Poor little Mite...

That's what Nana used to say when we weren't well. Today, as I sat stroking Samara's golden locks, so much so that some of that last cradle cap did fall on my chest, willing her well again, I could almost hear Nana's voice with me. I often think of everyone else but us when otherwise all-consumed by these days when my little one is not quite herself. How do people survive seeing their baby so sick, hooked up to machines, begging for a miracle to shine over them? My heart aches for those I know, the so many I don't. Today, while Samara lay limp on my shoulder, grey in the face like yesterday's sky, blue in the spirit like today's horizon, having not been on her own two feet all day, having thrown up into my hair and hands and heart, I could only cuddle her burning little body, give her drips of liquid each hour, willing her to jump down, 'do the monkey', and crack herself up once again. But despite feeling rotten, she still said peeas and tanks all day, still cuddled me back, still smiled when something was really funny. If you give Samara an Oreo, she opens it up, and saves the side with the cream for last. 99 times out of 100 she'll also offer you a bit. Swedish Fish are the exception. Testimony to her strength of character, I say, she is smart and knowing beyond our understanding, gentle and giving above all else, but loving, extraordinary and soulful, always. She knows all 100 animals in her first animal book, can find her favorites in the dark, and when prompted for a certain part of a book will turn pages with poise and haste knowing just where it is. In fact, for a while, we thought we knew better, and would say foolish things like 'I think it might be on the last page, baby' or 'oops, did you miss it' only to be proven wrong. She just knows things. I pray tomorrow she is good as new. Tonight, once more, she sleeps in our bed, but I love it secretly: the cuddling, snoring, unpredictability of it all. When it is so dark she cannot see me, she puts her hands on my face and feels my smile. I do it back. When she is ready to fall asleep, she turns over on her tummy, but leaves her right hand facing up and over to hold mine. When she wakes, she sits straight up and starts knee jumping and raising the roof, that excited for a new day. Gosh, she's incredible. Even feeling rotten today, she's melted my tired heart and made another sleepless night seem like a gift to look forward to. Everything we look forward to. More than I could ever be. Sweet dreams.

Stand Still

Tutoring was cancelled tonight. The Cuba license arrived. My phone died and was silent all evening. I didn't bother making the quiz I'm giving tomorrow after all. We had just salad for dinner. I played the piano with Samara on my knee. Steve kissed me on the lips as he walked in the door tonight. The world's craziness somehow stopped, as if building up to this moment, just so that I could sit here, be thankful, and feel my littlest one kicking away inside me. D2 has been tickling around for days, but not like this, not this strong, not this wonderful. Oh, it is Heaven. Maybe I will do this over and over and over again! And while I browse through old photos to send to cheer up dear Neow a few blocks away, I found just too many that take my breath away. How on earth we were blessed with a little girl this sweet, this beautiful, this fun, I'll never understand. And it's all coming again, only now, we'll be four and while it's bound to be crazy, crazy, I just can't wait. Each day feels like such a gift, and tonight I'm grateful for peace, serenity, faith, and time to stand still, be quiet, and feel, really feel, all of this.

THE COUSINS UNITE!

As you can see, Samara loved Texas!

Such a sweet girl.

On top of the world!

Swinging in Texas!

Ah... walking in the sunshine with no coat!

It's so much more fun to have company!

Fun at Dallas Children's Museum

Good times with Gavin P!

What a sweetie!

As you can see, Samara loved Gavin's house of balls!

The two sandy blondes were so sweet together. We were so happy to see Gavin and his sweet mama, Hilary. (Rats, I forgot to get photos of you...us!) When a best, best friend and your dear sister-in-law live within 45 minutes of each other (be that divided by cows, rodeos and donkeys) you're one lucky gal.

Texas bound!

After a week of ups and downs and roundabouts, getting away, way away from it all is just what we need! To Texas we go, to visit Samara's gorgeous 2 and a half year old cousins and their super parents, and wonderful, loving Hilary and her two boys one of whom I know Samara is going to EAT UP he is so cute. (She is quite into boys these days, and yes, has her first boy-crush/friend: Owen. Don't tell Steve they actually have pictures of them KISSING up on the wall at her school!) We can't wait to be away as a family. It feels like such a blessing right now and even though it's been snowing and now torrential raining down in Texas, we love it there already. Look for pics when we get home!

Thank you

Dear friends... We are back from the longest, scariest doctor's appointment ever.... Our stubborn, adorable little one was a total champ, and it really couldn't have gone any better. Our odds were significantly improved and we are so, so grateful for that, so thankful for your love and prayers and friendship. After all the frantic numbers and crazy chromosomal lingo they throw at you, we know we are blessed. Onwards now to a good night's sleep, a safe pregnancy, the good stuff... but first: a toast of cranberry juice to all of you and, of course, Baby D2 :) THANK YOU.

Prayers, please....

Tomorrow is a scary day. Until this evening, I have been feeling so strong and lifted up in prayer, also grateful for our doctor's optimism on Thursday, but inevitably the nerves and worry of any big test, let alone, a medical diagnosis, not least for your precious unborn child, are hitting hard tonight and all I can do is look for quiet moments amidst the terrific laughter and unbelievable sprouting words of our little girl and pray for all I know to pray now to our heavenly father. Thank you for caring enough to share with us a prayer too. Steve will come home early tomorrow so that we can go to Mass General together. Samara will have her nap with my dear Mummy. The rest of the world will go on with their Monday afternoons. Everything is going to be okay...

♥in' our OB

Months ago, when I knew we wanted to have another baby and we'd moved back to Marblehead, I started asking friends for recommendations for a great OB/GYN. Over and over again I got the same name, Dr. Coffey. Today, I join the official club of his great big (and getting bigger) fans. As I sat in his office and grew teary-eyed as we went through the results of the bloodwork and most recent scan, he gave me tissues, patted by hand and left me feeling like all is not disasterous, in fact, all will be well. High risk - what is that even? Well, I'll tell you. It's a 1 in 44 chance. You might say that's not so bad. Barely more than 2%. But let's face it, if it was the lottery, and these were happy odds, you'd play. He shed a lot of light on all of our imperfect results, but left me more hopeful than this time yesterday, and less afraid of Monday. I'm going to do the very best I can to keep our little one safe and healthy. Gosh, some moments it feels like oh too great of a miraculous responsibility for a simple, sometimes scared girl like me, but I will. I didn't know how today would go, but how grateful I am for a kind and compassionate doctor, with a good amount of grey to give you faith. Another day closer. Baby D2 is 19 weeks old.

the call

They called. The level 2 scan with 'genetic counseling' (oh how horrendous that sounds) is on Monday at 2:30pm. Monday, 1/11/10 - that's double eleven, I see. All will be well. Please, please pray for our little one within. I am so nervous, so faithful, so wanting to be at peace again.

thank you and please

Thank you to my dear friends and readers who have reached out in this time of uncertainty, even more uncertain for you, I suppose, as I haven't said much... On Monday, I did finally get through to the nurse who gave us the news that my blood test of December 21st came back irregular. I just knew from her voice in the message something wasn't good. In short, it put us in the highest risk category for 'neural tube defects', oh so startling and upsetting to hear. The better news was that our scan of December 28th came back normal and showed no spinal or head defects, but that was not a very detailed scan and they would like to do a more detailed one at Mass General. And so, right now, all we can do is pray and wait and pray and hope. The nurse practitioner said they'd schedule it by today, but so far, no call, and so instead of being all-consumed, teary and fearful like I was on Monday, I am trying so hard to be positive, prayerful and confident in our little one who has, to date, been quite the perfect inhabitant. This miracle of new life is so complex, we know, but also, so routine, as thousands of new lives and healthy lives are created each day. There are so many false positives out there, so many inaccuracies the nurse stated could affect the bloodwork, so we're holding onto that, and praying for more clarity - good clarity - soon. We have an appointment with our doctor tomorrow, so that, if nothing else yet, will be good to ask questions. Thank you friends for reaching out and caring. Thank you, even more, for your prayers and support. Please, please, don't stop. Every miracle requires believers and those who will it to happen. Every new life is a miracle. Sometimes I don't know why I write, but it's a journal, a therapy, and an outreach to those of you too far away to be here by my side. Oh gosh, I wish you were all here by my side. I'll write again soon...

Prayers, please....

Slightly worried right now... I had a voicemail from the pre-natal nurse two hours ago saying to call her as soon as possible, but she's busy with patients now and I can't talk to her. Prayers, please...