Welcome, Michael Phillip Shaw!

P.C. and I are thrilled to announce the arrival of Michael Phillip Shaw!

Michael arrived at 12:38 a.m. on December 26 (narrowly missing Christmas). He was 8 lbs., 5 oz. and 19 inches long. We're in love. Megan is fascinated right now, although I'm sure that will change once she realizes she's not the center of attention anymore!

Happy New Year!

Love, Jill

Hmmm...

I'm now at 37 weeks, 1 day--three days beyond my delivery date with Megan. C-section is six days away, if Sprout doesn't arrive earlier. I'm shocked to still be pregnant because I was sure I'd go earlier than this, but other than that, all is well!

Update

Went to the perinatologist yesterday. The baby is 7 pounds, 11 ounces, which is in the 95th percentile for babies at this point. Wow! Everything looks fine. I asked the doctor if I could go until my c-section date of December 29, and she said, "Well, you could..." So we'll see! Nothing about this pregnancy is the same as it was with Megan--this huge baby even managed to turn inside my artistically-shaped uterus!

False Alarm

Last night, I went to bed with a headache, which didn't go away after two dosages of Tylenol. I was awake from about 11 p.m. until 4:30 a.m. The headache finally went away after a hot shower around 5:30 a.m. At my sister's suggestion, I went to the local CVS and used their blood pressure cuff--146/97. That's very high for me. So I called the doctor, and she told me to go to the hospital for monitoring. Headaches and high blood pressure can be very dangerous at this stage of pregnancy, and while the CVS cuff probably wasn't the most accurate cuff, it was better than nothing, and it was enough for concern. So, off to the hospital we went.

Bottom line: All is fine. Best pressure at the hospital was 128/80. I'm having normal Braxton Hicks contractions, which is the body's way of getting ready for the big event. All looked good, so we came back home. The good news is that I turn 36 weeks tomorrow. I went at 36 weeks and 5 days with Megan, so I'm feeling good that we've made it this far!

So, the mystery continues...

A Brush with Greatness

Last night, P.C. and I took Megan out to an early dinner. While we were there, one of P.C.'s greatest heroes, former UCLA Coach John Wooden, came into the restaurant with his son.

For those of you unfamiliar with college basketball. Coach John Wooden is the winningest coach in history. His accomplishments, likely to stand forever in the history books, include:

**Ten NCAA men's basketball championships.

**Seven NCAA championships in seven consecutive years (1967-1973).

**Most appearances in the Final Four (16), most consecutive appearances (9), and most victories (21).

In short, Coach Wooden is the greatest college basketball coach of all time. Maybe the greatest coach of all time. And in Los Angeles, he is worshipped. At age 98, he still attends UCLA basketball games and is flocked by fans. For you Baltimoreans, this is like seeing Cal Ripken Jr., Brooks Robinson, Eddie Murray, Earl Weaver, and Johnny Unitas having dinner together at the same table. But even they can't boast Coach Wooden's record.

On our way out of the restaurant, P.C. stopped by Coach Wooden's table to say hello. They had met a few times before, and P.C. wanted to introduce his family to his hero. And Coach Wooden was very gracious and said hello to Megan.

Megan will never remember this event, and there wasn't a camera in sight, but this memory will be in Daddy's heart forever. It was even more special because we were having dinner at Fromin's, which for years was a regular breakfast place for P.C.'s late father, Phil. Phil was a die-hard UCLA Bruin and would have loved to have known that his granddaughter and his idol had the chance to meet in a place he loved.

Cranky Monkeys

There's a little bit of crankiness going on in our house. Megan is just getting over a stomach virus of some kind, and while she's physically fine, she's not at the 100% level yet. Combine that with less-than-solid sleep, and you have one cranky monkey. I hate to say it, but thank goodness for Elmo's World. On a more positive note, her vocabulary is growing every day--latest words include "zipper" and "banana"== and she's walking around so much. It is such a joy to watch her gain new skills. It's amazing how one day she can't do something and the next day she can!

I'm a little cranky, too. The funny thing is, I looked back at the exact same point in my pregnancy with Megan--35 weeks-- and here's what I wrote:

This week I'm noticing that I have just enough energy to get through the workday and then I get home really tired and uncomfortable. Sort of like the first trimester, only I'm not nauseous and now my belly gets in the way. Last night I had a mini "I can't take this anymore but I'm terrified to have the baby" tantrum. Nice. I'll bet P.C. wishes he could run around the neighborhood screaming. He's been so great--I hope he's taking his frustrations out on the baseballs at work.

Today I had my "I'm terrified to have the baby" tantrum. When I was pregnant with Megan, it started because P.C. wanted to do a load of laundry and I started to cry because I was planning on doing MY laundry--some serious hormones at work, obviously. This time, it wasn't much better--I burst into tears because I couldn't find a pillowcase. Oy.

The good news is, I've only freaked out once during each pregnancy. So in my book, that's pretty good. And since we did, in fact, FIND the pillowcase, it seems like we might just figure this kid thing out after all...

Where You From, You Sexy Thing?

Me at 34 1/2 weeks, gestating away!

34 Weeks!

Well, we've made it past the 34-week mark. This is a big deal. In my 34-week update with Megan, you can read the info about this time from http://www.babycenter.com/, which says, "If you've been nervous about preterm labor, you'll be happy to know that babies born between 34 and 37 weeks who have no other health problems generally do fine. They may need a short stay in the neonatal nursery and may have a few short-term health issues, but in the long run, they usually do as well as full-term babies." So that's good. I'm just trying to keep Sprout baking for as long as possible. But as I learned with Megan, it really isn't up to me!

We had a lovely Thanksgiving. Here's Megan wielding a drumstick. I think she's saying to herself, "So, let me get this right. I'm wearing a stupid bib and you just stuck a drumstick in my hand. And you want me to smile? Are you serious?"

Our Little Bruin

Megan tried on Daddy's baseball jersey today. As you can see, it will be a long time before she can wear it...

In other news, Megan is taking lots of steps now. She hasn't gotten the hang of it yet, and she can't stand up without holding onto something, but she is taking off without any "come to Mama!" prodding. Let the games begin...

Sprout at 32 Weeks

We went to the perinatologist yesterday (she's a specialist in fetal medicine--I see her because I'm of "advanced maternal age"--over 35). We got to see Sprout, which we hadn't done in a long time (most OB appointments are just listening to the heartbeat). He looks good--blood flow to the placenta is good. He's big, though--5 lbs., 7 ozs. (For reference, Megan was born at 6 lbs., 4 ozs., four and-a-half weeks after this point.) So it's likely that he'll be huge, and it's possible he'll come earlier than Megan.

So now the plan is for me to stop work next Tuesday, try to take it as easy as possible, and try to keep Sprout baking for as long as possible. Of course, as I learned with Megan, it's not up to me! So we're just waiting and hoping he'll stay put for as long as possible.

My leg pain is a little better. Sprout is laying like this: head face down, under my right rib. Spine facing up towards my chest and running from my right to my left. his rear end is under my left rib, and his legs and feet are hanging down into my pelvis. In the words of my doctor, "No wonder you're in pain!" She agrees with my OB that he's sitting on a nerve or two.

While I don't want Sprout to arrive today, I must admit I'm feeling emotionally ready to get going. I'm nervous about the balance of having two kids--fear of the unknown--and I just want to get on with it. But, of course, right now I'm cherishing waking up a few times in the middle of the night just to use the bathroom, as opposed to having to get up for a diaper changing and feeding! The rest will come soon enough, I know.

Message for my 38th Birthday

Click to read my messages for my 36th and 37th birthdays.


Recently, a friend sent me one of those “getting-to-know-you” e-mail surveys, and one of the questions was, “What was your most recent memorable birthday?” To tell you the truth, I really had to think about it. Because I’m married to a college baseball coach who works seven days a week, we’ve never spent my birthday together. This Saturday, for example, he’s got practice and high-school recruits coming in, so he’ll be gone until late Saturday night. But hey, I knew this about him when I married him, so it’s hardly his fault! (And, for the record, I’ve only spent one of his birthdays with him—and I’m not really sure how we managed that!) Five years ago, I spent my birthday with some wonderful friends in Las Vegas. Most years now, I get to spend my birthday with my sister and her family. This year, I’m having brunch with a friend, spending the rest of the day with Megan, and having dinner with Nancy and crew.

My birthdays have been weird. One year, I had to go to a funeral. Another year, I bought a house, and the settlement date was my birthday. Heck, when I was a kid, I was renowned for missing some of my birthday parties because I was sick.

And I remember the worst birthday of all. November 8, 1997. My first husband had left, I was living in our house in Virginia that we had only been living in for a year before he decided he was unhappy and left. My mom drove down from Baltimore. I specifically remember two presents I got that year—both perfume: Estee Lauder “Beautiful” from my mom and Clinique “Happy” from my sister. And, I gotta tell you, I felt neither beautiful nor happy. I was devastated, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pick myself up and pull myself out of the huge hole I felt like I was living in. There were days when I wished I could just lie down and go to sleep for days. And sometimes I did.

But day by day, piece by piece, year by year, things did get better. And six years later, when I was on my way to Las Vegas for my birthday, I had one of my first conversations with P.C. on the phone. I remember it distinctly: we hadn’t met in person yet. I was sitting in the airport. I don’t remember who called whom, but I do remember promising him that if I won big in Vegas, I’d send a limousine to L.A. to get him. Well, I didn’t win big that weekend, but I was at the start of another chapter of my life.


A year later, two days before my birthday, P.C. proposed. It was really done “P.C. style”—no pomp, no circumstance, a simple drop-to-one-knee proposal. I called him an asshole because he totally surprised me and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth after I said yes. (I know, I know…really classy. Believe me, I’ll never live it down.)


Two years ago on my birthday, I was getting ready to start fertility treatments and packing to go to Denver to meet my mom, my Aunt Marilyn, and Cousin Kate for a girls’ weekend (Kate’s birthday is the 10th—HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATE!).

Last year, I celebrated my birthday with my miracle baby, Megan. And now? Well, now, P.C. and I are about to be parents again. Two years ago, we were on our fifth fertility treatment and not sure if we’d ever have ONE baby, and now we’re on the road to TWO. So I don’t know that this birthday will go down in history as the most memorable one, but it is one where I feel so, so grateful.


As I say in my message each year, “I hope you will count your blessings when you can. I know I will try to do that more … Here’s to another year of “’blessed days.’”

Birthday Update: I got to spend my birthday with P.C. after all. I’ve been having some pelvic pain because Sprout is hitting a nerve—what fun!—and P.C. decided that being home with me was more important than working. What a good guy. Another reason to feel blessed…

Walking

Megan took two steps on Tuesday. Then two steps yesterday. Woo hoo! She's still got a long way to go, but at least she's on her way!

She loves standing up by herself. I say, "Get your balance," and the steadies herself, then lets go of my hands. Then I count to see how long she's able to stand by herself. The record so far is about 25 seconds...

It's only a matter of time before I miss the days when you could plop her down in the middle of the floor and know she wasn't going to go anywhere.

Halloween

Megan's daycare teachers made fish costumes for all of the kids. Then they participated in the Halloween parade. I've learned something very important about Halloween this year--15-month-old kids just don't care about it!

Megan was fine during the parade, but afterwards, it was "get me the heck outta here, Ma!"

We dressed Megan as a ballerina that night and rode up to Nancy's house, but no trick-or-treating for us. It was sleepytime!

Why Daycare and Photo Day Don't Mix

When we received the order form for Photo Day at daycare, P.C. wanted to order the biggest package we could get, so we could give everyone copies of Megan's "school picture." Personally, I would have been fine if they didn't take Megan's picture. I understand that the daycare also has a preschool, so it made sense to take pictures, but I couldn't imagine that this photo of my baby would turn out to be one for the photo album.

Well...here it is. Oh, it makes me so sad to look at it. You can see that she was crying before they took the photo (look at her sad little eyes), and her arms are out like she's saying, "please get me out of here." And this is just the internet version--in the live photo, her eyes look even sadder. P.C.'s mom was so troubled by this picture that she came to the house after she received this just to get a glimpse of "happy Megan."

It did make me feel better, however, to realize that hardly any kids at this age take a good photo. I mean, look at the class picture.

Cute kids, but they all look like toddlers who have no clue what is happening!

I suspect these pictures will be brought out years from now to embarrass Megan...luckily, we'll have plenty of originals. I don't think we'll be giving out her class photo this year (although P.C. did take one for his wallet).

Photo of Me at 28 1/2 Weeks

I realized that I hadn't taken any pictures of myself during this pregnancy, so I asked Nancy to take a picture of me tonight.

Good thing I don't look pregnant, huh?

:-)

Actually, I feel pretty good. Huge and uncomfortable, but pretty good otherwise. If I deliver when I delivered Megan, I'm only about eight weeks away. Wow! (I'll try to keep him baking for as long as possible, though.)

Silly Pop Culture!

We found out yesterday that Britney Spears' children, Sean and Jayden, are now attending Megan's daycare (see picture, courtesy of tmz.com). I find this really, really odd. Don't get me wrong: we're having a really good experience at daycare, but if I had Britney's money I'd hire a really great nanny! I'm not really sure why group daycare is something that Britney or her ex, Kevin Federline, want, but okay...

In any case, it's been a little wild outside the daycare fence with paparazzi. But as long as they leave my kid alone (she's not in either kid's class), I'm okay with it.

Can't wait for that Halloween parade at daycare next Friday...will Britney be there with her posse?

I thought I'd seen it all when Ashton Kutcher became the freshman football coach at the school where I work, but this might top it...

New Moves

Well, we're over the strep throat (although Mommy got the stomach bug!), and on to happier things.

Megan loves books. Here she is reading a Sesame Street book that is part of a set that Aunt Missy, Uncle Hans, and Siena gave her.

She's also learning to use a spoon by herself. It's messy, but she's doing well! (Except for when she stabbed herself between her two front teeth with the handle of the spoon--ouch!)

Oh, and she has her front teeth! We're now up to a total of seven teeth. Megan is really getting the hang of biting off pieces of food with her chompers.

New words this week:

Elmo (pronounced "Melmo")

bite

uh-oh

cookie (right now it's just "cook")

It's Different When It's Your Own Child (Warning: Graphic Content!)

When I was pregnant with Megan and would tell people about how I was afraid I'd be grossed out by poop, spit up, and other bodily fluids, everyone said, "it's different when it's your own kid." And I thought, "no way." My mom said that when I was little she would hold my hair back while I was throwing up into the toilet while she did everything she could not to throw up herself. (But I suspect if it had been someone else's kid, she would have thrown up for sure.)

And these people were right. I've changed countless poopy diapers, and they really don't bother me, but I'm slightly grossed out at the thought of cleaning someone else's kid's poopy diapers. I pick Megan's nose regularly, and I joke that it's my favorite hobby because I just can't stand when she has a snotty-looking nose. But I'm totally grossed out by other people picking their noses.

Well, the other night, the true test happened. Megan woke up in the middle of the night, and as soon as I opened her bedroom door, I could smell it. Vomit. Vomit in her hair, on her clothes, on her hands. She'd thrown up in bed and rolled around in it. And this wasn't breast milk or formula--this was real, honest-to-goodness vomit. Her dinner from a few hours before was easily identifiable in all its glory. Oh. My. Gosh. Disgusting. So what did I do? I cleaned her up, washed her sheets, and held her tight. Poor P.C. held her tight too--and was rewarded by Megan throwing up all over him. But did he freak out? No. He just held her and said, "It's okay, baby. You can throw up on Daddy. Daddy's here." Very impressive, I must say.

So, the stomach bug moved on and two days later she had strep throat. She's on the road to recovery now, although she'll stay home again tomorrow. But you know what? I think P.C. and I passed a very big parent test this time around--but we know deep down that we might not be as tough down the road!

In other news...I'm on week 26 of my pregnancy. Sprout seems to be doing okay. Being home with Megan when she's sick definitely makes it tougher, because the more I pick her up to comfort her, the more uncomfortable I feel. But I'm taking it day by day and feeling pretty good.

Megan is cruising like crazy and standing on her own a little bit. She knows lots of words, too--here are the ones I can think of:

ball (of course)

bat (of course)

book

bath

more

all done

mama

daddy

banana

Megan

milk

nose

eye

hi

bye-bye

no

dog

Bert (her stuffed dog)

duck

And, she's discovered that toys are great, but an empty diaper box is just as much fun.

Picture Day

Today is picture day at day care. So, we dressed Megan up in her finest dress for the occasion. I'm sure the dress will be a wreck by the time photos are taken (and can you imagine what their class picture will look like? I'd hate to be that photographer, trying to wrangle all those kids), so I took a few snapshots before we left the house.

Feeling Better

Megan is much, much better today, thankfully! She showed her team spirit by modeling her Ravens onesie...



...and she proved that she is Bubby's great granddaughter by trying raspberries and loving them!

Nice weekend...long week

Megan had a rough night last night. Teething out of control with four teeth coming in. The day before, we sat in the doctor's office for two hours trying to get a good urine sample because she might have another urinary tract infection. And if that's the case, we'll need to consider the source of the infection (structural or just bad luck) and consider the next steps.

(Why might she have another UTI? When the last one cleared up, we did another sample, which came back positive from the lab, so we did another sample just to be sure before we treated her, because she wasn't showing any symptoms. As a side note, do you know how hard it is to get a urine sample from a child who is in diapers? You tape these bags over them and pray some urine goes in! That's why I went to the doctor's office--in the hopes that they'd be able to tape the bag better than I could...)

Yesterday, I called day care to check on her because of the teething, and they told me she had a fever of 100.4 and that I needed to come get her. I called the doctor to see if we should come in, since we were waiting for UTI results and maybe that was the cause of the fever. So, we went to the doctor and...bam, an ear infection! The tubes appear to still be in place, but one of them looks clogged. So, first we need to treat the infection and then we'll reexamine that tube. Whew!

So...teething + ear infection = uncomfortable baby! Poor thing. Hopefully the antibiotic will kick in today and she'll be on the mend!

In other news, I went to the perinatologist last week, and Sprout is getting big. The doctor anticipates he'll be 8 1/2 to 9 pounds if I go to term! But she suspects I'll go early, as I did with Megan (that was three weeks early). As I type this, he's kicking like crazy. Oh, how I love that feeling.

Nice Weekend

Sometimes the simplest days are the most satisfying. Megan and I went to the farmer's market today, where we met Nancy and Miriam for a snack and walk around. Miri played in the bounce house, which entertained Megan to no end--she loved watching Miri bounce down the slide at the end of the house.

Then, we came home for lunch and a nap, and then we went for a stroll around the mall. Nothing special, nothing particularly adventurous, but a lovely day all the same.

Here's to a good week!

P.S. For those who were wondering, I had a great trip to NYC. And Megan was fine without me, and didn't make me pay for going away. So, all in all, it was worth it. And I feel much less guilty.Megan says, "Mommy, stop writing in your blog and PICK ME UP! :-)"

Love + Guilt+ Never Getting a Good Night's Sleep Again = Motherhood!

I’m sitting aboard United flight 28 from LAX to JFK. Enjoying business class. Just watched a mindless romantic comedy on my airline-provided media player. Reading Tori Spelling’s autobiography. Listening to ITunes. Embarking on a four-day business trip to New York City, one of my favorite places to visit. There are no sippy cups to fill, no daycare bags to pack, no crying in the middle of the night to wake me up. And I can actually sleep until 7 a.m. every morning! So why did I get teary after the flight attendant raised her voice at me because I didn’t hear her question after she repeated it twice?

Sure, I’m hormonal. Expecting baby number two, nervous about what all of that means. How will I manage the lives of two little ones who rely on me to take care of their everyday needs? How on earth am I going to nurse a newborn while a toddler is running around and needing my attention as well? I know, millions of women have done it before me, and while I’m not confident that it will work out easily, I am confident that I’ll figure it out. I have a great support system around me. Even my husband, who travels a lot during college baseball season, is definitely present whenever he can be. And he’s very willing to help me get whatever help I need to get things done. And he listens when I’m on a rampage and manages to calm me down enough to believe that it will all work out.

No, I got emotional because I’m conflicted. Ever since my daughter was born 13 months ago, all I’ve really wanted was some good sleep. When she was first born, everyone told me, “Nap when the baby naps!” But that’s easier said than done, especially if the baby is a.) napping in the car seat while I’m driving or b.) napping in the stroller while I walk the neighborhood because her screaming inside was making me want to shriek at the top of my lungs. I’ve yearned for some good, quality time to myself, which I usually only get when the baby is asleep.

Don’t get me wrong. I completely adore my daughter. Her conception and birth were a total miracle. And now we have another miracle on its way. Two years ago I didn’t think I could have one baby, and now I’m about to have two. I am grateful every single day for that. Every single day.

But here’s the thing: I'm pregnant and I’m really tired. And when I’ve tried to get some extra sleep (I mean LOTS of extra sleep, not just an hour here and there), it rarely works out. For Mother’s Day, I asked for (and got, bless my husband) and evening all to myself at the local Hilton. I was going to order my favorite foods, eat in bed, and then roll over and go to sleep. How many hours would I sleep? 10? 12? The answer was…oh, heck, I don’t remember how long I slept. I do know that I was about six weeks pregnant, nauseous and with heartburn, and I was in and out of sleep for a very fitful night. (And, perhaps the biggest crime of all: I had to throw out a slice of The Cheesecake Factory’s Craig’s Crazy Carrot Cake Cheesecake because I was too sick to eat it.

So here I am, on my way to New York, on my way to a hotel room all to myself for three nights. Where I can call my daughter at 9 a.m. to say hello and wish her a good day, because it will be 6 a.m. in Los Angeles. I’m thrilled to curl up in my bed tonight.

And yet, I really, really miss that kid. Miss the way she looks into my eyes like there is no one on earth she loves more. (Yes, I know that look will change soon enough, but for now it’s perfect.) Miss her bizarre crawling style. Miss the way she laughs when something strikes her funny (it’s a contagious laugh; I defy you not to crack up when she does it). Miss the way she grabs my leg when she pulls up to standing, using me as balance. Miss the way she hugs me. Miss the way she gives me the sloppiest kisses on earth. Oh, yes, I'm being a little melodramatic; I know I’ll get all of that back in a few days. But isn’t that the irony of motherhood? As much as you love your kids, you crave some time to yourself, and when you finally get the time, all you want is to cuddle with your kids.

And I think that’s one of the things that make a good mother: as tough as it can be sometimes, and as much as you might wistfully remember the days when you could live your life on a whim, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. And while I know I’ll get over this guilt and allow myself to enjoy the solitude for the next few days, I will be glad to get home to my daughter.

And then I’ll yearn for some time alone again. Ah, the never-ending cycle of guilt combined with sleep deprivation. And joy. Sounds like motherhood to me. And I wouldn’t change it.

(But I would like a few extra hours of sleep now and then.)

13 Months Old!

Megan turned 13 months old today. I forgot to take her picture. So here's one from yesterday. (My guess is that I won't be doing monthly pictures anymore, but we'll see...)

She also moved into the "toddler" room at daycare today. So hard to believe how fast she's growing up! We're having bedtime screaming battles again (her, not me!), but I'm getting better at handling them. I think... :-)

It's Been a Crazy Two Weeks!

Well, two weeks ago Megan started running a fever out of nowhere--104+. Part of her issue turned out to be a urinary tract infection, although the fever went away before the UTI was diagnosed. She's finishing up a course of antibiotics now, and she seems to be on the mend.

Then, last week, I started feeling some cramping and went to the doctor. Turns out I have a low-lying placenta that appears to be causing some of the cramping, likely combined with all the lifting of 22-pound Megan that I did the week before. So I've spent the last 5 or so days "taking it easy" while piecing together care for Megan (of course, daycare has been closed--great timing!). Luckily, I have a wonderful group of people around me who have been just terrific. P.C. has been such an angel. Nancy has been here almost as much as I have, and has been totally amazing, and her daughter Miriam has been such a help too. My cousin Stephanie and her family spent time entertaining Megan. My mother-in-law has spent a lot of time here. And my friend Maureen was here for several hours as well. I gotta say, we are so blessed to be surrounded by such loving, giving people. Here's a picture of Miriam helping to give Megan a bath. I was able to wash Megan's hair without tears. I wish Miriam could come help at every hair washing...

I'm feeling better today, but still trying to take it easy so it stays that way. Here's to some calmer times!

Update on The Kids!

("Kids"--I love it...)

First of all...IT'S A BOY!!!!!! We got the news on Friday. Very exciting...and certainly very different for a gal (me) who grew up with girls. But I'm looking forward to it. P.C. is very excited, too. The ultrasound went well--we saw all 10 fingers and toes, and everything looks good. The amnio was tough because the doctor had trouble getting the amniotic fluid out--little Sprout kept moving around--which meant prolonged uncomfortableness for me. But things are now back to normal. Test results should be in in about a week or so.

Megan is changing daily. This weekend, she started saying "book" (with an emphasis on the hard "k" sound). And on Saturday morning, when P.C. went in to get her, she was standing up in her crib--a first! She's getting up a little earlier now--I think it's because she wakes up, stands up, and can't get herself back down. So we're working on that. (The difference between 5:50 a.m. and 5:10 a.m. is huge when you're sleep deprived!)

UPDATE: 3:35 p.m.--The baby has just started to kick. Oh, how I love that feeling...even as it gets bigger and kicks so hard that I can't catch my breath...it's like a little secret that only the two of us share.

12-Month Checkup

Megan had her 12-month checkup yesterday. The vital stats:

Length: 30 inches (76th percentile)

Weight: 22 pounds, 11 ounces (73rd percentile)

Head Circumference: 18 1/2 inches (94th percentile)

In other news, Megan is allowed to eat any and all foods, as long as they aren't chokable (like hot dogs, popcorn, etc.) She tried milk last night and really liked it--she must get that from her daddy! She's also in the early stages of feeding herself.

And she's crawling like crazy! She's slowly getting the hang of pulling herself up. Here she is after she pulled herself up in the Pack & Play. (FYI, we're trying to get her used to the Pack & Play for Sprout's arrival, because there will probably be times when we'll have to use it. [Great idea, Mom!] So far she seems to like it--we've had her in it for about 5-10 minutes at a time each day.

I go on Friday for my amnio and ultrasound. We will find out if Sprout is a boy or a girl!

Happy Birthday Megan!

Megan turned a year old yesterday. Can you believe it?

I think Megan's daddy likes her. What do you think?

Megan loved her cake...yum!

And she had fun opening a few presents.

Here's Megan showing her mommy and daddy how old she is.

We have been so blessed this year. Here's to another great year with our baby girl!

The Point of No Return

(Look at this face. Can you imagine she can scream like any of the best horror movie queens?)

Every night, just after dinnertime, Megan enters what I call the Point of No Return. She gets so tired and it's like a switch is flipped and she becomes a crying mess. I get her ready for bed--whether or not she'll scream in the bathtub is a coin toss--and then hold her in the rocking chair, where we read, say prayers, and sing songs. At some point, she quiets down and cuddles with me in my arms. (I have to say that's the greatest part of my day--that and when I'm singing to her and she looks at me like she couldn't imagine how lucky she is to have me as a mom. I need to keep a mental picture of that in my head and save it for when she's a moody teenager!)

When it's time to get into bed, I stand up and move toward the crib. And the wailing begins. This has gone on for a couple of weeks now, and the window of screaming appears to be shrinking. When she first started, she could scream for up to 45 minutes. Tonight, she did about five or so.

I'll go in once to make sure she's okay if she's really screaming like crazy, but I try not to. If I do, I'll pick her up and cuddle her. If she quiets down (which she usually does), I call that her "critical error," because it means she's perfectly fine and not in any pain, so back down she goes. And the screaming commences.

I know it's all for the best, and that she needs to learn to fall asleep without me, but I have to say, it's a real test of my will!

11 Months Old!

Megan turned 11 months old on July 2. Hard to believe she's almost a year old!

Lots of stuff going on this month. She's becoming more mobile--although scooting appears to be her method of choice--and she's babbling like crazy, even adding "bye-bye" as a word.


And she's tried new foods. Egg yolks, strawberries, cheese blintzes, cantaloupe, and avocado. She really liked avocado, but as you can tell from the picture below, she go quite messy! (Her runny nose didn't help matters...)

Here's Megan about to give her daddy a kiss!