You're a boy! And a hyperactive one at that. Your dad and I had been looking forward to January 23rd for this entire pregnancy. We're just not the type of people who could bear waiting to find out what you were. So we've been counting down the days for the last 18 weeks.
January 23rd (Wednesday) was the coldest day in Boston in over two years. My intent was to go to work that morning and then meet your dad at the doctor's office at 10:30. That morning while on the train, we were informed that there was a fire in the next subway station, and that our train could not back up into the previous subway station. As a result, all of us passengers were ordered to evacuate the train and walk a half mile through the deep, dark dungeon of a tunnel to safety. The tunnel was dripping wet and muddy, and it was hard to squeeze past the train and the wall. The only thing that really kept my mood up was knowing I would get to see your little face in a few short hours.
When I got back up above ground, there were no buses available to shuttle me to work. So I was forced to walk about 25 minutes to work in high heeled boots on--did I already mention this?--the coldest day in Boston in two years. Yet I was still able to remain fairly upbeat because I knew I got to see you soon.
When I finally arrived to work, frozen and sore, I saw that there was a voicemail on my phone. I was heartbroken to learn that our ultrasound tech came down with the flu (Boston is under a "health emergency" right now, due to this being the worst flu season ever) and our appointment would have to be rescheduled. However sad I was, your dad was that much sadder.
Fortunately we were able to get an appointment for the following day. Almost immediately we were told that you were a little boy, and your dad and I both became so excited. We really both believed you were a boy, and had inadvertently attached to that for the last several months.
I must say however, that you were ill behaved during the ultrasound. You would not hold still. No seriously, you would not hold still. The ultrasound tech was becoming frustrated with you, because she couldn't get the measurements for your brain and kidneys, etc. She asked if I had had a cup of coffee that morning and I said I hadn't, but it occurred to me that I had downed a cup of hot chocolate and that you were probably bouncing off my uterine walls from a sugar high.
At one point you were sucking your thumb, and I asked her if that meant you were settling down a bit. She said that for most babies it does mean that, but that you were apparently quite gifted at both sucking your thumb and flopping all about. Mama's little multi-tasker...
For the most part everything about you checked out just fine, minus one small glitch. The doctor came in to talk to us about a little calcium deposit located in your heart, called an Ethogenic Focus. He assured us that it would go away and that your heart was very healthy and strong. But he did say that this little calcium deposit was one of several indicators for Downs Syndrome.
He said that the vast majority of babies who have this calcium deposit do not have Downs, but that 30% of babies who have Downs have this calcium deposit. He showed us my blood work that I took several weeks ago and said that before today, we had a 1 in 10,000 chance of having a Downs baby. But after today our odds increased to 1 in 5,000. He assured us that every other factor they look for was not present in you, such as bone length, neck thickness, the bridge of your nose, etc. We were kind of surprised to be getting this talk because of all the things we were bracing ourselves for, this was not one of them. At first I was shocked and worried, but overtime I've gotten over it.
So on Monday I will go take a more specialized blood test to see if we can get some further answers. But neither your dad or I are worried and here is why: it won't matter.
I wish for you to be a healthy little boy, and want nothing more than for you to be born with the ability and capacity to everything you ever wanted to do. But above all else, I want for you to be a happy little boy.
When your dad and I signed up to have kids, we knew that we were signing up for a whole host of unknowns and things we can never control. If you have Downs Syndrome I will be sad for some reasons, but not for the important reasons. Mostly I will be happy that you are finally here, and that you were born into a family who will love you and cherish everything about you.
And if you don't have Downs Syndrome (which we're all but sure you don't) I'm sure you'll come with several other surprises of your own down the road which will be new and scary challenges as well. I have heard some rumors that kids come with their own agendas and challenges, and that if it's not one thing it will be another.
Hopefully we'll have some answers in the next couple of weeks, but for now we're pretty sure that everything will check out just fine. Your dad is looking into Red Sox onesies and "I Love Chemistry" onesies, so you'll be completely set in the wardrobe department.
Love you Little Man.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
4 Months!
Well well well…look who decided to show up this month! We were wondering if you were going to make a grand showing of your existence anytime soon, and boy did you. In fact, you made your big debut quite literally overnight. Sunday night, January 6, 2013 to be exact.
I was fitting into my clothes quite comfortably all the way through our Christmas vacation in Idaho. People often remarked on how I just didn’t look pregnant at all. Then suddenly on Monday morning I put on my work pants and POW, they only buttoned if I was standing up, which meant I had to go that entire day at work sitting at my desk with my pants undone. On Tuesday I couldn’t even pretend to zip up my skirt, so on Tuesday night we made an emergency trip to Target for some cheap maternity clothes to tide me over until I hit that “definitely, definitely pregnant” phase here in the next few weeks. Your dad and I speculate that the cause of your sudden growth spurt is that you went a little overboard like we all do and put on a bunch of holiday weight. That explanation makes perfect sense, considering you are half Allen, half McNally.
Your dad is thrilled to see my expanding belly and can’t seem to take his eyes off me/you. It creeps me out a little, actually. Every time I walk into the room your dad does this full body scan thing with his eyes, and then holds out his hands which I have come to learn means “let me feel your stomach.” It’s weird, but also kind of cute. I’m also relatively certain that this novelty will wear off after you, and that your siblings won’t be subject to the same level of pre-natal groping. Way to take one for the team.
As far as pregnancy symptoms go, I think you have some things backwards and I would like to address them now. The way it was supposed to work was that during the first trimester and first trimester only, I should have felt fatigued and lost my appetite. Then, in the second trimester I should have gotten a burst of energy and regained my voracious appetite. But you apparently dance to the beat of a different drum. I felt almost no symptoms whatsoever during the first 13 weeks of pregnancy, but during this 16th week I’ve felt extremely tired, prone to dizziness, and absolutely disinterested in most foods—especially the foods that are good for us. As a result, we go to bed at about 9:00 PM each night, and eat far more crackers and pasta than we are supposed to. How about you work on reversing some of those things, and see what you can do about giving your mother that pregnant glow that I’m pretty sure I’m entitled to in exchange for me lending you my entire body for nine months.
I did fill you in on a little secret yesterday in the car though. Yesterday we had to take a two hour road trip for a work meeting in western Massachusetts. On the way home I stopped by McDonalds and fed us some much desired chicken nuggets and fries. I have tried to avoid that kind of food for the most part during this pregnancy, and have committed to limit fast food intake in my own children. But I told you yesterday that you can always rest assured that when you are on the road with your mom, you can expect McDonalds. It will be our little tradition…as long as you are being good.
And yes, I was actually telling you these things out loud in the car. I read that you have grown your ears this week and can start to hear my voice, and some sources even encourage me to speak out loud to you as often as possible. I felt weird doing it though, so I don’t think our special womb conversations will be a regular thing. I have no doubt in my mind whatsoever though that you will hear a lot of my voice in the next few months (and for the rest of your life). So I won’t spend too much time worrying that you won’t recognize me or my voice on your birthday.
Also, your dad believes I am growing a hairy baby, and I very much look forward to when you’re born and we can both prove him wrong. Lately I’ve been suffering from a case of the dramatic hiccups. I hiccup only about 4 or 5 times a day, but when I do the whole world can hear. I have also suffered from bouts of heartburn. Your dad read somewhere that these are symptoms of increased progesterone, high levels of which are indicative of significant fetal hair growth. While I like to imagine you growing a beautiful head of dark hair and long eyelashes, your dad envisions you resembling something similar to a fuzzy bear cub.
I am not growing a hairy baby. Right?
And that’s your four month update! I still can’t feel you move around in there, even though allegedly I should be able to. I’ve been warned that with me being a first time mom I probably won’t recognize your movements for another few weeks. It kind of bugs me that apparently I can technically feel you, but I just can’t differentiate you from other bodily sensations. I can’t wait for that day though, so hurry up.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Christmas 2012
This last week your dad and I celebrated Christmas back home in Idaho—the last Christmas we’ll ever have as a childless couple. While it was a wonderful Christmas (as all of them are), we confessed to each other that it felt right that it was our last without you. You probably won’t understand this concept for many, many more years, but after a while Christmas becomes a little less exciting the older you get. I think that many of us lose that sense of holiday magic once we grow up, and can’t get it back until we have kids of our own. But it was nice to have one more holiday with family, unencumbered by parenthood and other obligations. Next Christmas you’ll be about six months old, and while you won’t have any idea what Christmas is, you’ll be high maintenance nonetheless I’m sure.
That reminds me: when you do arrive and visit Nana and Grandpa Paul’s house, whatever you do, don’t fiddle with four little holes in their couch cushion. This last week Uncle Daniel’s dog bit into the cushion and left four tooth marks in the leather. Grandpa Paul said it wasn’t the tooth marks he was worried about, but rather your little fingers prying around in them and making them bigger. I resented that you were getting in trouble already at such a young age and for a crime you did not yet commit. So I think it would be best if you steered clear of the couch just to spite Grandpa and to prove to him that I am the most amazing mother with the most amazingly well behaved child ever.
Otherwise, our Christmas was spent with Grandpa Scott, Great Grams, some of Dad’s extended family, my family, and some of my extended family. I was reminded how many people you have to get to know in the next year—all of whom are very eager to meet you.
We still don’t know what the plan is for your dad’s doctorate and where we’ll be in the next several months. I’m not allowing myself to start freaking out about our lack of answers until at least February, and at that point I’ve begun to brace your father for an all-out panic attack.
You better hope that at some point we move closer to home, because after our adventure flying back to Boston I have pretty much sworn off holiday travel forever. Your dad and I were scheduled to take a midnight flight from Salt Lake to Boston on Tuesday. We arrived at the airport only to discover that our plane was delayed an hour due to mechanical problems. While waiting for the plane to arrive, I whispered to your dad that I had a bad feeling about this flight and that it might be canceled.
Eventually we were able to board, but we sat parked on the tarmac for a half hour and waited in line for the plane to get de-iced. After waiting another half hour while the plane actually got de-iced, the pilot came on and announced that the flight would have to be canceled since his co-pilot had apparently maxed out on his hours as per federal regulations. I turned to your dad and just said “told you so.” So we de-boarded the plane around 2:00 AM, stood in line to get our luggage, stood in line to book a flight for 9:50 AM the following day (or, rather, that same day) and took a shuttle to a hotel at 3:00 AM for about three hours of “sleep” until we had to wake back up and haul our butts back to the airport to do it all over again. Once we finally arrived at Logan the next night, we had to wait to de-board the plane for a military processional, and then we had to wait for about another hour to get our luggage due to the same processional.
All told it was about 36 hours of pure, unadulterated holiday travel and I am BURNT OUT. It could have been worse, I suppose. There were several families on our plane with small children. I imagined how hard it would have been if you were here and we had to go through all the pain and torture of getting you on and off an airplane, to a hotel, and back on and then off an airplane again all in one night. Even though I technically had a child with me, you were pretty manageable and it was me who was most prone to throwing a child-like fit.
That reminds me: when you do arrive and visit Nana and Grandpa Paul’s house, whatever you do, don’t fiddle with four little holes in their couch cushion. This last week Uncle Daniel’s dog bit into the cushion and left four tooth marks in the leather. Grandpa Paul said it wasn’t the tooth marks he was worried about, but rather your little fingers prying around in them and making them bigger. I resented that you were getting in trouble already at such a young age and for a crime you did not yet commit. So I think it would be best if you steered clear of the couch just to spite Grandpa and to prove to him that I am the most amazing mother with the most amazingly well behaved child ever.
Otherwise, our Christmas was spent with Grandpa Scott, Great Grams, some of Dad’s extended family, my family, and some of my extended family. I was reminded how many people you have to get to know in the next year—all of whom are very eager to meet you.
We still don’t know what the plan is for your dad’s doctorate and where we’ll be in the next several months. I’m not allowing myself to start freaking out about our lack of answers until at least February, and at that point I’ve begun to brace your father for an all-out panic attack.
You better hope that at some point we move closer to home, because after our adventure flying back to Boston I have pretty much sworn off holiday travel forever. Your dad and I were scheduled to take a midnight flight from Salt Lake to Boston on Tuesday. We arrived at the airport only to discover that our plane was delayed an hour due to mechanical problems. While waiting for the plane to arrive, I whispered to your dad that I had a bad feeling about this flight and that it might be canceled.
Eventually we were able to board, but we sat parked on the tarmac for a half hour and waited in line for the plane to get de-iced. After waiting another half hour while the plane actually got de-iced, the pilot came on and announced that the flight would have to be canceled since his co-pilot had apparently maxed out on his hours as per federal regulations. I turned to your dad and just said “told you so.” So we de-boarded the plane around 2:00 AM, stood in line to get our luggage, stood in line to book a flight for 9:50 AM the following day (or, rather, that same day) and took a shuttle to a hotel at 3:00 AM for about three hours of “sleep” until we had to wake back up and haul our butts back to the airport to do it all over again. Once we finally arrived at Logan the next night, we had to wait to de-board the plane for a military processional, and then we had to wait for about another hour to get our luggage due to the same processional.
All told it was about 36 hours of pure, unadulterated holiday travel and I am BURNT OUT. It could have been worse, I suppose. There were several families on our plane with small children. I imagined how hard it would have been if you were here and we had to go through all the pain and torture of getting you on and off an airplane, to a hotel, and back on and then off an airplane again all in one night. Even though I technically had a child with me, you were pretty manageable and it was me who was most prone to throwing a child-like fit.
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