Apparently, we named Lily incorrectly. She pronounces her name “Leah”. When we try to correct her and say, “LILY . . . ” she emphatically repeats, while pointing at herself, “LEAH!” Well, at least she has a name she can say, even if it legally isn’t hers. She does a good job pronouncing “Arden”. We practice that one a lot. We also practice the concept of sharing. We’ve talked so much about it, in fact, that now whenever she says “Arden”, inevitably she says “SHARE!” right after it. This comes from me telling her she has to be nice and share her things with her baby sister, once she arrives. These concepts are a little advanced for my 22 month old, I know, but it never hurts to start early.

I’ve been trying to really enjoy my last few weeks alone with Lily. It’s hard when I feel like an asthmatic lumbering cow (I still can’t breathe very well), and I have trouble keeping up with her. However, I don’t take it for granted that we won’t be alone much longer, and we cuddle every morning and for a little bit in the afternoons, read lots of books, and go on many errands and play dates together. I will miss that, though I know it will be replaced by something equally as nice and hopefully she and her sister will get along and entertain each other at some point - even if it’s just by hitting each other!

September 23, 2004

There is such a thing as the “dog days of summer”, and there most certainly is such a thing as the “dog days of pregnancy”. Weeks 35 through 40 are not friends of mine. Why haven’t I been blogging? A combination of Lily’s limitless and constant energy, lack of sleep, feeling like a lumbering whale, and a lot of work. It’s a full time job just keeping up with Lily’s burgeoning vocabulary and trying to keep up with her insatiable appetite for learning new things. I wouldn’t change anything about her - but now I know what my parents dealt with while raising me. I’m surprised my mother didn’t end up in a mental ward trying to answer my constant questions.

We moved into our new office last week. Richmond is full of wonderful, old, historic and rambling buildings, and we are definitely in one. It was built sometime in the late 1800’s and has a lot of the original details, including a door that must weigh over 300 pounds and is twice the width of a normal front door. It’s also full of eccentric characters - mostly lawyers. We found out yesterday that one of the attorneys down the hall from us is a chain smoker. It never occurred to me to ask the landlord if smoking was allowed in the building - I guess I’ve still retained my northern mentality. Here, we sit in the middle of the tobacco confederacy of the world, and smoker’s rights have acquired an almost fanatical, Hitleresque feel. Today if he comes in and starts up again with the smoking, one of us will have to gather our wits and risk making an enemy by saying, “Excuse me, Mr. Attorney who has been here for 100 years . . . can you please smoke on the balcony? You now have neighbors with asthma, allergies, and pregnancy . . . ”

Our beloved, beautiful old building also sprung a leak this morning (we’re on the third floor) and is currently dripping rust colored water near where our files are strewn across the floor (we’re waiting on our furniture). The guy here who handles tenant complaints and maintenance looked afraid that I was going to freak out. It helps to have owned a house built in the 30’s - along with the charm and historical significance of these buildings comes all the unglamorous junk, like bad sewer lines, icky tasting water, lots of leaks during storms, and crumbling brick work. I still wouldn’t trade it for anything.

On the birth front, I’m waiting til 38 weeks to kick off the old wives’ tales of how to induce labor, although one of the natural versions I know of worked for Lily. I will spare you the gory details of it. I am collecting interesting stories, however - many of my friends swear by spicy Mexican or Thai food. I know that drinking raspberry leaf tea can help as well. Send me your ideas if you have any good tales to tell me. I have also heard that the hairier the baby is, the more heartburn you have. I had massive heartburn with Lily and she was more monkey-like than baby-like, and I have a lot of heartburn with this one, as well.

I went for my prenantal visit today (I’m 33 weeks). It was rescheduled due to the flood problems from Gaston we had Monday. I took Lily with me and she managed to set off the emergency bell in the elevator, pull the stirrups out of the doctor’s table, and get a huge box of rubber gloves off a counter and begin to rearrange them. She was on fire this morning! Thankfully a nurse took pity on me and brought in some stickers, which Lily put all over the floor and walls and then my legs.

Everything is fine, and I know the reason I can’t breathe is that the baby is shoved up against my lungs. For those people out there rude enough to say, “how much bigger ARE you going to get?” my midwife answers, I’m perfectly sized, but when you are 5’ tall, you look huge. There’s no place for the baby to go. So just don’t ever ask a pregnant woman how much bigger (read: fatter) they are going to get. One of them might break bad on you.

Lily is napping, so I’m off to get some housework done and hopefully take a nap. She wore me out today! No more doctor’s visits with Lily. It’s too much running around . . .

Lily gets to be more fun every day. She’s also full of more energy every day, too. She seems to be picking up all the energy I am losing as I get further along with the pregnancy. It’s neat how whenever Lily cries or makes a lot of noise near me, the baby seems to wake up and starts kicking me. I wonder if she’ll recognize her wild sister when she is born. . .

She went through a phase last week where she cried every time we put her in the car, but thankfully she seems to be out of that. It’s a good thing because she is in the car a lot of the time. She loves to read now and is obsessed with books and demands that Mike or whoever happens to be around “READ!!!!” as soon as she plops her pile of books on their laps. She also names every book she has and delivers them to you, one at a time, and then wants you to read them all to her at once. It’s a good thing there are libraries because otherwise we’d be in the poorhouse with her appetite for books. Or “bewts” as she calls them.

Every week Lily’s vocabulary grows, and mornings like today, I’m shocked when she answers me back, especially when the answer involves stringing two or more words together. I told her hello this morning and she said, quite clearly, “Hi, Mama”. Very freaky! Sometimes Mike and I will be having a conversation in the car and she will start parroting what we are saying. That would be fine save the fact that Mike’s english is sprinkled with very New Jersey-like expletives. Lily’s first sentence will probably be one of those famous “pass me the f’ing salt” or something like that. We have to really be careful.

I’ve got a little less than 8 weeks to go before the bun comes out of the oven and I am more than ready. I remember how I felt last time with Lily and oddly it is no comfort. “Huge and lumbering” are the only two adjectives I can think of to describe my mood, and I reassure myself daily that this is the last time I will have to feel this way. If one more person asks me if I’m sure I don’t want to get a pregnant a third time, I will slap them. I couldn’t be more positive. Some women glow and are thrilled to be pregnant - I simply grit my teeth and get through it because obviously the end result is worth it. I was also reassured when talking to my friend Susan, who recently had a baby (#2 as well). She told me she is sleeping more now that she has a newborn than when she was pregnant. I can relate - I haven’t slept more than 1-2 hours at a time in over a month and it starts to catch up with you. Between the constant peeing and shifting my belly all over the place, it’s a wonder pregnant women can sleep at all. I know, a little cheese with that whine?

Below is a picture of Lily with her new favorite toy - crayons you can use in the bathtub (and they even draw on skin, so her belly is her favorite canvas). After the bath, you can just wipe the walls down with a damp cloth and it comes off. The real problem comes in separating Lily from the crayons, and now every time she goes in the bathroom, she screams “CRAYONS!”