A Teeny Tiny Announcement

Today is Grandparents’ Day, so Nathan and I invited his parents over for dinner. This is what they found in the entryway:


Subtle, eh?

If you haven’t figured it out yet (don’t worry, it took them awhile too!) – I’m pregnant!

I’ve been reluctant to post anything on here given my miscarriage in May and the two episodes of bleeding and subsequent trips to the hospital that have already occurred in this pregnancy – but as of today, I am 13 weeks, 2 days pregnant and due somewhere around the 15th of March.

So far we’ve had two ultrasounds – one at 10 weeks, 6 days (with the first episode of bleeding), where were able to see the tiny flicker of a heartbeat, and one at 12 weeks (with the second episode of bleeding) where we were able to see Baby flipping around, having a grand old time, waving his or her little hands at us. The second ultrasound was much more complete and measured Baby at 11 weeks, 6 days with a strong heartbeat of 157 bpm.

The problem was discovered in the second ultrasound: A low lying placenta. (Is it weird to blog about my placenta? HT does it, so I figured it would be okay!) It doesn’t mean much in the way of complications now, apart from occasional bleeding that I’m not supposed to worry about (but come on, bleeding? During pregnancy? What woman wouldn’t worry?) – but it’s going to be closely monitored and if it doesn’t move up on its own (which most of them do!) it means I’ll have to have a C-section. But that’s months and months away, so I’m not even going to think about it right now!

I have my first OB appointment on Tuesday of this week. I asked to be referred to a new doctor since my experience last time around was less than stellar. Nathan’s not happy because my new doctor is male but honestly, once you’ve been pregnant once and had everybody and their dog looking at your hoo-ha – well, modesty goes out the window. As long as he knows what he’s doing and has a good bedside manner, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine!

Topher hasn’t completely wrapped his mind around the idea of a baby – I told him I have a baby in my tummy and he asked if it was Baby James (a friend from his day home). I said no, so he asked if it was Baby Noah (another friend). Every now and then he tells me he has a tummyache and clutches his stomach, saying “I’m getting a baby in my tummy, Mommy!” I’ve tried to convince him that only girls have babies, and only when they’re married – but so far no luck. We originally wanted to wait until after the big ultrasound at 18-20 weeks to share our news but figured Topher would spill the beans before then!

Since we’re officially in the second trimester now, we’re supposed to be pretty much “out of the woods” as far as miscarriage goes – but I would still appreciate any and all prayers you care to offer on our behalf!

A Snapshot of Motherhood

I was woken up at 3:37 this morning by Topher sobbing in his room. “Mommy? Mommy!” He never wakes up at night anymore so I got up as quickly as I could and made my way to his room. When I opened his door he threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around my legs. Still sniffling, he said “Mommy? Mommy, I want to sleep in your bed!” We don’t let Topher sleep in our bed anymore – well, unless he’s super sick (and even then, he usually wants to be in his bed with all his babies) or unless he wakes up during a particularly loud thunderstorm. I tried to convince him to stay in his own bed for a few minutes but I was too tired to fight when he raced over to his bed, grabbed his blankie, lifted his arms up and demanded “Carry me to your bed, Mommy!”

As you wish, little man …

I try to be patient with Topher on the rare occasions that he’s in the big bed because I know the days when he is going to want to curl up between Nathan and me – and the days when he’s going to be able to fit! – are numbered. But sharing a bed with Topher is no easy feat.

For whatever reason – even if it’s just me and Topher in the bed, and he has an entire side to himself – he likes to snuggle. Last night I set him down in the middle of the bed and within two minutes he had wriggled and rolled his way over to my side. Nathan had his full half of the bed and somehow Topher managed to kick and squirm until I was basically hanging over the edge. Then I felt him trying to tuck his cold little feet under my thigh.

As if that isn’t bad enough, Topher also sucks the index and middle finger of his right hand when he’s trying to fall asleep. And when I say “suck”, I mean aggressively. And loudly.

He likes to be covered up by his Blankie when he’s trying to fall asleep. His right hand is at his mouth and his left hand is stroking Blankie. Well – it starts out as stroking. Then it becomes patting. Once he’s completely reassured that Blankie is, in fact, covering him – he moves on to stroking/patting anything within reach. So last night I essentially got a full pat down on the entire top half of my body by my half asleep two-year-old.

Just when Topher was almost asleep, he jerked awake with the realization that he didn’t have his beloved elephant in bed with him. I wasn’t about to get out of bed again so I loaned him my teddy bear. He cuddled with it for a minute or two before announcing “No, Mommy, I don’t like Gordo!” – and the next thing I know, poor Gordo is flying over the side of the bed.

And that was the end of any attempt to sleep on Topher’s part.

It didn’t help when Chloe randomly let out a huge belch from her kennel.

Nathan had been feigning sleep all this time but when Topher started talking and giggling (“Chloe burped, Mommy! Say excuse me, Chloe!”) Nathan finally sat up and said, “If you say ONE MORE WORD, you’re going back to your bed!”

Ten seconds later Topher pushes his little face to within a millimeter of mine and whispers “HI, MOMMY!”

Cheeky little monkey, isn’t he?

Needless to say, that was the end of Topher sleeping in the big bed.

Maybe we’ll try again another night …

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Fear and Compassion.

Sometimes I think living in the city has ruined me.

I grew up in a small town – the type where everybody knows everybody and if you pass someone you don’t necessarily know but do at least recognize walking along the road – you’re expected to pull over and offer them a ride.

When I moved to the city, I couldn’t walk past a homeless person downtown without stopping. I knew their names, I knew their stories, and I had absolutely no qualms about reaching into my backpack or scrounging through my wallet in search of spare change or bus tickets. The possibility of being mugged (or worse) never crossed my mind.

Then I moved to Edmonton.

The first week I lived here, my roommate gave me a crash course on survival:

Don’t make eye contact.
Don’t talk to strangers.

She gave me a list of “bad areas” to avoid – but also informed me that because of the gang activity in our city, I could be killed just because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I carried a hoof pick in my back pocket at all times.

I followed the rules to a T – but four months after moving to the city I had an opportunity to use that hoof pick – and a steel-toed boot – when I was followed home from the bus stop. He attempted to grab me from behind but I was able to channel my inner Sydney Bristow and get away.

And fear changed me.

Now I’m the girl who walks from the bus stop to my work each morning with my head down, avoiding eye contact, hoping that none of the three homeless men I pass every single day on the way to work will speak to me. I’m the girl who never carries cash because if someone asks if I have any spare change, I don’t want to be lying when I say no. It’s been two years, and I’ve never spoken to the man who lives in our dumpster.

Have I let fear strip me of my compassion?

* I found this sitting in my drafts folder – I wrote it more than two years ago, and still don’t have an answer …