Mary Makes Babies

It's a Girl!!

And more importantly, she's a healthy baby who passed all her genetic screening tests. We're thrilled to officially be in the second trimester and to officially be having a baby.

Now we can move on to the usual pregnancy worries - stuff like arguing over names and wondering where on earth another baby will sleep. We need to go through our baby stash to see what we have at hand, what will need to be replaced, and which things might still be out there on loan somewhere.

I also really need to get an OBGYN. This baby will want to come out eventually, after all, and my maternal fetal medicine doctor has no interest in catching my baby. 

Part of me wishes we could still do a home birth. That's the selfish part of me who just really wants to give birth in a quiet room full of strong women once again. That part of me is balking at hiring my top recommended doctor (who just happens to be male) and is more than a little intimidated by the prospect of paying for a hospital birth. It will cost a small fortune, even if everything goes exactly as planned.

I should be soured on midwives and home births after everything that's happened, but the romantic side of me still craves that experience and cringes at the idea of being hooked to a bunch of wires and monitors while I push out a baby. 

But I do know that modern medicine can be a miracle worker, and that I would never forgive myself if something preventable happened to this baby. I need to get over myself and call the OBGYN my doctor has recommended. 

Now back to baby names. So far all of my amazing badass female warrior names have been vetoed by the husband. Does he really get to veto here? I sort of feel like I've earned the right to name this kid whatever I want - and that is something with plenty of strength and gusto - something that will hopefully infuse this tiny person with the strength she will need to navigate life as a woman. 

It can't be too cute or too flowery. My perfect name could double as male or unisex - at least by way of nickname. I would love for it either pay homage to a real feminist icon, or hold a meaning that encompasses my hopes for her life. 

In a lot of ways, I feel like raising a woman will be a whole lot more challenging that raising a man. After all, the world is pretty much designed for the comfort of my white male son. My big challenge is to keep him humble and mindful of his place in the world. But life is hard for women. The whole world will be trying to break her down while I keep trying to lift her up. She is in for a life filled with challenges - both physical and emotional. I hope that by the time she is an adult the world is a better place for the female gender, but I know there is no way everything we are up against will be fixed by then.

These are the things I try to get my spouse to understand when he suggests a name that sounds to me like a Disney princess. It's not that the name isn't pretty. It's that she will need so much more than pretty to make a great life for herself. She will need grit, determination, self confidence, and brains. She'll need everything that I've leaned on to make it through every day from childhood on. 

She needs to be named after a viking warrior woman or a female revolutionary. Not a rainbow pony. 

Records, Rainbows, and the Value of Acknowledgement

We got really great news during last week's doctor's appointment. Such great news, in fact, that it has taken some time to sink in. Baby A, who we call Niji, passed the NT scan with flying colors. Our little rainbow baby had all the right organs, in all the right shapes, in all the right places. Niji shows no signs of scary genetic or chromosomal issues either. At this point, our doctor felt confident in giving us a new statistic. This pregnancy now has less than a 1% chance of miscarriage. In other words, this is really going to happen.

Today, at 14 weeks, I officially enter the second trimester, and have now been pregnant for the longest time since having CC. This realization was a bit shocking - to say the least. Between my anxiety, Bebe's loss, and the subsequent depression that followed, I was pretty much convinced that this baby would be doomed. I was just waiting to see something awful on that ultrasound screen, or have my doctor come in with shitty news. I spent that whole two weeks before our appointment obsessing over every little pain or cramp - dreading each trip to the bathroom where I was certain I would discover the telltale blood to signal the end.

When Niji started to wiggle on the screen tears sprung out of my eyes and started rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't believe the baby was still there - was still OK. It seemed impossible after everything that has happened that I would actually get to have this child. But there it was, flailing its tiny arms and legs around, flipping in every direction, and confounding the poor scan tech who was trying to take Niji's picture. 

The news about Niji has done a lot to lighten my spirits, but the underlying grief of Bebe's loss still remains. I have a beautiful, perfectly healthy baby growing inside me right now, but I also have a dead one. Until she fades away I'll see her at every scan, her body looking smaller and smaller in comparison to her twin. And every time the tech stops to measure our little Baby B, I'm grateful to lay eyes on her one more time. I'll never hold her, or get to know her, or watch her grow. All I have of Bebe is the dreams I had for her life. I have the hopes and the fantasies that I couldn't help but develop after finding out I was carrying twins. I'll always have them with me now - and I know that every time I look at the other I will remember that she's not there.

Losing a baby while having a baby is still losing a baby. And it's still heartbreaking. Bebe was my fifth angel baby - a number that I can barely comprehend any more. And while I know, logically, that my loved ones love me back and care about what I've lost, this loss feels different than the others when it comes to people's reactions. I wasn't sure what to expect when I shared the news, as I wasn't sure how I'd react if I were on the other end, but what I have learned from this is that there is one reaction that is pretty much always the right choice - and that is acknowledgement. 

My sister in-law sent a gift. My in-laws sent me flowers. A friend took my son one afternoon to give me time to grieve (and shower). These gestures made me cry - but they also made me feel loved. Because that's what you do when someone dies. You send flowers. You say you are sorry for their loss. You give them a break from life for a minute so they can catch their breath. You can't fix it. You can't take away their pain, but you can acknowledge what happened so that they feel less alone in their grief. So, for what it's worth, I know what to do now, should I ever get the same news from someone else. 

Every acknowledgement, every hand on a shoulder, every "I'm so sorry", every hug, they have helped. And I'm grateful for them all. 

As for my own acknowledgement, I think I am finally ready to do something artistic to say goodbye to my angel babies. I'll share the project with you when the time comes. For now, I'm going to try my best to let go of my pain and focus on the feeling of this little baby squirming in my belly.

XO MH

Getting a Grip

Oh feels, you sure can get the best of me. It's amazing how quickly a fully functioning adult can be reduced to a blubbering mess. Sometimes, when your eyes are swollen and your chest is heaving it can be hard to imagine ever feeling OK again. I can see how hard it must be for most pregnant women to confront such intense waves of emotion. It's certainly harder than usual for me. I feel like my fuse is shorter, and all of my buttons are extra sensitive. 

Lucky for me, I've been dealing with intense emotion my entire life. I've gotten a grip on breakdowns far more severe than anything I've encountered during pregnancy, so I have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to re-collecting myself. Life is funny that way, sidling you with "problems" than making use of the experiences those problems gave you later in life. The crippling depression of my youth has left me prepared to battle an army's worth of negativity. Thanks, emotional trauma! 

When you find yourself spinning out of control, whether that means anger, sadness, anxiety, or some crazy emo-cocktail, here are a few ways to get a grip. These tips can certainly apply to anyone sinking into a dark place at any time, but I think they are especially helpful for dealing with an unexpected emotional crisis, something pregnancy is chuck full of. 

1. Cry it out. As a rule, I try to keep the floodgates closed as long as possible. Once I get started it can be difficult to stop. However, when you reach your breaking point, the best thing is often just to let it out. Have a good cry. Just make sure to drink a lot of water after you are done. (Or suffer the post-cry headache.)
2. Regain perspective. Try to break down your situation to just the facts. What is upsetting you? How big of a deal is it? Be honest with yourself, and try to see the problem as it compares with the rest of your life. In my case, I'm itchy, miserable, and hungry. That all really sucks, but I'm also pregnant, something I've been waiting for for a long time. I'm not in danger. The baby is not in danger. I'm just really annoyed and uncomfortable. I can deal with that.
3. Keep going. What I mean by this is that it can help to force yourself to still do the things you were going to do before you got upset. Sometimes you do just need to take a break, and that's OK. But as soon as you are able, get back on the horse and back into your routine. You will feel a lot more normal and sane than if you were lying in bed sobbing. Last night I forced myself to go to Yoga even though I really REALLY didn't feel like it. I could have stayed home, cuddled on the couch and sobbing into my husband's shoulder, but yoga was a lot more helpful. 
4. Live in the present. Taking a cue from our Buddhist friends, embracing the present can really help a lot. This is where you are right now. Pining for for things you can't have, or wishing for a body you aren't in, just doesn't get you anywhere. For better or worse, here you are. Take a close look, and try to accept life as it is in this moment. Thoughts like "but I don't WANT it to be this way" are totally valid and understandable, but they don't help. If you can't fix it, try and let it go.
5. Make space for happier thoughts. Sometimes when I'm sad, a positive thought creeps in, and my instinct is to stamp it out. "Shut up you, I'm trying to be miserable here." Allowing yourself to feel happy can often be the hardest part of recovering from a dark moment. Be flexible, not stubborn. Let the happy thoughts join the party. Let them comfort you. Feeling better doesn't make your sadness any less valid. 
6. Choose to feel better. This is probably the most important step of all. Try not to forget that you are the master of your mind. You can let it run wild, or you can reign it in. Keep an eye on your thoughts. If they are spinning down a crappy path, stop them from going too far. Choose not to pursue that path, and find something else to focus on instead. 

I did all of these things last night, and by the time I went to bed I did feel a lot better. Of course, when I woke up to a rash now covering my back, face, and ears, crying promptly resumed. Hormones have definitely shortened the length of that faucet. Anyway, I managed to recover myself by taking hold of steps 2, 3, 4, and 6. 

Perspective: Baby is safe and this is temporary.

Keep going: I refuse to miss another day of work to blubbering. It just can't happen.

Live in the present: There is nothing else I can do to make this any better. I itch now. That is all.

Choose to feel better: I'm not allowing any more self-pitying thoughts today. When I feel them creep in, they get the kabash. I have a lot to be grateful for, and I'm choosing instead to think about that.

I hope this helps, fellow mamas. Show those feels who's boss.

Oh, and don't underestimate the healing power of cuddling.

Things That Made Me Cry in the Past Twenty Four Hours

Fair warning - this isn't the most positive post I've ever written. If you don't feel like reading my self-pitying bellyaching, I won't blame you at all for scrolling on past. It's kinda lame. 

1. The carton of big juicy organic strawberries in the fridge that I am no longer allowed to eat.

2. Scott eating a Hershey's bar in front of me and making the whole car smell like chocolate.

3. Scott eating crackers in front of me then complaining that they didn't taste that good.

4. Thinking about how close I was to eating a peanut butter cookie shake.

5. Letting Scott console me with nachos, only to be served a soggy plate of distgusting mush by the worst Taco Cabana employee on Earth.

6. Scott eating those nachos in front of me.

7. Doing the math, and realizing that I started gaining weight several weeks too early, and knowing that it's my fault for cheating on my diet too often, and not exercising often enough.

8. Feeling like a huge fat baby for getting so upset about food when I shouldn't even be eating delicious things anyway because I am already so very fat. 

9. Waking up to a sink full of dishes, and a counter full of dishes, and a stove full of dishes. 

10. Itching.

11. Turning on my computer to start work.

12. Imagining Babeleo and myself obese and crying in a pile of filth as the result of my turning out to be the worst WAHM ever.

Well that escalated quickly. It's past ten in the morning and I should be an hour or two deep into my workday. Instead, I'm balled up on the futon in my office sobbing. Just yesterday I was revelling in feelings of peace and calm, stoked by some unexplainable inner confidence in my natural birth and mothering skills. It's kind of troubling how the removal of strawberries from my life can so quickly shatter my mental stability. 

Guess it wasn't all that stable after all. The truth is that things have been weighing on me the past few weeks. Concentrating at work has been tough. Between the distraction of pregnancy, and my memory just not being as sharp as it usually is, tasks that are usually simple are somehow more daunting. I can't help but worry about how hard it might be after the baby is born. 

Then there are the normal grown-up people things that everyone has to deal with, the house, the bills, making big decisions. Right now all of that feels awfully hard to keep up with. We somehow always owe money for something. There have been dishes on my counter for almost a week. The floor is continuously dirty, and there is stuff everywhere. Granted, a lot of it is baby stuff that won't have a home until the room is finished, but still. The chaos of it all is starting to get to me. 

And, of course, I have a book to write, blog posts to publish, exercise to make time for, and an ever-increasingly strict diet to plan for. 

Most days I can push all of this stuff to the side and just focus on how blessed I am to even be pregnant at all. Most days I find a way to have faith that it will all work out, that I will somehow find a balance between my work-at-home job, my baby, and everything else, Most days I can reach inside and find a little pocket of bliss to pull me through all the worries and fears. 

Not today though. Today I'm tired. Today I'm scared. 

Sugar Sugar

A throwback from my Etsy shop days. Maybe I should actually applique some of these for my own kiddo?

This is the last week of our second trimester, and to celebrate, I fasted for about 9 hours, then drank ten ounces of neon red glucose water. It claimed to be fruit punch flavored, but if you ask me, it tasted more like Satan's bunghole. Seriously, is it really necessary to inject glucose testing fluid with Red no. 40 and bizzarro flavor compounds? It's bad enough as is.

The bright side of taking my glucose exam was that once cleared, I'd be able to justify that Peanut Butter Cookie Shake from Sonic that I've been dreaming about. I've been gearing up for that little reward for the past six months or so, and this morning it was so close I could taste it.

But then... OHHHHH but then...

My dreams? They came crashing down. You see, I've been itchy lately, REAL itchy. I'll spare you the gory details. Sufficed to say that a good 60% of my body is the color of that glucose screening devil juice, and the epicenters of trouble are UNPLEASANTLY situated.

I don't own a single scented or dyed body product to begin with, so this itch was downright mysterious. What could I be reacting to? In a fit of desperate hippie-ness I tried giving up soap for a week. (FYI, it's a real thing people do, and it's called going "soap-free".) It did nothing. Pine tar soap? Nothing? Healing plant-based oils and butters? NOTHING.

Ten bazillion scratches later I popped over to the birthing center for some help. The first speculation was a case of PUPPS, but upon closer examination I was diagnosed with a fungal infection. Ohhh goody. Apparently my current body chemistry is such that one system or another is bent on over-producing yeast? Maybe I just miss beer a lot. 

Thankfully, the midwives came up with a plan to relieve my misery. I'm upping my intake of pro-biotics by adding a daily dose of MegaFood MegaFlora to my ever-growing collection of daily vitamins and supplements. I'm also supposed to increase my kombucha guzzling to a daily rather than bi-weekly thing.

OK, cool. I love me some kombucha. This plan rocks. 

Oh, then there's the prescription strength anti-fungal powder, covered in frightening warnings to pregnant people to be applied three times a day to all affected areas (you know, my entire body).

Ugh, but OK, if it will end my pain and if you say it's safe enough...

Oh yeah, and absolutley, positively NO SUGAR. Not even FRUIT. No pasta, no bread, limited grains... (basically an even more intense version of the diet I am already on.)

...and definitely no Peanut Butter Cookie shakes from Sonic.

Le sigh.

Well, they can't stop me from LOOKING at ice cream. 

One day, you will be mine. OH YES YOU WILL. 

Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!

Rock n' Roller

Last night Scott Bobleo and I went out to see a show at the Saxon Pub. Hayes Carll was playing, and seeing as he's one of my favorites, it seemed like a good chance to get out and take advantage of Babeleo still being an inside-baby. Though I'm determined to still have a life after Babeleo is born, I know that these kinds of evenings will be fewer, and farther between. 

Not that I mind, really, at least not yet. About two years back we were living in a teeny little apartment close to downtown. We walked to the park, went out to concerts all the time, and generally lived it up. We were eating at cool new restaurants, going out with our friends several nights a week, and having a grand old time. But you know what? As wonderful as that lifestyle was, we both knew something was missing. 

Fun is great, but it doesn't feed your soul the way that love does. As much as I enjoyed being a free-wheeling childless couple, I'm looking forward to being tied down to a tiny little person. Soon we'll be trading in happy hour for story time, and shows at the bar for living room jam sessions. That sounds just fine to me.

Still, it was nice to get out last night. Hayes Carll put on a great show, and the Saxon Pub was an awesome venue. This was our first visit, but I'll be keeping my eye out for shows there from now on. Saxon Pub provides a really cozy setting and the sound was great. I was also impressed by how kind and chivalrous the crowd was in regards to my Babeleo bump. People offered me seats, and the waitresses kept me supplied with water all night long. Babeleo was like a VIP.

This tells me that I should milk this whole pregnant concert thing for all its worth. 

Anyway, here's a little video of Hayes Carll doing his thing. He played this song last night at our show. In his own words, it's a song about losing your woman to another... human.

By the way, Babeleo either really loved or really hated this show, because every time a song started up my womb turned into a tiny little mosh pit. I was tapping my foot, and Babeleo was kicking my insides. I never really wondered what it would be like for two people to have a party inside one body. It's pretty neat.

When I told Scott that the baby was kicking for the music he got REALLY excited. 

"To the BEAT?!"

Yeah... no. But nice try, Scott.

Growing Pains

Lately, my belly button has been bothering me. Kind of weird, right? You don't normally think of the belly button as a sensitive area. It's just this little hole in your middle that kind of hangs out collecting lint. That is, until you start closing in on the end of your second trimester. At which time, apparently, this previously subtle body part begins to make its presence known.

It may or may not be attempting to turn itself inside out. Pervious to experiencing this phenomena first hand, I thought of this process as kind of neat. I always wanted an outie when I was a kid. Here's my big chance, right? What I didn't consider was how this special little transformation would feel. I guess I imagined it would just pop out one day like a sprout. I would just wake up, hop in the shower and discover a cute little outie where my innie used to be.

Yeah. Not so much like that. The process is, it turns out, is quite slow and moderately painful. The area is subject to a constant, maddening itch, which as you might imagine, is impossible to scratch, being mostly inside my belly. At times, the skin around the button becomes red and crazy, furious at being exposed. This week, I finally got a glimpse at what I think is the actual button itself. It's super sore, so I try not to mess with it, but despite my discomfort I am really and truly mystified by the sight. It's the end of the tunnel, a part of myself I never thought I'd see.

Last night, I hopped out of bed for one of my many nocturnal potty parades. When my feet hit the floor I was shocked by a sudden burst of pain. I could feel my hips shifting and settling into a new shape. They'd been creaky and wiggly for days, but clearly they had stopped messing around. This morning I discovered red lines carved into my hips from where my pajama pants were hugging me as I slept. It's really something to find yourself suddenly wider than you were the day before.

Photo by Paul Bradshaw via Flickr

Which leads me to wonder: does it hurt when a caterpillar becomes a butterfly? I feel like I've always somehow taken nature's transformations for granted. Now that I'm experiencing one for myself, I look at them quite differently. Is baby hurting too? She's hurtling from a cluster of cells to a squalling bundle of belly and limbs, all in just forty weeks. 

My body might be changing, but it remains in more or less the same form from beginning to end. A catterpillar changes bodies almost completely in a matter of weeks. What must it be like to lose legs, grow spindly antennae, and sprout wings?

After having my organs displaced, my bones shifted apart, and my blood double in volume, I have a whole new respect for butterflies.

They must be some tough mothers.

Connecticut Baby Shower

Once upon a time I lived in Connecticut. That's where I spent the bulk of my school years and the majority of my twenties. It's where I met my husband, and forged some of my longest lasting friendships. Though we love a great number of people in Connecticut, we kissed it goodbye a little over three years ago. Missing our friends and family is sometimes tough, but life has been good to us here in Texas.

Every year or so we make the trek back up North to visit. I don't actually have much family left in Connecticut (most of my folks are either here in Austin now or in Maine and New York) but the Leonard clan grows bigger every year. In addition to Scott's massive family, we also look forward to seeing our friends and all of their kids. 

Scott's Mom and sisters decided to throw me a baby shower while I was visiting in Connecticut. We ended up with quite the turnout. Scott and I are incredibly grateful for having such a great network of family and friends. It's a real blessing. 

The shower was held at Nick's, a local Italian restaurant, and a Leonard family favorite in Danbury, CT. After stuffing ourselves with the best baked ziti ever, we got down to the business of games and gifts. What a haul! We were gifted with some very handy gear, plenty of cute baby books, fuzzy blankets, tiny booties, and all kinds of amazing handmade gifts. 

This pretty blanket, soft ball, and burp cloths were all handmade by Rosemary, Scott's sister's mother-in-law. Rosemary is a pretty crafty lady! She also helped decorate for our wedding back in 2009. 

Get a load of this adorable crocheted sweater and hat combo. I love the retro vibe, and the tiny buttons are too much. These are from my childhood buddy, Lauren. Elizabeth made me this sweet little rainbow colored bib. I have a feeling it may eventually double as a superhero cape.

My bestie, Michelle, made this super-cute stuffed giraffe. Babies love tags, so this one is sure to be a hit. She also made a really cute play mat and bib. The apple print will be perfect for my little baby foodie.

The most sentimental handmade gift would have to be this tiny baby blanket from my friend Julie. She knit this from scraps of yarn that have been swapped over the years by my beloved Scissor Squad girls. I was part of that craft group in CT for years, and the ladies involved became some of my very best friends. Of all the things I miss from Connecticut, seeing their faces every week is way up there.

We also went home with a ton of second-hand clothes. These were passed down from Scott's sisters, along with some more baby gear and a few choice maternity clothes. After sorting it all out, I've come to the conclusion that we are pretty much set on onesies and basics for the first three months. Not too shabby!

Shit My Friends' Kids Say

We're on the road this week, visiting our friends and family back in Connecticut. There are many kids to hug, babies to kiss, and new houses to "ooh" and "ahh" over. Luckily, we missed the polar vortex by a few days, so the demented cold that New England is capable of seems to have granted us a nice little reprieve.

While pretty much every adult reacts to my little bump of joy in about the same way, kids offer a much more entertaining and unpredictable range of questions, comments, and emotions. I thought it might be fun to share some of the best conversations I had this week.

Womb Mechanics with Natalia, age five

Natalia loves babies, so her Mom got a huge kick out of delivering the news. When she pointed out that there was a baby in my belly, Natalia squealed in delight, tickled my middle for several minutes, then began asking questions.

"So if the baby is in your tummy, how can you drink water? Doesn't the baby drown?", she asks.

"Nope. The baby is in its own little room, and my tummy is in another.", I say.

"Then how does the baby eat? If the food is in another room?!"

"Well... I send the baby food through a tube. It's like he has a straw."

"Oh, ok. Well, I think babies are just as beautiful as... COWS."

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

"And snakes... and glasses."

Later that week Natalia harangued her mom with many more questions, including the ever-awkward "How did the baby get in there?" and "How will it get out?"

Family Dynamics with Gia (age six), Anthony (age three), and Nico (age five)

My God-kids had their own theories on all of this, which were relayed to me by their mom via text message. As usual, Melissa's text messages put me in serious danger of puddle pants.

Gia, declares "Aunt Mary and Uncle Sky (their own version of Uncle Scotty) are having a GIRL, and she's my sister."

Anthony retorts, "No! It's a boy like me and Uncle Sky. Aunt Mary's belly button is gonna stretch so he can get out."

"Yup!", says their Mom, "That's exactly right... her belly button."

As the argument continued, Nico, her five year old son whisper's in Melissa's ear, "Only CJ (their cousin) was born THAT way. I came out of your vagina." 

On another note, have you ever watched three kids under the age of six use an Easy Bake Oven? Freaking hilarious. "Stirring" was pretty much an excuse to eat powdered cake mix. When the little cake balls were finished Melissa says "I wish we could offer you one, but they're mostly saliva."

Case in point, sprinkle cleanup.

Baby Face!

Ohmyfrickinggodlookatthat!  

It's a baby! 

We had our anatomy scan yesterday, and it was wild. We haven't had an ultrasound since October. Boy, has little Babeleo changed a lot since then. He (or she) now has pretty much all her parts, and will spend the next 18 weeks growing bigger and bigger.

We were thrilled to get confirmation that the blood clot (hematoma) is now totally gone, eliminating any risk that it once posed to the baby. We hadn't seen any symptoms from it in a while now, but it feels amazing to know for sure that the danger has passed. We've crossed the bridge into a totally normal, low-risk pregnancy. That feels pretty amazing.

Little One's kicks are becoming much more kick-like this week. Before it was more like fluttering or tickling. I still feel that kind of movement, but now it's accompanied by little drum beats, taps, and the occasional Chuck Norris roundhouse.

Babeleo was a wee bit shy for the camera, and spent most of her time curled up in a little ball, tucked as far into my belly as she could get. (By the by, I'm using pronouns at random here. We didn't find out about the gender, and since this will likely be our only ultrasound, we won't know if Babeleo is a bro or a Babele-ita until the big day.)

Ten observations about Babeleo's anatomy scan:

1) She totally looks just like me. Duh.
2) Big ears, little nose = elf child?
3) She appears to have little to no chin. If it doesn't grow in later, I blame Scott Bobleo. My own chin could put an eye out.
4) The heartbeat continues to show up in the 150 zone. According to old wives' tales, that means she's a girl.
5) Babeleo seems to prefer hanging out upside-down. Another sure-fire sign that she 's just like her old mum.
6) If she has such big ears, does that mean she can hear extra? If so, she really likes it when I watch Hell on Wheels, but could care less for Downton Abbey.
7) Babykins is a little on the small side, not alarmingly so (still in the 46% range which is plenty normal), but I was slightly surprised seeing as my sister's baby was a big boy. My immediate assumption is that I need to eat more, but the midwives insisted on dispelling that notion.
8) I'm super jealous that the midwives can poke my belly and tell where Babeleo's parts are. I feel amazingly clueless as to where or what this kid is doing down there. I want to know too! 
9) Seeing my own baby in an ultrasound photo is about ten million times as compelling as any other ultrasound photo I've seen in the past. I can't stop staring at the smooshy little face.
10) Who's got an appropriately formed placenta? This girl.