I’m going to swear in this post. If you’re offended by that, I’m sorry. I can’t remember if I’ve sworn here, but if you know me in real life or even just on the internet, you probably already know that I have an affinity for a certain F word, so this should come as no surprise.
We’ve gone through a few nicknames for this baby. It started off as Ketchup, just because for some reason, I can’t get enough ketchup while pregnant. It then changed to LB² which has to do with Le Bebe and our last name. The most recent, however, is my favorite.
Before my cerclage last Thursday, we had a quick ultrasound before the procedure to check the baby’s heart rate. The resident who was assisting “drove” the ultrasound, and after he/she appeared, the resident pointed at the screen and said, “there’s the little fvcker.” Dave and I looked at each other and then cracked up laughing when we both realized that she had actually said “flicker.” She didn’t seem to know what we were laughing about until my peri said, “I don’t think they heard ‘flicker’ when you said that.” The resident thought about it for a second and then turned bright red.
It totally changed the mood of the day (I was an absolute mess being on the L&D floor for the first time since Jillian was born), so it was exactly what we needed. The resident kept saying that she’ll never live it down, and I can assure her that we will remember her for the rest of our lives.
So when I tell anyone this story, I think they assume that we’re now calling the baby “Flicker.” I kind of wish that were true, but sadly, it’s not. I’m going to (try very hard to) stop calling the baby this before he/she can hear anything. I just hope that if the baby does hear me accidentally call it “little fvcker,” he/she realizes it comes from a place of love.
Thank you everyone for your well-wishes. They mean so much to Dave and me.
The past few days have been a little more exciting than I’d like. I woke up very early on Saturday to a lot of bright red bleeding and some clots. I knew I’d experience some bleeding, but we didn’t expect anything like this. I called my doctor’s office. The on-call doctor called me back and told me to come in.
Fortunately, a check showed the bleeding was coming from outside my cervix. We then had an ultrasound to check on the baby and see if there was anything else that could be causing the bleeding. They didn’t see anything causing it, and the baby was his/her usual active self.
So for now, things seem to be pretty good. I’m counting down the days until my next appointment. Even though I don’t actually like having to have such frequent ultrasounds, it’s very reassuring to see the baby. I’m convinced this one is a boy, but that means nothing because I was 100 percent positive that Jillian was a boy. We’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’m just going to keep staring at our most recent pictures and let my crazy mind think that because this baby’s forehead is shaped differently than Jillian’s, it’s obviously a boy. Seriously. I’ve lost it.
P.S. During our NT scan, I was starting to question whether this child is actually mine because I hadn’t seen him/her sucking a thumb once so far. Anyone who knew me before the age of five or knows my brothers knows that no child of mine could be a non-thumb sucker. Guess what he/she was doing Saturday morning! The thumb sucking will be the bane of my existence in about 4-5 years and then again when it’s time for braces (what a glorious problem for me to have), but for now, it’s adorable.
One year ago today, a beautiful baby girl named Katie Jane was born. Sadly, she became an angel that day. I didn’t know her mom very well, but I was in awe of her strength. I already knew that she was as kind as possible, and I quickly realized that she was also as loving and courageous as possible.
I’ve talked about Katie’s mom, Susan, a few times here. She has since become a good friend who I can’t imagine life without. When Jillian died, the idea of her being “out there” without me was less scary because I knew Katie would watch over her. I immediately felt safer knowing I had gained someone who seemed like a big sister, and I felt like Jillian had one, too.
I think about Katie every day, and I’m thinking of her even more today. I’m fortunate to be one of the many people whose lives have been touched by hers.
Thank you, Katie Jane, for being such a beautiful angel, for giving me strength, for watching over Jillian, and for helping to make your mommy such an important part of me life.
I’m pregnant. 12 weeks pregnant, to be a little more specific. We had the very good luck of getting pregnant our first cycle trying this time. It was hard not to think that it was about time we caught a break on something, but on the other hand, I’ve spent over eight weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop.
My cerclage was placed yesterday. That was fortunately pretty uneventful. Being pregnant again has been, well, interesting. It’s been scary, but not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. I’ve realized that I still love being pregnant, which I thought was never going to be possible again. Even so, being pregnant is very bittersweet. Experiencing another pregnancy, especially one that has felt very much like my pregnancy with Jillian, has made me miss her even more than I already do. There is a tiny part of me that feels like I’m betraying her, even though I know she would never think that. It’s also difficult to remember that the baby is not her, especially during ultrasounds.
As we’ve started telling people our news, we’re learning that a lot of people suspected I was pregnant, partially because I haven’t been blogging as much. I actually have been updating pretty regularly, but those posts have all been set as private. I’ll unlock them, but there’s not much to them, aside from me being scared about bleeding and stuff (I had a subchorionic hematoma that was causing bleeding and spotting for several weeks).
So, the news is finally out. We’re thrilled. Scared, but thrilled, and trying very hard to be optimistic. We are very much in love with this baby. We want nothing more in the world than for Jillian to be here with us to share in our happiness, but in a way, I know she is. Yesterday during the procedure, I started crying a little as I was looking around the operating room and remembering Jillian’s birth. Suddenly, my heart started feeling very warm and I knew my sweet girl was there. She’s an amazing angel.
We had our NT scan this morning. We were in such a rush to get out the door that I didn’t have time to be nervous about it. Having the place painted while having the bathrooms renovated and having four animals, including a sick dog who kept us up for hours, is a good distraction.
I finally got nervous when the ultrasound actually started. It seemed like she was measuring the nuchal fold more than they did with Jillian, which got me nervous, but it turns out she was just having a hard time because the baby had his/her chin tucked and she was trying to get him/her to move. It turned out that it was great, but emotionally, it was still a difficult ultrasound. This was our fifth (the only benefit to being high risk), and this is the first time that the baby looked like a baby instead of a blob or alien (amazing, considering that less than a week ago, we still had a little alien). I had to remind myself at one point that the baby wasn’t Jillian. It was a bittersweet moment. I hate that I think like this because I don’t want to short change this baby, but when you’re pregnant, don’t get to bring the baby home, and then get pregnant again very soon, it’s easy to forget, I guess.
Once the ultrasound was over, I was looking at the pictures the tech gave us and decided the baby didn’t really look like Jillian. Their profiles seem a little different. It’s obviously so early to be deciding this, but at this scan, the two babies were the exact same age. After I got home and compared them side by side, I realized the difference isn’t as much as I’d originally thought. I know I’m thinking way too much about it. Hopefully we won’t find out for about 27 more weeks how much this baby and Jillian resemble each other.
We’ll see the baby again on Thursday before my cerclage, and then again once the procedure is over.
How is it possible that it’s been eight months already? We have so much going on that time is flying.
While I usually feel pretty good about how fast time is going, sometimes I hate it. Last week, after we went to bed, Daddy mentioned that he couldn’t believe it was almost August. He then said that he doesn’t think about things in terms of “the summer flying by” anymore, and when he started to say how he thinks of it, I finished his sentence: now it’s how long you’ve been gone.
I told him I needed to stop talking about it because I was going to cry. I thought about how before we know it, it will be a year since I’ve held you, kissed you, smelled you, or told you that I love you more than anything in the world. I still tell you that every day, but it’s not the same as telling you while I’m sitting at your bedside or holding you. Suddenly, I was crying harder than I have in a while. I couldn’t catch my breath and the world was closing in on me. It’s just so unfair that the most important part of our lives is gone. We’re both so thankful for all the good things in our lives, and we know that in some ways, we’re very fortunate, but most of it doesn’t mean anything. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t give up to have you back, even for just another minute.
We love you and miss you so much, Jilly bear. I still can’t believe that I was lucky enough to be your mommy. Even though I’ve been very sad, nothing makes me smile as much as thinking of you.