Community, or, Nice to 'Meat' You

Mirabel and I went to a lovely baby shower yesterday. She wore a dress that Luciya wore to a baby shower when she was a month old and looked just precious. She was sweet, and everyone wanted to look at her. But I came home feeling a little blue. I couldn't help but feel that people wanted to see her because they know she has Down syndrome. I really can't blame them; I would want to see the baby too, and certainly not in a malicious way. But she's different. And though everyone gushed "She's beautiful" (and she is), she's not beautiful in the quintessential way. Her skin is blotchy and her hair sticks up and she's got the defining characteristics and I know this. There were three other little babies there, all boys. I have a number of pregnant friends right now and they will most likely all have boys. Another thing that sets her apart.

It was hard to try and put a finger on these feelings, because I fully recognize that my family and I are so blessed to be loved and surrounded by an absolutely compassionate community who will support Mirabel forever. I just felt a little strange, a little isolated.

And then, tonight, the girls and I were grocery shopping at Fred Meyer and something happened that I've read about but have not experienced until now.


We were in the meat section and I had just put some sirloin in the car cart (for Luciya must always "drive" at Fred Meyer), when I did a double take of the little girl in the cart next to us. Wait, let me see her ears. Are they small? The way her almond-shaped eyes peeped at me from under her bangs. I hesitated, then cleared my throat and looked at her mom.

"Excuse me..." She looked up.

Now what??

"Um, does your daughter have Down syndrome?" She nodded. My throat closed up and my eyes welled with tears. "Um, I... I never... my baby has Down syndrome, too."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "You have a baby! Let me see!" And she went around the cart to look at and gush over Mirabel and then she came over and gave me a hug.

Her name is Amy and her three-year-old daughter's name is Emily (!). And we ended up standing there, cart-to-cart, in the meat section, and talking for fifteen minutes. "I used to do this, too," she said, referring to approaching complete strangers with children with Down syndrome. It was my first time.

And what a wonderful first time experience. Amy was open and kind and realistic and peaceful. Her daughter was as sweet as can be, and Luciya entertained her with bagel crisps as we chatted. I commented on how the local DS infant/toddler playgroup we attended once was more frightening than connecting, and she totally shared my sentiments. She told me of some other local resources. We shared birth and NICU stories. I got to know so much about this woman, and she so easily read my need, and I felt better. I felt good.

Then, on the way out of the store I saw a man holding two little boys by the hand. One of them had Down syndrome. Emboldened, I mentioned, quickly, that my baby has Down syndrome and just moments earlier I had approached another parent for the first time. His wife came out of the store then with two other children in a cart and asked what was up and her husband said "That woman's baby has Down syndrome." Well, Nicole (this was her name), rushed right over to coo over Mirabel. She was warm and jovial and said she was very involved in the community.

Community.

It's out there. I felt it -- it's like a sweet, connecting secret that I will be able to have and hold and find, because one in 733 people out there will share in this diagnosis.

And maybe someday when Mirabel and I are in the store a timid mother will do a double take, and approach us, and I'll give her a hug.

personalities

Good morning to you!


Luciya dressed herself for school today and I think it perfectly exemplifies her personality. She was so thrilled with the ensemble and proud of herself: pink polka dot tights, blue striped dress "so I can spin it around," striped jacket. Of course, Miss Lynn reported that Luciya lifted her dress and put it over another girl's head at school. After Miss Lynn had convinced her to put the dress back on. *Sigh.* This, too, is the perfect picture of her little spirit.

Scrunchy! "Me!"

Bubble Lip! Mirabel is six weeks old today!

Thrushy the Purple-Lipped Sad Clown Face. We are still fighting thrush and Mirabel had to have her mouth "painted" for the third time. This time, I also got to paint my nipples purple. John said I looked like "Barney's grandma." Sorry, ladies, he's taken.

bel: 40 days

In forty days, the incarnating being, who has previously lived free of time and space in the heavenly world, has achieved the first stage of adaptation to existence in a world of space and time.

This forty days can be seen as a period of adjustment between spiritual and physical states. We thus recognize that forty days is the time needed for the spirit to adapt itself to new conditions. From Genesis we learn that Noah spent 40 days in the ark. Likewise, Christ spent 40 days fasting in the desert. We can all remember this when we are in a transition time, and allow ourselves the proper time to adapt.

The baby comes from the watery realm into the the realms of earth and air, as well as physical changes, there is a total change of consciousness that occurs.

Welcome to the world, baby girl.

Mirabel is a marvelous baby. For the past four night she has slept 8 hours straight! She is soft and nuzzly and mellow and sweet. In other words, a perfect compliment to her big sister! I am pretty sure I got a smile out of her the other day, and I am looking forward to the day she starts beaming at me.

She looks so much like Luciya did as a baby! I will have to post some comparative pictures.

I have been working on a separate blog for wondrous Mirabel (or "Bel," which I think goes along with Eryn's "eLLe" for Luciya), and I am finally ready to share! So, take a look if you want here. I am going to try and keep it focused on the Down syndrome side of things as we learn and experience this new life together.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Birth Announcement

I finally made a birth announcement for Mirabel! You should be getting yours in the mail soon! She is four weeks old today.

Photos by Shady Lane Studios on February 10. She got her oxygen off the very next day, but I am glad we captured the look she had for the first 3 1/2 weeks of her life!

milestones!!

Both girls had some big ol' milestones today!

LUCIYA:

- Learned to ride her tricycle! So exciting. Of course I didn't have the camera, and it would have been great if I did because there she was, in true Luciya fashion, in her footie jammies stuffed into purple Crocs (thanks Danielle!), with her Adidas track suit jacket and an adult's red-and-black ski hat, figuring out those pedal all down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. Yay, Luciya!! Such a big girl!

MIRABEL:

- Slept EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT last night. I was actually so worried I asked her doctor about it today. He was all, "You're complaining?" Well, she's only 3 1/2 weeks old... wait, 4 weeks old tomorrow! Still. But, she's doing awesome and is up to 9 pounds 1 ounce!

- Also at the doctor's office, we were given the okay to DISCONTINUE HER OXYGEN! Mirabel has a face! No more tubes! No more tape! I kissed those cheeks for days, and then

- She had her first real bath tonight! Sweet girl loved being immersed in the bathroom sink!


I gotta say it was a good day.

Love, Love, and Love

Our favorite photographer, Lauren Harms, came over today to take some surprise pictures for Daddy for Valentine's Day!

holy cow! i have two girls!

Some pictures of my beautiful babies this week.

this is our life now

After two weeks in the neonatal intensive care, Mirabel is home.

The NICU was a long and tiring journey, and I am working on remembering as much as I can in a separate blog. I'll post the link when it's ready.

But Mirabel is home now, and doing so well. She is sweet and snuggly and just as lovely as can be. We are all crazy about her, especially her big sister Luciya, who is such a good big helper.

Let the adventure begin...!

Three Weeks

Should I lament the fact that so many things didn't go according to plan?

Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to sit down and write about all of this. When Luciya was born, I blogged every day, twice a day, and marveled at everything and shared it with anyone who wanted to read all about the miraculous marvelous details of my perfect little baby.

And granted, I have less time and more work now, and perhaps that really is the reason I haven't written down all these smashed up, surreal details of the last three weeks...

Or maybe it's just been my way of staying strong. Because when I think back on that first night in the hospital, alone, exhausted, with a soft and poochy tummy that just hours earlier had been carrying this little wonder I was so very eager to meet, I weep. Because I was so lonely, and so afraid, and so... just, processing and not knowing where to begin. And it was dark and the bed was plastic and my body was completely different and in the other rooms up and down the hallways I heard the other new babies cry as they discovered the new atmosphere of Earth, with their mamas beside them.

And so I ventured out of my room and up to the NICU and I sat next to her isolette and put my head down next to it and I cried. And the nurses shut the curtains and let me have my time with her and I don't know if I prayed or begged or just tried to hold on to the notion of breathing but I went back down to my dark and empty room and I did not sleep, though I've never been more exhausted.

So should I lament the things that should have been that weren't?

I am so grateful to my midwife for not letting me get the epirdural - though I screamed and begged for it at the end - because, as she later put it, we had to follow at least some of the birth plan. The birth plan that said I preferred no internal monitoring (hello, scalp monitor and internal pressure monitor), the plan that didn't want Pitocin (hello, stalled labor), the plan that stated specifically that I wanted to have immediate and prolonged skin-to-skin bonding with my baby once it was born.

Well.

I didn't get to hold her. I hardly got to see her after I reached down and pulled her tiny body out and up to mine and noticed, with the nurses, that her lips were blue. Before I could understand, before my placenta was even out of me, there were suddenly no less than eight nurses in the room with her, and they took her from me, and John was with them, and he saw Mirabel's face, and he knew.

And I was still in the daze of holycowIjustgavebirth and I just wanted my baby back. And it took forever and then John was by my side and the nurses were still rushing around and all over my baby and our midwife turned to her and said, "There are some signs that your baby may have Down syndrome." She said it kinder than that, and gentler, but in the same frank, caring way she told us 11 months ago that we had lost a pregnancy.

This is when John told me he knew, that he had seen her face and knew, and this is when I suddenly remembered a bizarre scenario that had run through my head only the day before: an image of raising a child with Down syndrome.

And I did not cry, and I was not sad. Instead, it was the strangest peace. I still was longing to hold and meet my new child, and they let me - for one minute - before rushing her upstairs to the NICU. And I saw her face then and I kissed her soft soft cheek and then she was gone, and I tried to absorb the news again.


Have I lamented the changes? Have I regretted the diagnosis? I haven't. Do I wish that I could have had those moments back with my brand new earth angel? Yes, I do. But now she is three weeks old and I have her here, and she in sighing next to me in her newborn sleep and I love her. So I can't find that regret now, and I can't find cause to be sad anymore.

Mirabel is home. She is here and healthy and has a round belly and a dark brown swatch of hair that sticks out in all directions and a callus on her upper lip from nursing and deep blue eyes that will soon be brown that take in everything around her when she is quietly alert.

Does it pain me now to look back on the night of January 15th? Hell yes it does. I will never forget it, and it is the night many things changed inside and outside of me. But I knew then, as I still know now, that Mirabel and I were not alone. Even though we didn't have - couldn't have, in Mirabel's case - any visitors and even though the night was long and deep and dark, there was love pouring in. Enough to keep me from screaming, enough to let me feel safe. It came from you. Whatever you believe in, however it may be manifested - be it the Earth and all the stars, our guardian angels, Allah, the heavenly father, the Source, nature, God, Goddess, energy - was there with me and held me tightly. And held Mirabel, too.

She spent two long and overwhelming and tedious and surreal weeks in the NICU. In those two weeks my small family learned a lot about patience, and schedules, and Down syndrome, and enemas, and reglan, and oxygen saturation, and breast pumps, and bilirubin, and hypothyroidism, and advocacy, and sleep deprivation, and gliders, and IV placement, and holy cow my child is the champion pooper of the NICU. Those two weeks felt like an eternity in a milisecond, the strangest irony, and now, here, they are behind us, like I knew they eventually would be, and we have been home for a week and I get to hold her every single day.

I open my shirt and place her inside next to me. I wrap her up and cuddle her. I marvel at her tiny hairy ears and crooked fourth toes. I gaze at her. I gaze for hours. I amazed already at how much she has grown and changed. Just like my heart.

And I find no cause for sadness.

New Family

Nice to Meet You!

Thank You.

Mirabel is Coming Home Tomorrow!

Tonight, John and I are spending the night in the NICU with Mirabel. Tomorrow, we are bringing her home.

She will be coming home with oxygen, a nasal feeding tube, and heart and respiratory monitors. But she will be coming home.

Over It

Mirabel's IV is in her scalp today. I'm over it. I want my baby home so I can do some natural mothering and hold her when I want to and when she needs it and I want to nurse on demand and smell her. I'm sick of the medicinal surroundings and driving back and forth and only seeing her twice a day and the same view of the brown and gray world outside and the beeps and pings and warnings and bells and the fact that my 8 day old baby girl has three wires on her chest, a feeding tube down her nose, oxygen pumping through a nasal canula, a saturation monitor on her foot and a FUCKING IV IN HER INSERTED INTO HER HEAD. I don't want Mirabel's threads to the angel world to be cut off by the plastic walls of her isolet. I want my sweet and confused little 2 1/2 year old to meet her sister and hold her and rock her and sing to her like we've been excitedly planning with her for the past several months. She can't even visit her in the isolation of the NICU, can't even see her. I'm sick of missing Luciya when she wakes up in the morning because I'm already en route to the hospital. I don't get to help her get dressed or put on her clothes or drive her to preschool. I want Mirabel to thrive and I want her home NOW.

That's What Friends are For

I hit a wall. Processing all of this, and driving back and forth to the NICU, and trying to hold Luciya and maintain a marriage and run two businesses has been so insanely difficult. I was running on adrenaline and I crashed horribly.

So, I reached out to my friends here - Christina, Ashley, Erin, and Kara, who have all offered assistance - and I said, hey, so, yeah, I need you. And they came.

Christina and Ashley brought their daughters Maryn and Eliza over for dinner tonight while John went out to meet Ashley's husband for a beer. And I love them. And I got the renewal I needed.

The girls' personalities, in a nutshell.

Nothing like laughter and TCBY to make you feel sane again, if only for a short while.

Do I Wish We Would've Known?

In a word, No. In another word, Nope.

There are several ways to find out prenatally if a fetus has Down syndrome. There are procedures like amniocentisis and CVS, and oftentimes the neuchal fold is visible in a 20 week ultrasound. I didn't even think to have any of these tests performed.

Mirabel's 20 week ultrasound picture. Cutie!

I am a thinker and a planner. I know that if I had received the diagnosis during my pregnancy that I would have begun the research process. I would have read that children with Down syndrome often have myriad other diagnoses like heart problems, kidney problems, and thyroid issues, many very serious. I would have learned that most babies with Down syndrome have a difficult time sucking, because they lack the muscle tone in their cheeks, tongue, and lips, and so cannot breastfeed well.

I may have had a hard time listening to other mothers talk about the difficulties involved in raising their "typical" babies. I may have worried.

Instead, I enjoyed a healthy, active, happy pregnancy, and relished in hearing her heartbeat on the Doppler at every prenatal checkup. Instead, I didn't let Mirabel's NICU diagnosis as a "poor feeder" keep me from being determined to nurse her. Instead, I received the diagnosis with a sense of calm, and peace, and determination.

Mirabel has surprised us so much so far. I have a feeling the surprises are going to continue.

Guidelines

Some great bits of information from the Treasure Valley Down Syndrome Association's publication:

The correct name of the diagnosis is Down syndrome. There is no apostrophe (Down). The "s" in syndrome is not capitalized (syndrome).

An individual with Down syndrome is an individual first and foremost. The emphasis should be on the person, not the disability. A person with Down syndrome ha many other qualities and attributes that can be used to describe them. So, encourage people to use people-first language: "The person with Down syndrome," not "the Down syndrome person." A person with Down syndrome is not "a Downs."

Words can create barriers. Recognize that a child is "a child with Down syndrome," or that an adult is "an adult with Down syndrome." Children with Down syndrome grow into adults with Down syndrome; they do not remain eternal children. Adults enjoy companionship with other adults.

It is important to use the correct terminology. A person "has" Down syndrome, rather than "suffers from," "is a victim of," "is diseased with," or "afflicted by."

Each person has his/her own unique strengths, capabilities, and talents. Try not to use the cliches that are so common when describing an individual with Down syndrome. To assume all people have the same characteristics or abilities is demeaning. Also, it reinforces the stereotype that "all people with Down syndrome are the same."

Adopt preferred language. Because of the negative uses of the word "retard" that have become common in our society, "cognitive disability" or "intellectual disability" is preferred over "mentally retarded." Also, "typically developing" or "typical" is preferred over "normal."

Diagnosis

Right off the bat, there were some physical indicators that Mirabel had Down syndrome. She was thrusting her tongue out of her mouth and her eyes were characteristically shaped. She was taken away from the birthing room immediately, and we didn't get to see her for more than two hours. When we did get to go up to the NICU to visit her, Dr. Lawrence explained some of the physical characteristics that suggested his diagnosis of Trisomy 21, though a blood test would later confirm it medically:



- Her ears are very small and are low on her head. Your and my ears are about level with our eyes at the top. Hers are much lower and are tiny!

- Her eyes are almond-shaped.

- She has a deep crease across the palm of her hand.

- She has a "pocket" on the roof of her mouth. If I stick my small finger in there, I can feel this upward indentation.

- Her nipples are very small and are spread wider on her chest than is typical.

- There is a defined "nuchal fold" on the back of her neck, which one of John's Facebook friends lovingly referred to as "hot dog neck." This is one indicator of Down syndrome that can be present in ultrasounds. ** Update: this has all but disappeared in her first couple weeks of life.

- She has weak muscle tone. (Though I am often amazed at how strong she seems!) ** Update: Mirabel's neck is still quite floppy, but during tummy time we are all very impressed with how high she lifts her head! She can also turn it side to side at three weeks!

In my research, I'm noticing other physical characteristics that are commonplace in the diagnosis, like a large space between her first and second toes. She will also likely have a smaller than normal head and stature. Isn't this all so interesting? The things that one teensy extra chromosome can do.

Both the physical and intellectual implications of Down syndrome are all across the board with every single individual, and there is no way to really know how intellectually affected Mirabel will be. I do know that she is full of surprises, though, and I do know that she will continue to amaze us all.

Mirabel has jaundice and is under the bilirubin lights.
** Update: Mirabel was in her "tanning bed" for 3 days. She hated it.
It was one of the hardest things for me to see.

Holland

A friend sent me this story the day after Mirabel was born. I've seen it several times since, and I do find it so beautiful and appropriate. And I can't wait to explore Holland.

Welcome to Holland:
c 1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

...it's a girl!

Introducing...

Mirabel Ruby

January 15, 2010

4:53 a.m.

8 lbs 6 oz

19" long

*

Mirabel: 1) Lovely; 2) Wonderous; 3) Of uncommon beauty; 4) Worthy of admiration

*

Ruby: John's late maternal grandmother

*

Mirabel is here! A thing of beauty, a joy forever, and a very unexpected blessing. Mirabel has Down syndrome, and will be in the NICU for a short while to address some oxygen and digestion issues. She is a sweet, miraculous baby. We are overwhelmed and overjoyed. More to come.

girl talk

So in the space of a couple weeks, I received a very clear message that John and I are to expect another girl. I had a couple people say something along the lines of, "You're having another girl, right?"; I had a very vivid dream about a little girl; my best friend Kelly, who is one of the most intuitive peoploe I know, had a dream about a girl (and in this dream John and I were wearing panda costumes, so we'll have to see what that means); and perhaps most convincingly (for them): my sister- and brother-in-law did the "ring test," in which they held John's ring above my belly on a piece of my hair, and the ring immediately started turning in circles. According to Teresa, this scientific test is, like, 90% correct, and she and Matthew immediately were convinced that I am indeed carrying another female offspring. Matthew even bet me $100 that we would soon be welcoming a girl.

I took the bet. I mean, 50/50 odds, right? And, I want to see if my instincts this time are correct at all. I know I thought Luciya was a boy, too, but.... well. Two weeks from today is the due date, so.... we shall see!!

Anyway, we've also begun a poll, and I want everyone to chime in on their thoughts and feelings! There are prizes involved, people.

In comments, please list:

Your Name
Baby's DOB
Sex
Weight
Length
Time of Birth

** Reference: Due date is 1/24. Luciya was 12 days late and weighed 8 lbs 6 oz and was 21 inches long.

Let the guessing begin!!

xo

well, all of it is pretty cute

Dada: Luciya, what's the cutest part of your body?

Luciya: (pointing) My 'gina.

a year in the life

This was my first attempt at movie-making on the computer. It's amazing to look back on the past year, and to reflect on how quickly it flew by. A miscarriage, travels, new businesses, starting school, family time, another pregnancy... and that's just scratching the surface!

new year, new hope

Three weeks to go...!

the luster of midday

Okay, so I realize there is a lot of posting to catch up on, but I just put my snuggly little girl to bed ("seet deems I love you nigh-night"), the house is quiet (John's working), and outside the fresh snow is reflecting the New Year's Eve full moon. I hope everyone has experienced moonlight on snowfall - there is a crisp fullness to the dark air that is like inhaling a little slice of peace pie. I'm inspired to copy a poem I wrote from our first winter here, two years ago, and then cozy up by the fire and breathe for a bit.

Happy, happy New Year. May the hope that this evening brings inspire you and guide you to a year full of all the sweet goodness you deserve. Bless.

Ten pm and the atmosphere's brighter than dawn
From my window I see the whole length of the lawn

The clouds reflect Christmas lights, giving a glow
To the soft-fallen, still, crisp, and lightly packed snow

It quilts frozen ground in a powdery blanket
If I could I'd embrace the cold earth, and I'd thank it

For showing me grace and my breath on the air
Which carries whispers of appreciative prayer

As a child I'd look through the pane past my reflection
To the stillness and wonder of snow's clean perfection

And here we are now in our home safe and warm
As the earth holds its winter breath after a storm

And the peace that has settled gives my heart quiet thrill
Now the snow has stopped falling and the white land is still
Still.

bump watch - 34 weeks

More attempts at self-portraiture. John and I are headed to the cabin for a little r&r this weekend; hopefully we can find time to take some proper belly shots. Documentation, I say!






There's a baby in there!!!!!

seeing is believing

Dada: "What does Santa say?"

Luciya: "Oh - oh - ooooooooohhh!"

Dada: "Where does Santa live?"

Luciya: "At Mall."

school daze

Well. Somebody went to her first day of preschool yesterday.

We've been researching and debating for a few months now, since both businesses have been keeping us so busy (a great thing), and August-December will be here before we know it, and Luciya could stand to benefit from some social interaction and structure.

A couple months ago we visited two preschools near our home, first a small Montessori-based one and then a popular daycare center. John later said it was like dining at Gary Denko in San Francisco and then going to Denny's. At the Montessori, we were shocked to see Luciya sit with the other children and use a "manipulative" in which she transferred grains of rice from one bowl to another with a pair of tweezers. Say what?! Yeah, she totally did. Quietly. Then, when we visited the daycare, it was dark and dank and smelly and the children were running buck wild. The 3-year-old group teacher was just coming in from a smoke break (!) and didn't even offer us a tour of the classroom. That, along with the fact that we know the owners of the Montessori, kind of sealed the deal for us, and we've been budgeting and sitting on the idea for two months now.

And then, we decided to just try it out. Here she is before heading to school for her FIRST DAY:


Someone has her own cubby!


We hung out for a little while (I wanted to stay all day), and she immediately got swept up in the activities that were going on, and I immediately started blubbering like an idiot. John led me out. She waved goodbye to us from the window:

John took me to get a latte, and then he had to go work a double at the restaurant. I came home, had explosive diarrhea, and then sat on the couch staring out the window, sipping my latte, for a good 15 minutes.

I finally sprang into action and scrubbed the kitchen sink, cleaned the fish bowl, did a few loads of laundry, finished up some paperwork, and forced myself not to watch the clock. A meeting I had scheduled for that morning canceled at the last minute, so I was able to pick her up from school at 11:40 on the button.

And here she is. She greeted me with "Take a picture of me!"

She received a glowing review - it will take some time to get her used to the routine, and she is the youngest in the school, but the lead teacher seems confident it's a good fit.

She did it! I did it. WE did it. And that evening we were serenaded by the most stunning full moon.

We'll be trying this four mornings a week, for 2 1/2 hours each day. Exciting stuff.

eLLe: 31 months

Dear Luciya,

What' s up angel?

You little talkie-talkerson, smirky floozy, helper girl with a heart of gold and a smile for days?

What a fantastic monkey you've been lately. After a spell of not napping for a few weeks, you're right back at it (yay!). Your ability to carry on conversations means less tantrums and "no, no, noooo"s (hoorah!). There has been peace in the house, and your little sponge of a person really carries that into life (ahhhh).

You're silly and funny and tickly and smart. You're still brazen and demanding and independent and wily, but the deliberate tomfoolery has subsided a lot.

It's been really chilly outside, so we've been finding indoor activities to occupy our time. Which means, for the most part: cooking. We've used many of the leftover pumpkins from Halloween and have thus far made pumpkin seeds, pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie, and gingersnap pumpkin dessert. I got a crock pot on sale and it's been one of the best things to happen to our little family of three.

You are getting excited about August-December's (your name for the new baby) arrival, and we spend time talking about how you're going to be such a good big sister. ("I hold baby like dis, his toes on my elbow." "Baby will cry and cry and I hold baby." "He's so little!" "Baby's in my piko!" ) Occasionally, out of the blue, you'll announce "I a big sissah!"

Your memory is phenomenal, and impresses your daddy and me on a daily basis. A couple of weeks ago, you had to accompany me to the midwife's office for an hour-long glucose test. You were so good, for having to be there for an hour, and a few days later we were driving down the connector, in a totally different direction from where we'd gone to the doctor's office near the hospital. We were passing the hospital when you said, "Dat's where mama's doctor is!" Seriously? You've been there once, days ealier, from the opposite direction on the other side of the building! (Thankfully, the glucose test was fine, and I won't have to return for the 3-hour test, like I did when I was pregnant with you.)

Your daddy calls this the "Grandma Ruby" face.

Our days have been filled with snuggles and creativity and exploration and stuffed animals and long talks and little walks and Stroller Strides and baby prep and helping and high fives and knuckles and piko kisses and Elmo (gulp!) and dress up and bear hugs and enjoying every step of this fun little life. It just keeps getting better.

I love you, Luciya!

Love,

Mama

teddy bear knee

So, I'm putting this picture up on my bathroom mirror for my daily smile. It was taken yesterday at a "teddy bear tea" in downtown Boise at the Saturday market. I somehow missed the part on the invite that said to dress up; as you can see, Luciya's buddies are dressed to the nines and she looks like a boy in a mushroom turtleneck. But, when it came time to pose for the group shot with the life-sized bear, my daughter seriously and lovingly reached from the front row to the back to place her hand gently on Teddy's knee. I don't know why this slays me so. But it does. I am reduced to fits of giggles.


Click on image for full effect.

30 weeks: name game

I can't believe there are only 10 weeks left until our due date!

Junior's (or Teddy, or August-December)'s crib is ready with cute new bedding, I've washed and folded some little outfits and blankies, and I'm dreaming more and more about holding a new little bundle. So far, the dreams I remember have featured girl babies. But something in the back of my head keeps saying "boy." Only 10 weeks until we know!

We're not settled on any names yet, and figure we'll just have to meet the baby and decide what to call him/her.

I've been putting together a list of sorts, and I'm not discounting any names if there isn't any real hesitation (got this idea from my friend Ashley). So, all kinds of names have ended up on the list. Here's a sampling. Suggestions and input are welcome!!

GIRLS:
Felicity
Eloise
Thea
Mae
Esperanza
Penelope
Iliana
Clementine
Sonoma
Zara
Makani
Mirabel
Mahina
Luna
Elina

BOYS: (Boy names are much harder than girl names!)
Cruz
Kanoa
River
Felix
Cody
Matteo
Cassius
August

Who's it gonna be?!?!

halloween 2009

We took our sweet ballerina trick-or-treating for the first time! The day before, she refused to put on a costume, so we didn't know if it was going to happen. But then she donned her little outfit (top from cousins Syona and Devon and birthday present skirt!) and felt so pretty and proud. She caught on to the idea of ringing the bell and getting treats pretty quickly!! We visited about 6 houses and had a lovely Halloween night!