The big day has come and gone. Alison's dance recital and the church Christmas pageant were yesterday.

Alison did great in the recital. She knew exactly where to be and when to be there, and she would wait for the rest of her class to catch up so they were all together. At the end, the other four girls ran off the stage and Alison was still standing there as the curtain closed. She was actually looking for us. We were on the opposite side of the room from where we had been at the dress rehearsal and that side was really dark, so she hadn't found us when she first came on stage. You can watch a clip of it here: Alison's dance recital. She's the one the red dress, as if you couldn't tell.

The Christmas pageant didn't go quite as well. First off, it's very hard to keep an active three year old, who is not used to sitting in church in the first place, quiet for nearly two hours. But Alison really didn't do too badly. 45 minutes after the service started, it was time for the pre-schoolers to go up and sing their song. Alison had been singing it off and on since we sat down, so she was ready. She went up to the chancel steps with the rest of her class, but the call of the stable set, which was sitting out of sight, was too much. Runaway sheep!!! She took off across the chancel and had to be corralled by one of her teachers. She kept trying to get away, but did settle down enough to sing, kind of. Of course, we didn't realize until well after the pageant was over exactly why she took off like she did. She had been saying that she wanted to go "play in the house" but it wasn't until we were on our way home that we realized that "the house" was the stable. Oh well, there's always next year. I guess we couldn't possibly expect her to be as good as she was the last time she was in the pageant. At four months old, she played baby Jesus and slept through the entire show.

My Christmas shopping is done....I think. Kevin will kill me if I buy one more thing for Alison. Don't let me loose in the toy store alone. I went there for two specific things, one from us and one from grandma, and came out with about 5 extra things. Most were little things for her stocking, but I did by one more "big" gift. Guess that will be from Santa. :) And I am also not to be let loose in the bookstore either. I went to get a calendar for Kevin and a little book as a stocking stuffer for Alison. It took a lot of restraint to only buy one book for Alison, which is why I bought two, and the second one is definitely not for the stocking, unless her stocking is big enough to fit the Jolly Green Giant (which it's not). It only cost $4.98, so I couldn't pass it up.

I need to find out from Kevin how much money he's spent/is going to spend on me and then I'll know if I'm done buying for him. Part of his gift is an IOU because the store only had one of something I need two of and I'm not going to drive all over to see if another store has another one. And if he's spent more than I have, he's getting the difference in a gift card from somewhere, probably Home Depot of Lowes.

I'm glad the shopping is done, but I am soooo not looking forward to the wrapping. I have already wrapped all the gifts for my extended family and Kevin's family (roughly 18 people) and I still have to wrap the stuff for my family, Alison, Kevin, and the dog. And I have to wrap Alison's presents from Kevin's mom, too, since I was also the one who had to buy them.@@ I really hate wrapping Christmas gifts, but I don't dare let Kevin loose on them. If I were smart, I'd just spend (donate) a few bucks and let the people at the mall do it.

We got the results of Matthew's karyotype today. Everything was normal....46xy. We had already talked with the doctor, while I was still in the hospital, about the risk of recurrence if this was the result we got and he said that between the recurrence risk of this and SB, he'd still say we had at least a 90% chance of having a normal pregnancy. That being said, he's also going to talk to doctors at U of M to see what they think.

When Matthew's problems were first diagnosed, I said never again. I wanted to come home and clean out all the leftover meds in my closet...just get rid of everything. Kevin said not to, especially if they didn't expire right away, because we might need them again. I said no way. I'm never going to go through this again. This is it...I'm done. And I really believed that, for the next 6 or 8 weeks.

That's when we approached the time when most pregnancies with Matthew's heart problems usually end. And then I started considering the possibility of trying again, thinking that I could have 6 months to recover and get back in shape if the pregnancy ended then and we tried again in the spring. But Matthew hung on and that potential recovery period got shorter and shorter. And the desire to try again got stronger and stronger. Right now, all I can think about is when can we start our first FET cycle.

I know that Matthew is gone, and a new baby couldn't ever replace him. I just want the chance to have everything go right, because let's face it, things didn't exactly go right with Alison either. I want the chance to be excited about being pregnant for more than just the first 18 or 19 weeks. I want to be able to be excited about giving birth, not scared to death because I don't know what to expect, or maybe because I do. I just want the chance to be "normal."

Today was a first, I think. Alison, who I'm beginning to believe prides herself on not doing what anyone asks her to do, actually behaved at her dance class, well until just at the very end anyway. And her teacher was very impressed that she knew the whole routine for the number they are doing in the recital on Sunday. She has been working so hard on it here at home, so I'm glad that she was able to calm down and focus enough to show how hard she has been working. They have one more class, Thursday morning, and the dress rehearsal is Friday evening (at 5:30....what an awful time to be having dress rehearsal!!). I hope she can keep up the good work! If she can, then maybe the teacher won't be horrified to see her on the class roster for the next session, since we really want to sign her up for dance again. Now, if we could only get her to behave at Sunday School.....

We've been getting sympathy cards just about every day since last Monday. They are mostly from friends, people at our church, and people at my parents' church. We got one from my OB/GYN's office, signed by most of the staff, which surprised me. And we also got one from our dentist. We recently found out that he goes to our church, but it still surprised me.

The funeral director called yesterday to tell us that Matthew's ashes are back and we can pick them, and the copies of his death certificate that we requested, up whenever we like. After taking care of the official business, he says to Kevin, "by the way, your dentist is my brother." I never would have put the two together. Sure, they have the same last name, but it's one of the most common last names in the country. Apparently the dentist saw the obituary in the paper and called the funeral director to get our address, saying "why didn't you tell me about this?" Funeral director replied "how am I supposed to know who your patients are?" Our question is, why didn't the dentist just get our address from his own records instead of calling his brother?

Christmas is fast approaching and we're slowly getting ready for it. Alison is so excited. Her dance class is part of the Christmas recital, so she's working hard learning the dance routine, and she's also learning the song her class will sing in the church Christmas pageant. Yesterday Kevin put the Christmas tree up while she was taking her nap. She jumped and danced around when she saw it, shrieking and laughing. "Look at that Christmas tree!" This morning the tree had lights on it and she was over the moon. We hit the mall yesterday and knocked a bunch of people off our shopping list. Most of the adults are taken care of. We still have a few to shop for and we need to hit the toy store to shop for the kids. I was surprised at how tired walking around in the mall for a couple of hours made me. I passed out in the reclinder while watching my soap yesterday afternoon. I've got dough for 4 kinds of Christmas cookies mixed up....2 kinds are in the freezer and 2 are in the fridge chilling so I can finish the prep work and then get them in the freezer until I'm ready to bake. I have 4 more kinds of cookies I plan to make. I have Christmas cards to get ready to send out, but I'm still debating on whether or not to put our family Christmas picture in them or just pictures of Alison. Would it seem strange to get a picture of a happy, smiling family in light of what has just happened? I don't know. We had the pictures taken over a month ago. We get them taken early so that pictures of Alison can be included with the presents going to my family in Maryland when my brother goes there to go hunting after Thanksgiving. Way back before we knew there was a problem with the baby I had planned to have the pictures taken as usual and then include a separate picture of the baby (a hospital picture or something like that). So we just kept with that plan, but there is no Matthew to include a picture of. so I'm not sure what to do.....

I'm beginning to wonder if we are ever going to have a happy Christmas again. Two years ago Alison had pneumonia and my grandfather died on Christmas morning. We had barely gotten out of bed when the call came. Last year things started out ok, but before we had a chance to open presents (my mom had to work, so we waited until she got home) the call came that Kevin's father had died. Matthew would have been a month old this Christmas, but he's gone now, too. So once again we're left with going through the motions for Alison's sake.

I went to church this morning. I'm not sure if it was a such a good idea or not. They had baptisms today and that was hard, even though the youngest child was our neighbors' 8 month old. The awkwardness I hoped to avoid by being selective in who I told about what was going on before Matthew was born is there in full force now. I know we were avoided by several people this morning. Others came over to offer hugs and see how we are doing. The funny thing is I'm generally fine until someone asks me how I'm doing. I am glad I went today, though. I needed to get out of the house.
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My parents left today. In fact, my mom just called to let me know they made it home. They'd been here since before Thanksgiving. I'm glad they were here because they've been a lot of help, especially with Alison, who has been a real handful lately. Every time I turned around, my mom was doing dishes. She finished up all the ironing I didn't get to before Thanksgiving and then did all the laundry and ironed that, too. At least we're caught up for next week, I guess, but I felt bad that she was doing so much on her "vacation." So tonight, because I sent Kevin and Alison off to church for youth group (Kevin's a counselor), I'm home by myself. I think I needed to have a little time alone.

I can't believe it's been a whole week already. In some ways it seems like so long ago. In others it seems like the blink of an eye.

Physically, I'm doing pretty well. I got my staples taken out on Wednesday. I take a few Motrin at night before I go to bed, just in case, but I haven't really needed anything for pain, at least not on a regular basis, for a couple of days. I'll be able quit the Motrin altogether in a couple of days. I can cough without pain, which is good since I'm still getting over this cold I picked up two weeks ago. But I'm tired a lot. I can be sitting in a chair watching tv and the next thing I know I've fallen asleep. I stretched out on the couch tonight while Alison was watching "Rudolph" (we have the DVD) and ended up sleeping through most of it. I wonder if I'll be able to go to sleep tonight when I decide to go to bed.

Going to bed.....that when it's the worst. I don't think I've gone to bed without crying once this week. When I close my eyes I see Matthew, fighting so hard, not wanting to give up. I get caught off guard during the day, too. I can be perfectly fine one minute and just on the edge of being a complete mess the next, for no apparent reason. It's like somebody just flipped a switch. I just have to take it a moment, an hour, a day at a time and tell myself that things will get better eventually.

These arrived this afternoon.



Thank you so much ladies. They are beautiful and very much appreciated.

Today we went to meet with the funeral director. I'm glad that I sat in on the memorial preparations for my grandfather two years ago. It kind of prepared me for what we had to do this morning. We signed the paperwork to have Matthew creamated. We provided the necessary information to put his obituary in the paper (it will be in Wednesday's paper). We picked out a small "urn." It will be a small wooden block with a teddy bear engraved on it. We ordered copies of his death certificate. We're not planning to have a service, so we didn't have that to deal with.

The funeral director said something interesting. He said he knew that we were going to be all right in time because we have acknowledged that this is happening. We gave Matthew a name and took the time to make arrangements like putting an obit in the paper. He said the moms that scare him are the ones that go through this and don't name the baby and try to pretend like it never happened.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of those moms who pretend it never happened. Then I could just go on my merry way and resume my normal life. But that's not how it is. I can't just ignore the fact that Matthew was here and now he's not.

I'm home from the hospital.

Wednesday night, just before I went to bed, I started having contractions. They were kind of regular, occurring about every half hour, but they weren't very strong and the never got any closer together. This went on all night, which meant very little sleep for me, not that I would have gotten a lot anyway since Alison was in a sleeping bag right next to my bed. The contractions stopped for the morning, started up again in the afternoon, stopped for a few hours in the evening, and then started up again. They were still only half an hour apart, and never got any closer together, so I didn't really think too much about it, until I had a little bit of spotting. That's when I started calling doctors. Because of where my incision from fetal surgery is located, I'm really not supposed to labor. I started with my local doctor to see what she thought might be going on. She said she could have me come in to our local hospital and get checked out, but she would probably end up transferring me, so it would probably be better to go to the hospital I would be delivering at right off the bat. I paged the doctor who was going to be doing the delivery and he agreed, so I quickly threw some things in a bag, kissed Alison goodbye after telling her I was going to the hospital, and off we went to the hospital.

Once at the hospital, I was hooked up to a monitor and got an IV. It didn't appear that I was in active labor, but no one was going to send me home, either. My doctor arrived and checked me out. We decided that, since we were scheduled to deliver on Tuesday anyway, as long as the contractions didn't get any worse and the baby was doing all right, it wasn't necessary to deliver immediately and we would wait until Friday morning. There would be more staff available in the morning to help with the baby. The contractions must have slacked off at some point during the night, or I was just really, really tired and didn't care, because I managed to get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I was squeezed in for delivery and was taken to the delivery room at about 9:30. Matthew Charles was born at 10:04 am. He weighed 3 lbs. and 6 oz. We heard him cry twice before he was intubated. Kevin wasn't expecting that. He got to see him and take a couple of pictures before he was moved up to the NICU. I was able to see him for a quick moment just before he was whisked out the door. It took another half hour for them to finish up with me and then I was moved to the recovery room. Kevin came back to let me know what was going on. Matthew had been improving, but then his sats started dropping again. They found a small hole in one lung and had put in chest tubes to see if they couldn't get his oxygen levels back up. They did rebound a bit, but not as much as they were hoping. His heart damage was compounding the problem with the oxygen levels and we were fast approaching the time when he would suffer brain damage from lack of oxygen. We also had to decide about whether or not to start dialysis. We agreed that, if nothing could be done about his lungs, there was really no point. As it turns out, a renal ultrasound showed he had no kidneys (or bladder). After we talked, Kevin left to tell my family what was going on and to bring my mom back up to stay with me.

I had to stay in recovery for an hour. During that time the staff was trying to figure out how to get me up to the NICU to be able to see Matthew. I was moved to my regular room and it was decided that when I could stand up and get into a wheelchair, I could go up. In the meantime, Kevin took my mom and dad up to see him and my brother brought Alison in to visit with me. One of the ministers from our church arrived and stayed with us. My parents came back and my mom took my brother up to see him. My dad stayed with Alison. She was so off her schedule and was totally wired and being a real handful. By about 1:30 I could finally move my legs and told them I was ready to go. As it turned out, I was pushing it a little -- couldn't really stand -- but the nurses managed to get me into the wheelchair and we went up.

I was able to spend some time with him, just holding his hand or playing with his foot. During this time, the staff set up an empty nursery so it would accomodate all of us instead of limiting us to two at a time. My dad went down to get my mom. My brother didn't want to come back up, so he stayed with Alison. We decided that she was too wound up to be in the NICU and she wouldn't understand what was going on anyway. Once we made the move to the new nursery, I was able to hold Matthew. He was so small. The NICU staff had taken some pictures of him with Kevin, earlier, and they took some more pictures for us. We had him baptised and then decided it was time to let him go.

The ventilator was turned off and the doctor removed the tube so that we were able to really see him, for the first time. I just held him....and we waited. The doctor checked for a heartbeat several times. Matthew's gasping breaths got farther and farther apart. Towards the end, we'd think he was gone and all of a sudden he'd take another big breath. Finally I told him that it was ok to give up and to let go. And then he was gone. It was 2:54 pm.

The doctor and the rest of the staff gave us some time alone. Kevin held him for a little bit, and then my mom and dad had a chance to hold him. I held him again for a little bit and then let him go forever.

Throughout it all, the NICU staff was great. As we were leaving, they were headed in to clean Matthew up and put a little outfit on him. They took some pictures of him in his little outfit for us and then gave us the outfit and the blanket he was laying on. They made a mold of his feet for us and they gave us a keepsake box with his hospital bracelet, a little bit of his hair, and his footprints. It seemed like every time we turned around they were bringing something else to us.

I spent two more days in the hospital. As I was able to be up and walking the halls, we occasionally passed a room with a crying baby in it and that was a little tough. My doctor was ready to let me go this morning, but I developed a cramp in my leg overnight and we had to rule out a blood clot. That took a while. It didn't take long to get the ultrasound done....almost as soon as I (finally) got into the shower the tech arrived to do the test. It took several hours to get someone to actually (officially) read it and decide if I could go home or not.

Leaving the hospital was hard, harder than I thought it was going to be. But I'm glad to be home.

I'm mad. I hope that by writing about it I will get it out of my system and just be able to let it go and move on. Anyone that's been reading along knows that we have been going through one of the most awful things that a family can go through....the loss of a child. That's not what I'm mad about....well, I'm mad about it, but that's not what this entry is about.

What I'm really mad about right now is the fact that I've gotten the "cold shoulder" from a so-called friend ever since we found out that there was a problem with the baby. I've gotten more support from women that I have only known from an AOL message board for the last 3 1/2 ish years, most of whom I've never even met in person, than from this person who I have been friends with for 14 years. We were roommates in college. She was the maid of honor in my wedding. I was the matron of honor in hers. She absolutely did not even hesitate to open her home to us when I had fetal surgery, even though her husband was having his own surgery the next day. And yet there has been no communication, or at least no return communication, for 3 months now. E-mails I've sent have gone unresponded to, even e-mails that have been about Alison and have had nothing to do with the baby. Kevin did call once, in early August, I think, to re-thank them for having us stay with them while we were in Nashville for the fetal surgery reunion and to see what was going on, but since then we've heard nothing. The excuse then was that she and her husband just didn't know what to say. Fine. I can understand that, or at least I could at the time. But not now. We have a mutual friend, who is also pregnant, btw, who calls or e-mails to see how we're doing, if there's any new news. I could chalk it up to my so-called friend being busy, but just the other day I received an e-mail update from pregnant friend in which she replied to a message from so-called friend and sent it to me, too (it was about her recent ultrasound), leaving the original message from so-called friend. So apparently, she's not to busy for pregnant friend. It's just me.

And I don't really know why I'm so surprised. I mean, this is the same person who didn't speak to pregnant friend for nearly 4 years and none of us knew why. We had some ideas, but I don't think we'll ever know for sure. Anyway, I've decided that I'm done with all of it. I don't need the hassle, especially not now. The next move is hers, but I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for it.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Thursday night -- well, actually Friday morning -- I happened to wake up just as something in one of the other rooms went THUD. And then I was pretty sure I also heard a cry. I wasn't totally sure, because Kevin had the monitor with him (since I've been pregnant, Kevin has been sleeping in the guest room -- we sleep better that way....he doesn't wake up when I toss and turn, I don't wake up when he goes to bed and gets up). I heard Kevin get up and go into Alison's room. Apparently, the thud I heard had been Alison hitting the floor. For the first time since she's been out of the crib, she fell out of bed. Fortunately it wasn't that far of a fall, and it's entirely possible that she would have just gone back to sleep on the floor. But Kevin got her picked up and put back into bed....up against the wall....and she was fine for the rest of the night. And then we all went back to sleep.

I'm not surprised that this finally happened. There have been several times that we've gone in to check on her and found her all turned around, sleeping nearly sideways on the bed with her head practically off the side. Hopefully this has cured some of her thrashing about.

I am beat!! I just got back from taking my little witch trick-or-treating. Perhaps Kevin will have to do the honors next year. No, really, it wasn't that bad. We actually went out twice. The first time we left we made it to two houses. We were headed back down the driveway after the second house when I got hit with the old "I have to go potty." Great. @@ We had just made her go to the bathroom before we got her into her costume. So I scooped her up, told her to hold it, carried her home, pushed past a group of kids at our front door and raced her to the bathroom. Too late. :( Well, we tried. She finished up on the toilet, but when we were cleaning her up I discovered, the hard way, that we didn't get her costume all the way out of the way. I told Kevin to grab some scissors because we were just going to cut the mess off (it was only a little bit of the mesh under skirt and it probably added to the "tattered" look of the costume). We got her cleaned up and I got her back into the rest of her costume and then manned the door while Kevin took care of the stuff that had to be changed. Then we were off again.

She ran and jumped and hopped her way down one side of the street and back up the other. We had had a talk about the rules of trick-or-treating, so at least she didn't try to go into all the houses this year....well, at least not many. She doesn't knock on the doors very loudly, but she sure can yell "trick-or-treat." She was pretty good about saying thank you, too, though I did have to prompt her a few times. Everyone thought she was really cute. We made it home just as it was starting to sprinkle. Her pumpkin was pretty full and pretty heavy. I know this because I had to carry it home from the last house. At one point she switched it from one hand to the other because her arm got tired!

All in all, I think it was a pretty successful night.

Today was Halloween at Kevin's plant. The employees are encouraged to dress up and decorate and the kids are encouraged to come and trick or treat. So last night I made the two little alterations that Alison's costume needed and this morning she was ready to go.

I think it probably goes without saying that Alison was very excited this morning. She even went in to go to the bathroom before we left without any fuss. Then we got her into her costume, grabbed her pumpkin, daddy's candy and the Halloween candy bowl (which he forgot to take with him this morning) and off we went.

Kevin met us at the door and we were ready to go. Alison picked out a chocolate ear from the candy at the reception desk and then had to pull it out of her pumpkin to show every one we passed after that. "Look what I have!" She was all over everywhere. She'd go into offices to get candy and then have to check out what everyone had on their desks. Since she was one of the first to come through, she got a ton of candy. We kept telling her to only take one piece, and they kept giving her two or three. By the time we were done, her pumpkin was almost completely filled and was so heavy that she could barely carry it. At one stop, she was given a headband with little witches in purple dresses on it, which matched her costume perfectly, but she wouldn't wear.



I'm glad we had the "dry run" with Alison's costume. We found out that her witch's hat is too slippery on the inside to stay on her head while she's moving, so I'm going to have to come up with some way to fix that. I think I can get a little piece of inexpensive material and make a couple of little ties to tack to it and we'll just tie it on. Otherwise, it's a great costume for her. It's not so great for wearing in the car though. After we were done, off it came and she went home in her oversized, black turtleneck, tights, church shoes and a pair of shorts.

I had my regular doctor's appointment last week and it was with the one doctor I haven't seen since this whole mess started, so the nursing staff wasn't familiar with our case. I guess at 30 weeks, it's normal for them to ask if you've thought about whether you're going to breast or bottle feed, which is exactly what the nurse did. It kind of caught me off guard and I took a moment to answer because I didn't want to say the first thing that came to my mind. I just simply told her that the baby was not expected to survive. That led to an akward pause and she made a note in my chart and said that she would make sure it didn't happen again. But it got me to thinking that perhaps there should be some kind of label that could be attached to the charts that everyone would recognize and be alert to lethal problems in a pregnancy so they didn't ask all the routine questions.

Anyway, lest you think this is going to be a morose post, I was talking to my mom later that afternoon, telling her how the appointment went and I said everything was the usual except I got hit with the "have you thought about how you're going to feed the baby" question. And my mom said "hmmm, haven't really thought about feeding the baby at all." That may seem like kind of strange thing for a mother to say when her daughter is in my position, but in reality, it was exactly, word for word, the first thing that came to my mind when the nurse asked me. I come by it honest. :)

So I've been thinking a little about an e-mail conversation I had not too long ago about the use of technology in managing pregnancy these days. Is it a good thing or a bad thing?

Well, were it not for all the advances in infertility treatments, I would not be able to get pregnant at all. Given the way things have turned out, perhaps that might not have been a bad thing. Also, were it not for in-depth ultrasounds we wouldn't have known about Alison's spina bifida until she was born. And were it not for a couple of doctors who thought maybe it would make a difference if the lesion of a baby with spina bifida was closed before it was born, Alison wouldn't be the child she is today.

I've been pondering whether or not it would have been better if we hadn't known about everything that is wrong with this baby. We could have just gone on our merry way and been happily wiling away the last 12 weeks without a care in the world, preparing for a new baby without knowing that we would be coming home empty handed. Instead, we have spent the last 12 weeks in a quasi state of mourning, waiting for the end to come, wondering why it hasn't. All of our preparations stopped as soon as we found out there was a fatal problem. We already had Alison sleeping in a regular bed, so there was no going back to the crib, but we didn't go ahead with turning our guest room into her new room and moving her. We didn't bother to invest in a double stroller. I didn't bother to get the Baby Bjorn that I really wanted. We bought no new baby things at all. We didn't spend a lot of money for nothing (well, not counting what it cost us to go through all the infertility treatments this time). We won't come home to an empty nursery. Instead, we're having discussions about what to do with our child after he or she dies.

So which is the better way to go: having time to prepare or getting the devestating news at the end? I don't know.

So yesterday was our appointment at U of M. At 29 weeks we have a baby that is measuring correctly except for one place. It's chest is only measuring 25 weeks. The heart is still taking up a large portion of the chest cavity, but there is some question as to whether that's because the heart is really that big or because the chest is so compressed. There is no fluid around the baby. We were able to see the veins running to the kidneys, but not the kidneys themselves, nor the bladder or the stomach. Which means the kidneys aren't producing urine to fill the bladder to be expelled and taken in by the baby, develop the lungs, fill the stomach to go back to the kidneys. Basically, what we saw is almost certainly a baby that won't survive.

But then again, the cardiologist told us with almost certainty that this pregnancy was going to end in fetal demise weeks ago. And that didn't happen.

Still, we have to face the fact that we are going to come home without a baby. However, there's a big difference between accepting and preparing for the fact that you are going to deliver a stillborn baby and accepting and preparing for the fact that you are now going to deliver a live baby have to watch him or her die.

So as of now, the plan is to continue weekly appointments at my regular OB's office. At the beginning of November I will see the perinatalogist that originally diagnosed us to take a quick look at the baby and go over surgery risks, etc. and get on the surgery schedule for delivery at 34 weeks, which is the week before Thanksgiving (though if we can talk him into it, I'd rather wait until after Thanksgiving). We are not going to be delivering at our local hospital, because they don't have a NICU, but at the same hospital where Alison was born, because they do have a NICU, just in case anything can be done. All docs involved feel this is an acceptable course of action because I really don't want to deliver at U of M if there's really nothing that can be done, and the doc there said that if by some chance there is something that can be done that the hospital where I will deliver can't handle there would (probably) still be time to transfer the baby to U of M. Either way, this part of the nightmare that has become my life will be over.

Kevin and I have agreed that cremation is the route we are going to go, partly from a financial standpoint, but also because I just can't handle the idea of a burial. I just can't. And I don't think we'll have any kind of funeral or memorial service, either. But we will take pictures. I think that's important. I don't think there is any benefit to having Alison see the baby now.....she's just too little to understand what is happening and I think it would be way to confusing for her.....but when she's older, she may want to see the pictures.

When told that my daughter has spina bifida, after we got through the initial shock and devastation and went through with fetal surgery that we were told was unlikely to change her prognosis as far as her ability to walk, a thought occured to me. And that thought was that if she wasn't going to be able to walk, then once she got to big for us to carry all the time, she'd be eligible for a handicapped plaque and we'd be able to park in the close up spaces all the time. Of course, for Alison the surgery was a great success and she not only walks, she runs and jumps and does just about everything a typical 3 year old should, so no free pass to the good parking spaces for us. But that's ok. I'm quite happy with the alternative.

Searching for something positive to take out of our current bad situation, I was thrilled when my doctors decided that I didn't have to drink that disgusting super-sweet orange drink and take the glucose tolerance test. It's not that I think it's really all that bad, though I do remember feeling really crappy for several hours afterward, but I was still glad not to have to do it. There didn't seem to be much point to it, since we've been on fetal death watch for the last 11 weeks. So imagine how bummed I was today when my doc said she thought I should go ahead and take the test. But it's ok. Tomorrow I'll drink my disgusting super-sweet orange drink and be happy about it, because the alternative, even though we've been preparing for it, is much worse than feeling crappy for a few hours until the sugar gets out of my system.

Who else thinks like this? I hope I'm not the only one. I guess it's some kind of coping mechanism. A way of trying to take a couple of the tons of lemons we've been given and making a little bit of lemonade, so to speak. And really, I don't care if anyone thinks it's weird, because sometimes you just have to do what you have to do to get you through the bad times.

So here's a little bit about what's been going on in my life.

I had my weekly doctor's appointment last Tuesday. It was more of the same. I was measuring 28 weeks one day before I would be 28 weeks, so baby has "caught up" again, and his/her heartrate was up into the 150's again. That was a bit of a surprise. The heartrate has been hanging out in the upper 130's to mid 140's for the last 7 or 8 weeks. I think it's because the baby was having an active morning. :) My blood pressure, which the week before started out way high, was back to normal. That made everyone happy. I have my next regular weekly appt. tomorrow and we have our appt. at U of M on Wednesday.

Here's one more benefit to my having lost 60 pounds last year. I haven't gotten rid of all my "fat" clothes yet and I've got some long sleeve shirts that are proving to make great maternity shirts. We've been operating under the assumption that this pregnancy will end at any time, so I don't want to shell out a lot of money for clothes I may not need next week, though I did buy one pair of jeans (which I hate) because I needed something to wear out in public that weren't dress pants or capris. So these shirts, and my x-large sweats, are coming in real handy.

I am continually amazed at my daughter's memory. I know that she is nowhere near doing any actual reading...she's still hit and miss in recognizing most of her letters...but the other night she "read" me an entire book. "The Big Red Tub" has been her favorite book since we checked it out of the library a couple weeks ago. She has gotten to the point where she can tell the story, with very few mistakes, just by looking at the pictures. Last night she did the same thing with parts of "Stellaluna."

Alison and I watch Blue's Clues in the morning, while she is drinking her milk. As I was changing her from her pull up back to her underwear after her nap the other day, she pointed to her underwear and said "A clue! A clue!" At first, it looked to me like she was pointing to one of the flowers on her kitty underwear. When she moved her finger a little bit, I saw that she was, in fact, pointing to a paw print. It was pink instead of blue, but to her it was still a "clue." Kevin wore one of his college sweatshirts over the weekend and it had a big paw print on it (Hampden-Sydney Tigers) and she told him he was wearing a clue. It's so funny to me how her mind works sometimes.

Last night we picked out a Halloween costume for Alison. I went through the racks and picked out all the ones that I thought she might like and that we could put extra clothes under so she wouldn't freeze to death if it happens to be cold on Halloween night. I had about 5 costumes....two different witches, two different angels, and a '50's chick. Of course, she wanted them all. We finally got it narrowed down to one of the witches and one of the angels. Then she picked the witch. We tried the costume on her, because it looked a little big, but found that it would be just right. I hung everything else back up and we prepared to go. Then she changed her mind and said she wanted to be the angel. So we tried that costume on her. Unfortunately, cute thought it was, it was a little too small. There wouldn't have been room under it for extra clothes. Fortunately, we were able to talk her back into the witch costume. It has a hat, so she's excited about that. Yesterday afternoon she and Kevin put up our outside decorations. There's a couple of fake pumpkins sitting on the porch and some stuffed plastic (bag) ghosts and pumpkins hanging from the apple tree. She is so excited about her decorations. We still have some window clings to put up and some other inside decorations. I don't know if how she'll contain her excitement when we get around to those! Today she brought home a real pumpkin from the neighbors. It's a nice one, too. It will be great for carving, when the time comes.