Changes

I realized this weekend that I need to raise the seat on Caetlin's bicycle. And that she doesn't need the stepstool to brush her teeth anymore.

She was a really good girl today at school, so I let her stay up a few extra minutes and watch a little bit of "Curious George 2: Follow That Monkey!" which she proclaims is "hilarious." She sounds just like me when she says it. So there we were, me folding laundry, her watching TV, and I started asking her about her day at school. It's been chilly and rainy and I asked what they did for recess when it rained. She said, "You mean for PE? We went with Coach Jackson to the gym because none of the other coaches were there yet."

This is my public-school big kid. She's not my baby anymore except in my mind, when I remember how tiny she used to be when she would sleep on my chest. She's not my toddler anymore except in my mind, when I remember her learning to talk and asking to be read "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" for the eleventy-millionth time. She's not my preschooler anymore except in my mind, when I remember her more or less teaching herself how to read and write and learning how to be real friends with other kids. She's the kid she's going to be for a long time, and I know that she's going to keep growing and changing and becoming ever bigger, and while I can't wait to see how she turns out, my heart almost can't take the thought of her not being exactly how she is. It's not that I want to hold her back. It's more that I regret the haze that falls over my memories, the clarity of every detail about her that I think I will retain forever that creeps away when I'm not paying attention. I remember her as a baby because I see the pictures; I remember her as a toddler because I can read my old blog posts. I remember her as a preschooler because that was just last year, but how she was then is already blurring and shifting in my memory, into the kid she is now.

So after we talked about her day and the extra reading instruction that she has in the library once a week, and after we talked about how they learned about the color purple and the fact that the daily temperature chart had been in the blue, we just hung out, her watching her movie and me folding clothes. We hung out the way I do with grownups with whom I'm comfortable, together but not talking. She's big enough to be my hangout friend.

And then she broke the spell when I told her it was time for bed and she pleaded for more time. She tried to argue that it wasn't actually late at all, and became again my 5-year-old who doesn't like to go to bed. After we brushed teeth and went potty ("But Mommy, I don't have to go potty. Oh, I guess I actually did."), when I tucked her in, she asked me to sing to her. She has always liked me to sing to her; when she was a baby I'd sing the songs from the TV shows she watched, or pop songs that I liked, or really whatever was in my head. She loved Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am" and it was her lullaby for a long time- I'd sing it to her every night.

She asked for Katy Perry's "Friday Night" (which, !!!) and I told her I didn't know the words (even though I totally do, and I feel a little embarrassed admitting that), and she asked for suggestions. So I turned out the light and in the deep dusky darkness sang Paul Simon's "St. Judy's Comet" to her, which was Phoebe's lullaby for a long time. She told me her favorite part was the part about the comet sparkling in her eyes, and I had to admit it was my favorite part too.

"Mommy, I wish I were a comet."

"I don't, baby. Then you wouldn't be my big girl."

"But I'd spray diamonds! That would be awesome."

"I know, but you wouldn't be my big girl. I'm not a comet, so if you were, you wouldn't be my Caetlin."

"But comets have mommies."

"Maybe so, but it wouldn't be me."

"Mommy, if there were a bigger comet than me, and then a bigger comet than that, and then a teeny tiny comet, it would be a comet family!"

"Maybe so, sweet girl. Time for sleep. I love you. Sweet dreams."

"Mommy, maybe I'll be a girl who turns into a comet just to spray diamonds and sparkle, and then be a girl again."

"You sparkle for me just like you are, sweetheart. Night night."

"Night, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too, sugarplum."

Things are always changing. I guess that's all we can count on out of life, that it changes and changes. She's growing up, I'm getting older, autumn approaches, literally and figuratively. I don't mean to be all Fleetwood Mac doing "Landslide" on you here, but sometimes it strikes straight to the heart of me that I'm failing to remember every single second of my children's brilliant lives. I get so caught up in the day to day, managing clothing and signed behavior sheets and healthy snacks and being Room Mom and making sure she doesn't watch too much TV and brushes her teeth and learns to be polite and good-hearted. I fail sometimes to just notice who she is. She's my beautiful comet, flying away from me every second of every day. At least I get to watch her sparkle as she goes.

Overcoming

I sang my first solo at church tonight with the choir. It went okay; I was generally on beat and on pitch, though there were a couple croaky notes and the musicality left a lot to be desired. There is definitely room for improvement, but it wasn't a disaster. Not as good as I hoped but better than I feared, so I suppose that's something.

I sang it for Caetlin, though she wasn't even there. Not because she particularly likes my singing (I suspect she does, but she's in a controlling phase right now and always orders me to stop singing unless she has specifically requested something). Not because it was a song I thought she might like, especially.

A recent Facebook status update of mine went like this: "Patricia is always sad and disappointed to see the things I like least about myself reflected in my children." My least favorite characteristic of mine, the part of myself that I most actively dislike and am dismayed by more or less on a daily basis, is my fear of not being perfect. I'm not talking about OCD-style perfectionism, but more like I'm afraid to screw up. I don't want to look stupid. It's maybe my biggest fear, and it is pathological. I don't want to appear lacking in any way, whether to friends, family or complete strangers.

Let me give you an example from when I was a kid. I started playing the trumpet when I was 12, in 6th grade. I had remembered my sister practicing her flute in her room when I was younger and she was in high school; I had this fantasy that I would do the same with my trumpet. Not long after I began learning, I was practicing one evening and hit a bum note, and my dad said something from the other room about me "hitting a raw one" or something equally innocuous about my wrong note. For the first time, it dawned on me- my family could hear me! In the small home in which I grew up, it would have been impossible not to, but for whatever reason, it had never crossed my mind to think they could. And they could hear me make mistakes!

I almost never practiced at home after that. For a long time I blamed my dad, for commenting about my screw-up, or for making me self-conscious. But the real problem was not his comment; it was me. My home was where the people who loved me best lived; if anyone was going to tolerate bum notes, it would be them. This went deeper than one offhand teasing comment by my dad.

If I could have ever found a place where no one could hear me, I would have practiced. I grew up in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of the back 40, and I couldn't get comfortable practicing even in the middle of the woods that surrounded my little neighborhood. Because someone might hear me make a mistake. I wish I could have gotten over it. It weakened me as a musician, this failure to practice at home. I look back now and realize that I squandered some real talent. I would never have been a professional; I never wanted to be. But I performed at a truly high level, particularly for a high school student, on the basis only of whatever class time and after school rehearsals I might have had. My band program was of high quality, so that meant probably 8 or 9 hours a week, but still. Nothing on weekends unless there was a performance. Nothing over the summer.

It haunts me. I could have been so much better even than I was. My senior year I lost my first chair (yes, I was first freaking chair and I never practiced) to a kid who wanted it so bad. He was so good, and he clearly put a lot of time into his music. Then I lost second chair to another kid, and then I lost third chair because I didn't care at all. I didn't practice my scales for the challenges, see, so it almost wasn't even worth showing up to them. In one case I didn't.

The main criticism of me was always, play out. More volume. I was afraid to let anyone hear me. I was afraid to fail, to sound anything less than perfect.

A more recent example is that I am afraid to live in country where I don't speak the language. I'm afraid to sound dumb. Not just by not knowing the vocabulary, but even by getting the accent wrong. I realize how ridiculous this is by seeing my own behavior with a non-native English speaker- do I laugh when they struggle for a word or don't get the grammar quite right? Nope, of course not. But the fear is petrifying. And I hate it in myself.

You can imagine how dismayed I was when I realized I was seeing some of the same things in Caetlin. She may not have that fear to the same degree I do, but I see it in her. She won't try to do things I know she can, preferring to say, "I can't do it." She won't guess at questions- if she doesn't absolutely know the answer, she'll say, "I don't know." Even when she does know, and I know she knows. She just doesn't want to be wrong, I think.

This makes me so incredibly sad. Of everything that is who I am, I wish I could have not passed that part on to her. I hope I didn't pass it on to Phoebe, and I pray I will not pass it to any future children I may be blessed with. Because if Caetlin is anything like me, she will live parts of her life in paralyzing fear. She will miss out on opportunities to have fun, to improve herself, and to experience wonderful things because of this trait, this issue, this shackle that weighs me down.

I can't let that happen to her, not if I can help it. I realized recently that I have the chance to try to combat it now, while she's young, and that I must do everything I can to counteract this in her. So I try to push her, gently, to try new things, or to answer questions of which she is unsure. I hope her teachers at school do the same. I try to make home a welcoming environment, making it explicit that she can screw up without fear of failure or judgment. She's too young to get all this, of course, but I hope it will sink in over repeated interactions.

But one other thing I must do is model for her the behavior I want to encourage. And that means facing my fears and doing things that scare the shit out of me. And making myself do them even when my whole being is screaming to stop, I'm going to look like a fool, everyone will laugh at me or worse they will just smile and say nice things to my face and then behind my back will talk about how terrible I was (something I'm working to convince myself my choir-mates aren't doing even as I type this...).

So, tonight I sang mediocrely in front of my church congregation. I could have asked the women to sing my part, or asked someone else to take the solo. The pianist could have sung it beautifully on no preparation whatsoever, and knowing that I have those kinds of alternatives makes it easy for me to consider running away again. But I did it. I did it for my daughter. In doing it for her, I ended up doing it for myself far more than I could have ever imagined. My choir-mates (whom I respect so tremendously and I'd hate for them to think I'm not a good musician, oh, God, they all think I suck now) all said nice things because they knew how ridiculously nervous I was. I pooh-poohed them a little, because it really objectively wasn't that awesome, but a part of me didn't want to soft pedal the praise at all, because it is such a HUGE deal that I did it at all. My choir-mates don't know me well enough to know that, so it would have come out wrong.

But I did it. Croaky, trembling, shaking almost uncontrollably. I sang into a microphone in front of a few hundred people, and if I looked stupid, or sounded terrible, well, that matters less than that I did it at all. I did it for Caetlin. Maybe, in trying to be a good role model for her, I can make the tiniest of starts on fixing the thing I like least about myself. Maybe we can help each other that way.

Three

Yesterday at the indoor playground, her little voice calling, "Mommy!" rang through my ears, and I marveled that she meant me.

She made me laugh, too, being silly, a fake har-har-har that cracks me up every time. And then we jumped in the bounce house and collapsed in a pile of giggles.

Later she ate pizza and peaches like a big kid, went potty like a big kid, put her shoes on like a big kid. She is a big kid.

She is so competent, so mindful of herself. When did she become a complete person, entirely separate, with her own wants and preferences and destiny?

She amazes me daily, with everything she is and does and wants to be. She is more like me than not, these days, and by that I mean that at three years old, she is closer to being a grown up than she is a baby. I know that sounds hyperbolic, and I know she has a lot to learn still, but she's fundamentally her own person. She doesn't need me, not like Phoebe needs me.

I am so lucky to be her mom. Happy birthday, my wonderful amazing girl. Who is growing up far too fast. I can't wait to see what the next year brings.

Tomorrow Is the Day

So...I go back to work tomorrow. I wish I had another month. Or 6. Or 12. It's been especially nice that Bruce has been home with us lately, though unfortunately it was a result of his being laid off.

Phoebe and I are not really separate beings at this point. I mean, of course I see and understand that we are two people, but she doesn't get that yet. And I haven't worked at all to emphasize it. Anytime she cries and I can't soothe her any other way, she gets the breast. My body is hers; I'm sure she sees me as a large extension of herself. I am her hands, her feet, her eyes, her food. I have had to do everything, be everything for her. This was true for Caetlin as well, but less so, in part because I went back to work when she was so much younger than Phoebe, and in part because Phoebe is so much more enamored of me. Caetlin loved me, but Phoebe loooooves me. I calm her more easily than Bruce when she cries (and not just with my boobs!), and she just generally usually seems happier with me.

So, tomorrow will be traumatic for her. And for me. It's not that I think she won't be cared for- she totally will. She'll be with our nanny and Bruce, and she'll be perfectly fine. But she'll miss me. And I will miss her. Every time I am away from her for any period of time, I miss her, like she's a fifth appendage. Even though sometimes I resent being so tied to her, and her to me, when I'm untethered from her I also feel unmoored. I worry for her. I worry that she won't understand that Mommy is coming back, and will only know that she wants me and I'm not there.

And then there is the breastfeeding and pumping thing. I am so nervous that she won't continue to nurse. That is what Caetlin did when I went back to work, and though the circumstances are somewhat different here (Caetlin never nursed without a nipple shield and therefore a bottle was much easier for her, plus she was never an avid nurser like Phoebe anyway), I worry. I want to nurse in the mornings and evenings and pump during the day, rather than pumping everything. Down that road lies madness, as I well know; I pumped for 3 more months with Caetlin after she stopped nursing. Despite my frantic efforts, I never pumped enough for Caetlin to have only breast milk, so after my store of frozen milk went away, I was only able to pump about 40% of the milk she needed as she grew. And to eke out that 40%, I was pumping up to 8 times a day, wrecking my productivity and my emotional state.

My big concern about Phoebe is that she has grown so aware, so interested in the world around her, that she will prefer the bottle because it will be easier to look around while she eats. I know I just need to relax and accept what comes, but it feels like such a personal rejection when the babe refuses to nurse. Such a referendum on my mothering. Or on my decision to keep working (not like I have a choice now, but I have had in the past). At times like those, the internet criticisms of "Why did you have kids if you aren't going to raise them yourself?" haunt me the most.

Anyway, going back is not just about these big things, of worrying that I won't be able to continue nursing Phoebe and fearing the pain of separation from her. It's the small things too- having to get up with an alarm in the morning, instead of waking up with the kids. Not being able to wear my comfortable, machine washable clothing, and generally putting less effort into my appearance (I'm always clean, but I don't remember the last time I put on full makeup, and I stress far less about a spot on my shirt). Having to plan my days more carefully, thinking about kids' mealtimes and pumping and getting to the gym and what deadlines will I have at work, when the past four-plus months have just been one unbroken, underscheduled stretch.

And then there is the frustration of work, of trying to scratch out a place for myself in a department that is indifferent to my efforts. The worry about Bruce, and whether and when and where he will find something. Tomorrow will be the first day in over 4 years that Bruce and I have not worked together (barring my maternity leave with Caetlin, when one of us is sick, etc.). And there is the added pressure of being the breadwinner. Though Bruce is continuing to receive a paycheck, that will run out faster than I can even think about it. It makes me scared for my job, scared for us, even though the numbers crunch just fine on only my salary. I don't like the pressure of carrying the family, not in this economy, in my line of work.

Anyway, I can't stop tomorrow from coming, and it will bring what it will bring. I know from experience that Phoebe will be just fine in the long run. I went back to work much sooner with Caetlin than I have with Phoebe (and can I say just how incomprehensibly short 12 weeks seemed with Phoebe, to the point that I have no idea how I went back when Caetlin was so incredibly young? My hat is off to anyone who can or must go back to work any sooner than that, as I know many women are required to do), and she's a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted almost-three-year-old. And she was a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted baby after I went back. We will all get used to our new normal, probably pretty quickly. If I keep things in perspective, I know it is not the end of the world, not the end of our relationship, not a sign of poor parenting. It's just...different. Different is not bad. Just different.

So off we go into the great unknown. How will we cope with the changes? I hope better than I did when I went back to work when Caetlin was a baby. At least this time there is not a convenient chocolate-filled holiday nearby, so I hopefully won't put on 20 pounds as a result of being so depressed about going back. That time it was a poorly timed trip to Target- a few weeks before I went back to work, I bought a huge amount of half priced candy that consoled me through the first couple months back at work. Consoled me right into larger sized clothing, too. I didn't lose that weight until about a year ago. Let's hope I can avoid that this time!

In other news, we have spent the last two weeks at the beach, and had a fantastic time. Caetlin, especially, had a wonderful time in the pool and the ocean (Gulf of Mexico, really). She started the vacation in my grandmother's pool with floaties on both arms and a pink inflatable ring around her middle, and she had to be coaxed away from the steps into Bruce's arms. By the end of the two weeks, she was going completely underwater while holding her breath, without her ring (her floaties had been long since discarded). Seeing her gain so much confidence in the water has been really great. I think if we had been there another week, she would have been swimming, as often as she was in the pool. The kid was more or less in her swimsuit from morning until night; we had to pry her out of it. And she's been pretending to be swimming all day today, and asking to go to the pool as well. Bruce and I are both fans of the water (something I remembered about myself when I spent so much time in the pool with Caetlin), so it's no surprise that Caetlin loved swimming so much. I can't wait to get her some lessons so she can really get moving.

Also, Phoebe had rice cereal for the first time today, and loved it. She sucked down spoonful after spoonful and consumed in the neighborhood of a quarter of a cup. She quickly got into the groove of opening her mouth for the spoon. Though she sucked on the spoon, which made a big mess, she clearly loved the whole eating experience. She even started crying and fussing between spoonfuls, because I wasn't pouring it into her fast enough. It was hilarious and awesome and so much fun. When we were done, her little belly was all pooched out and full, and she was basically ready to pass out. After a bath and a short nursing session, she crashed hard (this was after a 2 and a half hour nap this afternoon, which might be the longest nap she's ever taken- girl is sleep deprived and then some from our vacation). I'll look forward to giving it to her again tomorrow. It's something to look forward to about tomorrow anyway.

News and Notes

A scattering of random facts and anecdotes from the No Math house:

- My thrush appears to have cleared up, thank goodness. I'm still on medication for it, as is Phoebe, but it's kind of how you take antibiotics long after you stop being sick- it's still working even though the symptoms are all gone. And frankly the symptoms were what I really cared about. That shit hurt. NOT recommended.

- Phoebe turns two whole months old tomorrow. How is that possible?? And she's started outgrowing some of her 0-3 month clothes. Scary. She otherwise remains the smiling-est baby on the planet. I will have to try to take some pictures so you can see the gorgeousness that is her smile. She's also sleeping really well at night. Last night she slept for 5 hours, had a feeding, and then slept another 5 hours. We're starting to lose that haggard look that comes from too many interruptions in sleep for too many nights in a row.

-We all seem to be healthy around here for right now; everyone please say a little prayer that we can stay that way for awhile. I love all my care providers, but I am really ready to not see the inside of a hospital for as long as possible.

- Caetlin has decided that she loves pretty dresses, and it's been mostly warm enough to let her wear them. It is with some small embarrassment that I admit that I think she has basically every style of dress that my local Target sells for toddlers. What?? I'm trying to make sure she has enough to rotate through the week. Really! Anyway, it's awesome to see her twirl around in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom. She looks at herself, dances around a bit, looks at herself again, and tells me, "It's a pretty dress, Mommy!" I love making her that happy with something so simple as a dress.

- Caetlin has also exploded musically lately, and will often sing herself to sleep. Favorites include "Itsy Bitsy Spider," and "Pop Goes the Weasel" (which is "Hop Goes the Weasel" if she's not paying attention), "London Bridge is Falling Down", "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" and the always-popular ABCs song. It also leads to some interesting displays of personality. Her nanny told us about one day last week when Caetlin was singing Itsy Bitsy Spider and her ABCs at the park, and getting all the "Awww"s and smiles from the assembled grownups. Her little friend Mary, who turned three in January, chimed in as well, and started getting her share of attention. Caetlin apparently decided she was not going to be shown up, and launched into an operatic "Baa Baa, Black Sheep," which Mary didn't know. Caetlin's nanny said Caetlin was clearly all, "Top that, amateur."

- We have started a hard core push on potty training. She's pretty good on pee, though we have to make her go when she's in the middle of something. The poop, however, is a different story. She has pooped in the potty in the past, but for whatever reason, refuses to try these days. We'll be putting her in underwear soon, so she can feel the mess she's making when she goes in her pants, pee or poop. It's going to be a long summer, I think, filled with bodily fluids. Y-A-Y.

- Speaking of summer, we joined the Atlanta Metro YMCA this week, and got Caetlin signed up for parent-tot swim classes that start at the end of this month. I am hoping to spend a few days at the beach with the girls this summer, and I want Caetlin to be at least comfortable if her head should go under or something like that. Plus as much as she loves the water, she needs to learn how to swim, pronto. I'm excited about taking her to the classes; I think it will be fun time for us together.

- Bruce and I both took advantage of the wellness programs at the Y as well, starting a 6-month series with a wellness coordinator who set us up on the weight machines and showed us how to use the FitLinxx system. I walked on the treadmill for the first time today. It's Day 1 in my quest to lose weight, firm up, and make my heart healthier. My diet is better than it has been in a long time, and I feel like it's a diet I can maintain, so the next thing is to add in the exercise while I have the time to get hooked on it. Wish me luck.

- On the work front, Tokyo appears to be officially dead, so that's a decision we at least don't have to face. We have informed the nanny that Bruce could be laid off at any time, and things don't look great for him, and she should probably search for another job, given the economic climate. I think she doesn't want to hear it, and has stuck her head in the sand and refused to look for anything else, but that is not a decision we can make for her. I think we have acted in good conscience in this situation. We have given her all the information we can, and she can choose to act- or not- on that info.

- Completely as a lark, Bruce and I have both registered for the Foreign Service Officer Test to be given in June. It's a lark because the odds of either of us becoming foreign service officers are pretty small, and the process takes a really long time, at least a year. I'm actually enjoying the process of studying for it- test taking is something that I am good at, and I'm enjoying feeling mental muscles stretching out that I haven't used in awhile. It would be a huge deal if one or both of us made it, but I'm not even thinking that way at this point. It's much more about the fun of taking the test and seeing how I do. I've needed an intellectual goal for awhile now, since I'm on leave now and before I left work there wasn't much for me to do anyway.

- Finally, Caetlin was super adorable when she came in from the park this afternoon. I had just finished feeding Phoebe, who was asleep in my arms in the same position she had nursed in. Caetlin picked up Cheer Bear (I think I have written about Cheer Bear before, how she's completely annoying but Caetlin loves her so I love her) and said, "I'm feeding Cheer Bear, Mommy," and held the little pink bear's face to her chest. She sat like that as long as Phoebe stayed in my arms in that position, occasionally telling me how she was feeding Cheer Bear. It was adorable to watch her "nurse" her bear.

So, that's about all there is from here. Life rolls on, more or less uneventfully these days. We like uneventful. Uneventful is good.

Conversation with Caetlin

Bruce told me he had the following exchange with Caetlin in the car this afternoon:

Caetlin rubs the bruise on her head. From the back seat, Bruce hears:
"Ow! Hurts!"

Bruce: "Don't touch it, silly!"

From the back seat:
"Hurts!"

Bruce: "Don't touch it, Caetlin!"

"Hurts!"

I think he gave up after a couple iterations.**

The offending goose egg, two days post-trauma.

**It wouldn't be funny if she wasn't doing so much better. Her fever was down to a low grade temp this morning and gone entirely this afternoon. She's tired, but seems to be recovering well. Therefore I feel I can safely laugh at her silliness.

At Least Life with Her Is Never Boring

So, Caetlin decided to make life interesting again by having another seizure yesterday. It was in some ways the scariest one she's had, at least to me.

She went to the zoo in the morning, and spent the afternoon after her nap coloring Easter eggs and having an egg hunt at the park with her play group. She came home happy and talking about having high-fived the panda at the zoo (a guy in a panda suit), and about having collected the pink egg as her special one. She had chocolate smeared on her face.

We were all in the living room, and she was standing at the coffee table, when she started to make a strange noise. She often makes strange noises, so I didn't think anything of it. A second later, though, she fell backward, dead weight, her head cracking sickeningly on the hardwood floor. I ran over to her, calling her name, and picked her up as she was simultaneously limp and jerky in my arms. I said to Bruce, "She's having a seizure," and put her down. I stayed over her, watching her lips turn an alarming shade of blue and her face turn a scary grey, though I could see that she was breathing. When strings of saliva started to bubble out of her mouth, I turned her head to the side so she didn't aspirate any of it.

After maybe a minute- or a year, depending on your perspective- she stopped jerking and started to cry a little bit. She was so hot! We scooped her up and gathered Phoebe and some things and headed to the hospital. We've done this enough that I thought to bring Caetlin's blankies and pacifier and pajamas and some diapers.

Bruce lead-footed it to the emergency room and they saw us pretty quickly. She threw up on the way, all over herself and her car seat. When the nurse first took her vitals, she took her temperature under Caetlin's arm, which gave a reading of 98.9, which seemed awfully cool based on how she felt in my arms. When we were admitted to a triage room, the pediatrician saw us fairly quickly. Her ears and throat looked clear, so he wanted to take a urine sample to rule out UTI. We also discussed whether a CT was necessary, since she had hit her head so hard. His thought was that she was alert and talking, and had only thrown up the once, so it probably wasn't necessary, but if we wanted it for peace of mind, we could certainly justify having one done.

Bruce tried to get Caetlin to give a urine sample by making water in the potty, which would have been more pleasant for all of us, but stressed as she was, she refused, so we had to ask the nurse to take a sample with a catheter. The nurse was awesome; she only cleaned the relevant area of Caetlin's girl parts, rather than scrubbing them all over with the antiseptic, which can't feel good, and she got the catheter in on the first try, which is not always the case. While we had her diaper off, we asked them to take another temperature reading, because they were not going to give her any fever reducer based on the earlier reading. We could see she didn't feel good, even as the effects of the seizure wore off. The anal temperature came to 102.2, so she was dosed with Tylenol.

As the Tylenol took effect, she clearly started to feel better. We had the CT done, for our own peace of mind (Natasha Richardson was to the forefront of my mind). The CT was clear for head injury, but did show some fluid on her middle ear and around her jawbone. The urine was clean on the microscope (though we won't be clear on that front until the culture hopefully comes back negative as well), and the pediatrician's best guess is a middle ear infection. That or some random virus, which is always a possibility. He prescribed antibiotics and sent us home.

So, we trooped home, four hours after we left the house. Her fever was down and she fell asleep right away, after having a perfunctory dinner. When she woke up this morning her fever was back up again, so we've kept her dosed with fever-reducer all day, alternating Tylenol and Motrin every three hours. If her fever is still up tomorrow, we'll be taking her to her regular pediatrician for further evaluation.

So that's where we are. Odds are, she'll be fine. As I maintain, kids get random fevers all the time. Caetlin is just more dramatic about it. More updates as events warrant.

Happy Easter! (Early)

Today after Mass the Marrieds Group at church had its annual Easter egg hunt. After the eggs were all found (within minutes, of course), everyone adjourned to the playground across the street for cupcakes and juice boxes.

Caetlin had a red cupcake.



She enjoyed the frosting first.



With the spoils of the egg hunt.



Then smiled at me after finishing.



It's awesome watching her eat a cupcake.

Three Funny Stories

Okay, enough with the depressing for a minute. I have three different, funny, true stories from my life the past few days.

1. The Footwear Incident
Friday, I met Bruce and a good friend with whom I work for lunch. It was nice to get out of the house and see my friend, with whom I had lunched pretty regularly before I went on leave. She drove Bruce to the restaurant and I met them there, but I ended up driving Bruce back to the office afterward, just for a few more minutes with my hubby.

In the car, Bruce looked at me and said, "Did you know that when I left the house this morning, I was wearing a hiking boot on one foot and a dress shoe on the other??"

When I caught my breath from laughing, I looked down and saw that he had put on white sneakers that had been in the car. With black pants and a polo shirt. It made me laugh all over again. At least they matched, I guess. Each other, anyway. After I stopped laughing again I had to assure him that I had most definitely not been aware when he left that morning of his, um, shoe situation.

2. The Full Moon
I have mentioned over on Facebook that Caetlin is going through a phase where she's taking off her clothes and diaper in her crib. Partly it is a potty training thing- we're deep into it now, with her regularly going on the potty, if not terribly reliably. And part of it is a sleep-delay tactic. She's giving us and her nanny fits, requiring three sheets changes per nap, and covering all her sleeping accouterments- Elmo, Flat Bear, her two blankies, her pillows, and her covers, plus whatever other stuffed animal may be sleeping with her at the time- in the waste product of the day. This is an awesome stage, I must confess.

So last night, we put her down, and while we normally watch her on the video monitor to make sure she's not taking her clothes off, the monitor battery was dead, and neither of us felt like getting the charger for it. We didn't hear much from her room anyway, and we knew she was really tired, so we assumed she fell asleep pretty quickly and left it at that, attending to the details of feeding Phoebe, feeding ourselves, watching TV, relaxing from the day, etc.

A couple of hours later, we're trooping back to the bedroom to try and get some sleep, where we finally plugged in the monitor. I turned it on and peered at the picture, checking on Caetlin. What confronted me was startling and hilarious: my daughter's bare bottom, a full moon, glowing into the night vision camera. She had passed out face down, completely naked, a result of taking off her one piece pajamas in order to take her diaper off.

We went in and changed her and changed her sheets, which were sopping wet. Caetlin had to have been cold- we keep it cool in the house and I have no idea how she was sleeping so deeply on cold wet bedding, naked. She went back to sleep immediately, and I was left to continue chuckling over the picture of her bare ass that greeted me when I turned the monitor on.

3. The Church Do-Si-Do
I took both the girls to church with me this morning, to give Bruce some kid-free time and for me to get holy. I had intended to put Caetlin into the nursery, but I was running late and I wasn't sure where the nursery was, as we've never taken her there, and so I just took her with me. How bad could it be? I thought.

(Aside: never, as a parent, think, "How bad can it be?" and then continue to do whatever you're thinking about. If you think, "How bad can it be?" the answer is, invariably, much, much worse than what you're prepared for. Just stop if you think those 5 little words. Really. Not worth it, ever.)

I wasn't dumb enough to try to take both girls to the cathedral Mass, so we instead went to the Mass held in the parish hall, which has a higher than average proportion of children and is easier to get in and out of. I had Phoebe in a sling at my hip, and Caetlin motored under her own power. Everything was great at first. Caetlin was glad to be hanging out with me, no matter how many times I asked her to use her whisper voice, and she was really, really good, staying confined to our little two-chair area, playing with things she found in the diaper bag, etc.

Then the homily ran long. I knew we were in for it when I looked at my watch, and 50 minutes had gone by, and we were only at the beginning of the Eucharist. Of course I hadn't been able to pay much attention to the homily because of wrangling Caetlin, but I figured I could still take Communion, which has always been central to me. Caetlin had started to melt down a little, starting when I took my lipstick from her that she found in my purse. I had let her play with it for a long time, actually, since she wasn't hurting anything, and it would cause more of a scene to take it from her, but when I realized she was getting it all in her hair (at least it was a good color for her), I just grabbed it. That, predictably, didn't go over well.

Then they called our row with no advance warning, sending us up the center aisle instead of down the side as expected. I had to usher Caetlin, who was feeling contrary, out and into the procession. She decided that she wasn't going to go, and laid flat down on the floor.

I tried to get out of the way of those behind me, Phoebe swinging loose in her sling from my hip as I bent over Caetlin with murder in my eyes (not very Godly, I admit). I ultimately had to pick Caetlin up and carry her to the priest so I could receive Communion. I had 9.5 pounds of Phoebe on my right hip, 30 pounds of Caetlin on my left hip, and I was on a mission; I was going to take Communion if it killed us all. Caetlin smacked me all the way up the aisle, too, on my arm and on my face, over and over and over. I marched grimly on.

I reached the priest, finally, and he blessed Caetlin and gave me my piece of the host. I tried to direct his attention to my hip, where Phoebe slept in the sling, pulling the sling open with my non-Caetlin-holding hand, trying to mumble around my mouthful of dry host, "Can you bless her please?" Meanwhile, Caetlin's hands are reaching out for the piece of host that the clueless priest is holding out, and he was about to hand it to her, and I realized at that minute that Phoebe wasn't getting blessed today. I whisked Caetlin away, her grasping fingers closing on empty air instead of the proffered piece of bread, seeing the bewilderment and confusion in the priest's eyes at just how weird that little interlude was.

I reached our seats with something like gratitude smothered in murderous rage at my brat daughter. I picked up our things and took us out, before the end of the service, needing to get out, feeling as though everyone had witnessed my strange little Communion shuffle (of course, they hadn't). What had I been thinking, taking both kids and not insisting that Caetlin go to the nursery? How bad could it be? Worse than I imagined. At least Caetlin didn't start screaming. That would have been much worse. She did, however, decide to lie flat again in the middle of the hallway outside. I saw a nice man stoop to try and help me, before he realized that no, she wasn't hurt, just being obnoxious. He backed away like she had the plague. I couldn't really blame him. I wanted to do the same thing, myself.

Professional Phoebe and Caetlin Pics

We took Phoebe and Caetlin to a wonderful photographer today, Paul Wendl in Alpharetta. The session was mostly to focus on Phoebe, but he took a few of the whole family, a few of Caetlin and Phoebe together, and a few of Caetlin by herself. He has published a few of the many wonderful pictures on his blog. Go here to see what I believe to be some unretouched shots from today's session.

News

Some few pieces of news from the No Math household:

1. Caetlin has become ever more adept at using the potty! She has both urinated and pooped on the potty in recent days, some days more than once. We've been inadvertently helped by a really bad case of diaper rash, caused by the antibiotic that is treating her ear infection. (Yeah, she had an ear infection, diagnosed about a week ago. We can't seem to keep the child healthy.) Anyway, she's had a really terrible time with the diaper rash, and it has made her reluctant to urinate in her diaper, because it stings on the rash. So she holds it and goes in the potty. Voila! Toilet training through pain! I should write a book.*

It's been interesting to see Caetlin's response to the diaper rash. She's had it this bad before- the girl has a sensitive bottom. But she has never put up this much of a fight about changing her diaper before, where she wriggles and screams before anyone even touches her. Beyond being heartbreaking, it is also evidence, I think, that she is anticipating the pain, meaning she is starting to think about the future. With previous diaper rash incidents, the pain was immediate and then she forgot about it. This time she remembers that it hurts and anticipates that pain when it's time for a change. Very interesting to me.

2. Caetlin can also read a couple of words. This isn't actually new, so I might have posted about it before, but she can read her name and a couple of other words. They are sight words; she isn't quite ready for phonics and sounding words out yet, mostly because I don't think she grasps the concept of being able to read by herself. When she gets that and wants to read, it will be a snap to teach her, I think. She knows all her letters and the sounds that many of them make already. Anyway, Bruce was skeptical when I called it "reading" that she can recognize her name and a couple other words, but as I pointed out to him, reading is nothing but pattern recognition, and she recognizes and puts meaning to the pattern that is "Caetlin." Just because she can't sound words out doesn't mean she isn't reading these two or three sight words. I think it's pretty cool, regardless. And I'm reasonably confident that she'll be reading before 4.

3. Japan news- things appear to have stalled on the part of the client company. We do not think the position is dead in the water yet; as soon as the firm becomes convinced of that, we think Bruce will be laid off, which hasn't happened yet. However, as the economy continues to go south, both here and in Japan, the prospects for Bruce remaining employed, whether here or there, are looking grimmer every day. I just try to take things one day at a time and not focus on the insecurity. I especially try not to worry about my own job and try to have faith that I add enough value and that the firm wouldn't be so cruel as to lay us both off. I'm also hopeful that maybe when I return from leave, things will have picked up a bit. Fingers crossed.

4. Phoebe's hair is falling out. It remains to be seen whether it all falls out or just some of it. We're having pictures made tomorrow, so we can at least memorialize her birth hair, in the event that she turns into a bald baby. She is otherwise fine, growing like crazy and still an easygoing girl.

That's about all the news fit to print around here. Other than job and economic worries, we are all fine. Bruce and I are a little tired, but otherwise all is well.

I hope to have more pictures of Phoebe soon.

*I hope I don't have to clarify this, but making light of my daughter's painful diaper rash and the unintended (good) consequences thereof don't mean I'm glad for it. I fervently wish it had never happened, as I can't stand to see my big girl in so much pain. But sometimes one needs to find the funny where one can, you know?

Settling In

I have to say that so far, managing two kids has not been as challenging as I thought it would be. *Frantically knocks all wood in immediate vicinity* Seriously, though, I am kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop with Phoebe. She is so far a tremendously easygoing baby. She sometimes cries when we change her diaper, and she cries when she's hungry. Very occasionally, like once in 11 days, she's cried for a minute or two because she had gas. If I can get to her before she's melting down with hunger (not too hard at this point), she might cry once per day. So far, there have been none of the random newborn freakouts. Caetlin was an easy child, but nothing like this. I'm sure the fact that my anxiety level is way, way down helps a lot.

Anyway, we'll keep our fingers crossed that Phoebe maintains this even temperament as she grows. And now, some random observations from chez No Math:

- As I mentioned, our anxiety level is way down regarding care and feeding of a newborn. I have none of the worry that we won't be able to keep Phoebe alive, like I did with Caetlin. That makes spending time with her and the rest of the family far more fun and less scary than I ever imagined it could be.

- As a corollary to the lowered anxiety, I don't have Mom Ears tuned quite as sensitively as they were with Caetlin, which is actually a good thing. Phoebe sleeps kind of loudly, making all kinds of grunts, snores, and squeaks in the night. I manage to sleep through most of that. With Caetlin, I woke up with every little noise. Now, I'm getting more sleep than I had hoped for.

- Nursing is going so much better than I ever expected, thanks to some timely intervention by a lactation consultant that I was smart enough to go see the day after we left the hospital. I was quite sore, and she helped me learn how to get Phoebe latched on well, so as to not hurt nearly as much. The initial first days caused a bit of soreness that is mostly healed now, which is a good thing because Phoebe is a nursing fool. She cluster feeds during most days, so by the end of the day I'm a little sore again, but it also means she sleeps for decent stretches at night- 5 or 6 hours- and I recover then. I nursed Caetlin, but I used nipple shields with her and she and I never learned to latch on correctly. I am convinced that is part of why Caetlin stopped nursing when I went back to work. I am hopeful that will not happen with Phoebe.

- Because of her voracious appetite, Phoebe is visibly growing. She's also pooing about every 30 seconds or so, often mid-diaper change. Awesome. Thankfully, breastmilk poop doesn't smell bad, a fact that I am grateful for when it comes bubbling out of her as I'm trying to clean her tiny bottom.

- Caetlin is apparently enchanted with "Baby Phoebe." She loves looking at her, and touching her occasionally. She talks about her all the time. She's also clearly thrilled that I am up and about and interacting with her more. She's a joy to be around (beyond being a typical 2.5 year old pain in the booty).

- Caetlin started just today calling me Mom and Bruce Dad. Where did she get this? I have no idea. Not from us; we've always referred to ourselves as Mommy and Daddy. She hasn't dropped Mommy and Daddy, but Mom and Dad have started to work their way in, and it makes her sound older than she is.

- I had my first post-partum alcoholic beverage tonight, a beer, and it tasted like nectar of the gods. So incredibly yummy.

- I feel wonderful. Really, really good. I have mentioned this before, but it bears repeating, because I just feel that good. I am happy that I can hang out with Caetlin without worrying about her hurting me, or that I'm doing too much. I am happy that I am sleeping better. I am happy that I can eat a turkey sandwich without worrying about listeria, that I can drink that aforementioned beer, that I can imagine going out to a restaurant and having a great glass of wine that completely complements the meal. I no longer have heartburn. I don't hurt from giving birth, haven't had a single pain pill. And there's this other thing. I'm a little embarrassed to say this, because I am so happy about it, but it's so atypical and I had nothing to do with it, but I still remain really happy about it.

Okay, I'll whisper it:

I'm back into non-maternity clothes. And I'm only 9 pounds off my pre-pregnant weight.

I don't mean to throw that into anyone's face. Again, I had nothing to do with it. I'm just lucky this time. And I'm so happy about it, no looking a gift horse in the mouth for me. It helps me feel better all over to feel like I look good physically.

Anyway, that's what's happening around here these days. It's your average brand new baby, second child, toddler parenting situation, and we're happy. I'm happy. Things are good.

One Thing Down

Well, we got Caetlin's surgery behind us today. It was a very quick procedure, as promised, and the surgery center was actually running ahead of schedule, so we went home at 1:30 this afternoon, after having arrived at 10:30 that morning.

She woke up early purely by chance this morning, though we needed to get her up early anyway so she could have some Jello and juice for breakfast (no solids allowed), which she had to finish by 8:30. We had talked about going to the doctor, and how they would help her have a nap and when she woke up Mommy and Daddy would be there, and maybe her girl parts might be a little sore, but I'm not sure how much of it sunk in. She was super cooperative at the surgery center, though, especially in taking the vitals. When the nurse pulled out the blood pressure cuff, she stuck out her ankle and pulled up her pants leg (they mostly took her blood pressure in her leg when she was in the hospital, as that was usually more accessible). The nurse was amazed at how good she was, and we had to admit that it was because of her recent hospital stay.

They only let one person back with her when they put her under the anesthesia, which by default was Bruce. They said there may be gases in the room that would be problematic for the baby, so I was not allowed back. He described it as a typical operating room, brightly lit and with four or five people in there. He laid her down on the bed and she started getting really scared, and crying a little, especially when they put the mask on, of which I guess she had little warning. Then to watch her go under was kind of freaky, as her eyes rolled back in her head and she was gone.

We were led to a small post-op room to wait. The procedure itself only took 10-15 minutes, and when the urologist came to see us after, he told us that her right ureter was pretty badly misplaced, possibly worse than the tests have so far indicated. They corrected it with the injection of the Deflux material, and now it is a waiting game to see if the material stays put and holds fast over time.

After another 15 or 20 minutes, they brought her in on a bed. She was crying, clearly scared and upset, almost hysterical, which I had expected. Her condition was actually better than I expected it to be, post-anesthesia, frankly. The nurse helped untangle her IV and got her to me; she was basically standing on the bed climbing me to get away from the nurse, so the hardest thing was making sure the IV wasn't going to be pulled. Her gown had fallen off mostly, and she just sat on my lap, her head on my shoulder, covered by a blanket to keep her warm. We had the foresight to bring her blankets and paci and her stuffed tiger, and these things gave her comfort too. Eventually her sobs trailed off, and she fell asleep on me.

She slept that way for a good half an hour, while the nurse came in and discussed discharge instructions and mentioned that she wanted to see Caetlin drink some juice and keep it down before we could go home. At 1:15 we woke her up, and she drank half the sippy of juice we brought with us. She kept it down just fine, and besides being a tiny bit scratchy-voiced from the breathing tube, was basically herself again. The first thing she asked for was that the IV be taken off (completely understandable!), and when the nurse came to let us go home she was completely compliant in letting her pull the tape off, even going so far as to point out the remaining tape to the nurse.

Other than being a slight bit cranky, she's entirely herself, though it's unclear whether the cranky is because she's tired or a lingering effect of the anesthetic. She even went to the park with Bruce this afternoon and had a great time. She went down early and immediately- there weren't even any bedtime stories because she was just too tired. We were told there may be some slight burning on urination for the first couple of times, and we've witnessed that a couple of times this afternoon, so hopefully that's all behind her. There's a small risk of ureter obstruction over the next couple of days, but otherwise she should be completely fine. Diet and activity levels are all allowed to be normal.

We go back to the urologist in one month, to check her via ultrasound, and then will follow up with another of the dreaded VCUG exams in 2 or 3 months. Hopefully that will show that the abnormality (check out the photo at the link for a good picture of the problem) has been corrected by this procedure. As I may have mentioned, it won't stop her from getting UTIs, to the extent that she is susceptible to them. It should, however, stop them from getting to her kidneys. Assuming a normal VCUG, we can also stop giving her the prophylactic antibiotic, which we've all come to hate at this point (the new one tastes terrible, and we've had to resort to giving it to her in a small amount of ice cream every day).

Anyway, that's one thing down before Segunda. I see my regular OB tomorrow, at which point we'll nail down an induction date. I have something to do every day this week, so it is a busy week at this point. Saturday I am registered for a breastfeeding class that I am really hoping I can attend, so knock on wood that my health stays good and Segunda stays inside until Saturday afternoon.

In other news, I believe I've caught the cold that made its way between Bruce and Caetlin, despite not touching either one of them and having basically worn away the skin on my hands washing or alcohol-sanitizing them for the last 4 days. I'm so freaking annoyed at this, and worried about what it means for labor and delivery, and tired because I'm not sleeping enough, and generally cranky and tired of being stuck in my house, that I'm really not in a good place about everything right now. So it's nice to have one less thing to worry about, for once.

Of the Short Term and Longer Term Issues

So, in order according to the issue that will impact us soonest: Caetlin, Segunda, and Tokyo.

Caetlin had to go back to the doctor today, for a catheterization to give the doctor a urine sample to make sure that the infection has been vanquished prior to her surgery next Monday. How I wish she were potty trained, so we didn't have to go through the catheterization process! She hates it, and fights it, and I have to help hold her down, and even though I know it is the right and necessary thing to do, it makes me feel like such a horrible Mommy. I'm supposed to keep her safe from everything that hurts her, and here I am facilitating pain in my dearest girl. I could have taken the easy way out and not gone to the doctor today, but I felt like I had to be there for her. Through her tears and screams, she had her eyes open and she was looking at me. Did I offer her comfort by being there, even though I was holding her down for the torture? I hope so. I really wanted to offer her comfort and make her less afraid. Anyway, the minute it was over, she was fine, of course. I hope she forgives me.

On the practical side, she has her surgery next Monday, assuming her urine is clear (it was immediately clear under the microscope, but they are also going to culture it too). It is, as I may have mentioned, outpatient, though she will have to be under general anesthesia. I asked her pediatrician about whether I should be freaked out by her being under a general, and she said absolutely not, the anesthesiologist is a pediatric anesthesiologist and does nothing but dose children all day long. She said the hardest thing will be seeing her come out of it, which wasn't terribly comforting. Here again, I could take the easy way out- it's probably not good for my blood pressure to be anxiously waiting for my daughter to come out of surgery- but I won't. I'll be there for her to hopefully help ease her through whatever terrible transition awakening from the drugs will mean for her.

On the Segunda front, I visited the doctor again today, and things appear to be the same. My blood pressure is still up, but comes down with rest almost immediately. If I really could do nothing but spend time on my left side, I would be golden. Unfortunately, of course, that is not feasible, so we are playing a game of chance. Can my pressure be sufficiently controlled with rest, to the point where it is not more harmful to me or the baby to leave her inside? It appears that it can, at least as of now. I am probably not taking my bed rest seriously enough, especially not during a three-day weekend where it was important to me to attend a good friend's daughter's baptism (I am her godmother, for crying out loud!), where I felt guilty and lazy for allowing Bruce to do all the Caetlin wrangling, where I felt I didn't see Caetlin enough as it is anyway, and where I simply couldn't bear to let my messy house and unwashed clothes remain messy and unwashed any longer (nor could I let Bruce do it all; see above for guilt).

My doctor remains out of town until early next week, and then is out of town again at the end of next week, so it looks like my probable induction date is March 4, if I haven't gone into labor spontaneously by then or if something hasn't happened to suggest that I should be induced even though my doctor isn't around to deliver. I said March 2 a few days ago, but apparently the call schedule has been rearranged. Anyway, when I see my doctor again next Tuesday, we will discuss it. I go back on Friday to see the other doctor I've been seeing while my doc is out of town.

We spoke a bit about my particular circumstances, and how they will affect my labor and delivery, and even if I start labor spontaneously, there is no possible way I will not be hooked immediately and continuously to the fetal monitor. That being the case, I will be confined to bed immediately on my arrival to the hospital. I had hoped to attempt a drug-free labor and delivery this time, and being more or less immobile is going to make that difficult. I know that, because I was monitored continuously with Caetlin too, and even though I was not attempting anything drug free at that time, I still felt confined and unable to really get comfortable. Anyway, it feels to me like I shouldn't even go in with any expectation of a drug-free birth, because it is just going to be too hard to try it under these circumstances. No walking around to labor, no changing positions to labor, no hot showers...it just seems like so many options are going to be taken away from me. And while I am no crunchy, Rikki Lake-style believer that an unmedicated birth is the only true way to have a baby, I had wanted to give it a try. At least a shot, to see if I could do it. And the odds are now pretty stacked against me being able to do it, which I'm not really surprised by. But I am still kind of disappointed.

That is all if labor actually starts spontaneously, which I'm not so sure that it will. If I am induced, that will be even one more thing keeping me immobile (the IV for the Pitocin), and one more thing making drug-free even harder (the Pitocin makes contractions come more closely together and more painful). I am hopeful that if I am induced, they won't break the amniotic sac right away, which they did with Caetlin, which also makes it more painful. Anyway, the reason I am not confident of spontaneous labor is because at today's cervix check, there is nothing happening. No change. Zip. Zilch. Nada. For all that I feel like I could go into labor at any minute, nothing is happening to actually make that a reality.

And finally, Tokyo. Here's the rundown on Tokyo, about which I haven't written much. Late last year, in the October-November time frame, Bruce was approached about a secondment with a Tokyo client. A secondment is a job at the company for a specific time frame or assignment, arranged in concert with the law firm. The firm gets a strengthened client relationship (assuming the lawyer does a good job) and the lawyer gets another professional avenue to explore. It's like trying on an in-house counsel job without having to actually switch jobs. And in this case, the job would be in Tokyo.

Bruce went through several rounds of interviews with partners in the firm, making sure he was a good fit for the firm to recommend to any potential client who might want a secondee. We were led to believe that there were several clients who had a need for someone. There were also discussions about me, and finding a secondment for me as well, for the whole family relocating to Tokyo. We researched typical ex-patriate packages, and it looked good, like a potential raise. It looked like a way out, a way to revitalize Bruce's career that is fading as a result of the market mess we find ourselves in.

I didn't write about it at the time, because I wanted to wait until it was a done deal, until we were leasing an apartment in Roppongi and looking for day care for Caetlin. But it looked good. It looked really, really promising.

And then the market continued to slide, and the emails grew more non-committal, talking about whether- not when- any client actually had a need to be filled, suggesting that the opportunities were drying up. There was also a problem with what to do after, as the Tokyo office wasn't making any promises to take either of us on, which may have required us to come back to the Atlanta office and fit back in somehow (when he has never managed to fit in here to begin with?). And as time went on, it looked like it was a dead issue. It had been exciting to contemplate, and scary, but ultimately it went nowhere.

Then, Bruce was told, unofficially but not rumor, that he was being laid off. And then it didn't happen, and we've been left to wonder why. There is a new department that has been formed, a department that Bruce could possibly join, has asked to join, but he hasn't been formally reassigned, even now, nearly two months after discussing it with the head of the office. I know things work slowly in the firm, but it has been a source of anxiety trying to figure out what Bruce's place is in all this. Is he on the brink of being laid off, and that is why he hasn't been reassigned?

And so, a couple of weeks ago, the answer appeared to have presented itself. He has been offered a secondment, for a year, in Tokyo. At a significantly reduced salary than we originally expected, courtesy of the freefalling market and a huge number of laid off American lawyers flooding Asia looking for work. There is no discussion of me, except to say that there is no room for me in the Tokyo office. There is no guarantee of any office for Bruce to return to, after his position. The bottom line, though it hasn't been spelled out in so many words, is that his choice is Tokyo or be laid off. We both think this is why he hasn't been reassigned. And they are going to be offering the client a real deal, an experienced attorney who is so much cheaper than anyone in Japan would ever expect. The firm has little or no incentive to try to work with the client to increase the comp offered (which includes $0 for cost of living, because apparently it's comparable to live in Tokyo versus Atlanta), since Bruce is more or less disposable to the firm at this point. If he says no, no harm done. He'll just be fired. This is our reasoning, anyway, though it has not been confirmed to us.

We don't feel as though we have any choice but to take it. I will have to stay here, because I can't give up my salary, since his salary will not be enough to support the family in Tokyo and I have no job in Japan. And given the current market, it just feels irresponsible for Bruce to give up on his law career when we still have a house in Charlotte that we can't sell, and no way of knowing what the financial outlook is. It is us basically operating on a premise that things are still going to get worse for us, and we can't afford to give any ground in the event that things really do get worse. If that Unknown Something Terrible happens, we will be in better shape if Bruce continues working, even at a reduced salary (reduced because it will have to be maintaining him in Tokyo on the same amount of money. He's also getting paid in dollars, which is even worse since the dollar is so weak against the yen right now), than if he were not working at all.

So...I'm likely going to be a single mom for a year. It seems like it should be workable- after all, tons of parents do it every day. My mother-in-law has offered to move up to help, which will be a huge thing, and I love her so incredibly much for it. I think, given the financial squeeze, that we may let the nanny go, though the flexibility that we have with her is a huge benefit.

I...can't write about this any more now. You may guess from the tone here that I am kind of down; it's been a bit of a tough day. The process is going to take a few months, so I'll have time to fill in the details later.

Brief Thoughts on a Second Child

Going...



Going...



Going away from me...



She's my independent little girl. She's still my sweet baby, though:



I guess she always will be that. How will Segunda change my relationship with Caetlin? It is something I worry about, and have had far too much time to contemplate lately. How is it possible that I could love any other child as much as I love her? Is that fair to Segunda, who didn't have any choice in coming second? And yet, what happens if I somehow love Segunda more than I do Caetlin? How would that be possible?

I read that one doesn't love one of one's children any more or less than the others, only differently. They are different people, after all, so it makes sense. I worry, though, about my capacity for differentiation, for expanding my heart to bring them both inside as Caetlin is already inside, where she has nested.

I suppose it's a little late to do anything about it now, and I'm more or less at the point where I just want to not be pregnant anymore and hang the consequences. But the slight little worry is always there.

Caetlin-isms

A few random things that Caetlin says or does that I think are adorable:

- She says that people with bare feet "have toes on" instead of having shoes on.

- She has picked up a new verbal construction of "Isn't it?" So yesterday when we were on the way to the park for a little pre-dinner exercise (for her, not me, of course), we had a large green truck in the lane next to us, and she looked and said, "That's a big green truck, isn't it?" So incredibly cute in her baby voice.

- I might have mentioned that she's gotten really affectionate lately. She has decided that her favorite game at the park is running back and forth between Mommy and Daddy, crashing into us to give us hugs. It's awesome and wonderful, and if I don't squat or bend down to hug her, it's also unintentionally hilarious, because her head fits exactly underneath my belly.

- She has a talking, singing Care Bear named Cheer Bear that she adores, and every time she turns it on, almost regardless of what part of the house she's in, I can hear, "Hi! My name is Cheer Bear! I like rainbows and sunshine! What's your name?" And then I hear Caetlin say, intently, "Caetlin!" It cracks me up every time (despite how annoying I otherwise find Cheer Bear).

- She also has a pull string Woody doll (from Toy Story) and it says a bunch of different things, but the one she likes the best is, "Yee-haw, cowboy!" She usually will repeat that, more or less at full volume.

- If she wants me to sing to her, she asks me to sing: "Mommy sing it?" And if she wants me to stop, she'll say, "Mommy turn off?" I find this hilarious (and humbling).

Some Good News, For A Refreshing Change

My doctor's appointment went very well today, extremely well, one might even say. My blood pressure is down. Not as low as we would all prefer it to be, but down where neither my nor the baby's health is currently in jeopardy. And after a few quiet minutes on my left side (where blood flow is the best), it was even down as low as we all would wish it to be. Unfortunately, I physically can't lie on my left side all the time (how ever would I type??), but it is so nice to see that the bed rest is working.

They gave us another fetal non-stress test as well today, and Segunda looks lovely, a happy baby, according to the doctor. I always like the Hi-C they give me to drink when the test starts, both because I like it (I know it is 90% sugar water but I have a sweet tooth. Sue me), and because the sugar really gets Segunda moving. It's always nice and reassuring to feel her moving around.

Digression: last night I woke in the early morning hours convinced that I hadn't felt her moving for hours, even into the previous evening and afternoon. Now I didn't have those thoughts actually during the evening or afternoon, only in the middle of the night, so I'm pretty sure I felt her moving during the day yesterday, but it was so hard to shake my anxiety in a dark and quiet house. I tried to poke her to get her moving (there are places in my belly where her body parts are readily apparent to the touch), but that didn't work. I started nearly hyperventilating, imagining going to the doctor and listening to the ultrasound technician say, "I'm so sorry. There's no heartbeat." I wondered if I should drive myself to the emergency room, working myself up by searching "decreased fetal movement" on WebMD and Babycenter.com. I didn't want to wake Bruce, because in some small part of my mind I knew I was not being entirely rational, but I was getting more and more freaked out. Still, remembering how quickly she responded to the sugary drink at the doctor's, I decided to have some apple juice and call the doctor first thing in the morning.

The apple juice, of course, did the trick, reminding Segunda that her job is to kick me often so I don't freak out like that. I eventually went back to bed, resolved not to call the doctor in the morning, since I was seeing them this afternoon, and woke up, fuzzy headed and sleepy, 2 and a half hours later to Caetlin yelling for me and singing the ABC song.

Anyway, there was also no protein in my urine again, which, in concert with the blood work, suggests that I still have not developed pre-eclampsia, and that the protein in Monday's results was an outlier for whatever reason. My reflexes are still okay, though I have some swelling in my hands and feet, and I don't have the headaches, dizziness, or abdominal pain that characterizes pre-eclampsia.

So, it was a great day at the doctor's office. I go back again on Tuesday, and then again either Thursday or Friday, at which point they will check my cervix for changes showing that my body is prepping to have the baby. I suspect my doctor will induce me on March 2, if there hasn't been any reason to induce sooner than that; he is on call that day, and then isn't on call again until like March 13, and he's already said they won't be letting me go longer than my due date. I would frankly be thrilled if I make it until March 2, so I start the official countdown now: 18 days and counting.

In a random Segunda observation, it is strange and wonderful to see her practice breathing through my stomach. The top center of my belly is where the layers are the thinnest, the abdominal muscles the most stretched, and there appears to be no placenta up there either. Occasionally, if she is turned right, I can see- but not really feel- that part of my belly moving up and down, rhythmically, quickly. It's not my heartbeat, and it's not something so crude as a limb moving around. This is more delicate, and far more regular. She's been practicing breathing for at least 5 weeks or so, as we saw on the last ultrasound, so it's not a surprise, but so odd and encouraging to see it from the outside.

Caetlin continues to grow by leaps and bounds, and has really gotten into music and singing and dancing lately. She has quite a repertoire for a 2.5 year old, and she picks up songs so quickly. She sings the ABC song (a current favorite), the clean up song ("Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere, clean up, clean up"), "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and in a last minute addition from Mommy, the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" (what? she has an actual yellow submarine bath toy). She also sings bits of some of the songs from the TV shows we watch with her. And she dances all the time. If there is any music anywhere in the vicinity that catches her fancy, she dances, sometimes saying, "I dancing, Mommy," to be sure I am watching.

She is my joyful spirit, my dancer girl. She reminds me why all the annoying bed rest, all the discomfort (my pelvis is killing me), the heartburn, everything related to Segunda, is going to be worth it. She reminds me to actually dwell on all the good news we received today, rather than thinking about all the cruddy circumstances we've been facing lately.

Yet More Medical Developments

In Caetlin news, her surgery is scheduled for February 23. Hopefully I will still be pregnant at that point.

In news regarding my own health, I visited the doctor again today, and I'm officially ordered out of work, since my blood pressure remains high. In (even) less encouraging news, I had protein in my urine again today, which leads the doctor to suspect pre-eclampsia again, without the excuse that my daughter is in the hospital this time. I had blood drawn and we'll see what that tells us tomorrow. I am at home now, but it is not out of the question that I would be hospitalized for the remainder of my pregnancy, if it is pre-eclampsia.

I am desperately trying to make it to the end of the month with Segunda, for her sake and mine. I am 37 weeks this Thursday, which is technically full term, but everything I read suggests that longer is better for babies, even beyond this 37 week threshold. Lungs are better developed, sucking reflex is better developed, babies just have better outcomes if they hang in there until 39 or 40 weeks. I am sure Segunda would be fine, but after all we've been through this last few months, is it really so much to ask that the baby stay inside until she's really all the way done?

Anyway, I'm not exactly on bed rest, but it is suggested that I basically be a couch potato. I am going to keep working remotely for the time being, just to give me something to do, and I suspect my bed and I will become even better acquainted than we are already. I haven't spent large amounts of time doing more or less nothing in many years, so it will be interesting to see how I cope, even connected as I am by internet, cell phone, etc. It's not quite the same as fresh air and human interaction.

To sum up: I'm to be spending large chunks of my remaining pregnant days in bed; hopefully those remaining pregnant days will number at least 20 or so; and please keep your fingers crossed that the blood work comes back okay and there is no pre-eclampsia.

I'm not terribly sure when we're going to catch a break. Maybe soon.

My Health, Caetlin's Health...The Saga Continues

So, my blood pressure is up and looks to remain that way for the remainder of my pregnancy. At my last doctor visit last Thursday, my doctor clearly didn't want to push me to take some time off work, but he also pretty clearly wanted to recommend it. I told him I wanted to take the weekend and decide, and given how low my pressure gets when I literally do nothing- lay around in bed and watch TV or read or surf the internet- it seems a good move to go ahead and take the leave. It will be covered as short term disability, which will continue my pay at 100% of my salary until I have the baby and start maternity leave. I go back tomorrow morning and will likely go ahead and ask for the recommendation. I don't have much happening at work, but the little that I do have can certainly be done remotely. I cleaned my office last week and did filing and labeled the stacks of stuff remaining. I need to find someone who can take custody of the plants I have in my office, or at least ask my secretary to calendar watering them into her schedule, but mostly, all is set for me to be away for a number of months. There is no reason, other than personal, that I should continue to show up to surf the firm's internet when it would be better for my health and that of Segunda's if I spent more time at home. (The personal reason is just because I envision being cooped up at home most of the time, and I would miss the personal interaction at work.)

Caetlin started her new prophylactic antibiotic on Thursday, and by Saturday afternoon it appeared that her innards were reacting very badly. She spent all day Saturday having the worst diarrhea I have ever seen from her, and she clearly wasn't feeling well, though she remained happy and energetic. It was more that her bottom and possibly her tummy was troubling her. We got diaper cream on her as soon as we could, and have laced her baths with baking soda, but she's still a little rashy. Anyway, we called the pediatrician last night, more because I worried about the diarrhea being a side effect of the drug than that I was specifically worried about the diarrhea itself. She was not acting cranky or lethargic and she was drinking a lot, though the pediatrician was concerned about her output and suggested that if it kept up in volume the way it had been (she was putting out more than she was taking in, for awhile yesterday afternoon), we might need to take her- where else?- back to the hospital for some IV fluids. It didn't get to that, though, as she didn't have a bad diaper all night last night, and her poop has firmed up a bit over the course of today.

We did not give her the new antibiotic today; we're going to leave off for another day or two and then start her back to see if it is just bad timing with an intestinal bug of some kind, or if it really is a reaction to her antibiotic. My money is on the drug, but we'll see. It is yet another reason to schedule the procedure soon, if she can't tolerate this new drug.

She's otherwise really good and really happy. She's also gotten really snuggly and affectionate over the last few days, which is of course my Kryptonite for trying to enforce any sort of order. I went in to her room this afternoon not long after Bruce put her down for her nap, with the goal of trying to get her to lay down so I could cover her with her blanket and hopefully help her get to sleep. She stood up and just started hugging me, holding me in her arms and nuzzling her face into my chest. We stayed like that for 15 minutes, because I couldn't bear to end it. Sap that I am.

Anyway, we're getting back on the phone with Caetlin's pediatrician tomorrow, and I'm back at the doctor's office tomorrow morning as well. We're all tired of being at the doctor's, I think, even as much as we love them.

Caetlin Urology Update

We saw Caetlin's urologist today, and after discussing the options (which are essentially: 1. continue with a prophylactic antibiotic, only a different drug that may have better effectiveness against a wider variety of bacteria; 2. have a Deflux procedure done, which is the simple procedure I mentioned in my last post; or 3. have an open abdominal surgery done, in which the ureters are physically repositioned), we decided to have the Deflux procedure done. You can see a little more about it here. Basically, an endoscope is run up Caetlin's urethra to her bladder, and used to locate the ureters from the kidneys. When the ureters are located, an injection of the Deflux material is done to help with ureter positioning and one-way control of urine into the bladder. No incisions are necessary. She will have to be under general anesthesia, because of her age, but the procedure itself should not be any more painful than a typical catheterization. She'll be able to go home the same day.

Both the treating pediatrician at the hospital and Caetlin's usual pediatrician are very enthusiastic about this procedure, which gives me some comfort that it is the right choice. It is definitely less invasive than open abdominal surgery. This procedure is somewhat less successful overall than open abdominal surgery, but for reflux of Caetlin's grade (II on one side and III on the other), the success rates are comparable. (The Deflux is less successful at the higher grades, grade IV and V.) It seems a good compromise procedure, though the thought of general anaesthesia scares me.

It will not stop her from getting UTIs, to the extent that she is susceptible to them. It will stop those infections from spreading to her kidneys, which is a much more serious kind of infection than a simple bladder infection. It will allow us to stop the prophylactic antibiotics, which I have never really liked much; beyond the hassle of giving her a daily medicine, I am always concerned about drug-resistant bacteria and I don't want to do my part in creating them.

Anyway, I'm waiting to hear from the surgery scheduler to get it set up. Wish me luck that we can have it done prior to Segunda's arrival (which may or may not be timely).