Happy V-Day to me and Version 2.0, Happy V-Day to me and Version 2.0!
That's viability day, in case you were curious. As of Thursday I am officially 24 weeks pregnant, which means that if the baby were born now, she would have a fighting chance at survival. Those odds are only about 50-50, so ideally we'd like to keep her in there a whole lot longer, but I find it reassuring to know she would at least have a shot if something unexpected happened and I went into labor now. Plus I wouldn't have to try and talk the nurses and doctors into trying to save her - they would automatically take measures to keep her alive.
Wow, I sound like I'm preparing for the worst, don't I? Really I am not. She kicks and kicks and kicks all the time, and as far as I know everything is healthy and growing right on schedule. But all the same I take comfort in knowing that my little girl is past that critical 24-week mark. (Although I will happily wait another 15 or so weeks to meet her.)
On another subject, I am beginning to feel as though "Version 2.0" is not a great nickname. If her due date were any later I might call her my little valentine. Suggestions, anyone?
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Popularity
Gabe has become quite the ladies' man these days, at least as far as the preschool set is concerned. When I picked him up from school one day a couple of weeks ago, his teacher met me at the door. "I have a story for you," she said with a big smile on her face.
She told me about how she was playing outside with Gabe and some of the other children in his class when three of the preschool-aged girls from the Tigers class came by to say hello (as Gabe's teacher is their former teacher, and the big kids all seem to enjoy checking in on the little kids and their old classrooms). One of the preschool girls glanced at Gabe, then clasped her hands and declared, "Oh...he's mine." Then she gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Can I take him home?" she inquired politely.
"Oh, I don't know about that," replied the teacher. "I think we'll have to ask his mommy."
The little girl frowned. "I don't want to ask him mommy. I just want to take him home. He's mine now."
This went on for a while, with the teacher explaining she couldn't just take him, and the little girl insisting that she wanted to, and apparently the whole incident ended with all three of the little girls kissing Gabe goodbye and telling him they'd see him later.
And see him later they did. After coming by to check on him several more times in the following weeks, the ringleader brought her mommy by to meet Gabe last week. "Can we take him home?" she asked her mommy. "Please?"
I am told that when she was told no, Gabe had to go home with his own mommy and daddy who loved him very much, the little girl was quite put out. But she still frequently stops by to tell him hi and give him hugs and kisses.
Gabe, as you might imagine, eats this up. He will cheerfully sit in a circle of older women (well, four year olds, at least) and be petted and hugged and told how cute he is for twenty solid minutes, which is a long time when you're one and a half.
In fact, I have recently realized that he is happy to be admired (whether by family members, preschool girls, or complete strangers) no matter what the circumstances. This weekend we took him to a pumpkin patch to buy a pumpkin and test drive his Halloween costume, and he was very, very pleased by all the of the strangers who stopped to tell him how adorable he looked (and he really did look adorable in his dinosaur costume, make no mistake about that). He basically preened.
I have no witty conclusion to this story, other than to say he may be in for a rude awakening when the new baby arrives and he is forced to occasionally share the spotlight. Poor Gabe!
And on that note, I have to mention that the new baby had hiccups yesterday. It's the first time I've felt that odd, rhythmic movement during this pregnancy, and made me tear up a little bit. They were tears of joy and sudden remembrance. Until that moment I don't think I'd remembered just how miraculous those baby hiccups feel. And how could I have forgotten, when I was pregnant with Gabe so recently? What else have I forgotten, and what else might I forget? This most incredible time in my life is whizzing by much, much too quickly. So I sat in my desk chair with one hand on my tummy and thought to myself, "Remember this. Remember this. Remember this."
Oh, I hope I do. Maybe writing this will help freeze that feeling in my mind. I hope it does.
She told me about how she was playing outside with Gabe and some of the other children in his class when three of the preschool-aged girls from the Tigers class came by to say hello (as Gabe's teacher is their former teacher, and the big kids all seem to enjoy checking in on the little kids and their old classrooms). One of the preschool girls glanced at Gabe, then clasped her hands and declared, "Oh...he's mine." Then she gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Can I take him home?" she inquired politely.
"Oh, I don't know about that," replied the teacher. "I think we'll have to ask his mommy."
The little girl frowned. "I don't want to ask him mommy. I just want to take him home. He's mine now."
This went on for a while, with the teacher explaining she couldn't just take him, and the little girl insisting that she wanted to, and apparently the whole incident ended with all three of the little girls kissing Gabe goodbye and telling him they'd see him later.
And see him later they did. After coming by to check on him several more times in the following weeks, the ringleader brought her mommy by to meet Gabe last week. "Can we take him home?" she asked her mommy. "Please?"
I am told that when she was told no, Gabe had to go home with his own mommy and daddy who loved him very much, the little girl was quite put out. But she still frequently stops by to tell him hi and give him hugs and kisses.
Gabe, as you might imagine, eats this up. He will cheerfully sit in a circle of older women (well, four year olds, at least) and be petted and hugged and told how cute he is for twenty solid minutes, which is a long time when you're one and a half.
In fact, I have recently realized that he is happy to be admired (whether by family members, preschool girls, or complete strangers) no matter what the circumstances. This weekend we took him to a pumpkin patch to buy a pumpkin and test drive his Halloween costume, and he was very, very pleased by all the of the strangers who stopped to tell him how adorable he looked (and he really did look adorable in his dinosaur costume, make no mistake about that). He basically preened.
I have no witty conclusion to this story, other than to say he may be in for a rude awakening when the new baby arrives and he is forced to occasionally share the spotlight. Poor Gabe!
And on that note, I have to mention that the new baby had hiccups yesterday. It's the first time I've felt that odd, rhythmic movement during this pregnancy, and made me tear up a little bit. They were tears of joy and sudden remembrance. Until that moment I don't think I'd remembered just how miraculous those baby hiccups feel. And how could I have forgotten, when I was pregnant with Gabe so recently? What else have I forgotten, and what else might I forget? This most incredible time in my life is whizzing by much, much too quickly. So I sat in my desk chair with one hand on my tummy and thought to myself, "Remember this. Remember this. Remember this."
Oh, I hope I do. Maybe writing this will help freeze that feeling in my mind. I hope it does.
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