How She Became Lola
Hi Lola,
I'm 38 weeks pregnant (!) with you as I write this post. Compared to your brother's pregnancy, yours has felt so long. In a good way! Being on bedrest at home has given me a lot of time to think. And worry. And cry. And laugh. And be ever so grateful for you, my sweet girl.
You were a bit of a surprise. Don't get me wrong, we had tried for months for you and had just resolved to revisit our infertility doctor when we found out I was pregnant.
I remember that day well, sis. I was reading to Jude when your Dad came home. We started talking about our upcoming trip to England when we looked at the calendar and noticed that time of the month was a few days late. Your dad and I looked at each other for a few seconds. There was no way. I had been commuting from Idaho to Utah for work, clocking overtime with mandatory trainings, and being away almost more than being home. We were stressed. We had stopped trying.
I smirked and your Dad said, "don't do this to yourself. Don't take one."
I agreed not to pee on the stick. Too many variables and I didn't feel like bawling over something I never had.
We went on through the evening, but as we put Jude to bed and settled down on the couch, your Dad quietly asked, "do you even have a pregnancy test?"
Of course I did. We debated waiting a few more days, but in the end, I decided I wanted to know.
I took the test and waited for it to be ready in the bathroom. I walked to the living room after the longest three minutes I've endured in a long time. Your dad perked up and with hopeful eyes asked, "well??"
I showed him those magical two lines and we stared for awhile. Then I took another one. And one more. All positive.
We smiled and hugged. Excited, but nervous. We had not only had a miscarriage, but having Jude born so early made us even more anxious about being pregnant.
I called my doctor the next day and got started on some progesterone. They calculated my due date would be January 20. I calculated that you'd be "viable" the end of September and hoped to make it until then. That's the NICU nurse in me, darling.
We had an ultrasound with perinatology before we left for England and they said it was about 60-70 percent chance you were a girl. That would explain some of the reason I was so sick, I guess. Like barely get off the couch, barely choke down dry toast, sick.
Being so pukey for so long, I once again saw your Dad as the superman he is. He took over almost everything so I could rest; taking Jude out so I could nap, washing dirty dishes, folding laundry. You name it, he did it without complaints. We are so lucky to have him.
We got back from our trip and had another perinatology appointment. It happened to be my Grandma Lola's birthday that day. I had been missing her an awful lot that day; more than usual. I spent some moments through the day talking to Jude about her that day; reminiscing and telling stories, wishing she could snuggle my babies. Wanting so much to talk to her and get some of her sound, honest advice.
As we watched you wiggle on the screen, they upped their certainty of your being a girl to 90 percent. We laughed and said to Jude, "there's a baby girl in mama's belly!!"
Jude pointed to the screen and said, "that's baby Lola!!"
So, yes, your big brother named you and we agreed wholeheartedly. I have always wanted a Lola--someone I could look at and be reminded of my Grandma. She is one of my favorite people in the whole universe and having you bear her name will hopefully give you strength and an example of perseverance, love, and charity to look to.
We cannot wait to meet you, sweet Lola. I'll take my turn snuggling you when our dear Grandma Lola has had her fill.
I'm 38 weeks pregnant (!) with you as I write this post. Compared to your brother's pregnancy, yours has felt so long. In a good way! Being on bedrest at home has given me a lot of time to think. And worry. And cry. And laugh. And be ever so grateful for you, my sweet girl.
You were a bit of a surprise. Don't get me wrong, we had tried for months for you and had just resolved to revisit our infertility doctor when we found out I was pregnant.
I remember that day well, sis. I was reading to Jude when your Dad came home. We started talking about our upcoming trip to England when we looked at the calendar and noticed that time of the month was a few days late. Your dad and I looked at each other for a few seconds. There was no way. I had been commuting from Idaho to Utah for work, clocking overtime with mandatory trainings, and being away almost more than being home. We were stressed. We had stopped trying.
I smirked and your Dad said, "don't do this to yourself. Don't take one."
I agreed not to pee on the stick. Too many variables and I didn't feel like bawling over something I never had.
We went on through the evening, but as we put Jude to bed and settled down on the couch, your Dad quietly asked, "do you even have a pregnancy test?"
Of course I did. We debated waiting a few more days, but in the end, I decided I wanted to know.
I took the test and waited for it to be ready in the bathroom. I walked to the living room after the longest three minutes I've endured in a long time. Your dad perked up and with hopeful eyes asked, "well??"
I showed him those magical two lines and we stared for awhile. Then I took another one. And one more. All positive.
We smiled and hugged. Excited, but nervous. We had not only had a miscarriage, but having Jude born so early made us even more anxious about being pregnant.
I called my doctor the next day and got started on some progesterone. They calculated my due date would be January 20. I calculated that you'd be "viable" the end of September and hoped to make it until then. That's the NICU nurse in me, darling.
We had an ultrasound with perinatology before we left for England and they said it was about 60-70 percent chance you were a girl. That would explain some of the reason I was so sick, I guess. Like barely get off the couch, barely choke down dry toast, sick.
Being so pukey for so long, I once again saw your Dad as the superman he is. He took over almost everything so I could rest; taking Jude out so I could nap, washing dirty dishes, folding laundry. You name it, he did it without complaints. We are so lucky to have him.
We got back from our trip and had another perinatology appointment. It happened to be my Grandma Lola's birthday that day. I had been missing her an awful lot that day; more than usual. I spent some moments through the day talking to Jude about her that day; reminiscing and telling stories, wishing she could snuggle my babies. Wanting so much to talk to her and get some of her sound, honest advice.
As we watched you wiggle on the screen, they upped their certainty of your being a girl to 90 percent. We laughed and said to Jude, "there's a baby girl in mama's belly!!"
Jude pointed to the screen and said, "that's baby Lola!!"
So, yes, your big brother named you and we agreed wholeheartedly. I have always wanted a Lola--someone I could look at and be reminded of my Grandma. She is one of my favorite people in the whole universe and having you bear her name will hopefully give you strength and an example of perseverance, love, and charity to look to.
We cannot wait to meet you, sweet Lola. I'll take my turn snuggling you when our dear Grandma Lola has had her fill.
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