We Saw Turtle!

Picture it:

Mom is standing by the kitchen island, talking on the phone. Daughter (age 5) is standing next to her, crying, eating her chicken nuggets from McD's, and rubbing her eyes. Out of nowhere, daughter grabs Mom's stomach, gets down nose to bellybutton, and screams, "I don't even like you!" and then bursts into awful, deep, uncontrollable sobs.

What you have just witnessed is the peak of Eibhlin's reaction to today's news. She will remain, forever, the only diva in the house. Yes, my friends, my intuition was off. I still have a 75% success rate, though, so I am not too upset. The same cannot be said for my daughter.

We went to the ultrasound appointment this afternoon as a family unit: all three kids, Mom, and Dad. The ultrasound started off beautifully; Tadpole is growing well and is measuring dead on for height, weight, etc at this age. Then Tricia the sonographer checked for gender...oh, boy? Really? After begging her to go back two, three, four times, there was no denying it! It didn't help that Tadpole reached down and tweaked himself a couple of times to let us know it was there.

After we all (sonographer included) nearly fell out over the fact that he has already learned how to use his joystick, the realization sunk in for all of us and then Eibhlin's face fell...all the way to China. The poor thing lost it in the office and spent the next three hours sobbing.

How did everyone else react? The boys are thrilled! They cannot wait for a little brother and they hope that he shares the same birth "day" as they do: the 22nd of the month. It would be kind of neat, actually, as then we'd have all but the summer solstice represented. Aaron could barely contain his pride in his swimmers...he was grinning so hard, he looked like the Canadians in South Park. As for me? No joke, no lies...I was surprised (sort of), but was in tears just knowing that baby is doing well and growing as he should. However, I couldn't help but feel my heart break a little for my little girl who was so sure that she would have a little sister with whom to share girlie secrets.

After several hours of tears, Eibhlin climbed up in my lap tonight, Happy Meal toy in hand, and placed her hand and the toy on my belly. She told me that the toy was for her baby brother. I asked if she was okay and, with a small sigh and a smile, she told me that she was. With that, she hugged me, hugged her little brother in my little belly, and snuggled in to watch the game.

I don't think I could be any luckier than I am. Unless, of course, someone knows of the perfect 4+ bedroom house out by the lake that will fit me, Eibhlin, and the BOYS?

The new question (aside from "are you pregnant or just getting fat?") is whether or not we know what flavor little Tadpole is... blue? pink? purple? green? rainbow? There will be a pool going shortly, I am sure...if not for gender, then definitely for how big my ass will get this time.

On a more serious note, in two weeks time we will know whether or not we have two pair or three of a kind. I have to admit, I am a little nervous. I am three for three so far in terms of knowing well in advance the gender of the little one inside; I have a feeling about number four and, despite the fact that I am practically perfect in every way (thank you, Mary Poppins), there is always the ever-so-slight chance that I am wrong. I have been so sure, though, that I even bought gender specific clothes for Tadpole back when we were in Cozumel last July! Again, doesn't mean I can't be wrong, but I will be very surprised if Tadpole is not what I think Tadpole is. And, let's be honest, I don't handle surprises well, so I am sure the ultrasound tech will not be happy, either, if the gender isn't what I suspect it will be...something about watching a pregnant woman shake her fist at a computer screen filled with her child is sure to be a little a disconcerting.

Please don't think I will be upset either way. I truly mean it when I say that, boy or girl, this child is so wanted and loved already that gender is irrelevant. The same cannot be said for hair color, though. If we end up with a blonde one this time, I am going to have to look into Arlington Memorial's return policy. But with respect to gender, what does it mean either way?

What it means is this...if the kids have their way and they get the little sister that they want, we can stay in our house a few years more and the girls can share a room. However, if it's a boy...we're outta here! Just no room in this here home for another little boy child to come in and find a place to sleep. I suppose he could sleep in the dog crate for a while, but really, how long can that last before he outgrows it, the dogs pee on him, or someone calls CPS on us? We will have a year or so at the most before we would need to find us a new pad, one with enough rooms to house our basketball team comfortably.

Hmmm. Maybe I should just stick to worrying about whether or not the dress I bought in Cozumel would be too much if Tadpole IS a boy. The dress is green...that's gender neutral, right?

It is Time

So, obviously I broke New Year's Resolution #1 from last year. No weekly blog entries here! No way, no how, no sirree. With that out of the way, I can move on to what I really came here to do, which is lay it all out there for you, friends and family. No more secrets, thinly veiled innuendos, nope. Time to throw it all out in the open and hope for the best...or at the very least that you will keep your smarta** comments to yourself. Wishful thinking, I know. :-)

Three and a half years ago, Aaron and I made a very big decision. We decided to stop our family from growing- permanently. Aaron, ever the chivalrous husband, volunteered himself to go under the knife (for all of 5 seconds) and render himself forever fruitless. I cried the day he had it done...and for many days after. However, it wasn't until February of 2010 that I realized why.

Why, why, why, you ask, did 1) we make that decision and 2) I cry about it? Well, we made it for reasons unbeknownst to me. Apparently I was all for it; I do not feel my opinions at the time should have been trusted and given much merit. I was three months into baby number three, hadn't slept in over three years, etc. I cannot place full blame on Aaron, though. Allegedly I made reference to us living a platonic life from there on out if he did NOT have it done. I suppose most married men would have made the same choice. I think, in retrospect, I would have agreed to removing my innards by hand if it meant I could stop talking and just go to sleep. Who knows...I sure don't remember the conversations, though it seems I was an integral player in them! As for the crying, surely by now you have figured that out. I cried, cried, cried because the decision had been made in haste and was a poor one to boot. As it turns out, I was not the only one who felt that way.

Last winter marked a time when Aaron and I sat down and finally realized that neither of us had wanted to stop at three; we had both wanted another child. What to do? There weren't many options out there; the most obvious one, a reversal, was terribly expensive and far more invasive than the original procedure. After much consideration, though, we decided to at least investigate this option further. Aaron found a fantastic doctor in Arlington who, over the course of the next six weeks, helped us walk this path.

In March of 2010, Aaron went under the knife for a second time. This time, however, I will actually allow him some shine time, as this procedure was more than anything I have had to tolerate (aside from, you know, hours and hours of terrible labor pains). After nearly four hours in surgery, he came into recovery very out of it but, hopefully, "whole". The recovery process was terrible for him and he made himself a new home in the TV room downstairs so that he wouldn't have far to go. After a weekend of rest and repair, he was back on the front lines, sore and ice-packed, but ready to go.

So now what? I won't bore you with the details (though, and this is disturbing, I am sure some of you wouldn't be bored), but suffice it to say we got the green light from the doc and ran. The odds were very much against us. With as long as it had been, the doctor told us that, if it worked at all, it wouldn't be for about a year. He told us that, given how long it had been since the original surgery, it might not work at all. He told us that, given how long it had been, he hoped for the best for us.

But it DID work...and right away! I cried over the "+" sign I saw in April. Holy hell, that doctor worked magic! Even at that moment, though, I knew...I just knew. I spent the next five weeks in tears, poked and prodded twice a week as they drew blood, hoping beyond hope that my gut instinct was not right, that this baby would make it. As a mom with four pregnancies under her belt already, though, I should not have second-guessed myself: I was right. On 11 June 2010, we said goodbye to that little miracle.

Over the next few weeks I struggled with what to do. The doctor's nurse said to wait to try again, but we knew that there was always a chance that reversal would reverse, if you will. Was I ready? Was my body ready? We weighed the decision through July, only to realize that the decision had been made for us. On 16 July I had to congratulate Aaron on the persistence of his little army- we were pregnant again! Thank goodness we found out then, though, otherwise I would have spent my entire cruise vacation the following week, boozing it up and making baby a alcoholic at birth. Just kidding....sort of.

It couldn't be easy, though, not for this child, not for this mom, not for this dad. Two weeks after I patted Aaron on the back, I was in the ER in Galveston, hoping for yet another miracle. Blood, and lots of it, had been my friend all afternoon. Eibhlin had seen and said, "Mom, are you still pregnant?" WHAT?!?! She had no idea at this point that I was- or, at least, we hadn't told her. But there I was, trying to explain to her that I wasn't (just for her sake), all the while dying because I was. So much, so much...and too much for me to relive. Just know that 10 hours later, I was only slightly less distraught than I had been going in, but at least I had gotten to see the little, itty bitty sac inside.

Fast forward 8 weeks and here we are, 13 weeks and 6 days into this wonderful pregnancy. The first 10 weeks were rough, what with the ER trip and then other issues, but we made it. My trademark surgery (the cerclage) was done this last week by my incredibly skilled and wonderful OB and I can now breathe (more or less) for the next 23 weeks (then the cerclage comes out). And now I sit here, listening to the wonderful sound of Tadpole's heart beat-beat-beating away inside me at nearly 180 bpm. Whew.

So, friends and family, do with this what you will. I am sure there are some who are aghast at the thought of us adding another child to the insanity we call our world. I am sure there are some who are smiling right now, thinking of his or her own brood. Then there are some who are probably sitting here asking why in the hell I thought it necessary to spread this much information across on the e-table. Why have I done this? Because I am so incredibly happy and amazed that I have been given the honor and privilege to do this again that I think it is unfair to keep it to myself any longer.

And so, It is Time. We are having another baby and not one of us, not me, not Aaron, not the kids, could be any happier or thrilled than we are already.

Why We Have Friends

Taidhgin, Connlaodh, and I were talking about friends today: why it was important to have them in our lives and what they mean to us and what kinds of friends we have.

Taidhgin
* They are nice and they never have their folder signed.
i.e., they never get in deep enough trouble at school for the teacher to tell their folks!
* They are special.
* (Blane) is very quiet and never gets called to sign the book.
i.e. they did something wrong at school and have to sign a book that tracks "bad choices".
* Friends are special. If you are lonely and want someone to play with you, you can ask a (new kid) their name and if they're nice they can play with you.
* If I never had friends, I would be just left alone...I would be sad.

Connlaodh
* (About Emma and Rhianna and Lauren, his "girlfriends"): They are my best friends because I want to play with them...cause I can read books with them.
* They are really nice.
* Her loves to paint!
This is about Emma, his #1 girlfriend.

So, why do we have friends?
* So we're not lonely.
* To help keep us on the right path, so that we don't have to "sign the book".
* So we can share our common interests.

And what kinds of friends should be choose?
* Ones who are nice.
* Ones who stay out of trouble and make good decisions.
* Ones who are creative.
* Ones who are smart.

I wish I had this list when I was in high school!

"Nasty, but So Cool"

The kids and I were all laying on the bed, trying to find something on TV to watch before bedtime. Despite the idiotic number of channels we have accessible to use, we were having a hard time finding anything worth wasting 30 minutes of our lives on. However, as we were flipping through the channels, trying to find something that all of us would enjoy, we came across In the Womb, on the National Geographic Channel. The best of all worlds! Babies, science, animals, and only 30 minutes left in the episode.

In the Womb, for those who do not know, is a series that explores animal growth and development in utero, using even better 4D technology that many of us have seen in 4D ultrasounds of our own children! Tonight's show focused on four animals, though we only saw two- the sharks and the kangaroos.

Just as an aside, this is truly what the kids chose to watch. At least it was once they realized that iCarly was not an option- ha! So, as we're sitting there watching, we're talking about the embryonic kangaroo and how it grows. We noted it has feet nearly 1/2 the length of its body at 20 weeks gestation; Taidhgin's theory makes sense, "Well, they do HOP all their lives. Their feet need to grow the most." We talked about how the joey nurses while inside its mother, as opposed to human babies who nurse outside, after they've been born.

We discussed pretty much every aspect of it development, including how funky a 20 week old joey looks without any hair and with skin so thin that you can see all of the veins underneath. It was during this discussion that Eibhlin winced a bit and turned her head. On the screen at this point was a closeup of the joey's head; you could see the eyes underneath the transparent lids and you could make out nearly all of the muscles through the pink skin. I asked Eibhlin why she kept looking back at the TV if she didn't like what was on there...Because, Mom, "it's nasty, but so cool."

Dr. Steele in the making? A mother can only hope...if nothing else, at least I know that my kids won't argue with me when I put on Discovery instead of Spongebob!

A Resolution

New Year's Day, 2010.

Research has shown that 78% of the people who make New Year's resolutions fail at keeping them. I try to avoid making resolutions each year as 1) I am one of the 78% and 2) really, does any other reason matter after reason number one? This year I decided again against making a resolution and instead opted to set some goals for living. Nothing specific like "I will keep my sink spotless" (though this was a goal once and worked for a while...), but rather goals regarding how I will approach the world and the people in it.

The bigger question for me was HOW to approach the world in a manner different than my usual M.O. I am not necessarily looking to do a total overhaul of mindset and personality; I would, however, like to improve upon where I am in the context of the world as well as internally.

Few things in my life have caused me to look inward with such a critical eye; however, their presence has already helped to make some improvements. So, for inspiration in designing my goal, I turn to these few "things": my children.

We chose their first and middle names for two reasons: 1) a connection to our ethnic past and 2) the meaning of the names themselves. I have spent some time today thinking about the meanings of their names and realized that my muse is no further from me than are my children's birth certificates. One look at their names and the memory of the passion that went into choosing each one has helped me to see what I need to work on this coming year and in the years to come:

Taidhgin: Poet
Words are the key to relationships and existence. As a poet would, I need to remember to choose my words well and wisely. I need to remind myself that often times it is what is said that is remembered; each statement should be one worthy of that memory.
Eibhlin: Pleasant, beautiful, radiant
There is little in life that doesn't have at least one beautiful aspect or feature. Once found, it can make any ugliness seem microscopic. This is probably the most difficult goal to pursue, as it is easier to see the dark and heavy and ugly than it is to search for the one gossamer thread of beauty that lies beneath. But it is there, somewhere, and is always worth searching for.
Connlaodh: Fire
I have to remember my passions. Not just in love and in friendship, but in thought and in heart. Those embers that used to burn for politics and love and adventure can become muted and watered down over time...but those are the same embers we will need to keep us warm when our bodies are growing colder.

Dante: Enduring, obstinate
I don't typically have a problem in this area, but I will remind myself as much as necessary that I will last longer than any problem or dilemma or hurt I come across.
Gioia: Joy; happiness
Few memories contain such sweetness as those of being called "my gioia" as a little girl. This kind of joy should not be limited to what we can recall, but should be allowed- and EMBRACED- each and every day of our lives.
Ettore: Holding fast
It is easier, as we get older, to let things go because we feel we do not have the strength to weather the storm. However, the need to hold on to what's important and true and good does not shrivel as we age; indeed, it probably grows. So I must remember that no amount of weariness is worth sacrificing what I need for a few moments of rest.

As always, it is my children that are leading the way. And, as always, their path is probably the most difficult...and the most rewarding. Hopefully I will be able to follow their lead as far as it goes...and that we will all learn something from the trip.

And with that being said, I solemnly resolve to write on the blog at least once a week, mostly about the children; you are welcome to read, delete, comment, ignore, etc...anything to keep me from being in that 78%!

Happy New Year's.