Well, it figures: As soon as I get all sentimental and share a touching mommy moment, cue the bleeding and the barfing! Last night, we had Adelay all dressed up and looking totally angelic to go get her picture taken at the mall with Grandma, and not five minutes before she was due to leave, she fell face-first into the coffee table. It was awful- blood everywhere, much hysterical screaming and flailing around in Daddy's arms, and a useless me, lying on the couch with a pillow under my knees, where I was obligated to remain for the next half hour. It was such a quandary: Do I leap up to rescue my firstborn, or allow Daddy to handle it in favor of following the doctor's orders for the health of my unborn? My first taste of what it feels like to balance the needs of two children, I guess.
In the end, I did opt to stay on my back (well okay, I jumped up initially but then reluctantly returned to the couch and just listened to the grim sounds from the kitchen.) It was probably good that Jim handled in anyways; I think it's better sometimes if Mommy's not always the one to be the comforter, and the kiddos can see that Daddy's good for a hug too.
So needless to say, the dress was blood stained, the lip was puffy, and there was no photo op that night. And then this afternoon, as I was dozing on the spare bed while Addy puttered around in the playroom, I heard this weird little hacking sound and woke up in time to see her spewing partially digested Wheat Thins and orange juice all over the rug. A visual treat.
But all this is nothing compared to the grand news that.... She is walking! Not of her own accord though! But she definitely is able, there's no problem with her knees or feet or whatever. As soon as we got a little more intentional about working with her on it (picture us five feet apart on the kitchen floor, offering bribes and wild applause every time she made the clumsy little trek back and forth,) we discovered she was perfectly capable of walking all over the place. She waddles endearingly, making my nickname for her ("Ducky") apropos to more than just her downy little head.
And last but not least, there is the happy fact of my little pinto bean baby, who is growing just fine, and who actually had a discernable head and body in the ultrasound today! Still some free--floating fluid in my uterine cavity which we're not really sure what to make of, but the heartbeat is strong, the growth is fine, and so as long as I keep taking the progesterone the doctor seems to think all will continue as it should. In fact, I don't have to go back for another three weeks! It seems so reckless, after being in there every week, to just live as usual for three whole weeks without checking in!
Just by the way, aren't due dates hilarious? So carefully estimated, and so rarely correct. As the doctor was measuring the length of the baby, he noted that it was actually a day ahead of it's projected growth based on last week's measurements. Without any hint of irony, he asked, "Would you like to change the due date to September 8th, then?" I just laughed and declined, since I think I have a snowball's chance in you-know-where of delivering on any due date, 8th or 9th or even the original 4th. Addy came almost four weeks early even with bedrest and medication, so I'm figuring I won't make it to September this time. Which is fine, as long as the baby is healthy enough to be born. Less time feeling like a bloated, gassy sea cow is always okay in my book.