M, Mom and I arrived at the hospital around 2:30am on Friday, August 17th. The place was blissfully quiet and downright serene. It seemed like we were the only people there as we made our way to the labor and delivery ward. I resisted the offer of a wheelchair at first, but thankfully changed my mind. The contractions weren't super painful yet, but they definitely made walking difficult. And it seemed like the corridor was endless, as was the elevator ride, before we finally got to our destination. By this point I was pretty tired, having been up for 21 hours already.
A nurse put M and me into a room, gave me a hospital johnny (so sexy!) and hooked me up to a couple monitors to track the baby's heartbeat and my contractions. Thus began a very boring hour, where we waited in a tiny room, me on the bed, M on a chair, staring at a monitor because the only thing on TV was Hanging with Mr. Cooper or some equally boring show. Admittedly it was fun to have M tell me, "You're having a contraction... and now it's peaking... and now it's going down," based on what he could see from the monitor. Otherwise, it was just boring. Except for the part when the nurse came in to give me my first pelvic exam. Hoo. Ray. Having a contraction while being poked and prodded from the inside is totally NOT awesome. When she first did it, I was no more progressed than I had been at my last doctor appointment the previous Tuesday (1 cm. and 80% effaced, for those of you who know what I'm talking about). So I thought for sure at that point it was fake labor. But when the nurse returned and did a second exam, finding that I was 3 cm. (while contracting) and 100% effaced, it seemed like the time had come.
Sure enough, I was admitted and we got our very own room for the duration. There was a moment when we were moving over to the room where I would labor, deliver, and then recover until we went home when I panicked. I realized, all of a sudden, that this was it. By the end of this particular road, I would be a mother. Have a completely foreign life. And have a baby for which her father and I would be 100% responsible. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I heard, "No, no, no! I'm not ready for this yet!" But the inevitability of my body's processes quieted the panic enough so that I didn't freak out and make a me-shaped hole in the hospital wall.
Once we got settled, it was just more waiting around for not much to happen. By then, it was nearly 4:00. The admitting nurse started going through a bunch of paperwork, which was not so much fun considering the fact that every few minutes I felt like my insides were turning inside out. She kept asking me questions I couldn't answer fully, giving me information I couldn't process properly, handing me documents to sign that I could barely focus on, and overall badgering the hell out of me while I was in a lot of pain. Looking back on it, she was just doing what she needed to do paperwork-wise. But it seemed downright cruel at the time. Thankfully, she had the patience of a saint, and kept badgering to a minimum during the peaks of my contractions.
Around 6:00, my doctor showed up to check on me. Hers was a welcome familiar face, although she wasn't there too long and when she checked me (yippee, more internal prodding!) I wasn't any farther along than the last check: 3 cm, and down to 80% effaced. Sigh. If I remember correctly, she came back one more time just before getting off shift at 7:00 and checked me again, but by then I was so tired that the memory is foggy of those morning hours. I got a new nurse, Marah, at 7:00 and she was with me through delivery. I loved Marah. She was so motherly and kind. She didn't badger me, and when I had a hard contraction, she would say things like, "You're doing so well, I am really impressed." The kind of stuff she probably says to all patients, but that made me feel like I could go on.
I think it was around 7:30 or so I'd had it with the contractions and asked for Nubain (a relatively mild pain medication administered via IV and a shot to the arse) to take the edge off. I had wanted very much to remain drug-free through labor and I was extremely leery of doing anything that would slow down the process. I held off on Nubain until this point because I'd rather deal with the pain then having this labor business go on any longer than absolutely necessary. By this point, though, I'd just about had it. I was so tired that I just needed a break. Labor takes a lot out of you, especially when you've been up for over 24 hours. (And before any of my competitive mommy readers wants to point out that my labor was probably the easiest thing since slicing bread compared to their labors, I don't wanna hear it - everybody's labor sucks in its own way. Am I right? Yes, of course I'm right. It's my blog.)
Anyway, once the Nubain kicked in a bit, I could actually relax a little. I was still in pain, of course, but I managed to sleep a little between contractions. So I had about 90 minutes of 2 minute catnaps alternating with three-minute contractions. Not ideal, but it made me able to deal with things a little better.
Next installment: Water, water, everywhere; more drugs, and the big push. Come for the science, stay for the gory details!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The Labor Story - Part One
For the very few of you who are interested in the long story of Fiona's birth, this post is for you. Mostly, I want to write it down for my own purposes so I don't forget any more than I already have. To me, it is interesting and fascinating. To others, eh, not so much. So don't feel bad if you want to skip this one.
But here it is, from the beginning. Thursday 8/16 at work, I started feeling weird. Not really bad, but just not good. My usual Braxton Hicks contractions were a bit more painful than usual. By 2:00 that afternoon, I started thinking that maybe I should be done with coming into the office and working from home going forward. By the end of the day, I was saying as much to co-workers. Nothing definite, of course, but I prepared for the possibility that I would not return to the office the next day.
I carpooled to work that day, and during the ride home, my contractions seemed to be getting stronger and more regular. But since I usually had most of my contractions when I was in the car, whether driving or riding, I didn't worry too much about it. Still, I said nothing about it to my friend who was driving. This ensured he did not freak out and drive off the road or drop me on a corner somewhere after dialing 911 (me going into labor in his car - or even in his presence - made him quite nervous, naturally). My last leg home, which I drove, was even more intense to the point that I called my best friend to distract me.
I got home where I was greeted by my mother who had been graciously picked up from the airport by my in-laws. We had planned the dates of her visit with some trepidation, not knowing for sure when Weeble would actually arrive. It could have been a week before my mother, it could have been two weeks after. As it turned out, of course, she arrived in the nick of time. By 8:00 that night, I was starting to suspect it was real labor and started packing my hospital bag (well, "started" isn't quite right... I had put slippers into a bag prior to that evening). By 11:00, the patterns broke down and I thought I was off the hook for one more night. Not so. 11:30 came and everything started up again. M went to bed around 12:00 or so, while my mother and I stayed up. Frankly, I was too uncomfortable (and starting to freak out) too much to sleep. But at 1:30, it seemed like it would be a good idea to at least try so I went to bed with my doctor's phone number, two telephones, and one of the waterproof crib sheets we had for Weeble underneath me (in case of water breaking). Three contractions (inside of 10 minutes) later and I decided a call to the doctor was in order. Clearly, sleep would be out of the picture tonight. Sure enough, she said to come in to the hospital to be checked. What a stroke of luck that she was on call.
M had woken up at this point, so we began making preparations to go. Being uncertain about how the night (morning) would proceed, my mom opted to come with us to the hospital to wait it out. So we all piled into the car a bit after 2:00 and headed out in the quiet and dark of the very early morning.
Next installment: The never-ending night, real labor, and just how bad it actually hurts. Stay tuned!
But here it is, from the beginning. Thursday 8/16 at work, I started feeling weird. Not really bad, but just not good. My usual Braxton Hicks contractions were a bit more painful than usual. By 2:00 that afternoon, I started thinking that maybe I should be done with coming into the office and working from home going forward. By the end of the day, I was saying as much to co-workers. Nothing definite, of course, but I prepared for the possibility that I would not return to the office the next day.
I carpooled to work that day, and during the ride home, my contractions seemed to be getting stronger and more regular. But since I usually had most of my contractions when I was in the car, whether driving or riding, I didn't worry too much about it. Still, I said nothing about it to my friend who was driving. This ensured he did not freak out and drive off the road or drop me on a corner somewhere after dialing 911 (me going into labor in his car - or even in his presence - made him quite nervous, naturally). My last leg home, which I drove, was even more intense to the point that I called my best friend to distract me.
I got home where I was greeted by my mother who had been graciously picked up from the airport by my in-laws. We had planned the dates of her visit with some trepidation, not knowing for sure when Weeble would actually arrive. It could have been a week before my mother, it could have been two weeks after. As it turned out, of course, she arrived in the nick of time. By 8:00 that night, I was starting to suspect it was real labor and started packing my hospital bag (well, "started" isn't quite right... I had put slippers into a bag prior to that evening). By 11:00, the patterns broke down and I thought I was off the hook for one more night. Not so. 11:30 came and everything started up again. M went to bed around 12:00 or so, while my mother and I stayed up. Frankly, I was too uncomfortable (and starting to freak out) too much to sleep. But at 1:30, it seemed like it would be a good idea to at least try so I went to bed with my doctor's phone number, two telephones, and one of the waterproof crib sheets we had for Weeble underneath me (in case of water breaking). Three contractions (inside of 10 minutes) later and I decided a call to the doctor was in order. Clearly, sleep would be out of the picture tonight. Sure enough, she said to come in to the hospital to be checked. What a stroke of luck that she was on call.
M had woken up at this point, so we began making preparations to go. Being uncertain about how the night (morning) would proceed, my mom opted to come with us to the hospital to wait it out. So we all piled into the car a bit after 2:00 and headed out in the quiet and dark of the very early morning.
Next installment: The never-ending night, real labor, and just how bad it actually hurts. Stay tuned!
Introducing...
Our little girl, Fiona Morgan Elizabeth.
Fiona arrived in the world on 8/17 at 12:39 in the afternoon. She weighed 8 pounds, 13 ounces and was 19 3/4 inches long. She was born after only 11 or so hours of active labor, and 1 1/2 hours of pushing. You'd never know she didn't come out by other means given her perfectly round little noggin. She had a lovely head of strawberry blonde hair and a serious set of lungs. I may be biased, but she was also incredibly cute straight out of the gate. She looks unnervingly like her daddy in nearly every way except for her mouth, which she appears to have gotten from me.
We've been calling her Weeble for so long, I thought maybe it would be a challenge for me to switch to her real name. But it is so natural to call her Fiona. The moment we saw her, we knew that of the two names we had in the tank, Fiona was the right one for her.
Each name we gave her has some significance. Well, sort of. Fiona is a name we simply landed on and both loved. It was the first name we test drove, and the name we both always wanted to go back to when other names seemed not to be right. It is a Gaelic name that means "fair and white".
Morgan is a name I've loved for over a decade. It is a variation on the name of the main character in my favorite book (The Mists of Avalon) and means "from the sea". Since I grew up in a land-locked state, I've always been fascinated by the ocean, and its relative nearness is the best thing for me about living near the coast now. Morgan was considered as a first name for her, but M (whose initials are MMM) wanted no more alliteration madness.
Elizabeth is the name of the dear friend who is the reason M and I are together. She had been friends with M before I came, to UMass Amherst for a yearlong exchange and was my accidental roommate. She introduced us, naturally, and served as a liaison for the many years he and I spent trying to figure it all out. Now, she is now more like a sister. So Fiona bears her name.
It's a long name for such a tiny little girl, I suppose. But it seems to suit her so well. Pretty name for pretty girl. And she is pretty.
The first week has been a mixture of pure joy, complete frustration, a mental breakdown or two (or four), utter exhaustion, lingering soreness, and more emotion than I generally know what to do with. But every day gets better and tends more toward the pure joy side than the complete frustration side.
As I manage to find the time, I'll be recording as much as I can about this awesome experience. Of course, there's no describing it. There's no way to really relay just how utterly awesome it is to look in Fiona's face and know that we made her, and she is ours. I'm pretty sure nobody can really anticipate how it feels - and to be honest, it's not all good. Some of it is so, so hard, for whatever reason. But it's all worth it. That's the weird part that can't be explained. The exhaustion, the pain, the mental and emotional roller coaster. It is ALL worth it.
Fiona arrived in the world on 8/17 at 12:39 in the afternoon. She weighed 8 pounds, 13 ounces and was 19 3/4 inches long. She was born after only 11 or so hours of active labor, and 1 1/2 hours of pushing. You'd never know she didn't come out by other means given her perfectly round little noggin. She had a lovely head of strawberry blonde hair and a serious set of lungs. I may be biased, but she was also incredibly cute straight out of the gate. She looks unnervingly like her daddy in nearly every way except for her mouth, which she appears to have gotten from me.
We've been calling her Weeble for so long, I thought maybe it would be a challenge for me to switch to her real name. But it is so natural to call her Fiona. The moment we saw her, we knew that of the two names we had in the tank, Fiona was the right one for her.
Each name we gave her has some significance. Well, sort of. Fiona is a name we simply landed on and both loved. It was the first name we test drove, and the name we both always wanted to go back to when other names seemed not to be right. It is a Gaelic name that means "fair and white".
Morgan is a name I've loved for over a decade. It is a variation on the name of the main character in my favorite book (The Mists of Avalon) and means "from the sea". Since I grew up in a land-locked state, I've always been fascinated by the ocean, and its relative nearness is the best thing for me about living near the coast now. Morgan was considered as a first name for her, but M (whose initials are MMM) wanted no more alliteration madness.
Elizabeth is the name of the dear friend who is the reason M and I are together. She had been friends with M before I came, to UMass Amherst for a yearlong exchange and was my accidental roommate. She introduced us, naturally, and served as a liaison for the many years he and I spent trying to figure it all out. Now, she is now more like a sister. So Fiona bears her name.
It's a long name for such a tiny little girl, I suppose. But it seems to suit her so well. Pretty name for pretty girl. And she is pretty.
The first week has been a mixture of pure joy, complete frustration, a mental breakdown or two (or four), utter exhaustion, lingering soreness, and more emotion than I generally know what to do with. But every day gets better and tends more toward the pure joy side than the complete frustration side.
As I manage to find the time, I'll be recording as much as I can about this awesome experience. Of course, there's no describing it. There's no way to really relay just how utterly awesome it is to look in Fiona's face and know that we made her, and she is ours. I'm pretty sure nobody can really anticipate how it feels - and to be honest, it's not all good. Some of it is so, so hard, for whatever reason. But it's all worth it. That's the weird part that can't be explained. The exhaustion, the pain, the mental and emotional roller coaster. It is ALL worth it.
Friday, August 24, 2007
I was right: Labor DOES suck
A week later and I finally have the time to confirm what at least 95% of my readers already know or guessed: it was the real deal indeed. Last Thursday, August 16th, I went into labor. By 12:40 the next day, I had a whole new life, and Weeble had a new name. Since it's a lovely story, it deserves its own post, which I'll put up shortly.
Until then, I can confirm that labor totally sucks. So does the delivery part. It was exhausting, excruciating, and the hardest thing I've ever done. And no, the "mommy amnesia" thing that allows women to consider the remote possibility of doing it another time has not yet kicked in. But it was amazing all the same, and so is the result of all that hard work.
Now begins the fun part. Parenting.
Oh. My. God. What have we done?
Until then, I can confirm that labor totally sucks. So does the delivery part. It was exhausting, excruciating, and the hardest thing I've ever done. And no, the "mommy amnesia" thing that allows women to consider the remote possibility of doing it another time has not yet kicked in. But it was amazing all the same, and so is the result of all that hard work.
Now begins the fun part. Parenting.
Oh. My. God. What have we done?
Friday, August 17, 2007
Labor might just suck a little
I'm still pregnant, which may seem surprising given my recent silence. But that's just a delightful side-effect of crazy work and home schedules. But as of tonight, I'm out of the office for the duration, even if I'm continuing to work from home over the next few days before Weeble deigns to make her grand entrance.
I'm not sure there will be any more working from home, though. It could be false labor, sure, but what's going on here tonight is NOT all that much fun. In fact, it kinda sucks. Every 4-6 minutes, lasting 30-60 seconds each, I've been having contractions. Actually, this has been going on since this afternoon, but it's decidedly more painful now than it was at, say, 3:00 today.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say this is the real deal right now. And I don't know better, so maybe it is. ACK, given the contraction I'm having right now, I could be persuaded to say my insides are about to fall directly out of me. ALL my insides, not just Weeble.
Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep anyway. Does this labor business get worse than this? Shit, I think it's going to. Dang, I'm starting to forget why I wanted to do this.
More to come, happy betters. I'll keep you all posted.
I'm not sure there will be any more working from home, though. It could be false labor, sure, but what's going on here tonight is NOT all that much fun. In fact, it kinda sucks. Every 4-6 minutes, lasting 30-60 seconds each, I've been having contractions. Actually, this has been going on since this afternoon, but it's decidedly more painful now than it was at, say, 3:00 today.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say this is the real deal right now. And I don't know better, so maybe it is. ACK, given the contraction I'm having right now, I could be persuaded to say my insides are about to fall directly out of me. ALL my insides, not just Weeble.
Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep anyway. Does this labor business get worse than this? Shit, I think it's going to. Dang, I'm starting to forget why I wanted to do this.
More to come, happy betters. I'll keep you all posted.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Getting the Gambling Bug Again
We're down to the 2-week mark from my estimated due date, people. Get your bettin' shoes on. It's time to make some super-scientific predictions about Weeble's pending birth!
We have a couple of gambling options here. Date and weight. For those of you feeling extra frisky, go ahead and pick a time of day. Now, before you take off for your bookie's office (or back-alley refrigerator box), let's recap what we know so you're not just placing bets in the dark:
So that should give you all some food for thought to help you make the most accurate estimates possible as to Weeble's birth date and weight. Feel free to set up office pools, extensive betting charts, and whatever else will aid in your gambling extravaganza. Post your best guesses in the comments and whomever's closest will get... well, probably nothing. Let's just be honest here. Once she's born, I'll probably have bigger fish to fry. But hey, one never knows.
Happy betting, all!
PS: I finally added pictures from the baby shower for your viewing pleasure.
We have a couple of gambling options here. Date and weight. For those of you feeling extra frisky, go ahead and pick a time of day. Now, before you take off for your bookie's office (or back-alley refrigerator box), let's recap what we know so you're not just placing bets in the dark:
- According to my doctor's estimate, I am due August 19th.
- My first ultrasound, however, indicated a due date of August 16th.
- The average online pregnancy calculator estimates my due date to be August 21st based on my last period.
- I have had contractions every day for the past week or two, and some of them have even been rather uncomfortable. But they usually seem to happen most when I'm sitting in a car.
- As of the last ultrasound we had (at week 32 - so 6 weeks ago), Weeble weighed in at about 6 pounds and "some odd ounces" (whatever that means). The doctor also told me during that appointment that I was measuring at 35 weeks, but that they wouldn't be changing my due date (smug bastard).
- It is important to note that ultrasound weights are notoriously off by as much as a pound or more. Which means Weeble could have been way more than the 6+ pounds at 32 weeks (please, god, no) or way smaller (please, god, yes, for I am a small woman).
- During the eighth month (approximately weeks 32-35), Weeble probably gained about 1/2 ounce per day
So that should give you all some food for thought to help you make the most accurate estimates possible as to Weeble's birth date and weight. Feel free to set up office pools, extensive betting charts, and whatever else will aid in your gambling extravaganza. Post your best guesses in the comments and whomever's closest will get... well, probably nothing. Let's just be honest here. Once she's born, I'll probably have bigger fish to fry. But hey, one never knows.
Happy betting, all!
PS: I finally added pictures from the baby shower for your viewing pleasure.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Feeling Loved
Pregnancy as the power to bring out the stupid in the people around you. And by "stupid" I mean that some people just don't think before they speak. They say things like, "Wow, you are HUGE!" as if I don't know I'm very big. Of course I know it - I have to LIVE with this body. And my current favorites (typically heard from co-workers): "Haven't you popped that kid yet??" or "Why are you still here?" Um, where else am I supposed to be? Why wouldn't I be here? And NO, clearly, I haven't "popped the kid" yet, but thanks for reminding me that I'm still stuck hearing comments like these all the time. Sheesh!
But pregnancy also has the power to bring out the best, the kindest, and the most generous in people. Most people love a pregnant woman, and they can't help but smile. And the people who are already in my life - my friends, family, loved ones in general - are the best example of how wonderful this experience is at times. I have been told some of the most wonderful, loving things in the past nine months; been given some of the greatest gifts (tangible and otherwise); and cared for by many as lovingly as my own mother cares for me.
Today I've been making out a list of people we want to contact after the Weeble arrives and putting together their numbers so M can take care of this mighty project while I'm in the hospital. The mail arrived, and with it an unexpected and most precious gift. It got me thinking back on some of the lovely things people have said to and done for me during this process.
Every day, M proves that he is an amazing husband and father-to-be, taking incredible care of me and an endless list of work around the house as I get bigger, more uncomfortable, and more swollen with every day. One day, several months ago, I had sent him out to pick up some groceries and some O'Doul's, the pregnant beer-drinker's staple (hey, it's better than a kick in the head). He returned with warm O'Doul's off the shelf and apologized that he wasn't able to get cold that I could drink immediately. The reason? Only canned O'Doul's was in the coolers, and, as he said, "It’s enough of an insult that you have to drink this stuff, so I wasn’t going to add to it by making you drink it from cans." It's hard to describe why this is so sweet, but the people who know M will understand.
Around Mother's Day this year, a handful of people recognized the day with me, even though I wasn't yet officially a mother. One friend sent an email expressing high admiration for all the mothers she knows, saying she doesn't know how we do it, but she loves that we do. All I could think was how much it meant to me that she thought to put me in that category.
Another good friend sent an email - in response to what I don't remember. But in it she said, "“Not sure if I ever told you before, but… let me say this: you are one of the most attractive people I have ever met and now you are OFFICIALLY one hot mama. Don't forget that." Considering that there have been so very many points during this pregnancy when I have felt decidedly unattractive or hot, this is one thing I've taken with me and held onto during the rough spots.
And then there was my baby shower, put together by two of my dearest friends who went above and beyond to make it a special, relaxing, and fun event. I thanked them both, but I don't know that I could ever show them just how important they are to me and how grateful I am for all they have done for me throughout my pregnancy... not to mention the durations of our friendships.
Just this week, I had breakfast with two dear friends who are among the kindest, most supportive people I know. Later in the day, one of them sent me a note to tell me she thinks I look fantastic, and that I am an inspiration to her. And that she wasn't saying it just because it's probably what I need and want to hear right now. What made it even better was the fact that, of course, it is what I want to hear right now.
And today. The unexpected gift that arrived in the mail from a kindred spirit. I think I'd rather not try to describe it other than to say it is easily one of the most personal, touching gifts anyone could have given me and my child. It's the kind of gift that you won't get from someone who doesn't really, truly love you.
There have been so many other gestures, some big, some small. But all have made my life happier and better. I just don't know how I got so lucky to have so many good people in my life. And as I get closer to "popping the kid out," I realize that she is just as lucky. Because all these people who love and care for me will doubtless do the same for her. Now that is one fortunate little girl.
But pregnancy also has the power to bring out the best, the kindest, and the most generous in people. Most people love a pregnant woman, and they can't help but smile. And the people who are already in my life - my friends, family, loved ones in general - are the best example of how wonderful this experience is at times. I have been told some of the most wonderful, loving things in the past nine months; been given some of the greatest gifts (tangible and otherwise); and cared for by many as lovingly as my own mother cares for me.
Today I've been making out a list of people we want to contact after the Weeble arrives and putting together their numbers so M can take care of this mighty project while I'm in the hospital. The mail arrived, and with it an unexpected and most precious gift. It got me thinking back on some of the lovely things people have said to and done for me during this process.
Every day, M proves that he is an amazing husband and father-to-be, taking incredible care of me and an endless list of work around the house as I get bigger, more uncomfortable, and more swollen with every day. One day, several months ago, I had sent him out to pick up some groceries and some O'Doul's, the pregnant beer-drinker's staple (hey, it's better than a kick in the head). He returned with warm O'Doul's off the shelf and apologized that he wasn't able to get cold that I could drink immediately. The reason? Only canned O'Doul's was in the coolers, and, as he said, "It’s enough of an insult that you have to drink this stuff, so I wasn’t going to add to it by making you drink it from cans." It's hard to describe why this is so sweet, but the people who know M will understand.
Around Mother's Day this year, a handful of people recognized the day with me, even though I wasn't yet officially a mother. One friend sent an email expressing high admiration for all the mothers she knows, saying she doesn't know how we do it, but she loves that we do. All I could think was how much it meant to me that she thought to put me in that category.
Another good friend sent an email - in response to what I don't remember. But in it she said, "“Not sure if I ever told you before, but… let me say this: you are one of the most attractive people I have ever met and now you are OFFICIALLY one hot mama. Don't forget that." Considering that there have been so very many points during this pregnancy when I have felt decidedly unattractive or hot, this is one thing I've taken with me and held onto during the rough spots.
And then there was my baby shower, put together by two of my dearest friends who went above and beyond to make it a special, relaxing, and fun event. I thanked them both, but I don't know that I could ever show them just how important they are to me and how grateful I am for all they have done for me throughout my pregnancy... not to mention the durations of our friendships.
Just this week, I had breakfast with two dear friends who are among the kindest, most supportive people I know. Later in the day, one of them sent me a note to tell me she thinks I look fantastic, and that I am an inspiration to her. And that she wasn't saying it just because it's probably what I need and want to hear right now. What made it even better was the fact that, of course, it is what I want to hear right now.
And today. The unexpected gift that arrived in the mail from a kindred spirit. I think I'd rather not try to describe it other than to say it is easily one of the most personal, touching gifts anyone could have given me and my child. It's the kind of gift that you won't get from someone who doesn't really, truly love you.
There have been so many other gestures, some big, some small. But all have made my life happier and better. I just don't know how I got so lucky to have so many good people in my life. And as I get closer to "popping the kid out," I realize that she is just as lucky. Because all these people who love and care for me will doubtless do the same for her. Now that is one fortunate little girl.
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