DUE DATE / PART TWO

I look at these photos from only a couple of weeks ago, and I no longer see only myself and my ripe round belly.  I see his pointy chin, his robust arms, his chubby hands with their grip of steel, his smooth straight hair and fine white eyebrows, his almond eyes which gaze into your own more deeply than would seem possible for such a tiny thing, and his tiny lips that curl up like Elvis every once in a while.  I see him snug inside of that belly, perfectly posterior (all the better to give his Mama crazy back labor), and waiting.  I see myself, eager about the possibility of him arriving at any moment, and I see him inside, relaxing and thinking that hmmmm, maybe he'll wait another eleven days.

And of course, I see my Biet, with that grin that melts my soul.

// Due Date Part One Here //

AND THEN OUR HEARTS EXPLODED

A quick update: he has arrived!  Our son was born in our home early this morning after an intense and amazing whirlwind labor.  Each time I look down and marvel at my boy, with his puffy eyes and dark pink skin and teeny little hands and feet, I sense my heart growing larger with adoration and gratitude.  I can't believe he has only been with us for less than one day.  He has carried so much strength and love with him into this world.  Thank you to all who have sent support our way.  I will soon put his birth experience into words, but for now we rest, a family of four.

DUE DATE / PART ONE

11 days ago, my due date arrived.  It already feels so long ago.  Since then, my belly has continued to grow, along with my anticipation and excitement over meeting my son.  So in honor of pregnancy, and the female body, and letting life happen on its own terms and in perfect time, I share these photos.  I have come to love them so much.

LETTING GO (SO I GUESS I'M HAVING A MARCH BABY)

He was to be born in February, the twenty-first to be exact.  His baby shower was to be a Valentine's Day themed gathering, complete with heart shaped cupcakes and little red felt crowns for everyone to wear atop their heads.  There would be a kissing booth where everyone could smooch my belly for the camera.  The next week, my sister Emmy would arrive in NYC.  We would wander the city, cook ridiculous amounts of food, and prepare the house for the baby together.  She would be present at his birth- a beautiful second home water birth where Gaby catches the baby.  Biet would witness her brother being born and welcome him with kisses.  And the month of love would come to a close with our family of four snuggling in the bed.

Apparently the universe has other plans.

On the day of my shower (a shower I had excitedly planned for months), New York City was struck with a hurricane of monstrous proportions.  We were all advised to stay indoors, and hence baby boy's shower was cancelled.  With only 13 days left until my due date, we decided it was too late to reschedule, so my decorations and baking plans were quietly shut away into a cupboard.  I had been looking forward to reconnecting with old friends and to celebrating this baby with the same gusto that we had celebrated Biet before her birth, but instead the city was blanketed in snow and the weekend passed uneventfully.

My due date neared, and my sister arrived.  As soon as she was settled in, I knew in my heart that I was surrounded with love and support, and I wanted more than anything to have the baby right then.  I imagined my sister taking care of me for the week afterward- cooking food, walking the dog, and loving on the squished newborn face night and day- and it seemed perfect.  I told myself that it was time to have the baby.  The first night that she was here, I began having contractions.  They quickly went from 10 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart, and came on so strongly that I had to sit.  Gaby and I awoke my sister, telling her that this was it.  Gaby was just about to call the midwife, but something felt off to me.  The contractions were very real, but they didn't feel right.  It's hard to pinpoint exactly what the odd feeling was.  I told Gaby not to call, and went to lay down on the bed.  Everything completely stopped.  I kept holding my belly and wishing for another contraction, but none came.  I was so certain that the time had come, but I guess this boy was simply not ready.

There were no more contractions that night, and none the next day.  As the days began to pass I was sure that labor was just around the corner.  But my due date came and went, and the days continued to slip away.  Then came the sickness.  Just after my due date, I noticed that Biet had a runny nose, my poor baby.   The runny nose turned into a full blown cold, which spread to me, which turned into multiple days of lethargy and coughing and general miserableness.  We stayed in bed, my sister took care of us, and all of our fun NYC plans were put on hold.  My body showed zero signs of an impending labor, and then it was suddenly time for Emmy to fly back home to her own babies.  And so this morning, at 41 weeks pregnant, I hugged and kissed her farewell.

And now it is March.  And we wait.  I struggle not to be disappointed, because I know that this birth will be absolutely beautiful.  It will be perfect, and just as it's meant to be.  It truly doesn't matter if this boy is born in February or March, or whether or not he has an audience upon his arrival, or whether he is showered with love before or after his birth.  And I keep reminding myself that this is a lesson in letting go.  He will come when he is ready, and that is all that matters.  He will be healthy, and I will be strong, and I must let go of all other plans and preconceptions and visions of what this time of my life is supposed to look like.  Biet and I are still recovering from our cold, and I keep telling myself that this amazing boy of mine is simply giving us time to be rested and healthy before he graces us.

So as these days pass by slowly, I am trying my best to let go of everything except a deep love for my family.  But my oh my am I eager to see this this little boy's face and to hear his tiny voice and to meet him on his much anticipated birthday.

LADIES AT THE GUGGENHEIM

Biet visited the Guggenheim Museum for the first time the other day with her Aunt Emmy and her very pregnant Mama.  Once she got the hang of walking up the steep incline (there are no stairs at the Guggenheim, only one long spiraling white walkway which twirls gracefully around the walls all the way up to the ceiling), she was off and running.  I was startled (and nervous) about her enthusiasm at first, but this little girl made her Mama proud.  Since the museum was fairly empty, we had the chance to give her a bit of freedom to wander through the modern art pieces.  Surprisingly, she did really well when it came to not touching the artwork and to staying within a decent distance of me.  As the security guards quietly shifted and encircled us, keeping a keen eye on the slow-moving hugely pregnant woman with the loose toddler around the multi-million dollar artwork, I hoped dearly that my attempt at a nice afternoon and at teaching my daughter museum etiquette wouldn't result in a meltdown of chasing and screaming.  But little Biet happily perused the halls, laughing and observing and stopping every once in a while to nurse.  When I got tired and needed to sit for a while, Emmy would take over and show her a new exhibit, and everyone enjoyed themselves more than I had hoped for.  We may have just gotten lucky, but I'm hoping that this is the beginning of a new regular adventure destination for us.

And even after all of that walking, this baby boy is still staying snug in my belly.  Here we are, coming up on 41 weeks, and there's no sign of him yet.  I want to say thank you thank you thank you for all of the supportive and love-filled comments and emails over the past few days.  To know that so many people, all over the world, are thinking of this baby boy and wishing him a blessed journey into the world means more to me than words can say.

FORTY WEEKS

His due date has come and gone, and still we wait for his birthday to be revealed.  We've washed the baby clothes, stocked up on cloth diaper covers, and folded the swaddles.  The birth tub sits in the hallway next to a stack of old towels, waiting to be inflated.  The fridge and cupboards brim with food (& the freezer with ice cream).  And in these chilly February days, we wait.

My sister Emmy is visiting for a few days to help around the house and hopefully assist in "catching" the baby when the time comes.  With everything prepared at home, we've been trying to get out and venture around the city as much as possible these past couple of days.  Uptown, downtown, museum mile, grocery shopping, subway adventures.. we are making the rounds of NYC, and hoping to coax this little boy out while we're at it by walking as much as humanly possible.  Biet is simply smitten with our new adventure partner (and also with the sudden influx of delicious home-cooked meals and freshly-baked cookies that she has infused our apartment with), and I love laying here in bed at the end of the day knowing that my big sister is in just the next room, instead of across the country.

Emmy and Gaby helped me with my forty week photo shoot in our living room, and I am overwhelmed with the results.  It may take me a while to filter through and pick out my favorites, but I am instantly in love with this shot- with this captured moment between Biet and I.  She will be such a treasure of a sister.  I also see my bulging pregnant belly and I know that no matter how fiercely I long to see this little boy's face (and let me tell you, I am absolutely dying to meet him), I will miss being pregnant when it is over.  These last few days are truly a sacred time.

STAYING BUSY, COUNTING DOWN

The below freezing days have been piling upon one another lately, rendering us homebodies doing our best to stay entertained indoors most days and evenings.  When we do venture out, a brisk walk with Nico around the block is all it takes to transform our fingertips into icicles, so we've been leisurely finding fun ways to pass the time inside.  For Biet, this mostly means dancing to her two favorite albums over and over and over again (I love Little Richard and The Beatles, but really, how many times can you shriek with excitement at the sound of the same song?), and chasing Nico relentlessly.  For me, sorting itty bitty second-hand baby clothes, re-organizing the furniture in the living room (again), and daydreaming about his arrival helps pass the time.  Two days. Two days until due date.  Of course I know that it could be two hours, or two weeks, or anything in between, but the arrival of his estimated due date will be such a monumental event that I can't help but notice the minutes ticking by.  The twenty-first of February is a day that has been in the forefront of our minds for three quarters of a year.  If he has arrived by then, I will be in heaven.  And if not, I have decided to do a major pregnancy photo shoot on that day.  I never got around to doing it with Biet when I was still pregnant on her due date, and then she was born the very next day, but I would love to document my body after 40 weeks of pregnancy.  Because its kind of truly amazing that my body can transform, stretch, and grow a human being for 40 weeks, and I want to honor that.  So whether or not baby boy is here by my due date, it will be a beautiful day.  I cannot wait.

HER DRAMATIC LAST DAYS AS AN ONLY CHILD

Don't let that cute face fool you.

I am not sure what has happened to my toddler.  One day, she's a rambunctious nearly-21-month-old, and the next, a blubbering baby again.  A few days ago, Biet decided to boycott all solid food, all naps, bedtimes, and routine in general.  She began waking up every couple of hours all through the night.  She completely stopped telling me "poo!" when she wanted to sit on her potty (and since we have come so far, so effortlessly, this one is throwing me for a loop).  She decided that bottles of goat milk and almond milk are all that she will consume, and flat out throws a temper tantrum when I try to give her any real food.  And she wants to nurse about 15 hours a day.  I am exhausted.

I've heard of children regressing in behavior once a new sibling comes along, but before they arrive? Could it be?? Gaby is convinced that she senses change afoot and somehow knows that a new baby is on his way to kick her out of her throne (he tells me this every day with more and more excitement in his voice, saying "Maybe she's acting like this because he is coming today!" He cannot wait).  I have a feeling that her yet-to-emerge canine teeth may have something to do with it.  Regardless, I am beginning to feel the tiniest bit of anxiety about having two.

Just as we were settling into peaceful routine in anticipation of this baby boy, and just as I was really beginning to feel empowered at the notion of attending to children, Biet's complete reversal to babyhood has me questioning myself and doubting my capabilities.  How much sleep deprivation will I be able to handle?  How in the world am I supposed to change two diapers at once, in the middle of the night?  Is tandem nursing going to be absolutely insane? (and how exactly will that work out in public? On the subway? In a restaurant?).  Will we be driven completely insane?

Of course, I know that we'll figure out how to be a family of four in due time, and that I'll figure out how to live with the challenges of being a mother of two closely-spaced babes one day at a time.  I know that after this birth, all of the love and beauty in our family will be magnified beyond what we could have ever imagined.  I know this in my heart, and I keep repeating it to myself.

I just hope that this darling little girl of mine eases up with her stubbornness and lets me help ease her back into some sort of eating and sleeping routine, because we are all too tired to keep up with this madness.  And I hope that I can somehow make her understand that she will always be my baby girl, no matter how many others may come after her.

*My yellow neck cowl was made by the lovely Hannah*

FULL TERM

The baby is ready. And now we wait.

A couple of days ago my pregnancy officially reached the full term mark.  It all happened so very fast, its hard to fathom sometimes.  My midwives visit every week now, regularly checking his growth and my comfort and my body's signs.  Gaby and I rearranged the furniture in our bedroom to make space for a mini crib next to the bed. It will serve as his changing station and nap time retreat for the first few months while we co-sleep.  Nico, just like last time, has begun her overprotective motherly behaviors, sticking to my side like glue and following me through every room in the house.  Baby boy feels like a giant boulder constantly rolling around inside.  I can sense that he is a strong one.  He is causing me a thousand times more discomfort and achiness than Biet did, but I love him madly already.  I keep waiting for that "get this baby out of me!" feeling to hit, but, surprisingly, it is nowhere in sight.  I never felt it with Biet either.  Although my hips and back and pelvic bones are constantly sore, and it's nearly impossible for me to walk long distances without hobbling, I feel a strange peace overcoming me.  I am taking everything one day at a time, and really trying to savor this time with Biet.  Gaby and I both have a feeling that he will come a little early, but its really not up to either of us, is it?  It's up to this little boy.  His parents are waiting, his sister is waiting, his dog/babysitter is waiting, his crib is waiting, and his name is waiting.  We are ready.

(Photo above from my last midwife appointment. That's one of my (2) midwives, Karen, who so gracefully delivered Biet.  Biet is finally allowing her to touch "the baby" without screaming and pushing her hand away. Thank goodness. Just in time.)

AND THESE TOO

Because this is my family. Because I simply love these shots. Because Gaby's beard is finally crazy enough to wear his "Don't Touch My Beard" shirt that I picked out for him. Because these are my two favorite people to walk around with. Because I braided my hair and wore my new mittens just for our little photo-shoot.  Because I know that soon, when I am overtaken with the joy of finally meeting my son, a little part of me will also miss being pregnant, and I will look back on these and smile.

MEETING INA MAY

Gaby and I attended the New York premier of Birth Story: Ina May Gaskin & The Farm Midwives the other night in the West Village.  With baby boy set to arrive in four weeks, the timing of this screening was perfect.  Believe it or not, this was the first time we had been to a movie together since I was pregnant with Biet!  

I was so excited for our movie date, but just as we were lacing up our shoes to walk out the door, the babysitter called with a last minute emergency.  Luckily, our dear neighbors helped us out and came over to watch Biet, but we were delayed for over an hour.  Then the subway started getting crazy with train delays, which made us even more late.  Starving and stressed, we scratched our dinner plans and rushed straight to the theater, hoping all the while that we wouldn't miss too much of the film. 

As we skipped up the steps from the subway to the street and hurried around the corner towards the theater's marquee, the entire evening's "bad" timing suddenly made perfect sense.  Because who was standing in front of us?  None other than Ina May Gaskin herself.  Here was the woman who had sparked my journey, and the journeys of thousands of others, towards a healthy and empowered birth.  Here was the woman who's written words had, while I was pregnant with Biet, transformed all of my fear and anxiety into excitement and peace and wisdom.   Here was the woman who practiced, and wrote, and marched, and taught for the rights and the bodies and the spirits of women everywhere.  This woman, standing in front of me on 6th Avenue, had opened my eyes and changed my life.  She was a true inspiration. 

So without thinking, or speaking, I played the crazy pregnant lady card and went up to her and hugged her.  She was a bit startled, but smiled kindly.  And then Gaby jumped in and told her about Biet, and about baby boy on the way, and about how we owed so much to her.  And after an impromptu photo shoot on the sidewalk, I once again hugged her, and we bid her farewell.  

The film was wonderful. It threw me back into the world of natural childbirth, reminding me of all of the forgotten feelings you experience when you go through it, and leaving me extremely excited to do it once again.  With my first pregnancy, Ina's May's Guide to Childbirth completely changed my view of what birth can be, and opened my eyes to the wonder of what my body can do.  Now I am re-reading it in preparation for baby boy's birth.  I highly recommend it to any and all pregnant women, and to any and all women in general, for that matter.  You can find a list of all of her books here. 

After the film, Gaby and I stopped in to one of our favorite old diners for french onion soup and burgers.  We talked and talked and talked about birth.  Between the film, meeting Ina May, and reminiscing about Biet's birth, we somehow stepped through that last door from "we're going to have another baby" to "let's do this."  Now, Gaby is ready for baby boy to come now.  I'll be full term in one week, but I'm ok with him taking as much time as he needs to fatten up in there before joining us in this ever-so-cold winter.  

As we sat in the diner post-movie and looked over the photos on my phone, we were both taken aback by the one of Ina May looking down at my big belly.  She was saying "this one's almost here!" and congratulating us and wishing us luck with his birth.  I love that photo.  And I know that one day, after he's heard a thousand times about his own birth and about how Ina May wished him luck coming into the world, baby boy will love that photo too.  

AROUND OUR APARTMENT AT 29 WEEKS

Our home has been calm of late.  Music fills the living room as Biet reads books to her lazy dog.  Gaby sips his coffee, lights Hanukkah candles, and plays with his daughter.  I do a bit of cooking, a bit of writing, and a lot of lounging around.  And at the end of each night, when I am ready to crash into slumber, Gaby massages shea butter onto my belly, just in case this little boy gets any ideas about leaving stretch marks on his Mama.

This baby feels BIG. My belly is tight like a drum, with a foot or an elbow or a knee constantly wiggling away inside.  Braxton Hicks have made a thorough and regular appearance, pelvic pain has become a daily delight (thanks to little Mister flipping head-down and "dropping" this last week, according to my midwife), and everything feels kind of achy, kind of all of the time.  Yet somehow this pregnancy still seems to be going by all too quickly for my liking.

Twenty-nine weeks, eek! The weeks are falling away faster and faster. And while I dream (daily, and nightly) about his tiny newborn squished face, and eagerly envision our home-birth, and long to meet him, I also feel like I need more time.  I need to more time to hold my first born in my arms and kiss her over and over as my only child.  I need more time to sit with her, and only her, in conversation and play.  I need more time to prepare myself, my home, my schedule, my life, for a newborn.  Eleven weeks simply does not feel like enough.

But, of course, it will be enough.  I know in my heart, and from experience, that babies come into this world with all that they need.  He will come into the shelter of my arms, with his own food from my bosom, and all of the love he needs from his family.  I know I needn't worry about a thing.

And so instead of worrying, I am trying my best to enjoy.  Twelve weeks from now, I will no longer be pregnant.  And I know, that just like last time, I will miss it.  It is truly a privilege to be able to carry this little baby.  I relish every day of it, no matter how achy or long that day seems.  We will only be a family of three for a little while longer.  Soon, Biet will be reading books not to a lazy dog, but to a baby brother.  Gaby will not be lighting Hanukkah candles, but swaddling an itsy bitsy new baby.  And I will no longer be needing shea butter belly rubs.  I will be tandem nursing and wearing a newborn and discovering all of the joy and the madness of having two littles under two.

I can sense the magnitude and the splendor of this twenty-ninth week of this pregnancy. This time, right now, with my family, in our home- this time is special.

TWENTY SEVEN + EIGHTEEN + GIVING THANKS

We have a lot to be thankful for right now.  I was carrying Biet down the street yesterday when I suddenly realized that in that instant there were three heartbeats, all beating next to each other, all connected to one another, and all dependent on me. And I am healthy enough and strong enough to be able to care for them all. As simple as that sounds, it really kind of amazes me. 

Dear city-toned legs of mine: thank you for being able to walk down the street while holding up a baby bump, a bundled Mama, and a wily eighteen month old.  My body may have its harder days, but with a little tenderness everything seems to balance out.  And if there is one body part of mine which forever continues to amaze me, it is my toddler-chasing, table-waiting, stair-climbing, sidewalk-strolling, midnight-dancing legs. 

Dear tiny baby boy: you are 27 weeks along now, with only thirteen more weeks to go.  As the weeks roll by (and this time around, they are rolling by faster than I can count them!), my connection with you grows at an exponential rate.  In my heart, I am already a mother to one daughter and one son.  Thank you little boy for already teaching me so many quiet lessons of wisdom and acceptance. I cannot fathom the blessings you will bring to us all when you finally arrive.

Dear wily eighteen-month-old: When people ask how old you are, I can now tell them "a year and a half." A year and a half, oh my.  You have a spark, my little love, that is so hard to put into words. As you grow into a little girl, your energy and your humor and your unstoppable drive shine brighter and brighter. You are already the most amazing person I know. I am so very excited to introduce you, properly this time, to the joy of the holiday season.  Thank you for making this time of year, once again, the most wonderful time of the year, for all of us. Sometimes I forget how much magic the holidays hold, but you will not let me forget. 

Dear husband: Thank you for being. We are so good together. Next week will be four years since we were wedded on that winter day in the park.  Look at all we have created together!

Dear my Nico baby: Love, Love Love. You show it, you foster it, you are it.  

I am really truly thankful to be connected to these souls, and to have so much to look forward to.

(yellow neck cowl c/o Flutter by Hannah)

SLOWING DOWN

Every once in a while, when I was carrying Biet in my belly, I used to forget that I was pregnant.  Aside from the obvious bowling ball protruding from my midsection, my body felt, most of the time, more or less unchanged.  I would enjoy working on my feet for 8, 10, 12 hours a day.  And the dreaded morning sickness, cravings, swelling- they never happened.  And then I gave birth, and my body recovered pretty quickly, and I was once again on my way.

Boy was I lucky.

This time around began just the same, and, I was sure, would remain just the same.  Morning sickness did show up, but barely.  Then came little aches and pains and stretching, fatigue (oh the fatigue!), and slightly more rapid weight gain before, and it slowly began to become apparent that this pregnancy would be a whole different experience than my first.  But being a stubborn strong-headed girl, I refused to listen to my body.  I would be fine, I thought, continuing to run and run and run.. working shift after shift at the restaurant, lugging the stroller up and down subway stairs without help, and sleeping just enough.  My body is strong, and, just like last time, could handle it...

About two weeks ago, Biet's molars began growing in.  I had heard about how tough they can be on little mouths when they first appear, but I was not prepared for the all-night marathons of tossing and turning and screaming that would ensue.  Suffice it to say, Gaby and I have been more sleep-deprived in the past ten days than ever before.  Yes, Biet's perfect little pearly whites have been rough on everyone.

The lack of sleep turned out to be the breaking point for my 26-week pregnant body.  A few days ago I "threw my back out." Not pulled a muscle or strained it- but full on threw it out.  I lost normal mobility in my neck and arms as a result, and could hardly turn my head or roll over in bed, let alone pick up a toddler.  Suddenly, standing up, making food, walking the dog, or taking a shower all became tedious painful endeavors.  And I finally realized that I must slow down.

This boy in my belly is growing and shifting and moving at such a rapid and healthy rate that my whole body has been thrown for a loop.  It was hard to admit to myself, but this time around, keeping my body balanced and healthy will take a lot more work.  I must stay conscious of how much I am pushing myself physically, how much sleep I am actually getting, and what each ache and pain is trying to tell me.

Its not easy when you realize that you are not superwoman, and its even harder to accept that its ok to not be a superwoman.  I have restrictions, I have limits, and balance is more important than getting everything done.  These are all lessons that I must learn.  It certainly helps to have a husband who quietly picks up the slack- who makes breakfast for everyone while you sleep that extra hour, who insists that you carry nothing while lugging fifty pounds of groceries home, who encourages early bedtimes (for the adults!) and nightly massages, while you keep thinking that you can do just one more thing at the end of the day.  I really couldn't do this without him.

My back and shoulders and neck are still sore and getting back to normal, although, thankfully, the major bouts of pain have ceased.  I am now treating this pregnancy as something completely unpredictable and unique, and attempting to pace each hour of each day. And I'm slowly getting used to being the one to sit on the sidelines and watch while Biet and Nico and Papa roughhouse on the bed.  I can be the big, pregnant, slow-moving Mama for awhile if that's what this baby boy needs. I'm even beginning to appreciate the stillness.

Now I'm wondering if my labor and recovery will be completely different from the first time as well. I'm curious to hear about other women's experiences with their second pregnancies. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

ONE LITTLE LADY, ONE LITTLE MAN

A boy.  From the moment the ultrasound technician told us the news, I have been on a rollercoaster of sorts as I  adjust to the reality of our future family.  This is the part where I'm supposed to say that I was overjoyed and smitten from that very first moment we found out, but that's simply not so.  As the wand moved across my belly, revealing grainy image after grainy image of our tiny wiggling child, the doctor, who stood behind the technician overseeing her work, suddenly looked at me and exclaimed "well he's certainly not shy!".  And at the same moment that I saw the two little legs, two little feet, and one very obvious boy part on display, the word "he" registered with my brain, and my jaw dropped.  I turned my head to Gaby, whose eyes were already welling up with tears of joy, and gasped "baby, its a boy!?"

Everyone, and I mean everyone, had told me that I was having a boy this time- all of my friends, my co-workers, strangers on the train, my boss, even those silly online quizzes- boy, boy, boy.  Everyone except my sisters, who knew how much I was anticipating another girl, and were rooting for me.  Having grown up in a family of three sisters, with a mother who came from a family of three sisters, I was sure that girls simply ran in my blood. Of course, I conveniently ignored my father's side, which is full of boys (my Grandma had four boys before having a girl, bless her!), as well as the actual fifty-fifty odds.  I was sure, and nothing else mattered.  I was looking forward to proving everyone wrong after the anatomy scan confirmed what I already "knew". My two girls would be wonderful sisters growing up in the city together, with just the same age gap as my little sister and I, and that was that. 

But the universe had other plans. At first, I was in shock.  The news of his good health was of course the most important thing, and brought with it calm and relief and gratitude. But the news of his gender had thrown me for such a loop that I honestly didn't know how to feel.  I walked out of the office in a sort of daze, telling Biet with a smile that she was going to have a little brother, but at the same time seeing all of my visions of her sisterhood vanishing.  The idea of a boy, which would soon be my reality, was simply so foreign.  

I don't even know how to change a boy diaper, I thought to myself.  And then came visions of pee everywhere, wrestling and breaking the house, toy guns and swords and fighting, broken bones, aggressive boy energy all. of. the. time... oh my.  I just couldn't imagine it.  I began asking friends with brothers what it had been like for them growing up.  Most of them said it was unbelievable.  I heard story after story of wonderful brother-sister adventures.  And one day I realized that I needn't imagine what a boy's childhood would entail because I had, indeed, already been through it.  My two sisters and I could wrestle the best of them. We knocked eachother around like you wouldn't believe.  Fighting and breaking things and being loud and wild- that was our everyday, for better or worse. I don't know when I began to sugarcoat my sisterhood with them, but the truth is that we were rough. And we were wild. And we were adventuresome. Because that is childhood.  

Biet and her brother will knock eachother around, I am sure. And they will also love eachother and mean more to one another than anyone else.  This city will be their playground, and it will be glorious. I will learn how to change a boy diaper (I've been told to cover it with a little cloth as soon as you open the diaper, or else expect to be peed on every time), but the rest I know. I cherish being a mother, and am lucky enough to be able to do it again.  I will nurture and raise an amazing little man who is half me and half Gaby, and for that I am not only thrilled, but honored. I can't wait to discover what he looks like, how he moves, what he sounds like...  I wonder if he will get as much of Gaby in him as Biet did.  Today, weeks after finding out, I can honestly say that I am smitten with this budding little life inside me.  He will be amazing.

I felt the need to document this process, from surprise to shock to acceptance to excitement. It has been quite an emotional journey, but a necessary one.  I feel this baby boy move in my belly every day, so strong and resilient, and I feel more connected to him than ever.  I can see him in my arms, and it is the sweetest feeling in the world. I am truly falling head over heals for this babe.  He is my son. 

OUR FEBRUARY CHILD

is a...

BURGERS IN PARK SLOPE

Just a few shots of our afternoon in Park Slope...

After our second (and last) prenatal appointment at the hospital the other day, it was just about nap time for Biet, and just about lunch time for us.  So we strolled through the gorgeous brownstones until she fell fast asleep, and then Gaby and I had a little lunch date at a cute organic burger joint on 7th avenue.  Walk-the-baby-to-sleep-on-the-way-to-the-restaurant has kind of become our our go-to strategy for fitting "dates" into our lives lately.  If you've never tried it, I highly recommend it: no babysitter needed! Of course it helps that our baby can sleep peacefully in a noisy restaurant, and walking by garbage trucks, and in screeching subway cars... that's a city kid for you.

Over lunch we excitedly pored over the printout from the ultrasound. We had just witnessed our new little one twist and stretch and thumb-suck on the screen at the hospital, and now we couldn't stop looking at the pictures of those tiny hands, tiny limbs, and beautiful profile. We talked about the future. We talked about the great changes heading our way.  We celebrated the baby in my belly, whose gender had just been revealed to us.

Gaby and I have decided to keep the gender to ourselves for just a few days. It is the last bit of this pregnancy can be just ours for a little while, so we are telling only a select few, and happily letting ourselves be giddy and excited about our secret while it is still ours.

In a few days we will reveal everything. The most important thing, of course, is that the baby is perfect and healthy with the absolute lowest risks of all of the scary stuff.  I have had a deep feeling since the beginning that this baby is strong, and it seems to be turning out that way. 

*GRATITUDE*

(Since we will be having a second home birth, all of our prenatal appointments- of which there are many- are with our midwife, in our home. We've only had to venture into the medical world of the hospital twice: once for a triple screen test and early scan, and once for the twenty week anatomy scan. Since all of the tests came back great, we are through with the hospital! Hooray!)

TWENTY WEEKS

Half done. This pregnancy is half over, and it feels absolutely surreal. Just as the cool winds and rains blew in outside, ushering in autumn, I feel as though a new season has suddenly begun within me as well.  Its strange to say, but I suddenly feel really pregnant.  Of course I've, obviously, felt pregnant for a while now, but something has changed.  I now see myself as a mother of two.  I dream about his or her tiny face, greeting me for the first time at birth.  With every gentle kick and turn that ripples through my belly, I am reminded of how strong this new little one is. This baby is no longer something that will be happening in the future, but rather something that is happening now.  

I've begun to envision labor. I imagine it will be very different from Biet's birth, yet magnificent in its own way. I feel strong and capable and at peace when I see myself there, in the throes of childbirth, working my hardest to bring this new baby to the outside world. I can't believe that I am going to do it again.  I hope that by envisioning it more and more regularly, I will be truly ready when the time comes. 

This pregnancy seems to be a bit more taxing on my body than the first one. I've been gaining weight much quicker than I did the first time, as well as experiencing plenty more aches and pains... nothing to write home about though.  I suppose that carrying an extra 30 lbs of wriggling toddler weight on my hip doesn't make this any easier on my body.  Gaby, who knows that I've been feeling more run down than usual, has been helping out by waking early with Biet and letting me sleep in.  He's also been encouraging me to indulge in my only "craving" (if you can call it that.. its more of a "I'm pregnant so I deserve it" kind of situation) of fresh baked baguettes with imported french cheese.  Gaby and I may or may not accidentally finish a whole baguette in one sitting.  I am so grateful for that man. 

Biet has begun lifting my shirt with her tiny hands and slapping my belly (a little too eagerly), when I ask her "where's the baby?"  Then she leans in and kisses my bare rounded belly.  Then she pokes her pointer finger into my belly button, which has already nearly popped. It melts me.  She seems genuinely drawn to babies when we're out in the city or at the playground, so I'm hoping for a gentle transition from single child to sibling.  I guess we have plenty of time to prepare for that, though. For now, I am just trying to soak up every moment with my single little one.  I love her so much.

And if all goes to plan, we will be finding out the gender in just a couple of days. I can't wait to know if this is a little he or a little she summersaulting in my belly!