The past 24 hours have been a little hectic, so we spent today digging potatoes in the garden, ripping up our sunflowers, corn, and tomato plants, and wondering what in the world to do with the bed still overflowing with prickly borage.
Last night wasn't nearly so much fun. I spent a couple of hours in the ER after not feeling the baby move for 48 hours and waking up at 7am with mild cramping. I'm not the type to run to a doctor, but The Husband was worried enough to come home early from work, so off I went. Before I left, The Husband pressed his cheek to my tummy and told the baby that he loved it and he knew it'd be all right. "Behave for your Mommy, okay?" One last kiss to my stomach. "I'd feel better if the baby had a name," I said without knowing why.
It took the nurse nearly 20 minutes to find the baby's heartbeat. I was sweating bullets, even though I know that ER nurses aren't nearly as adept at this sort of thing as a nurse or doc at an OB/GYN office. Finally, we heard the heartbeat, and at that exact moment, my little one let out an enormous kick and bounced that doppler right off of my stomach. I know, little one. I should never have disturbed you.
I was ready to go home at that point, but the doctor had different ideas, of course. I had a full battery of blood work drawn, gave a urine sample, and was wheeled in for an ultrasound, grumbling all the way. Once I heard baby's heart beating, I knew things were fine. It was glorious to see that baby moving on the ultrasound screen though! The first question from the woman doing the ultrasound was whether or not I wanted to know the sex. Daniel had made a point of telling me before I left for the hospital that I'd better find out the sex of the baby if given the chance. He knows all too well that I'd rather be surprised, but this pregnancy has been all about compromise, so I agreed. As soon as the image shifted to that secret spot between the baby's legs, I knew it was a girl. Though I'd been getting boy vibes for the whole pregnancy, I wasn't surprised. The one name we had agreed on had been for a girl. The baby had had her name all along.
Armed with new ultrasound photos to show the kids, a handful of Vicodin (what? Doesn't your doctor prescribe Vicodin for adominal pain that you've described as mild and a 2 on a scale of 1-10?), and a "diagnosis" connecting my normally low blood pressure with a lethargic but undistressed baby (yeah, right), I finally got in the car and rambled on home. The Husband was relieved, as was I. I still couldn't get her to move today until I decided to put some pressure on my uterus. Then she poked delicately at my hand.
Airius had some trouble adjusting to the idea of a baby sister this morning. After all, the boy had flipped a coin and been told our baby was a boy! He's coming around though. I told him we may still keep the baby in his room for awhile, which is what he really wants. He's jealous that his sisters always have each other for company. Maybe we'll move the twins back in together and let The Bean share a room with the baby. I don't know. Anyone have any suggestions?
Today's harvest, artfully arranged by garden girl Annie in a basket received from a Freecycle offer. I'll talk more about the results of the garden in another post, but for now I'm resting with my children, those in the here and now and those whose faces I have yet to see. Love, love, love.