. What would he look like? What kind of personality would have blossomed by now? Would he be easy going like Keira, or defiant and stubborn like his daddy? No matter what would have been, he will always be my baby, my only son, my first born, my greatest triumph and my deepest tragedy.