Let there be a nursery!

Italian superstition is vanquished! We are finally at a place where it is no longer considered bad luck or a "fatoot" (I know I spelled that incorrectly, Mom) to put up the crib. So, on Saturday, my parents, Nathaniel, and I enjoyed a Saturday morning breakfast and then headed out to Buy Buy Baby in Durham. I think my dad was partially exhilarated and partially saddened as he declared that this was the last crib he would be buying (He's bought the crib for Emory, which then belonged to Elizabeth as well... now, it's our turn...).

I have known which set I want for a while. The only choice we had to make was whether we wanted to get the "combo" changing table piece which is going to require 8-10 weeks to come in from the manufacturer. After putting Nathaniel through a crib-laden sojourn in baby world (where he is not entirely comfortable), we decided that we would take the set as we originally decided we wanted it, with the crib coming home on Saturday and the changing table joining later.

Once we got home, I was so excited, I thought I would head directly to the box, tear it open, and put together the baby's bed. Oddly, the third trimester convinced me to lay down, take a 2 hour nap, follow it with a 2 hour bath, and then head out to Heather and Casey's house for dinner. So, we didn't get the crib together until Sunday. However, with Nathaniel hanging shelves and the mobile being carefully placed, Sunday was as climactic as Saturday would have been and I am now, officially in love with the nursery!

Taking the crib upstairs...
The baby and I helping out with the mattress...
Daddy getting ready to do what Daddies do...
Grammar to confirm that this crib was, in fact, made in Vietnam...

And, now, the 360 degree view!

So... that is where Baby Boy Eschler is going to rest his head... I like that the Brooklyn Bridge panned out for us. We are going to add a twin bed to the room so that Emory and Elizabeth have a place to sleep during cousin visits!

I love our nursery and, as this womb is getting a bit cramped, I am getting more and more eager to place him in that crib and away from my bladder!

Old Friends, New Paths...

Next week I am having a baby shower. The two women throwing it, Heather Clements and Mary Straits, are among my dearest friends.

I met Heather my freshman year at Queens College in Charlotte. She was my RA and had a penchant for Winnie the Pooh decorations. When staying in 333 Albright Hall was more difficult that my 17 year old heart could sustain, Heather was the welcoming smile that made sure I never sat alone in the cafeteria. When I became violently ill with a stomach bug and had to go to the local E.R., Heather had all necessary information, from the date of my last cycle to my insurance coverage to my parents' contact information (a rather hefty feat in the days before cell phones and "i.c.e." contacts). I went on to introduce Heather to another friend of mine, who is now her husband for several years and the father of her 2 children. I got to stand up next to them as they gave their lives to one another. I drove to Charlotte the day after she was discharged from the hospital when she delivered her first child so I could snuggle the first of my "adopted" nephews early on. I rejoiced when they moved to Wake County to be near family and was eager to help her settle into the beautiful new home they went on to build on family land. I've watched her labor tirelessly in an effort to be the best Kindergarten or 1st grade teach (whichever she had to be to best serve her district) and handle the most outlandish scenarios with the greatest of southern grace and elegance. When I have been frustrated by my own life path and the winding trajectory it takes, Heather (and her husband) have consistently opened their home, hearts, and arms to me. Heather and her family have built and continue to build the life they want and, even as the paths they take are new, the old friendship remains.

The other friend throwing the shower is my friend, Mary. Mary and I met when we were both fresh-faced and ready to save the world in Miami in 2002. I thought I was destined to live among the Cubans and salsa dance through life. My best friend and confidant, however, came in the form of a blonde woman from South Carolina. Mary and I became workout buddies and would take meandering walks in our paradise home. We shared a mutual love of Sal's Pizza on the boardwalk in Hollywood, Florida. As she dated her husband, I got to stand alongside her as she struggled to come to terms with the various barriers they had to overcome. As I struggled with my own decisions, she would offer calm, cool, and collected insight. While she planned her wedding, I got the honor of being the only bridesmaid who lived in town and was there when she picked out her wedding dress. On the day of her wedding, I did her hair. When she and her husband bought their first home, I was able to help her decide on paint chips. We established regular meals of chicken and eggplant parmesan. We worked together at a private school and enjoyed car trips through neighborhoods full of school zones and bad gas station cappuccino stops. When she and her husband decided to move to Wake County, I was their eyes as I visited houses they potentially wanted to buy and provided them with reports from a "real" point of view instead of a "real estate" point of view. When Mary went through the in vitro fertilization process that was required for her to have children, I was privy to her fears and hopes and got to live alongside her and her husband in the process. I held their son early in his life and made sure his daddy was sustained during the labor/delivery process, as he went to the hospital straight from work (Mary was picking up some razors for me at the store when her water broke!). Mary's path has become new several times, but our friendship remains.

These women have stood next to me as I wander down new paths. I seem to be the one who constantly changes and is seemingly always on a "new path." The process of finding myself and being happy with myself has taken me a bit longer, it seems. I would say that the process is still not anywhere near complete. This pregnancy is not only a "new path," but one that I was not planning on venturing down for many many years. However, I am able to say that wandering down these "new paths" loses some of its cringe-worthiness when I know I have some great "old friends" who will be available and show support.

Mr. Braxton and Mr. Hicks, I Presume?

Today is 33 weeks down... 7 to go... Last night, I read through some older blog entries and updated my "Pregnancy Calendar"... The time when it was "7 weeks down... 33 to go" seems like a lifetime ago. So much has changed in my body, my personal space, my life, my hormones... and my emotions.

Shock has been completely displaced by a supernatural urge to nurture and protect this little boy. Fear is still present, but daily being cast out by a more "perfect love." Anticipation and hope loom large, as does the feeling of grave responsibility. At times, the devastation of possibly (most likely) proving myself as inadequate as I feel to this task also appears.

As surely as the emotional landscape has changed, so has my body. I have gained a total of 11 pounds and truly "popped," removing all ability to hide that I am pregnant. Thankfully, all points north of the belly have stabilized after the initial burst they experienced by week 7 of pregnancy. As we pull into the home stretch, I am starting to look and feel (in every possible way) pregnant.

Which is how I met my new friends, Mr. Braxton and Mr. Hicks. It seems we get better acquainted each day!

I'm actually not sad that I'm experiencing the early contractions. I have educated myself well and know that these contractions are necessary to push little boy into position and to allow my body to do what must come next. Also, I like that I have the chance to "practice" walking and keeping mobile during periods of discomfort (although I know Braxton Hicks are NOTHING compared to what I can expect). In any case, it's an indication that the time is drawing down and every time Braxton and Hicks visit, I am reminded of how quickly I need to prepare... and this sense was only exasperated at yesterday's doctor visit.

Yesterday was my marathon doctor's visits. At 1:45, I had my non-stress test. The baby aces those every time and performs perfectly... maybe he won't inherit my performance anxiety? During the vital sign gathering ritual, I found out I lost half a pound (or wore lighter shoes... in any case, no weight gain over the past week), my blood pressure was 110/70 again, and my blood sugar readings were SPECTACULAR. Another day of excellent reports and feeling like an OBGYN overachiever!

Adding to my excitement was the fact that this appointment was scheduled on a bank holiday, which meant my father got to attend. I asked him to come so he could see the ultrasound and get to know his newest grandson a little early. During the ultrasound, the baby was measured and traced and evaluated and checked. Everything looks GREAT. Baby Boy's head is measuring well within normal limits (a source of anxiety for me and entertainment for Nathaniel's sisters who often comment on my husband's impressive head diameter). His femur length demonstrated normal development, quelling my late night concerns that he is a dwarf. The amount of amniotic fluid around the baby needs to be between 6 and 20 units... It is usually higher in women with gestational diabetes. I measure at 12 units. The heart was visible and active. His "man stuff" was, once again, incredibly visible. My placenta looked well developed and well placed. The baby's weighing in a 4 pounds, 6 ounces - 2 ounces shy of the 4 pounds, 8 ounces they typically expect. All in all, the baby looks healthy, within normal limits, and NOT AT ALL AFFECTED BY THE GESTATIONAL DIABETES. Which is why I was so disheartened by the doctor's next announcement.

If I have not given birth by week 39, they will induce me. I don't like this news for several reasons, but mostly because I have worked so hard to afford this baby every benefit I can. I don't want him to be forced into the world before he's ready to come... especially when my body is already participating in the activities which indicate preparations are beginning. My blood sugar readings are better than people who don't have to regulate on a regular basis, with A1C readings that don't even indicate there is something awry in my endocrinology. While I have resigned myself to participating in whatever procedures are MEDICALLY NECESSARY, I am not willing to have my little boy kicked out of his comfy hiding place because "best practice" is decided by lawyers trying to avoid malpractice lawsuits.

After the OBGYN, I went on to my endocrinologist. She, too, validated my valedictory status. We discussed the possible interventions after I give birth and decided I don't have to visit until that time, with extra support available to me, if needed before then. I spoke at length with her about what would be rational in terms of advocacy during and around birth. She supported me asking for no induction and absolutely abstaining from a C-Section, unless some other medical concern emerges. As I have my 2 non stress tests a week, but don't need to see my doctor until 35 weeks, I am going to continue gathering information for improving my odds through self advocacy. Hopefully, I'll make some progress and be able to communicate well when the time comes.

In other news, I met with my clinical director and quality assurance supervisor. We decided the maternity leave dates. I'll go on maternity leave in time for an April 5 induction (unless I can get that moved back) and have the entire month of April to let someone else tend to the mental health of Wake County. On May2, I'll be given small amounts of clients to contact via phone for 2 weeks. On May 16, I'll return to work in person. I'm really looking forward to the break!

So, we're getting closer... the time draws nigh... and the pressure is on. For now, I welcome Braxton Hicks and the progress they bring, while hoping they (not the legal-medical considerations) win out in determining our little boy's birthday.

Most pregnant night ever?

I am in my bed as I type this... I am entertained by the sheer vastness of my pregnancy, as elucidated by the events of this evening. Sadly, my husband is attempting to sleep next to me... it's sad because I believe I am preventing him from fully sleeping, but feel too guilty to confirm his being awake and, therefore, cannot share the events which are causing me to dub this night - nay, this hour - the most pregnant night (hour) ever.

Nathaniel and I lived the American dream this afternoon. We spent the 70 degrees or so that a mid February afternoon offered us pulling up weeds, dirt, bushes and roots. My center of balance being greatly distorted and the hunched position NOT being the best for 32.5 weeks gestation, I absolutely exhausted myself. Since my husband had to do his part of the work, plus finish the tasks I could not, he also exhausted himself. All that to say, by 9 pm, we had surrendered to the Siren's call of our bed.

I know that early bed time is a bad thing for me. Something about my Circadian Rhythm makes me apt to wake at random times when I attempt to sleep too early. Additionally, as exhaustion overruled stomach, I ate a part of a Fresh Market Greek salad for dinner, with a spicy shrimp roll (fully cooked sushi - no worries or redirections, please... and, mom... my sugar was 107 an hour after... so, it was fine). The hour-long soak in the tub, followed by an early bedtime simply outweighed any hunger I may have been feeling (but, honestly, I don't remember feeling hunger).

Which brings us to 1:30 am. I wake up (as I thought I would). I check and make sure all houseguests were able to let themselves into the house and locked the doors behind them - check! I monitor facebook and my friends who are either maternally insomniac like me, or still have the energy, stamina, and resources to be dancing at this hour on a Saturday night - check! I get a glass of cold water to see if that assuages my restlessness - check... but, no sleep! I get out my headphones and watch "the Office" and "Community" episodes on my computer that I missed on Thursday night when I chose to watch "Big Love" with Nathaniel instead - check! An hour and a half passes... sleep? NO CHECK!

It is at this critical juncture in my night that I realize a pang I had not before. At a few minutes before 3 am, I realize I am hungry. No like, hmmm... maybe a Krispy Kreme or some other miscellaneous food craving kind of hungry... hungry like that Shrimp roll is no longer sustaining my body's exertions through the night, my child is kicking my butt (literally from the inside) and I want food... now.

Ensuring the houseguests are snug in the nursery with a fully closed door and that Hector is not disturbed from his slumber and that I minimally disturb what I suspect to be Nathaniel's faux sleep, I get out of bed... in my very large pink nightgown... and slip downstairs (n.b. please read all possible irony into a 32.5 week gestated woman "slipping" downstairs at 3 am for food. We know it is more of a lumbering, nearly violent gesture at this point in my life.).

As I am preparing my chicken breast sandwich on whole wheat, I look up and scare myself with the reflection in the microwave door - my hair is sticking out in all directions, betraying a deeper rest than I have gotten all night. Nonetheless, as I look at my full body reflection across the room, the terror of a very hungry, very pregnant, scary-haired woman was so comical! The Bigfoot image of a round woman draped in pink as she scarfs a sandwich at an ungodly hour was entertaining in a black comedy sort of way. As every man in the house slept soundly nearby and the purr of the newly started dishwasher was my only accompaniment, I had to giggle to myself - especially when I reached for a small handful of baking chocolate to finish the sandwich before heading back to bed.

As I have never... I repeat NEVER... done anything like this food excursion, I feel pretty safe in deciding that this adventure is pregnancy-inspired. I am now warm in my bed again, with the rumbly-tummy somewhat happier (I am refusing to eat ANYTHING else at this hour). Hector is nestled next to me and my husband now breathes the deep, consistent breaths of a true sleep. I do not feel any closer to sleep and have an episode of "Parenthood" and "Private Practice" to look forward to, should I not be sleepy in the near future.

This nocturnal feast has me asking a few questions, though: Will the blood sugar reading I take in the morning actually be a fasting blood sugar now? Should I test in an hour? Does anyone else start the dishwasher at 3 am? How could I really still want more to eat? How much dignity does one lose for the sort of feasting I just did? Should I brush my teeth again? How am I going to wake up at a rational hour now? Why is it that every man in this house is happily sleeping while I am doing fetal kick counts and considering the character development of the child with Autism on "Parenthood"?

Most of all, though, I am wondering if this night is the most pregnant night ever?

Lucky 32

Tomorrow marks 32 weeks. If Baby Boy decided to come barreling into the world now, he'd be fine. His survival is nearly guaranteed at this point and his organs are all developed, with the lungs potentially needing a little encouragement. I am happy to host him for another 8 weeks or so, but at this point, all systems are go!

I went to the doctor today for our typical check up. It was a pure delight. It was like getting a Valentine from my doctor's office. First, I have only gained ONE POUND in TWO WEEKS. Secondly, my blood pressure was 108/60. That is the blood pressure of a teenager! No pre eclampsia here! And, thirdly, my blood sugar readings have been STELLAR over the past two weeks. It was like I was on the Dean's list at my OBGYN's office. I felt good, and am encouraged by the way my body is taking to pregnancy. I'm so encouraged, I let my mother take a picture of me... from the side... something I have NOT done throughout the entire pregnancy. So, here I am, accepting my award for most outstanding OB patient (of course, once I saw the picture, I hated how big I look in it.... grrrr....):

There are a few more inconveniences. First, I have to go to the doctor's office TWICE a week until the baby comes to have the Non-Stress test done. Today, Baby Boy performed like a rock star and was active and alert. Thankfully, my office is down the street from my OBGYN, so I'll take either early or late lunches and get to eat wit my feet up twice a week. This inconvenience is not slight, however. For instance, next Monday, I have an ENTIRE SECOND HALF OF MY DAY devoted to doctor's offices. At 1:45, I'll do the 20-30 minute non-stress test. At 2:30, I'll have an ultrasound to do some measuring. At 4:00, I have an appointment with my endocrinologist. HIGH MAINTENANCE...

In all actuality, I am happy to have a reason to prioritize my pregnancy. I had a very rough week last week when I attempted to set some reasonable boundaries at work and was challenged by the very same work environment which had proven so supportive early on. Now, with the medical monitoring and requirements, there is just simply a limit to how much I can get done and when. I am no longer apologizing for it... I am taking care of Baby Boy and making sure I can have that natural child birth I've been hoping for!

After the doctor's appointment, my mother drove me home. There was a large box with many pink ribbons on top. Being as big a fan of Valentine's Day as her mother was, I was excited for what my mother had put in such a beautiful, large box. As soon as I opened it up, the blue, green, and yellow tissue paper and giddy mother quickly clued me in that this gift was for Victoria the mother... not the daughter. It was AMAZING... My mother was able to make bumpers for the baby's bed, using the fabric I picked out, with only my description as a guide. I have never seen anything I love so much for a baby boy. They are PERFECT, with a level of quality that is nearly professional. I canNOT wait to set up our crib and put these bumpers to use!



The rest of the day was spent in Valentine's Day wanderings with my husband. He finally put down his work for a full day and I took one of my floating holidays so we could just spend time together. We ended up enjoying Lake Crabtree. Nathaniel was very intent on amateur bird watching. I just wanted to keep Baby Boy off my bladder long enough to keep me from feeling like I could wet myself with every step I take...

This week, my friend, Rebecca, gets induced (on Wednesday). I am wishing her the quickest, most natural labor and delivery possible! I've thought of her as "pregnant like me" since I became pregnant. Having her plunge off the precipice from pregnancy to parenthood is terrifying to watch - it means we're next.

For now, though, we're just lucky 32!

A few of my favorite things...

I have been silent for a brief period of time on this blog. Recovering from the bug that took over our lives was NOT easy or fun for anyone. Finally, we have reached a state of homeostasis and are ready to finish with our preparations for Baby Boy's arrival. Today was the first day that my energy and my desires aligned and nesting was able to be realized for several hours in a row. Mom and I even broke out the fabled hot glue gun of yesteryear's wedding preparation glory for the occasion!

The nursery is still not ready - Italian superstition still says it's too early to put up the crib or changing table. However, we have been working diligently to prepare as many other facets of his home outside of my body as possible.

I am so crazy proud of what we've done. I love that we have something that is individualized, customized to our loves, and a sign to our little boy that he was welcomed and loved, although unexpected (initially at least). My mother still doesn't get the poem we chose, but the Brooklyn Bridge is central to our little boy's future domain.

Nathaniel says that the baby will not know or understand what we've done in that room in many, many years - if ever. I told him that's not the point. The point is somehow to demonstrate the love that is growing alongside him in a way that is visible and measurable and able to communicate the level of dedication already present in my life to this child. I think we're on the road to a room that communicates a fraction of those things...

The before picture - and Papa doing what he does best.


The blue on the wall, with the Brooklyn Bridge becoming a reality.


Getting Closer...


The final Brooklyn Bridge. Please forgive the TV... unless of course, you want to buy it!


Custom curtains, courtesy of Nani... deciding how we want to fasten them... feel free to vote... A part of the verse is above the window that Papa nearly killed himself cleaning.


A chest for toys, refinished to match the furniture we're getting. Thanks, Aunt Erin.


This rocking chair is where several issues will be rocked away. This chair is nearly 100 years old, from my father's mother's side of the family. I has been a million different colors - pink, yellow, black, natural - and the seat has been reupholstered several times. I love that our Baby Boy is going to be comforted and nourished in the seat of his heritage - and that Papa's upholstery skills made it look good enough to stand up next to the new crib!


One of the things I love most - we made the baby his very own mobile. Based on color, not on a theme, we made up our own vision for what Baby Boy will be entertained by as he avoids sleep on any occasion in our near future. I had SUCH a blast making this... and mom got to break out that famous hot glue gun! Win win!


Baby boy's closet is getting organized. We're going to need some more clothing, though :)


Again, another thing that I COMPLETELY love is the blankie we made for Baby Boy out of a scrap of Utah Jazz fabric we found on the last trip to Salt Lake City. We're currently seeking out the Yankees material that will help us create the baseball counterpart.

I'll write more later about the very real and potentially entertaining psychotic fears I am regularly experiencing... the newsletters say they are typical, but as compared to reality, they are more just pure entertainment. For now, I'm going to do another craft... in the name of love, of course!

February already?

I understand basic concepts of measuring time. Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours turn to days turn to weeks turn to months turn to years turn to decades turn to centuries and so forth. While basic maths will never change (60 minutes will always equal an hour - never 55, never 62. Always 60), my perception of those maths is, apparently, variable.

January brought a new year and ended the holiday season. However, the distance of January to April still seemed relatively vast to me. As the page tore from the January calendar to reveal the very predictable February calendar, I had some sort of psychological shift. For some reason I cannot explain, the proximity of February to April is much closer than January.

While I continue to fear the very real issue of paying a mortgage while the primary income is missing for our family, my greatest current fear is the pain. The act of birth itself is so much closer, looming and terrifying me at various times during the day. This fear has prompted me to find a woman who is going to offer us an "empowered birth" class. She'll come to our home and coach us in different ways to approach birth, with facets of Lamaze, Bradley, and other methods. I'm hoping this pursuit will allay some fears.

As for other developments, everything is moving along well. I am in the middle of my antibiotics, but still have ears that clog easily and set me off balance. The baby no longer just motions with tiny pokes when he kicks. Instead, it feels as though his shoulder, hip, butt, or back are trying to push the boundaries of his current home. It's a strange shift in sensation, but one that I'm happy to feel, as it indicates all things are developmentally normal. I almost inadvertently dried us out yesterday by forgetting to drink water - thank God for Nathaniel and his water pushing when he came home from work. Feeling the baby kick as soon as I gave him (and my body) water was not only reassuring, but also made me feel sad for forgetting a necessary life-sustaining activity. In any case, we're back on track and, even as I type this, baby boy Eschler is making himself known.

I'm still tired from these relatively vicious illness. I'm going to nap and keep this post short. Just wanted to let those who read in on the current state of our union.