Back to School

Well... it has begun again. School started on Monday, and Bubba was actually excited (and a little anxious). He has the same teacher from last year, and several of his friends from last year have joined him as well. They are in the beautiful NEW Frisco Early Childhood Center, and he couldn't be happier. What can I say? The kid loves a routine!

The only frightening moment came when his bus didn't arrive on schedule. Already anxious about the bus ride, I had called the transportation department, checked in the office, and emailed his teacher earlier in the day... all to make sure he was to ride the bus and get off at our house. I was told that he should arrive at my doorstep at 11:15, but that didn't happen. At 11:30 I began to worry. Did he get on the wrong bus? Did they drop him at the wrong place?

So... I called transportation again. This time, I found out that the school let out 40 minutes late! Shoo! I tried to calm my nerves as I anxiously waited by the door. Finally the bus slowed to a halt right in front of our walk, and my big boy got off.

He had a fabulous first day and continues to have a great week. The bus was scary at first, but he is now getting used to it. Now, if I can just get Baby started to school before Peach arrives!

Home

Evander and I scurried around a tiny, humid hotel room trying desperately to get ourselves ready. Is a dress to much? Are sandals appropriate? The nervous energy in the room was enough to overtake even the most laid-back of individuals, and the unairconditioned room was starting to get to me. Only days before, I had run to the mall to pick out the perfect outfits for Evander, Bubba, and I, but, as I stared down at what was before me, nothing seemed to be the right fit. There was no time for changing, though. We had to be in the lobby in just a few moments. We dressed, double checked our documents, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.

Three years ago, on August 8, 2006, Evander, Bubba and I anxiously headed for the US Embassy in Guatemala City. A woman from the adoption agency met us, along with 3 other couples, in the lobby of the Westin Hotel. There she detailed exactly what would take place: we would wait to be called to the window; we would enter a room and be asked some questions; we would wait for our names to be called again; we would receive Bubba's visa. As we entered the Embassy, I immediately noticed that it was unairconditioned. Great! I was 2 months pregnant and wasn't sure if the pregnancy, the nervousness, or the lack of air was about to make me vomit.

As we approached the window to retrieve Bubba's visa, our final step, I could feel butterflies in my stomach. As the woman looked through our paperwork, she stopped and stared at one of the pages. "Oh no!" I instantly thought. We filled something out wrong, or they forgot to put the correct stamp on it. What is it? Will we get the visa? Please, please, let us take our baby home. Then, she raised her head and said "You were born in Birmingham, Alabama?" "Yes" I stammered. "Well... I'm originally from Alabama. My whole family lives there." she exclaimed.

I wanted to say, I'm sorry but I didn't hear what you just said because a load of bricks just fell off my shoulders. Instead I listened and smiled as she continued to talk about all the places I knew in Alabama, as she mindlessly stamped our papers and prepared Bubba's visa.

First class is something that Evander and I rarely, if ever, splurge on, but this was a special occasion. We wanted everything to be just perfect (or as perfect as possible). We quickly found our seats and, as I removed Bubba from the Baby Bjorn, we prayed for a good flight. It couldn't have been any better. Other couples were walking up and down the isles bouncing their babies and pleading for them to stop crying, but the three of us sat quietly, just taking one another in.

It is hard to believe that Bubba has been home for 3 years. While a lot of our journey with Bubba has been challenging for us, I would not take it back for anything in this world. This child was a gift from God and meant to be part of our family. Evander and I (and Baby) love him with all of our hearts.

*Note: Baby would be upset if I did not make very clear that she WAS THERE when we went to pick up Bubba in Guatemala. She was just snuggled in my belly!

Baby News

For the past week or so, I have been having regular contractions. Sometimes they are ten minutes apart for a few hours, and sometimes they are 6 minutes apart for several hours. Sitting down, standing up, drinking water, or lying down do not seem to help. For this reason, my OB decided I should have an ultrasound to make sure that everything is going ok. So... I hired a babysitter and headed to the doctor yesterday.

As I lay down on the table, millions of thoughts were running through my head. I had assured Evander and my mother that everything was fine, but, secretly, I wasn't so sure. Everything about this pregnancy has been different. I know it is #2, but something has just been a little off. I jokingly asked the ultrasound tech to make sure it was a girl, because I had some painting to do if not and tried to relax as she began.

She began by measuring my cervix, which was the main reason I was there (so I thought), and it was fine. Next, as she scanned over the baby's various organs and extremities I watched in awe. It always amazes me how the ultrasound is a tiny window into your baby's world. I watched as she sat with holding her head in her tiny hand, sticking her tongue in and out. I saw her "breathe" in and out and laughed as she put her hand in between the ultrasound and herself, blocking the view of the tech.

I immediately had two questions but I tried to wait until she was done. "Shouldn't the baby have flipped by now?" I asked. A breech baby has been my secret suspicion from the get-go but I refused to tell anyone my fear. People have a way of brushing it aside by saying "Oh it can still turn" or "My friend's baby didn't turn until she was in labor". I'd rather not hear someone's nonsense and chose instead to keep it to myself. My next question was "What is the weight estimate of the baby?"

As the nurse practitioner entered the room (my doctor was out for the day), she said "Well Donna... you've got a pretty big baby in there and a breech one at that." All of these things I knew and didn't need ultrasound to confirm, but now there was factual evidence. The baby is actually 5.7 lbs at 32.5 weeks. The practitioner went on to explain that, typically, babies grow 1/2 lb a week at this stage, and she does not believe the baby has room to turn. I am also measuring 34 1/2 weeks. Hhhmmm! I was not expecting what came next, however.

"So I will talk to Dr. Never In and see what she has to say, but I'm thinking you need to be induced or have a C-section no later than Sept. 15."

Okey, Dokey! Not exactly what I thought was coming, but it is do-able. So...now I will go back in 2 weeks to see if things are still the same (breech and gigantic). Assuming they are, I will be having this baby a few weeks early!

*For the sake of the blog, the baby will be called Peach. Having Baby and baby is a little confusing!