It’s a ……

{WARNING: I will reveal the gender during this post, and some of you may want to scroll to the end, but I promise you….read all the juicy details in between! I won’t let you down!!}

The long, awaited day had finally arrived. I had spent the last four weeks agonizing, anxious, and more or less a pain in my husband’s rear while we waited to see (and hear) how our bundle of joy was doing. I couldn’t shake that kid waiting for Christmas feeling and it was getting worse by the hour on the morning of June 25, 2012. Mike was working a half day and due home around 1:00 P.M. so that we could be on the road no later than 2:15. I had to keep telling myself, “I can handle this…five more hours; four more hours; when Mike gets home it will only be two hours and fifteen minutes; once we start driving it will only be one more hour; when we get there it will be a matter of minutes”. You would think this may have helped curb my can’t-wait-to-see-my-baby syndrome…it didn’t. I was worse than your quintessential kid waiting for Christmas – this was my Christmas and I was growing more impatient by the minute.

This was happening for three reasons: #1. We were due to find out baby’s gender and that was a brand new experience for us (with Harper, we opted to wait until delivery to find out the gender and it was THE BEST SURPRISE OF MY LIFE); #2. It had been four agonizing weeks since I had last heard my baby’s heartbeat and been reassured that he or she was doing marvelously; #3. I had essentially waited a VERY long year and a half for the moment that I would be almost halfway through a successful pregnancy and able to breathe (a little, not completely) easier.

The good news is that I survived the wait, the four week wait, and the multiple hours wait. We hit the road a little early (I told you I was anxious) so that we could arrive our appropriate fifteen minutes before our appointment time.  Remember those feelings of extreme anxiety and waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop?? I had been doing very well with them as of late, until we were about half way to our appointment. My last ultrasound had been at nine weeks, and I had been down this road before: successful nine week ultrasound with a devastating ultrasound later in my pregnancy. I was growing terrified with each mile Mike drove and I rode. This couldn’t be a repeat of my last pregnancy; God wouldn’t let that happen…..would he??

We arrived early to our 3:15 appointment time, signed in, and took a seat. Apparently, I am REALLY good at making sure I have a full bladder for ultrasounds, because, if I moved just right in my seat, I was sure I was going to create a MAJOR mess right there. It didn’t help that the ultrasound technician was running behind and we didn’t get in until after 3:30. It also didn’t help that we were going to be spending a considerable amount of time with a different ultrasound technician. Until now, I had been seeing the same ultrasound technician each time I went in. She was there for all of my blissful ultrasounds with Harper and my devastating ultrasounds with babies #2, 3, and 4. 

I am going to digress for a minute: when you have a history such as mine, you look for all possible ways to avoid reliving those nightmarish days. When it comes time for appointments, you only want to deal with people familiar with your history because you know they will be sensitive. Not that other people aren’t, but if they haven’t reviewed my file, there are just certain questions people ask to make conversation, at no fault of their own. I cringe every time I have to deal with someone I haven’t seen before: it usually ends with awkward silence and me on the verge of tears.

We were called back to a different ultrasound room with a different technician. I am not adept to change…it’s a major fault of mine, so this was causing even more anxiety as I walked to the room and eventually slid onto the ultrasound table. My wonderful husband held my hand the entire time: while sitting in the waiting room, walking back to the room, and even while I was managing to maneuver myself onto the table. He never let go; he’s pretty intuitive and knows that all I need in the way of reassurance from him is to know that he is there.

The ultrasound started as usual:

“I have you down as 18 weeks, is that correct?” “Yes, 18 weeks on the dot.”

“Would you like to find out the gender?” (Turns head to husband…just to double check) A unanimous “YES!” rang throughout the room.

“Let’s get started”

{Insert an enormous inhale and held breath}.

THANK GOD! There was a very strong heartbeat right away that allowed for me to exhale and not make my face look as though I had just stood on my head for an extended period of time. Now, Mike and I, no matter how “Old Wives Tale” it is, have always put some truth in the whole heartbeat-determining-gender thing. Harper’s heartbeat was always high, and we have researched that, at times, a boy’s heartbeat is generally low (130’s-140’s). Do I know that this is just a myth and cannot really determine gender? YES! Do I still use it to make an educated guess! YOU BET! So, when our ultrasound technician told us the heartbeat was very strong at 154, I was certain she was getting ready to tell us we would be blessed with another curly haired baby girl. Mike was also convinced, going into this appointment, that we were having a girl and his life was about to be overrun by women telling him what to do (Don’t let him fool you…he enjoys that aspect of his life!!)!

The appropriate measurements and photos were taken, and the time had finally arrived: GENDER TIME! I already had a little sneak peek as baby would NOT stop moving and the ultrasound wand had visited that area once, very very quickly. I had a sneaking suspicion as to baby’s gender, but I’m not trained…so what do I know?!

I know now is the time that you are expecting me to reveal whether or not Baby Aguirre is a boy or girl. I gave the disclaimer at the beginning that you would need to read ALL the details, so I’m not going there just yet.

After an exciting ultrasound appointment, a few tears shed by both my husband and myself, and oodles of pictures later, we were visiting our doctor. Everything looked good as far as my health during pregnancy was concerned: blood pressure was excellent, baby sounded good and I had yet to gain any weight (Don’t scold, I’m still carrying residual weight from previous pregnancies, and my doctor isn’t concerned).

Are you ready? Have I tortured you long enough? Below I have posted beautiful photos of our newest addition: I hope you enjoy them as much as we have. The last one will reveal the gender.

Baby’s sweet little face (albeit a little hard to discern), and cute button nose.

Baby’s profile…head, face, neck, and body.

Front view of baby’s face: if you look closely you can see eyes, a nose, and a tiny little mouth; as well as body and hand.

Baby BOY Aguirre, our newest addition!!

Kicks of Confidence

I know, I know…I JUST posted a few days ago. But, I had such an overwhelming response from my last blog that I felt the need to update. By the way, thank you all to your kind words and prayers. They mean the world to Mike and I….and I think they worked (keep reading!).

So, I tend to overdo things….little things, big things. “Overdo” is basically my M.O. I overdo Harper’s small family birthday parties, I overdo holidays, I overdo just about everything. I can’t help it. Yesterday, I overdid in a big way for a woman 17 weeks pregnant with her fifth child.

I have been in a redecorating mood lately, ever since we decided to put our house on the market and start looking for a bigger one. Part of that “mood” has been the need to repaint my kitchen. Painting is not really the issue, however. I have been given the green light to paint as long as I make sure the area is well ventilated and I take frequent breaks. The problem lies in the fact that it’s a kitchen. There’s a lot of up, down, and all around in a kitchen. Up above my cabinets, down by the baseboard, around the trim and appliances. Getting my picture?

I spent the better part of yesterday doing my up, down, all around dance with a paintbrush in hand. I accomplished everything that I could without Mike’s help. That is, until he got home. I needed him to move the refrigerator (I had already pulled out the stove, and heard about that ALL night!!) and take down a few cabinets so that I could finish the last 1/3 of our kitchen. He obliged and I was able to get rolling again. I rolled (no pun intended) until after 10:00 last night.

When I finally cleaned up my mess and sat down (well after 11:00), I felt like I had been running a marathon I was nowhere near prepared for. The reality is, I had, and I wasn’t. I forgot how exhausting being pregnant  could be. Not only that, I forgot how much your weight becomes less evenly distributed and more a pain in the back, literally. I was spent. My knees were killing me from all of the climbing, my legs were tremendously sore from all of the up and down, and my back, well my back was punishing me for not taking as many breaks as needed and lifting objects above my specified limits.

If that’s not enough, baby was MAD at me! We aren’t talking, “Hey mom, I’m glad you finally sat down!” We are talking, “Ummm…excuse me?! Remember me? The person you are growing! Yeah, you exhausted me today and now you are going to pay for it!” Up until this point, I had felt mostly flutters from baby’s tiny movements and an occasional jab or left hook. Last night, I was getting kicked….hard. In retrospect, I probably deserve it.

I have a point….and I promise, I’m getting to it. The wonderfulness of this was twofold. The baby was finally moving so frequently and with such vigor that not only could we watch my stomach move, but Mike could feel the movements. Tiny and slight at first, but the more I rested, the harder and stronger baby began to move, giving Mike a chance to really connect with baby (one of his favorite parts of my pregnancies). These sudden, rapid movements also gave me time to reflect.

Remember how anxious I was just a few days ago? Remember how I asked for prayers? Prayers for calming thoughts and peace of mind? Well, they worked. You delivered. He delivered. When I needed them most, my support group came through with one of the greatest gifts given to me: the gift of prayer. God was listening, and he eased my fears with kicks of confidence! How I needed those tiny little uppercuts and kick boxing moves….

Until next time (baby gender time!!!)….Thank you for all of your prayers and support, and also for reading!

Waiting for the other shoe….

It’s been quite a while since my last post and for good reason. There is really nothing to update you on, at this point. My last post came after my final weekly visit with my OB and I have not seen her in almost a month. So, needless to say, there isn’t much news as far as baby is concerned.

However, I am playing an endless waiting game. For those of you that don’t know me well, I.HATE.WAITING. To say that is my least favorite thing to do would be an understatement. I don’t have the patience for waiting….for anything: my order at the drive thru window, a friend to arrive for a shopping trip, and certainly not for my next OB appointment.

I have not seen my doctor since right after Memorial Day, where I was issued a clean bill of health and sent on my wait to await my next appointment: June 25, 2012. That may seem like a very short amount of time to most, but to a woman who has experienced multiple losses, and who is in the midst of a high risk pregnancy, that month is an eternity. Not only that, we are due to find out the gender of our precious baby during that appointment (making the waiting even more excruciating!).

I was certain that the day I had to visit my doctor for my last weekly appointment would leave me feeling at ease and comfortable with the fact that I had overcome the first hurdle associated with this pregnancy, but in fact, I am left feeling just the opposite. Because I had been given reassurance weekly that baby was okay and growing properly, I now find myself increasingly anxious as to how baby is doing in the home I have prepared and nurtured for 17 weeks.

I have felt the first few “flutters” of baby’s movements and even a good jab or kick when baby gets mad at me for one reason or another. You would think that these tiny movements inside of me would be all of the reassurance I would need. They, in fact, are not. I need to see my baby and hear its tiny heartbeat. I have been through too much in the last year and a half to be anything less than anxious to see that baby is healthy and developing on schedule.

My poor husband….he is receiving the brunt of my anxiety. I eat, sleep, and breathe, the “what ifs” of this pregnancy. I’m hoping that puts me somewhere within the norm for a woman who has experienced all that I have. I am a mess most days, because the unknown is too much for me to bear. I have accomplished a lot so that I can simply keep my mind from wandering to the fateful ultrasound and appointment next week. But, it doesn’t make me easy to live with, I’ll tell you that. Through it all, he comforts me, calms my fears, and still manages to be a loving, doting husband and father. I couldn’t do it without him…..

So now, I wait. I wait for the ultrasound and appointment next week. I wait for the day I am finally in my third trimester. I wait to buy baby items (just in case). I wait for baby…Essentially, I am doing so much waiting, that what I’m really waiting for is the other shoe to drop. God willing, that won’t happen. Until I know for sure, please do me a simple favor: pray with me, pray for me, just pray that the other shoe won’t drop and all involved with come out of next week’s appointment unscathed and joyus.

My next post should reveal baby’s gender and be much more uplifting! Until then…thank you again for reading.