The results! It's a....!!!

(I started this post last night, but ended up on Skype with family for hours and didn't have the chance to finish. SORRY. I didn't mean to leave you all hanging, but it's been a week of way-less-sleep-than-normal and my eyes were burning.)


Aaaaand we're back.

Actually, we've been back for a few hours but I had to make supper, feed the family, sit in front of the fire while playing Uno with Peter and the boys (I won all three games even though I was trying not to... no one wants to play with me anymore! I am the QUEEN OF UNO!), get the boys ready for bed, read a chapter of The Hobbit, then tuck them in, give everyone kisses and hugs goodnight (lather, rinse, repeat). 

I finally sat down to insert the disc with all the pictures and video from the ultrasound this afternoon, only to discover that the mini disc they gave us is too small for either our iMac or MacBook! I couldn't even insert the thing! I did manage to remember how to use our scanner however, so all is not lost (although I'm sure the disc contains more pictures and hopefully some short video clips).

The ultrasound went well (even considering we arrived about 20mins before the doctor and there was still one patient before us) and it was a relief to discover that his english was wonderful. As he began to ask about my prenatal history, we explained that this was my fifth pregnancy and that we have three other boys at home. We told him about Nathaniel and his Trisomy 18 diagnosis.

As the scan started, we let him know that we definitely wanted to know the gender of the baby if possible. Unlike every ultrasound I ever had in Canada, he didn't wait until the very end to find out and went right to the goods... but you'll have to wait a bit for that.

(Unless you're a big cheat and scroll to the end... DON'T YOU DARE.)


(Or you're a friend on Flickr and saw the picture I uploaded last night... *cough* Angela and Sara *cough*)

After taking several measurements, he moved on to the baby's head and brain. This is one of the parts that makes me the most nervous as one of the first "soft" markers they found with Nathaniel were some choroid plexus cysts in his brain. Even though I had little idea what we were about to face, I do remember thinking at the time that the tech was taking an awfully long time on his brain and that it didn't quite look right... too dark.

So imagine the thoughts that started to run through my head when the doctor chose THAT MOMENT to ask, "So... tell me about what it was they saw on the ultrasound that lead them to diagnosis Trisomy 18?"

Um... why?? WHAT ARE YOU SEEING???

I tried to stay calm while I talked about several of the markers that were initially seen and went on to talk a little bit about Nathaniel's birth. The whole time my eyes never leaving the screen above my head as I tried desperately to catch a glimpse of baby's hands... clenched fists with overlapping fingers (that don't open during the ultrasound) are a strong indication of Trisomy 18.

Nathaniel's hands were always tightly clenched.

And boy if this little babe didn't make it near impossible to get a clear shot of its hands, either on the regular scan or the 4D! The doctor spent the longest time trying from all different angles, but there was always something in the way. And the longer he tried the more I could feel my anxiety grow. I'm not even sure if I was breathing.

Finally -FINALLY!- he was able to get a clear image of baby's hand... all five fingers spread wide up against its face.

(huge exhale)

And he looked at us, smiling, and said, "There! No clenched fists!" He must have been able to sense the tension!

As the exam ended, he assured us several times that everything looked great. Baby is about 6-7 days behind/small, but we don't make 'em big so it's nothing at all to be worried about. He told us that our doctor might want a follow up scan in a few months to check on growth, but he considered it a completely normal ultrasound of a completely health baby.

Now on to the bit you've all been waiting for...

I want to preface this by saying that all, while all parents will generally give the line that all they want is a healthy baby, this line takes on special meaning for us, especially in regards to this first ultrasound. Being assured by the doctor that everything is fine and baby is healthy really is such a relief. Even though our odds of having another baby with Trisomy 18 are the same as they are for the general population (ie, our risk is no higher than anyone else), it's still a fear. A huge fear. That it might happen again. So that "all clear" is always such beautiful news to hear.

At the beginning of this pregnancy -and as it progressed and became more and more insanely difficult- we often said things like, "It had BETTER BE a girl!" or "At least if it's a girl it'll make this all so much more bearable." or "It had better be a girl... cause this is THE LAST TIME WE'RE EVER DOING THIS!". I was really convinced that, while I wouldn't be upset with another boy, I'd be very, very disappointed to not have a little girl.

Then a few weeks ago while we were looking at houses online (back in Canada), I started thinking about the logistics of sleeping arrangements, play space, etc, four a family of six. It was then that I got the image in my head of a fun, carefully decorated room with two sets of bunk beds and four little boys sleeping in them... sitting in a chair to read to them before bed, tucking them all in, kissing their little (likely sweat and smelly) little heads goodnight. It was a really nice thought. I was surprised by how much I loved the idea.

Four little boys.

Kind of... perfect.

And it was then that I realized that I truly would be happy either way. Truly and honestly.

With all that being said, scroll down for a picture from the ultrasound, including the "money shot"...

























(I'm mean.)

Did you see it?! There in that first picture??

I'm not really sure why it looks like little balls in the 4D image, but in the regular ultrasound pictures you can definitely see those telltale lines... and the clear ABSENCE of those very important boy bits!

A girl!

A GIRL!!!

(insert shocked expression)

On the way home from picking up the boys, we showed them this picture while stuck in traffic. We instructed Liam to look at it carefully and after a short moment he exclaimed -with a big grin- "It's a baby girl!". Simon sitting next to him, took the paper to look at it more closely and said, "The baby's name is It's a Baby Girl??". It was such a funny and fully-Simon response. Liam is quick to give his approval, but Simon claims he really wanted another little brother. Andrew continued to sit in his car seat and screech and point every time a motorcycle passed by (one of Bogota's MILLION motorcycles).

We're sure Simon will come around. He'll get used to the idea... as will we. 

Three boys and a little girl.

Kind of... perfect.

why ultrasounds make me anxious

Today's the big day.

The day we've been talking about and waiting for since this pregnancy surprise started.

Our 20 week ultrasound.

And while I really am excited about finding out this little one's gender, there are other feelings that come up at this point every pregnancy... feelings I've been only somewhat consciously fighting to keep at bay in the last few weeks.

There are many women -probably the majority of women- who go through their pregnancies experiencing nothing but joy and excitement and happy anticipation from the day they get that positive test result until the day they leave the hospital, new baby wrapped in arms. Unfortunately, I know that that's not always how things play out.

I know the shock of learning that the baby you're carrying is very sick. I know the pain of hearing a fatal diagnosis for the little one that you've already carried for four months and come to love unconditionally. I know the fear of never knowing, from one day to the next, whether your unborn baby is even still alive... waiting each morning for those little reassuring kicks before being able to even get out of bed. I know what it's like to watch your baby take his last breaths and have to hand his tiny body over to a stranger only a few hours later. I know what it's like to wake up the next morning (still on the maternity ward -surrounded by beaming parents and new babies- because the hospital was COMPLETELY FULL that night) and feel the reality of your loss wash over you in almost suffocating waves of grief.

I know what it's like to leave the hospital with empty arms...

Our journey with Nathaniel started at that 20 week ultrasound. What we'd incorrectly assumed would be a "routine" scan. 

And so at this point with every pregnancy, it's hard not to think about how this same moment (five and a half years ago) completely changed our lives. Yet even as I write this, the new little one inside me is kicking me, trying -I hope- to tell me that everything is okay.

But what if it's not?

Our experience with Nathaniel taught us many things...

It taught us about ourselves and each other.

It taught us that the type of love we have for our children -even our unborn children- is not something that can be turned on and off... even if convinced that not loving would be easier.

It proved what an amazing, loving and supportive immediate and extended family we each belong to. It showed us who our real friends are.

It taught us, in a very real although painful way, that God is who He is and His promises don't change, even when our circumstances do.

It taught us what grief really is... because we had NO. IDEA.

It gave us the ability to truly empathize with others who are hurting.

It gave us the opportunity, in our weakness and brokenness and pain, to find a new perspective on life... this one and the next.

It showed us we were stronger than we thought we were.

These are all things that were "bought" at a price. A very dear and precious one. We would no more trade these lessons learned than we would give up our time with Nathaniel... even if it would've saved us the pain of losing him. I'm not saying that these things justify his death or make it okay, but I know that his life -and his pain of his loss- weren't wasted.

So what if this ultrasound shows us something other than a perfect and healthy baby? What if we once again hear the tech's voice go from happy and chatty to grave and silent? What if the results bring the type of news that is every parent's worst nightmare?

I know we'll survive. We survived before. And we have three other little boys at home to show us on a daily (if not minute-by-minute) basis that life is worth living and that loving is worth the risk.

(All that being said, we'd appreciate any prayers or thoughts or happy/healthy/calm vibes for this afternoon. Like I said, I'm excited (REALLY!) but it's impossible to not feel a growing sense of anxiety and fear mixed in with the anticipation.)

how do the rest of you do it??

After homeschooling for the last year and a half, Liam (7 1/2 yrs) and Simon (4 yrs) just started school here in Bogota. I have to get up around 5:45am in order to have them ready for the 6:30am bus pick up. IT. IS. KILLING. ME.

Prior to this the routine was that Peter would be up when the boys woke around 7am, he'd get their breakfast ready before leaving for work, the boys would eat around 7:30 or 8am (Liam would pour the milk if necessary), then they'd play until I rolled out of bed around 8:30am. Several times a week they'd wait until I got up and we'd make oatmeal or pancakes. All nice and relaxed! 

So waking up almost THREE HOURS earlier every day has been HARD!

Liam in his "formal" uniform (minus the tie which the shop was out of)

Sleeping in a bit was about the only thing I'd found to help with the awful morning sickness I've experience this pregnancy. Losing three hours of sleep each night means by the end of each school week I'll have lost almost TWO FULL DAYS of sleep! Having a nap in the afternoon with Andrew is great, but doesn't help with how extremely crummy and sick I feel all morning.

Do I just have to get used to this?? How do you all function when you have to get up so early? AM I GOING TO HAVE TO START DRINKING COFFEE?!

Simon in the sweatsuit that the "nursery" and "reception" kids wear

Today is day three of school and I think it's just really caught up with me. My stomach has hurt all morning, I'm so tired I can't see straight and all I've done is lie on the couch throwing random toys at Andrew (thankfully he found this hilarious) or getting the Nerf guns ready for him to shoot me at point-blank range in the face. 

Then add to this a general sort-of-down feeling about Liam and Simon being gone all day...

rolling down a hill on the playground

As I said, the bus picks them up at 6:30am and doesn't drop them off until sometime around 3:40pm... that's over nine hours! And I think about them all day long. While Andrew and I eat breakfast I wonder if they were able to find friends on the playground before school started... I wonder how their lessons are going and what they're studying... I wonder if they're actually eating anything for lunch and what they're eating... I wonder if the kids they're meeting are nice... if they're having fun... if they're happy. 

It might just be the control freak in me, but I really hate not knowing what they're doing and how their day is going.

Liam (in his P.E. uniform) and Andrew at the end of the first day 

(think someone might have missed his brothers??)

I know it's all going to take some adjustment -for them and for me- but so far I'm not loving this. They seem happy, but so tired at the end of the day. And, as I feared, I feel like we're getting "the worst" of them. Last night neither of them really liked the supper I made which lead to a battle of wills and harsh words and some tears... so that was how we spend the majority of our time together... upset, angry, glaring at each other from across the table. 

So tonight I'm making something I know everyone will eat and I'll try to have it mostly prepped before they even get home so it will only take a few minutes to throw together. Hopefully that will leave us enough time to play a few rounds of Uno together before bed and to read together before lights out.

I need to find ways to make this work. Because even if we're getting the worst of them each night, I want to make sure that they're getting the best of me. They're worth it.

a grey day

I asked earlier on Twitter and Facebook if anyone had ever actually gone crazy searching for a specific piece of Lego for hours... because I was losing my EVER LOVING MIND looking for a particular piece to finish an Atlantis set that Simon had chosen for me to build. It took me so long to build this ONE SMALL SET that Liam (Lego loving Liam) started to complain he was bored, Andrew was crying and starving for a snack, while Simon stood over me repeatedly saying, "But I thought you were building?!" To which I responded numerous times -through clenched teeth and near tears of frustration- "I'm looking for a piece."

A small, yet not seemingly difficult to find piece. One little grey piece. One little piece that, no, could not be replicated with any other combination of pieces. One grey piece in a MASS of grey pieces... all looking the same after spending over an hour digging through them. 

(Aside: We have too much grey Lego. Far too much. The disease first started when we found a bucket of old space Lego (read: most of it grey) at a garage sale. Then Liam discovered Star Wars Lego, also mostly grey. Up til now we've had all the Lego separated by colour, with the dark and light greys together. NO MORE. It's time to separate the greys. My sanity can't take digging through that drawer any more. I'm going to have nightmares about grey Legos tonight... vivid pregnancy nightmares.)

And why would I do this? Why would I waste spend the better part of a fine afternoon digging and pawing through piles of tiny Lego pieces with jaw clenched, stress rising, and almost-five-months-pregnant hips increasing protesting my position sitting on the floor? BECAUSE I LOVE MY KIDS.

And I write about it here because, well, what is this blog if not a place for me to record all the ways my kids WILL OWE ME for the sacrifices I made during their childhood?

a change of plans

I don't remember now if I've mentioned it here yet, but we've begun the process to enrol Liam and Simon in a private British school here in Bogota. There are several other families from the embassy that attend and a few kids that Liam and Simon have already met. It seemed like the best choice. 

Our reasons are mainly due to this pregnancy. It -as I may have mentioned *ahem* once or twice- has been hard. This has made homeschooling hard. It's difficult to be excited about learning and engaging, etc, when you can hardly managed the day-to-day requirements of preparing food, keeping said food down, or staying awake for more than a 2-3 hour stretch.

Initially, I wasn't too worried about it. One of the benefits of homeschooling is that you have the flexibility to change your schedule, take breaks when needed, and move faster or slower as life requires. I figured we'd just catch up when I started to feel better. But then another reason to enrol the boys in school became clear... they're lonely.

While they're all three generally really happy kids, their excitement any time we got together with other families was palpable. It's been near impossible to make friends their age here. Sure we know some lovely families from the embassy, who we see once in a while, but those kids are in school during the day. ALL KIDS are in school during the day here.

Although homeschooling isn't super wide-spread in Canada, it's common enough. In Gatineau we were part of a wonderful, amazing, and sorely missed homeschool group. Almost all of the boys' best friends were also homeschooled. We didn't set out for this to be the case, it just happened. And we got together with a number of them often a couple times a week, in addition to church on Sunday mornings and the kids group on Friday nights (for Liam). They were NOT lonely.

But here, we have to try to explain even the notion of homeschooling. Kids start full-day school here around age 3! Most all schools are in the outskirts of the city, and the kids are bused to them. Because of the heavy traffic and long commute, most kids are on the bus by 6:30am and get home some time after 3:30pm. Then there's homework, supper and to bed (so they can be up early enough to start all over). Seriously, there are kids in our building who we'd NEVER EVEN SEEN before Christmas break!

And really, I hate the idea of Liam and Simon being gone for such a long time each day. Over NINE HORUS is a long time for a seven and a just-turned-four year old. They're still so little!

In the end, I hope we're making the right decision for them. They're both excited about it, Simon probably a little more so than Liam, but even Liam assures me that he does want to go (I'm not sure what I'd do if he said he wanted to stay home instead). I do worry that, after that long a day at school, by the time they get home -tired and cranky- Peter and I are going to get "the worst of them", for lack of a better way to put it.

Although I might be jumping the gun a bit with all this speculation, seeing as their applications are on hold pending some private evaluations by occupational therapists (Liam for his writing and Simon for his speech)... but that's another post for another day.

I almost forgot... another concern...

What the heck is poor Andrew going to do all day when we ship off his playmates for the entire day?! 

a new year

I know. Isn't that a riveting blog title?

I'm tired and a bit hungry and more than a bit frustrated with Royal Bank Insurance and have just spent 2 1/2 hours fighting with Liam trying to get him to write more than one sentence... I should probably be having a cup of tea AND A NAP and not blogging.

But...

It's already Jan 5th and I still haven't posted anything about Christmas (or Halloween for that matter). And so I will blog. If only to keep myself from yelling or crying any more this afternoon (I'll now be expecting a worried email/Skype message from my mom later tonight).

And I'll eat a date square.

Or maybe two.

Even though I don't like date squares.

Maybe the sugar will help...

And with that... bring on the Christmas cheer!! *said with a smirk*

* * * * * * * * * *

I haven't talked at all yet about Colombians and Christmas.

How the Christmas decorations go up as soon as the Halloween decorations come down. How the already unbelievable amount of not so much "street vendors", so much as right-in-the-middle-of-the-crazy-traffic vendors seems to quadruple. How Colombians seem to make up for the lack of snow and other natural signs of Christmas with a completely over the top and downright UN-natural amount of Christmas lights. How thousands of people fill the squares and markets and parks each night to admire said Christmas lights while drinking tea and eating grilled meat on a stick... and cotton candy.

The week before Christmas, one of the couples at the embassy arranged for a tour of the Christmas lights. About thirty of us piled into two large vans and hit up four of the best lit parks and squares. It -of course- rained most the night, but it didn't stop tens of thousands of people from filling all the walks and paths through the maze of lights.



Liam was less than impressed at being forced to walk WITH HIS FAMILY (horrors!) instead of with one of the older embassy boys WHO HAS BIONICLES FROM 2001. His face in this next picture says it all.

The tree on the left is the massive one in the middle of Simon Bolivar square. The one on the right is our humble ode to Christmas.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

all tuckered out Christmas Eve waiting for supper to be ready

The picture that would have graced our 2010 Christmas card... had we made 2010 Christmas cards. This was taken Christmas Eve. Aren't we a lovely bunch?? But who's that cute, normal looking kid in the middle?



Cuddled together after our traditional supper of corn chowder. It was good, but not quite as good as my dad's always was. Later that night it hit me that it'd been three years since I last tasted my dad's Christmas Eve corn chowder...

Andrew and Simon are saying, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Then we had The Opening of the Traditional Christmas Eve Gift. Always pyjamas. Never a toy. Get used to it boys.

the boys were laughing at Peter who was pretending to pull my pants down

a couple shots to show grandma that there's LOTS of growing room in this year's pjs

* * * * * * * * * * 

Christmas morning started bright and early at 6:30am, the time I woke up to be sick get the cinnamon buns ready so they could rise while we opened stockings. It was my first ever attempt at cinnamon buns and we all agreed there were a resounding success.

I didn't managed to make stockings for Simon and Andrew yet, so they used Peter and mine. They didn't  seem to notice or care.

After stockings and breakfast, we piled onto the couch to listen to Peter read the Christmas Story. Don't the boys look riveted? Ha. Not even my wildly striped zebra pjs could hold their attention.







Andrew spent a good twenty minutes playing with our Flip video camera, watching himself saying "Ho! Ho! Ho!" over and over. And over. If I ever get around to it (which isn't likely), I'll upload the video itself to share. It's pretty cute.

a rare picture of Peter... not sticking his tongue out or making a rude gesture... AND smiling

The rest of these are just some more shots from our day. Likely only of interest to our family, but feel free to scroll through. The boys had a great time opening gifts together and taking a break between each one to actually open and play with each gift. It wasn't rushed. There was no timeline, no agenda. It was nice.

This was our very first Christmas alone as a family. Every other year since Peter and I got married we've been with either my side of the family or his. It was definitely a bit strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, just different. We did get many chances to talk to all of our family on Skype throughout the day, but that's just not the same. I definitely felt far away.

At the same time, it was nice to be just us. It was less hectic, less loud, less rushed (maybe a bit less fun). Peter and I had the chance to just sit back and watch the boys as they opened each gift. Andrew was totally into it this year and loved every minute. Simon exclaimed just as loudly over Lego as he did over clothes. And Liam was bouncing with energy and anticipation all day (could've been the sugar in the cinnamon buns).

There's nothing quite like the excitement of a child on Christmas day, is there?

* * * * * * * * * *

I hope all of your holidays were full of love and light and family and fun. Blessings to you all in the coming year.

Love,
Peter, Amy, Liam, Simon, Andrew (and the 2011 version, coming soon)