Wednesday's Words

Do you ever have those times where you have a million thoughts going through your head, but you know if you just spout them off, people will start becoming concerned and usher you to bed because you obviously need rest? No?

Okay then.

I have a few thoughts and although I'd love to call my husband and start up a conversation right now, he's at work. And that doesn't provide for adequate convo time.

So, here goes.

• What is going on with my G-Men? Why does thou sucketh, Giants? Two losses in a row, now.
• It's another sunny day and we are supposed to have more coming in the next few days. I'm so grateful for this weather because I feel sad when cold weather kicks in and the sun goes down at 1pm 5pm.
• Although I despise cold weather, I'm excited for pumpkin spice everything. Coffee, scented candles, cupcakes, you name it.
• I'm ridiculously excited about our kitchen reno. Like, I keep looking at the pictures of our selections because it's that exciting to me.
• I miss chatting with my mom groups but I had to get off of Facebook for my own sanity. With that, came a big adios to the mom groups. We'll be reunited at some point, I'm sure.
• TS sat on my lap for a large part of the morning and I couldn't stop smelling him and kissing him and snuggling him. That little boy smells so good all the time and I can't get enough of his deliciousness. He'll be grown up before I know it, and hardly has the time to sit still and cuddle me, so I'll take whatever he gives me.
• This morning included lots of laughter from the babies and myself and that makes me happy.
• I need to clean off Brielle's marker and that makes me sad. I'm still in denial most of the time that one of my children passed away. It just never seems to get easier.
• We have leftovers from last nights dinner in the fridge (chicken and green beans), but I don't want to eat it. But there's so much leftover that it would be plain stupid to not eat it tonight.
• I started drinking Dunkin Donut's coffee because they have a drive thru and the local Starbucks isn't drive thru. DD is about a 12 minute drive one. Starbucks is a 1 minute drive. But getting two babies out of the car isn't ideal to me for a 10 minute wait for a single drink. So off for a car ride we go!
• I have been doing laundry for about 6 days straight. I still don't take it for granted that I have four other people to do laundry for. I am forever grateful for how busy I am day in and day out.
• M's 7th Wizard of Oz themed birthday party is this Sunday (September 24th, her actual birthday), and I'm wondering where the time went. Didn't I just give birth to that sweet girl like, yesterday?
• I want to paint the dining room and living room a nice light gray color but there are eleventy bajillion options for gray's, so I don't even start looking.
• I had to threaten to throw out our entire huge sectional couch yesterday and today because the babies think it's a trampoline and they think they're monkeys.
• I want a delicious cake for M's birthday party but my husband will suggest Costco cake because he thinks it's delicious. I think it's so gross.

Off to get some things done during nap time and be an adult... or just sit, sip on my DD coffee and watch my wonderful babies sleep.

Life Updates

Well, hello little ol' blog.

It's been a while since I've posted. Not because I haven't had the urge to write. Or because I've had nothing to say. No no. It's just finding the time to write that has seemed almost impossible over the past year or so.

My darling son, now 2.5 years old, and darling baby, now almost 17 months old, are napping on the couch. I want to nap too, but life seems to keep me busy, even during nap time.

I'm staring at my backyard and dreaming of when we can add a deck to the back of the house.

Our kitchen is still half gutted. But, and that's a huge but, we have put down our first payment towards our kitchen renovation.

That's right, folks. We are finally having our kitchen redone and I cannot.freaking.wait. It has been four years in the making and man, we deserve this so badly. We deserve to have more than 4 total feet of counterspace. We deserve to have a kitchen that has all of its walls done instead of one section showing brown drywall. I could keep going on about what we deserve from this kitchen, and a lot of it stems from us losing Brielle and thus, losing the motivation for our kitchen renovation. Closing on the house five days prior to Brielle becoming an angel obviously made us re-prioritize things.

M, my sweet and funny and sassy first born, is in second grade now. Second. Grade. How the hell did that happen? How did my little sidekick who went everywhere with me, 24/7, get to be in second grade already? Thankfully, she's doing well in school and for the most part, loves it. She is an extrovert and makes friends easily. I still want to keep her home and in a little bubble but alas, it's apparently frowned upon by my husband. And family. And society.

I intend to keep up with this little corner of the interweb a little better now. Or at least I hope.

Here's to a new season of life!

Brielle My Baby

It's been over three years since I've touched your face.

Three years since I kissed you. Caressed your facial features. Three years since I looked at you in the flesh. Since I looked at your toes and curly hair. Since I begged you to wake up.

 I'm sorry for begging and yelling for you to wake up. I was heartbroken then as I am now.

My heart is still broken in pieces. Your big sister kept me alive after you left us. Your Daddy kept me going. Your little brother brought me back to life. Your littlest sister has been an extra ray of sunshine that we all need.

You, my dear Brielle, were nothing short of perfection. My body failed you in some way, and I still haven't figured out how. I'm so sorry for that. So so sorry.

I'm sorry for not fighting for you more when the doctor said you were measuring a week behind at my 36 week checkup. I'm sorry for not demanding even more that they check your stats. The doctor blew me off repeatedly and dismissed my concerns. I asked them to check you more, and they didn't.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I think I could've saved you. I could've and should've done more and I'm just so sorry. I live with the thought that it's my fault you aren't here with us. No one blames me for any of this, but trust me when I say, I blame myself enough to cover the world.

I want to kiss you and hug you and cuddle you. I want to yell your name at the playground and get frustrated at the toys everywhere. I want to call your name to come eat and wipe your face from getting messy.

I want to see you swim with your big sister and I want to see you both smile together. You have no idea how much you're missed and loved. So so loved. Your big sister M wanted you so badly to be here and ride in her wagon with her. The wagon we bought at Christmastime when I was pregnant with you and M would say constantly, "I can't wait to ride in the wagon with my baby sister!" I always smiled and couldn't wait, either.

I didn't touch that wagon again for another two years after you were born, Brielle.

I want to write your name on birthday cards and have people not think it's weird. Because I do include your name, and I always will. You are my child, my second daughter, who was prayed over and prayed for. You were and are so very wanted. Please come back to us.

I have begged you to come visit me in my dreams. I so badly want to tell you I'm sorry! I love you! I wish it was me and not you! What I wouldn't do to give my last breath so you could have your first.

I'd do anything for you, Brielle. I love you so much.

It's been three years since I walked out of a room and left you behind. I'm so sorry I did that. I didn't leave by choice. Your dad wanted to leave. I would've stayed with you forever if I could have.

I laid over you in your bassinet and thought of all the other bereaving mothers I've seen in pictures. Those mothers lost their children to genocide, to starvation, to accidents. But I felt the same soul crushing pain. I felt the same magnitude of loss. We are one and the same, those mothers and I. And Brielle, I wish you were here and those other babies and children were here. No baby should be taken, no mother should feel this pain.

Brielle, I think of you every day. If my mind seems to wander, it's usually because I'm thinking of you. Would your hair be long like your big sisters? Out of my four children, you were the only one that had hair already curling at birth.

You, my sweet second born, are my reason for doing many things. I want to do right in honor of you, in memory of you.

There were/are times where I lost/lose my  patience with M, and because I'm a work in progress, I yell. And then I immediately think of you and want to hug and kiss M and just hold her close forever.

You've made me realize that there are so many little things in life to not stress over. Bringing a Barbie to the pool? Fine, whatever. Making a mess on the floor? It's annoying, but at least my child is here to make a mess.

Would you love taquitos like your big sis? Would you be silly and a goofball like your big sis and little brother? You are a big sister, Brielle!

I think of happy things of you, like wondering what you'd be like and that you'd be entering preschool this year.

And then I get sad. So so sad. Because kids your age are growing up and thriving. And you're not here and it hurts. The pain hasn't diminished since 1:30am on 6/30/2013 when my life changed forever.

The pain hurts now like it did then. And I'm sorry I didn't save you. I know I was your only home and I pray and hope you only knew love. I loved you then like I love you now.

I can't believe I have to live the rest of my life without you, one of my children. This is the single worst thing a person can go through, and I'll never understand why, but it's part of my story.

I want to rewrite this part of my life. I want to add stories of you and M playing, I want to add excerpts of silly things you say. I want to know your voice, your laughter, even your cry. I want to wipe away your tears and put a Band-Aid on your booboo. I want to brush your beautiful hair and see how many teeth you have. I want to know what your favorite color is, what movie you love, if you prefer summer over winter. I want a nighttime battle for sleep and I want morning snuggles with you. I want to have pillow fights and nail painting parties with my little girls.

I want you here with me and your family who misses you every single moment of every single day.

It's been three years without you and I'm just as devastated. And regardless of being medically labeled as having "Heartbreak Syndrome" in 2014, I'll continue on my mission to keep your memory alive, through heartbreak and tears. Because you, my beloved Brielle, keep me going like your siblings do.

I love you, my sweet three year old. Happy 3rd birthday in Heaven.

I love you and miss you terribly.

Baby Pecan's Arrival... Part I

I just saw that my last baby bumpdate with Baby Pecan was when I was 35 weeks. The post was dated April 14, 2016.

The following day, April 15th, I went to the hospital to have an NST done. I've been labeled "high risk" since there was no known cause/reason for losing Brielle. I'm totally fine with having more monitoring, more ultrasounds (hi baby!) and a more concerned doctor vibe happening.

At my nst at the hospital on 4/15/2016, things were going well. My husband was teleworking that day and was home with TS while M was in school. I got a text message from my husband asking how things were going. I replied with a picture of my feet up in a recliner, bands across my big Prego belly, and a bag of ritz peanut butter crackers (courtesy of the hospital) on my lap. I included a thumbs up emoji.

Within one minute, 60 whole seconds, two nurses and one of my high risk doctors burst into the room and said, "we need to prepare you for a possible emergency C-section".

Wait. What? Wasn't everything just going fine with Baby Pecan? Hadn't the nurse just checked in with me a few minutes prior and said things looked great?

Apparently, Baby Pecan was having some decelerations and staying under normal range for a whole minute. This made the doctor concerned. So, off I was whisked to L&D where I had the most horrible nurses. I mean, they were nice... but for the six hours I was in L&D triage, they came to check on me a total of three times. THREE.

One of those times was to give me Betamethasone (steroid) shot to mature Pecan's lungs. Now, I have a high pain tolerance. But that shot, straight in my butt? That hurt. So much so that I teared up. I was staring at a blank white wall, alone because I told my husband to finish his work day (my appointment was at 11:30 am), and nervous because I feared the worst with Pecan.

I was admitted to the hospital for observation and had to stay a minimum of 48 hours. From being admitted to the following evening, Saturday April 16, I was hooked up to several different monitors and thankfully, Pecan passed those tests. She was constantly declared as a "happy baby!" and the decelerations that were picked up on 4/15 may have just been Pecan pinching the umbilical cord and not getting enough oxygen. On Sunday, 4/17, I was still being monitored and had an NST in the morning and at night. As long as Pecan passed those tests, and passed one more NST the morning of Monday, 4/18, I could go home. Thank the Lord, Pecan did beautifully on those tests and I was released on 4/18.

I got home to my babies and TS suddenly looked a few years older. He was upset with me for leaving him for four days and took about an hour to warm up to me. It broke my heart, but I can only imagine how he felt. I couldn't even facetime him because my in-laws said he would cry and cry when he couldn't touch me through the phone screen. Heart.breaking.

I had another NST on Wednesday, 4/20, and it was eventful for me.

You see, when I had my amniotic fluid checked on 4/15, my levels were at 10. It's not a totally low level, but it had been 16 just earlier in the week. That's a huge drop!

On 4/18 when I was released from the hospital, my fluid levels were at a 12. I was told to drink drink drink!!, and rest. (Because that's totally possible with an elementary aged child and a toddler?)

When I had my next checkup on 4/20, my fluid levels went down. This is important to me because I had excessively high levels with Brielle, supposedly.. With M, I was induced at 39w6d because I was leaking amniotic fluid. See a pattern here?

My fluid levels on 4/20 went to an 9. Nine. I begged and pleaded, tears streaming down my face, to induce me then and there. I was crying and so frustrated that the doctors wouldn't get Pecan out. "We feel comfortable with your levels at 9."

"Why?", I responded. "My levels went down.  You don't understand. I wont survive losing another child. PLEASE, PLEASE get her out!!"

"No, Sel. Nine isn't superbly low."

"Okay," I said. "What number does my fluid need to be at to get Pecan out? Because my anxiety is sky high right now and I'm extremely scared and terrified and nervous and just want Pecan to be okay and alive in my arms."

"Uhhh, well, if your number gets below 8, okay? But until then, we won't worry. We're taking care of you!"

I drank as much water as my body could handle between 4/20 and 4/22, when my next appointment was. I literally had to just leave it to G-d and hope and pray that I would get to keep this precious bundle.

My fluid levels on Friday, 4/22? They were at 5.3. The ultrasound technician said, "Did you know your fluid levels are low?" I said, "How low?" in a concerned voice. I looked at the screen and saw the number. I think the tech saw my face go pale because she said, "Umm, I need to remeasure again anyway. I mean really, the number can change just by if the baby has peed or not." Okay, well, I know my numbers have been going down, so I knew this wasn't good. The tech remeasured and the fluid level went to 6.1.

I sat in a waiting room while waiting for a doctor to call me to discuss the ultrasound results, which is the typical routine. I called my sister and updated her on the appointment.

"Watch Sel, they're going to induce you. It would be negligent to send you home when your levels keep dropping."

"But they completely dismissed me at my last appointment. They'll probably tell me I'm wrong about being concerned and then have me come back first thing Monday morning."

As the doctor called me back to his office and walked with me, he said with a smile on his face, "So, how're you feeling?" I laughed and said, "Terrified. I just want the baby to be okay!"

To which he replied, "Well, today's the day!"

I laughed in his face. Oops.

"Today's the day for what?"

"Sel, to have the baby. You're being admitted."

To which I laughed in his face again. And the pre-med's face. (sorry about that, docs!)

I was shocked. "But I haven't set up the nursery! Or the car seat. It's still at home! And I only washed a few pieces of clothing! I haven't picked up the changing table! I'm supposed to pick it up after this appointment!"

The doctor laughed in my face. Touche.

And off to L&D I went in the brand new wing of my local hospital to have my fourth baby, and my third daughter....

Molly

I've mentioned before the term "Tidal Wave" and, truth be told, there just isn't another way to explain this roller coaster of emotions that I have had since June 30th, 2013.

I've been wanting to share the Tidal Wave story with you all since Molly sent me this email on July 3rd, 2013. I kept it to myself for a long while, just explaining to people "it's a tidal wave day", and left it alone. People, I assume, understood that anything including a Tidal Wave meant to give me space.

I wanted to make sure it was okay with Molly to share this email with you all. It's super personal and it's super emotional for me to re-read what my friend wrote.

When I read the email, my husband and I had just left the funeral home, making arrangements for our sweet Brielle.

We were about to make a left turn onto a busy road, but were at a stop light. The sun was shining after a big rain storm and I opened my phone for some reason. I saw I had an email from Molly and opened it.

I threw my phone at the dashboard and screamed, like a gut wrenching primal scream, inside the car. My husband grabbed my hand and I punched the door. I punched the dashboard. I had barely gotten through the first third of Molly's email.

Super emotional.

I was sobbing uncontrollably from the first part of the email, but I knew what I was reading was truth. It wasn't anything that was meant to hurt me, or bring me down, or take me steps backwards. But everything written was truth, and that hurt more than anything.

I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, reading Molly's email. Crying for my friend who silently suffered, crying for my husband, crying for  my second daughter who lost her life. Crying because of the pain and nightmare that I knew we were all facing.

I couldn't look at Molly's email again for a few weeks. When I read it again, I was reading it to my mom at her dining room table.

The email was rather poignant to me. The Tidal Wave story explained what I was dealing with in the most perfect way.

I remember crying while reading the email to my Mom.

She had tears coming down her cheeks, too.

I want to share this email with you because, although we all have our own battles, we all are also fighting together to stay afloat. Perhaps this will be a lifesaver for you, like how Molly was for me.

And Molly, if you're reading this?

Thank you.

Thank you so very much for being a light to me in some of my darkest hours.

------------------

Let me start this out by saying that I have NO idea what you are going through. None. At all. I have had losses in my life--I even have two babies up there with your sweet Brielle (what a gorgeous name, by the way) but I do not know what it feels like to hold those babies and to have to say goodbye to them. I do not know what it is like to plan a funeral for my child. I do not know what you are going through and I do not want to make this email seem like I am saying, "I get it!" because I don't. At all.

But I did want to share two things with you that made me feel better (if that is possible) after my second miscarriage and after the murder of Jack's godmother, Jessi, in the Aurora theater shooting. None of these pieces of advice/wisdom made it better...but they were the only things that I at least KIND of clung to after those events. And they may mean nothing at all to you which is completely okay...but in the off chance that they help, I want to share them with you too. 

After Jessi died, I read this somewhere on the internet. And it couldn't have been more spot on for what happened in those months following her death. Sel, you are NEVER going to get over this. You lost your daughter. Period. It doesn't matter that you never heard her cry or saw her smile--you lost your daughter. And that is as bad, or worse, than anything a person can experience. You will never get over it. But the waves will get smaller. Sometimes, a big tidal wave will still knock you over...but you will stand up again and will find a way to keep walking and you will make it through. Right now, that seems impossible. Right now, it seems like there is absolutely no way you can go on. But just keep putting one foot in front of the other and eventually, that habit will form and you'll be okay. Never perfect. But okay. I will pray that time passes quickly for you...

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

When Jessi died, I HATED this world. It was terrifying to think that so much hate could be a part of our lives. That someone would willingly murder so many people when he didn't even know their names--didn't know their stories--didn't know all the people who loved his victims and would find it difficult to breathe without them. I was ready to go. I did NOT want my child to grow up in this world. I didn't even want to be here. Eventually, my heart softened again and I was able to grasp onto the fact that I was the one who was lost here, not Jessi. Jessi was having a ball up there. Jessi was free from all this terrible pain and heartache. She never had to experience it again. Only we were the lost ones. And every once in a while, a wave would come crashing (and still does) when I realize she's gone and how she was taken from us, but I was able to come out of it until the next wave hit.

And then the miscarriage happened. And a few months later, the second miscarriage happened. And all these people would tell me things about how lucky I was to have Jack at home with me and stuff. And they'd tell me how I'd have another child. And that's true. It wasn't like I wasn't grateful for Jack--just like you're still grateful for M. It's not like I was thinking I'd never have another kid again. But the fact is, I still lost MY CHILD. You still lost YOUR CHILD. It doesn't matter that we still had kids at home, it didn't matter what the future would bring. The fact was, this was not okay and it WAS. NOT. FAIR. And nothing will make it better for you--your pain has to seem insurmountable right now. But I hope you'll grasp onto the fact that your sweet Brielle will NEVER know the sadness you're feeling right now. All she will know is happiness and joy. All she will feel in her life is love. That's it. Your pain is not her pain. I am convinced that heaven has no time and that she is up there with her momma, playing and loving and that it's only a matter of time before you join her in your heart too. She will never know the pain of this world--I am just so sorry that you have to. 

Again, perhaps none of this will make you feel better at all...but I wanted to share it anyway. Praying for you every day until you dance again, even with a limp...

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

------------------

Three Years.

Life.

 

Sometimes it's amazing. Sometimes it kicks our butts.

 

June 30th, 2013 started me on a new road in life. A road I didn't want. I road I would have willingly gone without. A road I didn't foresee and still can't believe I'm on.

 

I have to live this life without one of my children.

 

It still doesn't make sense to me, three years later. I remember my water breaking and my husband eagerly driving me to the hospital. We had to stop by our new house to pick up the diaper bag. "So," my husband said with a huge grin on his face, "this is what it's like to have to rush your wife to the hospital in labor!" He was so happy and so excited! I wouldn't see that same smile for a long time.

 

How have three years gone by, and I'm still here? How am I supposed to live the rest of my life without one of my kids?

I  made a compilation of my tweets from a few years ago, and they speak so clearly where I'm at currently:

 

It has been three years since I had my angel Brielle. Right now three years ago, I laid draped across the bassinet Brielle laid in, sobbing over her body. People were talking around me but I couldn't hear anything. I remember that at the time, I thought of all the women who lost children in genocides, war, accidents.. And we all weep over our children. I'm forever intertwined amongst a lost group of people who so badly want life's greatest treasure back, which was so unjustly taken from us. At around 4:30pm on June 30th, 2013, I was wheeled out of a maternity ward where I heard other newborns crying, but I had to leave mine behind. That was the last time I saw Brielle. The last time I kissed her. Smelled her. Hugged her. Why didn't I hold her longer? Despite being medically diagnosed with Heartbroken Syndrome in 2014, I look to my rays of sunshine here on earth to keep me going. Some days it's still just one foot in front of the other. But it's still going forward. Happy third birthday, my angel Brielle. I miss you every moment of every day.

 

If I could give my last breath for Brielle to have her first, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

 

I love you, sweet girl. I'm so sorry. Come back to us. We miss you.

Baby Pecan Update

How far along: 35 Weeks (Thursday, April 14, 2016)

What's Up with My Body: I have loosening ligaments in the upper legs, so I'm dealing with that along with regular aches and pains. I know it could be so much worse, so I'm counting my blessings and carrying on. Nightly foot massages by my husband help, too. :)

Emotions: I'm a bit stressed out over how I'm going to handle having an almost 15 month old and a newborn. I know M will be an enormous help, but still - it's technically two babies, one being mobile. It's just a blip in time, right?

Food: ehhh... I don't have much of an appetite but I need to eat to take my vitamins.

Baby: Baby. ahhhhh. Another baby!

Labor Signs: none, thankfully!!

Stretch Marks: I think I have one or two now. After four babies, I guess that's to be expected!

Using: nada

Nursery: We will have baby in the room with us for a while in our room. Meanwhile, TS is in the nursery.

Concerns: Obviously, what happened with Brielle... I am trying to stay positive and not worry constantly, but it's hard. Especially as we get closer to when we lost her. Ugh.

Maternity Clothes: All day everyday.

Dreams: no major ones I remember!

Funniest Daddy Moment: hubs felt Pecan and said, "woahh!!" It was close to 11 pm, so he joked that this baby will be a night owl. Hopefully not. ;)

Classes?: no thanks

Something I want to always remember: what it feels like to be pregnant, how lucky I am to carry my own child, to feel the baby move

Size of baby?: honeydew melon

Weight gain?: I'm up 26 lbs, I think. The most I ever gained while pregnant was 28 lbs with Brielle, so it's getting close!

Sleep?: I toss and turn every few hours. And it's work to turn over. I need a forklift. I push off/pull my husband throughout the night.

Best Moment of the Week? TS came to me to cuddle and laid his head on my belly. Baby Pecan started moving and wriggling around where his head was. LOVE.

Miss Anything? Being able to roll over or not having short breaths just because I stood up. It'll be over before I know it though, so I'm trying to enjoy everything!

Movement?: yes!

Food Cravings?: none

Gender?: surprise!

Symptoms?: heartburn. and lots of it. I'm tired a lot. Sciatica pain.

Belly button in or out?: In, thankfully. Let's hope it stays that way.

Looking forward to: seeing my babies all together!

Next baby check-up?: this friday, April 15. eeppp!