The Newest Roommate Arrived!

Well, we made it!  Lillian is here, and she is beautiful.  Both of us are doing well if not a little sleepy, but that was a heck of a ride there for a bit. 

Honestly, I think the anxiety of cholestasis is the worst part of it.  Well, sleep deprivation which ultimately feeds into the cholestasis anxiety.  Clinically, my brain understood there was a super low chance of anything happening to her even if we did nothing.  The stillbirth rate with cholestasis is low at about 3%.  That is, however, a fair bit higher than in a population without it which is around 0.6%  So my heart, however, screamed ‘Stat cesarean!’ every time I didn’t feel her move constantly the last few weeks of my pregnancy.  Fortunately, I can’t make those calls.  And again, you tell a sleep-deprived mother of an IVF baby that she’s got any sort of increased risk of stillbirth, and she’s likely to be a little stressed and emotional.  

So, overall the induction was great, I think.  It was much different walking into L&D, not in pain, not scared to death thinking my baby was already dead after an obnoxious amount of bleeding at home, and not feeling him move.  That was Matt.  

...This is probably gonna go long, so I apologize now...

PROLOGUE 

There is this thing called being born en caul where your baby comes out inside an intact amniotic sac.  To sum up my labor and delivery with Matt, he basically wanted to one up the en caul thing and just be born in my completely prolapsed uterus.  His head was low enough (+1) to give me the urge to push, but I was barely dilated.  It was stupid.  Plus the bleeding from an unknown source...I was contracting frequently enough that the decision was made to go ahead and break my water.  So I went from feeling every 3rd or 4th contraction to being on my hands and knees in the floor of my hospital room trying to call my own stat section with no relief between contractions and wanting to push.  I felt like I was being torn in half.  So I tried a hit of IV pain medication which only served to make me feel exhausted, nauseous, and still in pain.  So then I went for the epidural.  It took 4 attempts because I am 5 feet tall and have no extra disc space.  When the epidural was placed successfully, and I finally got comfortable, it was time to push.  I remember asking if I could labor down (when you let a first time mom continue to labor without pushing at full dilation to let the baby come down further into the birth canal), Martha my nurse, just shook her head and said, “You’re already labored down.”  No rest for the weary.  When I stopped fighting my contractions, apparently I went from nothing to complete in no time.  Matt was out fast enough that my OB had to catch him barehanded. (Gross.)

Aside from being super cheesy (vernix and amniotic fluid really gross me out - I know...considering I came from antepartum and L&D as an RN...but it is my truth and I learned to work around it and dodge splashes as much as possible), Matt was beautiful and healthy.  I am forever grateful to Martha and Liz, my nurse and doula for helping make what was a pretty traumatic start for us turn out so well.  Even though Matt was only 37.2 weeks along (hence the super cheesiness) he did great and met all his markers to stay out of the NICU or need extra monitoring which I was warned he may need.  Since he was a “wimpy white boy” (little white males are notorious for crumping in the NICU) this was a welcome relief.  In fact the pediatrician that did his initial assessment asked if we were sure we had our dates right.  I told him since he was an IVF baby, we were pretty confident.

Recovery-wise, I did end up itching from the epidural, and the next day, like the anesthetist warned me, it felt like I had been in a car wreck.  My back felt sprained from the 4 punctures.  It actually took a couple of weeks for that to resolve. 

So that was my previous birth experience...nothing, then panic, then well, OK...and then praying for a stat cesarean because it felt like I was tearing in half with no relief between contractions, then fast and furious.  

So again, just pleasantly checking in to L&D with no drama was a much better start.  I was a little nervous since Lillian was so much higher, that this would go long, but, I mean...what else was I gonna do that day?   If it meant I got to listen to her heartbeat longer, and I was in a place where we could get her out in less than 5 minutes if something went awry what’s the downside?  We were escorted straight to our room, past triage.  In two pregnancies, I’ve only been to OB triage once, and I was admitted, so I think that’s not too bad.  As a nurse in this field, I always feared the “walk of shame” when they sent you home from OB triage because you were not in labor.  Mission accomplished.    

CHAPTER I- The Birth Plan...or lack of...

My nurse, Joy, popped in to introduce herself.  She was incredible.  She let me change into whatever I wanted so I put on my fancy maternity t-shirt and 7.98 athletic shorts from Wal-Mart.  Annoyingly, Wal-mart was sold out of the 3.88 ones (#thanksCOVID). 

My labor amongst friends look...with the “fancy” Wal-Mart shorts...

We discussed my “birth plan” or lack-there-of.  It was officially “One day, the baby will be on the outside.”  I did enough OB and antepartum nursing to know that birth plans are basically a kiss of death.  Less to nothing is absolutely more.  I mean if you had a birth plan and it worked exactly as you thought it would, then I would consider you extremely blessed.  But 99/100 times, things don’t go exactly the way you thought they would...  For instance, I never thought I’d have to be induced.  If anything I was a little worried I would have a premie since I was early term with Matt.  Yet, here we were.  

You may think since I hired a doula that I had this grand plan of giving birth in the woods and eating my placenta, but you would be grossly mistaken. I have to hire a doula to be my birth partner because BJ hates any and all things medical. He would prefer the waiting room 1950s sitcom style with a single-malt scotch and a cigar...God knows I love him, but let’s not waste time, and call a spade a spade. Honestly, BJ needed a birth partner so he wouldn’t panic. 

#notmybirthpartner

So Joy had to ask me about each option since I had no plan to give her.  This included an epidural, nitrous oxide (laughing gas), IV pain meds, birthing tubs, and movement.  There are tons of options.  And, there are tons of good reasons to choose any/all/your favorite combo platter of the above.  I can’t stand the smell of nitrous, nor do I remember getting much relief with it when I was a child having to have some baby teeth pulled.  I tried a dose of IV morphine when I was being torn in half with Matt, and all I got was really tired but in too much pain to sleep.  

A birthing tub...I’d rather die, personally, than be in a bathtub stewing with my own...hmm...stuff. That utter, from the pit of my soul, disgust of amniotic fluid and vernix applies to my own as well. I hear people compare a birth tub to an epidural for pain relief and how wonderful and soothing they can be, but it’s just a hard no from me.  [shudders...then wretches] Seriously, I’m not kidding about my issues with amniotic fluid. 

I do like to move, be distracted, and not feel like a patient.  Fortunately, I delivered at a hospital that has wireless fetal monitoring and allows for that. I eagerly employed that option.

Epidurals-they are incredible and despite the difficulty I had getting it placed with Matt, it very well may have saved me from needing a cesarean since I quit feeling the urge to push with an all but closed cervix. And it’s also super nice to have for any repairs. (Thank you Matt for giving me first hand experience with that, as well...) People choose to go without any pain meds for any number of reasons. Some women want to feel that urge to push...me not so much. I’ve been constipated before... Some think not having an epidural hastens labor. It’s been about 5 years, but the last study I read said epidurals only increased the time laboring by an average of 20 minutes. That didn’t persuade me one way or the other. I did have some itching with my epidural with Matt, and after not sleeping consistently for the last 6 months due to itching, this was a big con for me. Seriously, at this point the thought of anything that caused more itching made me cry. I also liked the idea of no puncture wounds to my back since that was an unpleasant addition to my recovery with Matt. There is also a lot to be said for being in control of your body- as in not paralyzed and being able to get up after your birth and shower...bc let’s be honest...birth is the messiest miracle I’ve ever been privileged to share with my patients or experience myself.  [I’m not going to wretch this time...]

So, for me, to be completely frank, the biggest contributing factor in attempting an unmedicated delivery is that I have a deep-seated hatred of anesthesia bills. Apologies to all my friends in anesthesia...it’s not you, it’s your billing departments.  Their timing is always the worst. You are feeling all well and recovered, you’ve received endless EOBs in the mail, and you’ve paid any number of medical bills.  Then, when you are are feeling like life might continue after...oh, for funsies, let’s say a failed IVF cycle with no embryos to transfer for example, and you’re about to purchase a pair of brand new Tieks to show the world you are more than your failing ovaries, and then BAM- a $400.00 or more bill shows up out of nowhere.  That’s at least two pairs of Tieks, y’all!  Again, I get these bills either for a procedure that didn’t work, a surgery that didn’t answer any questions,  so my motivation for going without an epidural was one of mostly spite with some of the above reasoning sprinkled in...I am who I am.  

Anyway, I’m not some super-crunchy mom, in fact, I’m the opposite and a huge proponent of better living through chemistry in most every other situation.  Whatever your reasons for choosing any number of options, nobody should judge you for that or make you feel like you have to justify it.  You’re absolutely right about what you need pain control-wise for labor.  

So yeah, that leads us to the other big things with the birth plan... Who will cut the cord? ...Well, not BJ. The goal for BJ is for him to not pass out or become a patient himself. He can’t do blood or tissue so an umbilical cord is a marriage made in hell for him. My fabulous and wonderful doula, Liz, would absolutely be cutting the cord. And if I need a cesarean, and can only have one person in the OR with me...I choose Liz...I love BJ, but we both know this is the only way our marriage would survive.

The one and only Liz...#myactualbirthpartner

Joy asked about skin-to-skin, which means they immediately put your vernix-covered [wretch] 37 weeker on your bare chest. Forget the greatly increased pain of childbirth, vernix on my skin, whether it’s my patient’s baby or mine...always made me wretch, and there is no epidural for that.  Newborns are hot, slimy, and purple before we clean them up, douse them in Johnson & Johnson, and let them pink up.  Since I’m too miserly to pay for an epidural, I’m also too miserly to pay for formula. Skin to skin as soon as possible after birth is the absolute best for encouraging breastfeeding...so here we are. Only the best for my miracles, so...check (begrudgingly) on the skin to skin. Also being a healthcare worker in this field, I would feel very guilty refusing evidence-based practices, so...as my mom would often tell me, ’Buck up, Buttercup.’ There were maybe a couple other things like delayed cord clamping and baby meds, which I honestly don’t spend much time following the research on this end of pregnancy.  I trusted my medical team so I was happy to comply with the standard of care. 

The “No Plan” plan...

CHAPTER II - Inducing Labor

So by 9:06, Liz was with me, I was on the monitors, had my IV, and receiving my first round of antibiotics. Dr. Barry came in to say hello and ordered an intermediate protocol of Pitocin which just means you can increase “The Pit” by 2 milliunits every half hour. Joy had my heart at her diligent titration of my Pitocin. 

Taking the pit like a champ...

You should know that as a former floor nurse, working with another healthcare professional as your patient falls into one of two categories.  1.)  Super critical hypochondriacs that drive you nuts, shake all your confidence by questioning everything you do for them, likely to stress themselves into a crump, and are basically a nightmare.  Or...2.) Embarrassed to be a patient, try to do everything for you because they are embarrassed to ask for help, assume you are too busy to help them, wait too long to report a problem to you because they try to rationalize it as normal until they crump, and are basically a nightmare.  I am a category 2.  I’ll adjust my own monitors and try to manage myself as much as possible as not to intrude.  I apologize anytime my nurse has to do their job.  

Exhibit A:  When you’re a cat. 2 you reapply your own US gel and get the baby back on the monitor, yourself.

I thought with both Matt and Lillian, that I would diligently be watching my tracings from the fetal monitors, but I can say, as long as I heard their heartbeats I almost didn’t care.  Turns out I didn’t need the monitor to tell me when I was going to be in pain.

BJ, myself, and the trusty mascot of this pregnancy - my cherished back scratcher.

It took a little bit for me to feel my contractions, but the plan was to break my water after my second dose of antibiotics was in which would be around 2:00pm. I will say, I was hoping it would just take a whiff of pit to get me going, but that was not the case. Unlike with Matt, Lillian was not so eager to be on the outside. So I “labored” by enjoying my company which included my mother, BJ, Liz, and Joy.  We made fun of my labor playlist which included a lot of late Gen X favorites from Dave Matthews, schmaltzy love songs like Peter Cetera’s Glory of Love, Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire, and an array of other things that were  added to the list entirely for their entertainment value over their ability to induce a relaxing environment.

Trying to prove to Liz that I was feeling my contractions by appearing distressed. It didn’t work...

So from 9:00 to 1:00ish, I had a grand old time.  I used the exercise ball, peanut ball, walked the halls and visited with my former co-workers since I delivered where I formerly worked as an RN. Unbeknownst to me, Liz was using some spinning baby techniques to encourage Lillian’s head to drop.  For most of the morning Lillian stayed on the monitors pretty well, or I was able to adjust and get her back on myself [category 2, remember].  I was starting to feel the contractions, but they were not near as hard or furious as when I had Matt.  I was relieved for the lack of pain, but a little concerned that I wasn’t making much progress.  

Feeling cute...might actually go into labor at some point...

I got my second dose of antibiotics and the contractions were getting more real around 1:30pm.  Lil started throwing some variable heart rate decelerations and my contractions were not picking up as well.  I got a fluid bolus, changed positions etc.  We went through this a few times and the extra IV fluids would fill my bladder which would make my contractions hurt worse, and possibly cause variables, so that’s a fun little circle you don’t experience with an epidural and a catheter in place.

Around 2:30 I was in the middle of my contractions being painful enough to make me laugh - because that’s what I do when things are moderately painful and you can’t do anything else about it - but the contractions were not tracing on the monitor very well so I wasn’t getting any credit for them as far as MVUs (Montevideo units that measure the intensity of contractions - important for Pitocin inductions because you don’t want to squeeze the baby to death or rupture a uterus).  So I was in the middle of a position change, readjust the monitors, fluid bolus, peanut ball, waiting for the doctor to perform the AROM (artificial rupture of membranes, or when the doctor breaks your water with an amniohook) - kinda moments when all the sudden it felt like I got punched in the crotch.  I actually said ouch and then started laughing, and then I felt a gush of fluid...SO GROSS.  When I was the nurse for an OB patient about to be AROM’d...I had layered everything up with chucks and towels.  I would try to wick up as much as possible so they would not experience this moment.  And that’s how it was done for me when I was AROM’d with Matt.  And here I was, caught unaware in what seemed like an endless tidal wave of mess...All I could do was laugh...and the last thing you want to do when your water breaks is rush to a vertical position until you’ve established that all is well and good.  So it was a minute between getting the baby back on the monitor and making sure nothing complicated like a cord prolapse had occurred, before I could get up and put an adult diaper on.  So I just laid there complaining about how gross it was like the trooper I am. [shudders...] (I am a proud proponent of Always Discreet Boutique for your intrapartum and postpartum...issues.  I mean what says I am in control of my own body better than a black adult diaper?)

On my throne Liz prepared.  Trying to get Baby Girl to engage...

More Liz and Joy magic...

EW...it worked...lemme up...  Amniotic fluid all over my gown... #gagme

CHAPTER III - Jesus Take the Wheel

I was mentally prepared to lose it right around now.  With Matt, after my water broke it was just constant pain and pressure that I was not prepared for.  So I was greatly relieved to realize the pain stopped when my contractions stopped.  I also could feel Lillian pushing at the top of my uterus with her feet with her stepping reflex with each contraction which was pretty neat.  So I’d have a little pain, then I’d feel two taps as her feet pushed against my fundus and then it got real, but only for about 30-40 seconds of each contraction.  I walked the hall again with all the confidence a woman can have in her Always Discreet underwear.  The big difference was that I went from wanting to stop walking during the contractions, to having to stop walking.  I didn't have a lot of control over my lower half, or at least it felt like I couldn't withstand the pain and continue moving.  Those hip squeezes Liz and BJ did were amazing relief.  I don’t know how I would have coped without them.

I can have a contraction or ambulate...

But not both...

Joy had palpated a few of my contractions and still wasn’t happy with how they were tracing, so internal monitors were recommended.  I was really hoping to have made some progress at this point, because I was not sure how long I could keep my happy-go-lucky, and overall pleasant demeanor.  I had not made a lot of change at this point, but between Joy checking and Dr. Barry placing the internal monitors, in less than a half hour I’d made some progress.  Once the internal monitors were set, you could see I was having strong contractions...I personally did not need to see that because I was feeling them.  

When the external tocometer betrays you...

Around this time I grew to have a better understanding of how people could become infatuated with inanimate objects. For me, the left side bed rail became my very best friend in the whole wide world. Not the right side bed rail... The right sided bed rail was a feckless dud, but my left side bed rail provided me with companionship and comfort during the worst 30 seconds of my life every two minutes or so. I mean Liz and BJ were great, but the bedrail was my comfort object. It let me squeeze the life out of it without ever leaving me. It never complained. So shout out to my LDR08 left bedrail for its unwavering support

I will never let you go!

Lillian was still throwing some variables so I was back on the bed, getting extra IV fluids and changing positions.  Liz texted her husband just after 4:00pm to say that I was just now in pain to give him an idea of when she thought she'd be home.  The next hour was just sort of live through one contraction and you don’t ever have to do that contraction again...It is a finite experience one way or another, after all.  At some point I was checked again, but I still had a bit to go.  Liz was phenomenal at keeping me as comfortable as possible and aiding BJ in helping me.  

Doula magic...

Eventually all the fluid boluses caught up with me and I remember taking a contraction or two wondering if moving to the toilet would be worth the pain relief of emptying my bladder...Eventually my bladder couldn’t take anymore so I trekked the 10 feet or so to my bathroom.  The contractions were pretty intense at this point.  I couldn’t quite make it back to my bed in time to get into a position I could withstand a contraction, so I labored on the toilet for a bit having to stand up and lean over to make it through a contraction and then resting by sitting on the toilet.  I knew I was in transition at this point, but I had no idea how long it was going to take.  It wasn’t more than 5 contractions in the bathroom when I started losing my peripheral vision during the contraction like curtains were closing in.  I also felt like I needed to poop...I mean it could have been baby, but what if it wasn’t... So I took that minute or two between that contraction and the next to decide what was worse...pooping the delivery bed, or giving birth on a toilet.  

Weighing the pros and cons of a toilet baby... #transitiondecisions

With the next contraction it was all I could do to stay up right.  I also decided I didn’t want to be the ‘remember when the nurse practitioner from the fertility clinic delivered on the toilet’ story, so I told Liz “I think I’m going to pass out.”  She quickly  escorted me back to my bed and back to my beloved left bed rail.  Then Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel” came on... in my case the bed rail, but it could not have been timed better.

CHAPTER IV - “You’re so gross...”

So Liz mentioned to Joy that she might want to call in the delivery team because last time I rolled over and had a baby.  My OB was performing a repair on another patient, but the charge nurse and the baby nurse came in.  I don’t think anyone but Liz really knew at this point that Lillian was on her way.  I began to burn up.  Liz gave BJ a fan, and so his job was just to wave that and keep his back turned to anything happening below my neck.  Liz was working her magic because somehow I did not spontaneously combust, but I think I got as close as a person can get and still be here to tell my tale.  

I was trying very hard to not push because I’m a good patient (refer back to the paragraph on healthcare professionals as patients), and I had not been declared complete.  I just kept gripping that left bed rail and thinking I may have an hour or more to go before I can push. I remember being checked and instead of getting a number and station it was, “Oh, hello baby head.”  At this point, I did not have control of anything below my diaphragm.  The charge who checked me and was my former coworker threatened to send me a Venmo if I delivered on her.  There is a ton, and I mean a ridiculous ton of paperwork we had to do at the hospital I delivered at if a baby came without a physician or midwife in the room.  So I got it...however, there was very little I could do at this point.  Hello, Ferguson reflex...

I just shut my eyes and held on to the left bed rail.  The next contraction I remember trying to mentally prepare for the pain and exhale, but instead, my body just curled up and whoops, Lillian crowned.  Suddenly a resident appeared and introduced herself.  She told me “everything was going to be ok” with all the confidence you have as a twenty-something in an awkward situation, and I remember thinking, ‘Well, yeah...Thanks?’ I was being rolled over and my legs moved for me, and I just kept my eyes shut.  Then the next contraction Dr. Barry came in just in time for the delivery.  Then I had the most beautiful, albeit the cheesiest, itty bitty baby placed on my chest. So I opened my eyes to see two beady little eyes looking at me like, “What the Hell, Mommy?”  And I said to her, “You are so gross, but I love you.”  We’ve pretty much been inseparable ever since.

All that cheese!

Delivering the placenta was more painful than Lillian’s appearance. I also remember telling patients that if they had an unmedicated delivery and needed a repair they wouldn’t really feel the lidocaine injections because all those nerves are stretched out. Lemme take a second to say I am so sorry for lying to you.  I mean it still feels like a bee sting in your already battered vagina, but having a cute, slimy, baby on your chest is a welcome distraction.  

Anyway, since I agreed to skin-to-skin, I got to just soak in the moments...the birth of my beautiful baby, all the ick of a 37 weeker directly applied to my skin, the ability to move my legs, and the ability to shower by myself instead of having two techs come in with washcloths to wash my undercarriage.  Overall it was a day I will cherish forever.  My nurse told Liz she did not expect an unmedicated labor to go that calmly.  *Curtsies* Why, thank you, Joy.  

Lil is my little 5lb 12oz peanut. She is strong, gorgeous, and the answer to so many prayers. She was worth every itch, every sleepless night, every stitch, and every fallen tear.  I can’t thank the team at the Fertility Center, and my delivery team enough, for helping us bring this little miracle into the world.  Lillian, you and your brother are so loved by so many people.  I hope each of you can one day understand how many people prayed for you and how powerful that is.  Thank you for choosing us!  

Peace, Love, and Sweet Relief!

Mary Katherine

37.1

Lillian and I have made it through the last 5 days with flying colors.  This child has passed every test thrown her way.  She may look grumpy on her ultrasound photos while doing so, but she’s performed admirably.  She had a great non-stress test on Thursday.  Monday, she got an 8/8 on her biophysical profile.  She’s practice breathing, moving big, has good muscle tone, and the right amount of fluid. 

I’ve felt moderately better.  The extra appointments and positive findings were a huge relief.  Plus Lillian is back to her normal rowdy self the last few days after a few days of being rather low-key for her.  She was doing enough, but neither one of us felt totally right, either.  I’m definitely more controlled on the Ursodiol medication.  It’s not a cure-all...but the itching is mostly tolerable until about 3-5AM.  This at least has given me the ability to fall asleep at a more normal time without scratching my skin off and considering filleting myself.  When I’m not itching, I get some colicky right upper quadrant pain.  It’s not terrible, I just notice an ache. Although Lil’s feet have been in my diaphragm quite a bit, so it could be totally her fault. 

I’ve gotten plenty of texts, phone calls, and messages the last few days, and I wanted to take a minute to say how very well cared for I feel to have each of you praying and thinking of us.  I have had a sense of calm now since I received the phone call with my lab results and a plan.  Honestly, it’s really nice having a chance to pack a bag, to not feel as awful the day before I went into labor with Matt, and know that soon I’ll have miss Lillian hooked up to a fetal monitor through this whole process.  

I wasn’t induced with Matt, so I’m going in blind.  I didn’t feel all my contractions with Matt, but by the time I presented to OB triage I was contracting every 2 minutes.  I was only feeling every 6th or 7th one.  Matt was also very low in my pelvis...Lillian is not so much.  So I’m not sure how quick or not this induction will go.  I labored with Matt for 5.5 hours...this may be a little big longer...but who knows. 

Matt keeps telling me he’s very excited to meet Lillian.  I’m excited for him to meet her, too.  I have no doubt that he will be the best big brother a kid sister could have.  He’s too sweet to not be.  He is having some extra clingy moments, and I’ve tried to cherish those.  In fact we played “Hot Wheels” and “Dinosaurs”, and then “Hot Wheels Dinosaurs” tonight.  Again, a perk of this induction is that I felt well enough to have this last evening with him as an only child.  He’s also back to repossessing his long lost “treasures” (rattles, and baby toys).  At least he states he will share them with Lillian...

Well, I just wanted to let you know all is as well as can be headed in to this induction.  Again, thank you for your love, support, thoughts and prayers as we tackle this next hurdle.  

Peace, love, and prayerful anticipation,

Mary Katherine and BJ

 

To My Lilly-Bear

Dear Lillian, 

One day you will ask how you came to be, and unlike your big brother, I don't have years' worth of blog posts to share with you.  But don't take that to mean there is not another beautiful story of hope, love and miracles behind your conception.  In fact Matt's story is your story.  You see, the very same day God, Dr. Donesky, Susan, a very special young woman, and of course, your Dada worked together the miracle of your brother (yes, your brother is a miracle no matter how you feel about him on the day you read this) they also made you.  You became one of many BEAUTIFUL blastocysts.  On the day of my transfer with Matt, you were frozen.  

And you waited, and we waited.  I always knew I did not want two in diapers or extremely close in age.  I wanted to relish all the phases of babyhood and early childhood before I diverted my attention.  It is my hope that since Matt-Matt is a little older and almost 8% independent, he will allow me to give you as much as I could give him.  Plus you'll have him to adore, too.  He says he's really excited to meet you, by the way.  I'm not sure how long that excitement will last, but at the moment, rest assured it was genuine. Your Dada and I cannot wait either.

Like your brother, once we got to a healthy blastocyst, you were no problem.  In fact, I was in my office 3 days past my transfer when I sneezed and felt a sharp, stabbing pain that only has one etiology.  That sneeze sprained my uterus as I like to say, or caused round ligament pain.  

I guess I should insert that some things have changed since I blogged about your brother.  I am now very blessed and honored to be a nurse practitioner at the Fertility Center where you and Matt-Matt were created.  That being the case, Lillian, this blog is not meant to be taken for medical advice in lieu of seeing an actual provider.  It is simply a means to relay my experience as your mother.  If you were to need medical advice, I highly recommend contacting your primary care physician/pediatrician, OB/GYN, or going to resources such as ASRM.org and RESOLVE.org if you need more general information about infertility.

Anywho, there was the sneeze heard round the office, and I knew right then.  So, I being the trained medical professional I am and having told numerous patients not to take a home pregnancy test this early, took a home pregnancy test.  To be fair, I was under the influence of a co-worker who was using reverse psychology to get me to test early.  (That is my story, and will always be my story.)  I thought I had waited until the morning, but it turns out I only made it to 1:30am when I had to pee.  So I braced myself and reminded myself that it was way too early to test and this was not going to be the best sample.  Yet...there was the first evidence of you turning the lightest shade of pink before my very eyes.  You were that strong, and that determined, and just that amazing.  

I don't think I slept the rest of the night, which is a theme with you...but we'll get there.  Your Dada, was so happy.  This is the first time we found out I was pregnant before anyone else!  I was a good patient and didn't cheat with Matt.  I diligently kept up with my progesterone shots and by day 5 after my transfer, unlike with your brother, I felt gross.  Like super gross with nausea but not bad enough to vomit, which honestly is its own kind of misery.  So I asked for my progesterone level to be drawn to see if I could cut back on it, and Aunt Alishia accidentally ordered a bHCG in addition to a progesterone test.  Muscle memory...it's a thing.  And then, there you were...on record, in my chart, and official.  I was definitely pregnant.  And I also definitely got to cut back on progesterone...

A few days later, you had an amazing official start with an almost 300 initial bHCG.  Forty-eight hours later, you more than doubled the numbers like a champ.  We got to take a sneak peak at 5 weeks because the office bought new ultrasound machines, and we absolutely had to test them.  We saw your little gestational sac.  The next week you did all the things with a great initial heart rate and growing just as you should.  Unlike with your brother, I was more keenly aware something was going on this time.  Whereas without fertility treatments and frequent monitoring I would have never known I was pregnant with Matt.  You, girlfriend, you were present.  You even made me throw up a few times.  Because of this, I knew in my heart of hearts you were a girl.  I was resigned to the idea of being a boy mom.  (I hope you like Hot Wheels, Lillian, because we have the entire fleet from 2018 onwards...).  I expected to be a boy mom.  It had been too long and too hard of a road to just assume I would have my version of the textbook family of a protective older brother to a sweet but sassy little sister that I always wanted to have.  

You continued to grow and do all the things.  Aunt Alishia talked me in to doing a blood test to find out your gender.  I mean, it also checked for trisomies and some other of the more common chromosome errors, but lesbihonest, we did it for the gender.  I don't know if you've officially been told this by this point in your life, but you don't have any trisomies or microdeletions based on this test, congratulations!  We waited for reasons I can't even remember, to find out your gender until Aunt Alishia and Aunt Ericka decided to kick Dada out of the house and create a treasure hunt to find out.. 

We failed.  To be fair, I still argue that where food gets cold is a refrigerator, not a freezer, but that's not the point.  I also failed to video this adventure because of who I am as a person.  This is why we do group activities, and I am not responsible for filming them.  Anyway with 3 out of 12 clues found, we got to our final goal prematurely.  We found the rest of the puzzle pieces over the next 5 days.  (Remind Mommy and Dada that if the Amazing Race ever returns, we need not apply.)

We opened this cute black and white box and found pink ribbon, "it's a girl!" trinkets, and pink glittery shoes.  I shut the box super fast.  NO WAY!  But very much yes way, you are my precious baby girl.  My Lillian Leigh who's name I've held on my heart for 13 years.  

Lillian, you are named after your great-great Aunt that your Grammy just adored AND your great-great grandmother Lillian that was also a nurse, like your Mommy.  Leigh comes from the middle name of both your Uncles Matt (your brother Matt-Matt's namesake) and Christopher.  Just in case you were wondering.  I also really like the sound of LILLY LEIGH!!! GET YOUR HIND END BACK IN HERE!!! to the tune of a slamming screen door...we are from the south so these things are important... 

Over the next couple of weeks I got to wean off the progesterone in oil injections which was fabulous because they do make your rump itch.  And then my thighs...I didn't give the medication in my thighs, but nevertheless it must've been the progesterone.  

Everything seemed great at my first OB appointment.  And then I got COVID...at least a whiff of it...I was one of the blessed people who only had sinus symptoms and a cough.  It was a nasty cough.  And then with every coughing fit I started bleeding.  Again, this is what I do for a living, so I knew the pressure of coughing combined with daily aspirin was likely the culprit, but bleeding while you're pregnant is not what one would call reassuring.  The COVID cough, like all things COVID, lingers, but anytime I took a sneak peak by US, you were just doing all the things.  You checked out fine, at your 16 week appointment.  

We made it to your 20 week appointment for your big anatomy scan.  They verified that "Oh, you are definitely a girl" with perfect hands, feet, abdominal organs, a beautiful 4 chamber heart.  You did have a choroid plexus cyst, which is a normal finding when we know prenatal testing has been performed and there are no other defects.  So this is where I will forever be grateful to Aunt Alishia for talking me into doing the non-invasive prenatal testing.  That would have been the next step, and I cannot imagine how painful the two week wait for news would have been had I been made to endure it.  On the upside, you bought us a repeat US at 28 weeks.  Did I mention I was still itching?

I don't remember when I started having to get up multiple times through the night to go pee with Matt.  It never stopped from the time of your transfer with you.  Not such a big deal, except when I would wake up to use the bathroom, I couldn't get back to sleep for the incessant itching.  It started on my shins, but then it would be everywhere.  There was no rash, but it also wasn't my hands and feet at first so I wrote it off as some "pruritis of pregnancy"...It had been a problem as early as 14 weeks, but it would be a bad 2-3 nights and then a good 3-4 nights so I wrote it off.  Sometimes Benadryl helped...sometimes it didn't...then it became 3-4 bad nights and a couple nights that may have been bad, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it so I mostly slept through it.

At your/our 24 week appointment, I did mention the all over body itching during the night because I was also driving your Dada nuts.  We talked about contact allergies, changing my bedding, lotions (it was winter), avoiding scalding hot water, trying oatmeal baths...so I did all those things, and it seemed like things were a little better because I went a good run of only 2-3 bad nights a week.  

Anyway, you looked amazing at your 28 weeks US.  Your choroid plexus cyst had resolved. You had a perfect little belly and such a cute face.  You already looked like your brother.  We get to 30 weeks and all is grand...still itching, but making it.  At 32 weeks things were meh - about every other night I was up itching for 2-3 hours. By 33ish weeks it was most every night a week, and so I mentioned it again.  Labs were drawn and came back normal.  Labs were drawn the next week and came back normal.  Didn't bother with labs at 35 weeks, and then at 36 weeks when I was feeling confident it was just a weird non-rashy itch and annoying but not worrisome, I got diagnosed with cholestasis of pregnancy.  So at the time that I am writing this, we are set up for 2 more appointments and an induction over the span of the next 6 days.  

So even though you are not here to read this, Lil, I am asking that you hang in for a few more days.  This thing is annoying to me, but for reasons we don't totally understand, it can be really bad for you.  Mommy is going to be doing all the things.  You seem to be trucking right along with all this, too.  However, feeling you move now is the most wonderful and simultaneously relieving feeling in the whole world.  So I apologize now, that you will likely be born exhausted because I don't let you sleep for too long without pushing on your back just to feel you move.  Your hiccups are everything to me, so you just keep hiccuping away.  You've waited too long, and come too far to give up now.  So, Miss Thing 2, please hang in there.  Your Mommy and Da-da can't wait to see you in a few more days.

With all our Peace, Love, and Hope, 

Your Mommy- Mary Katherine

3.5 or Thereabouts

I know...I'm a huge slacker...I can't even blame school at the moment.

So Matt turned 3 in January, and because I'm awesome at the whole mom thing when I waited to schedule his three y/o appointment until March as requested it couldn't be scheduled until the end of April.  On the plus side, he did break 30lbs by his 3 y/o appointment...granted he was 3 1/3 years old by then, but who is counting?  I did not attend this appointment due to a work conflict, but since I always leave his well-checks feeling like DCS is going to be knocking on my door [I don't know how many calories he eats a day/he's not completed some major developmental task like threading a needle and sewing a button on a piece of cloth independently/he drinks too much Carnation Instant Breakfast, doesn't eat Brussel sprouts/doesn't cut shapes out with scissors (WHAT SAVAGE WOULD GIVE A 3 YEAR-OLD SCISSORS SHARP ENOUGH TO CUT ANYTHING?)/we didn't take him to a pediatric dentist-just a regular dentist, etc], I felt no remorse.

Interestingly, the things I was disturbed by - his lack of fluency, continence and overall lack of progress towards independent living did not seem to disturb anyone at his pediatric office at all. Seriously, what good is sewing on a button, when you can't even use the stupid button!!!  I realize that our pediatrician and we maybe have different goals for Matt at the end of the day, but honestly I thought she'd be more on my side at least on the potty training bit.  Instead we got the whole "They'll do it on their own time."

Well listen, Linda...It's not his time...it's Dada and Mommy's time and MONEY...Matt (and us pending an FBI investigation) got into a great preschool the kind where people with PhDs work with the littles even in the "lower school".  Catch being he has to be potty trained...as in going potty independently.  And we put a deposit down, and therefore he is going to be potty trained because WE SAID SO, not because he "feels" this or that way about going potty.

So anyway, I didn't feel the pressure of this in January when we knew he'd been accepted.  However, April came around rather quickly, and nothing had changed.  I had been reading up on the whole potty training thing for a while...I don't know what generation is responsible for today's parenting articles on the topic, but clearly, they didn't get their feelings hurt enough or something. I did try however...I tried talking it up, about how wonderful independence was...at some point in this time was when we had the whole  "Don't you want to use the potty like Mommy and Daddy?" "No." "Why not?" "Cuz, volcanos." incident.  I mean, you can't even argue with that logic, technically...

I guess I should go ahead and tell you that food is still not very high on Matt's priority list.  So while I appreciated the approximated 1,347 people that told me all their children needed was M&Ms, when I say that my child is not food-motivated, I'm not lying. M&Ms do nothing for him.  They do not melt in his hands or his mouth!  I mean I tried.  I tried everything...but it was as equally effective as training my golden retriever with raw spinach leaves.  In case you're wondering, Emma has never eaten raw spinach, nor has she passed any sort of training course...She is, however, housebroken...

So I decided to schedule a diaper-pocalypse/naked weekend the first weekend of May.  Grammy (my mother) was so very kind enough to be volunteered to take the first shift while I worked the first half of the day.  We rolled up the carpet, bought fruit juice and salty snacks, and ripped off the diaper.  And lo - this child used the potty three times Friday morning, but never in front of anyone...but there would be pee in the potty, victory shouts, and obligatory "potty prizes" which were any array of things from the dollar store that we put on the mantle out of his reach...the one useful piece of toilet training advice I did receive.  So Friday started off great, and then it literally fell to crap from there.  He peed on the floor more times than in the potty.  He would start off as a good sport about helping clean up as much as you would expect a three year old to clean up.  But as the day progressed, these became a battle of wills and time-outs.  Luckily it was a nicer weekend so there was some outside time so the "accidents" weren't very tragic.  Saturday he used the potty once while  all the adults were distracted in the kitchen, and Sunday not once.  I was feeling very defeated, thinking about all the diapers I could have bought with our non-refundable deposit...

Our wise and wonderful babysitter who is full of sage wisdom told me we had to find his currency.  So I thought about it.  I also thought about what my mom told me from her time working as a social worker and the behavioral group homes for children.  Those kids had to earn their sheets back.  They had to earn the privilege of putting a poster on their wall.  And for not all, but many, it gave them enough grounding that they were able to reconnect their control of their behavior back to outcomes. I thought, 'Well, if it works for children displaying antisocial behavior, maybe it will work for a strong-willed 3 y/o so he doesn't become antisocial.'

Matt-Matt, my dear, sweet, delightful, loveable, adorable, cute-as-a-button, silly boy is all of these things and more.  But since the New Year, I've come to terms that my child is also of the "strong-willed" variety.  I had a hard time seeing this, because I've only been around strong willed little girls with their hands on their hips shouting, "No!" at their Mamas. At least that's what my impression of strong-willed was. It took me a bit of time to come around to what strong-willed looks like on an other-wise very sweet-natured little boy.  I mean, we already knew he was not a performer.  All these Facebook and IG Moms pretty much have us beat hands down because Matt will not just break from something he's doing to sing the ABC song backwards so I can be like, "Look what my 1,253 day-old can do!" Even if he's been doing it since he was 18 months old. [He hasn't...at least not the English alphabet..Swedish is a possibility, however, but since none of use or speak it, we can't verify that.] So anyway...all this reading about how you should basically praise them for their accidents and give them participation trophies for thinking about potty training, letting them tell you when they are ready to go to the potty, or how damaging it is to even "force children less than age 4 to use the bathroom"...  Don't get me wrong, I love Matt, and I appreciate effort, but I'm 99.9 percent sure none of his future bosses are going to be overly concerned with his "feelings."  Nor are they going to be so very excited about praising his incompetence.

So this is what went down.  Matt lost all his privileges.  No TV, no iPad, no outside, no laughing, no talking, no crying, no cars, no diapers, no pants, no happiness, no joy, JUST HIM, ME and a POTTY. Well, there may have been some tears, but we just stared at each other for 20 minutes...which for a 3 y/o and a mother of a 3 y/o stuck in an 18 sq. foot half bath who just wants to take her work clothes off...IT IS AN ETERNITY.  It was pretty grueling, and I kept thinking, I wonder if this is what Jeffrey Dahmer's mother did?

BUT I WON!!!!  I broke him...and I did it to him again after gymnastics class.  He had stayed dry during his class, so I put him in a stall on his potty adaptor and upon his request left.  I checked him frequently, got him down from the potty occasionally, refilled his juice three times, but we did not leave until he peed on the potty.  It only took an hour and a half after his 45 minute gymnastics class.  Of course he peed his pants on the way home.  Instead of telling him it was okay, because clearly he can hold his urine for at least 3-4 hours which is what happens when you wait until you are almost 12 years old to potty train, I told him I was disappointed. "Disappointing" was actually the word I used.

But, when he did go in the potty, we praised big.  We got a potty prize, we got hugs, and "good jobs", and we figured out that Matchbox cars and Hotwheels were his currency.  We had been warned that going number one in the potty would come way before going number 2...Nope.  Matt easily did both in the potty because he could have done it months ago if I hadn't bought into the "potty-training your toddler's way" philosophy.  Before we knew what hit us, we were the proud owners of the entire 2019 fleet of Hotwheels cars, and the shouts of "I did it!" were making us cringe as fast as they once made us celebrate.  All of which tells me the kid has been intentionally sandbagging us....I mean he hasn't even really been potty trained a month and makes a 6.5 hour drive w/out accidents if that tells you anything.  I knew it...He had all the physiological signs he was ready to potty train at around 22 months...Good thing he's so cute...

In true Matt fashion, he's probably better potty trained at home than when in public, although he has not had any accidents when we've been out and about while we've been on vacation...so there's that.  We've had a few public "outings" so it's fitting this is Pride month...Matt celebrates his victories by even telling the waitstaff that he potties.  He tells everyone when I go to the potty, too, saying, "Mommy did-it! Mommy pottied! Gewd jahb!" *SIGH*

He's still not perfect, but it's more his accidents now are more often operational error rather than distraction.  Pottying is still a spectator sport for Matt.  I'm not sure what switched, but I guess he decided life was more fun with privileges.  As soon as we got to our beach house, he dragged his Paw Patrol Potty out of the bathroom and stuck it in the middle of the living room...*sigh*...I'm picking my battles...

Matt is the sweetest little handful.  He loves us, so we don't stay too worried about him running off by himself.  Not that we aren't vigilant, but he just doesn't push that boundary like some children do.  Perhaps it's the only child in him, but he really seems to enjoy our company.  Bless him, we love him, too.  Although when Aunt Kim, AKA Ki (pronounced KEE) is around, all bets are off.  He is absolutely smitten for her.  He will do almost anything for her including break a tantrum to comply.

He's a funny little goober.  I never thought I'd have "Captain Safety" for a child, but I do.  We can be getting his tricycle out of the garage and 20 feet from the road and a car drives by and he will stop and say, "Shoo, dat was close!" 'Huh?! OH!! Yes!! Very close!!'  He was scared of Grammy's cake with 9 birthday candles because it was "Too hot!" from all the "Too fire!"  His English is rapidly improving and he uses big 4 syllable words.  Like early in his housebreaking he had an accident that was not a near miss. I expressed how "disappointed" I was.  As I reached for the OxiClean just out of my reach in an overhead cabinet it tipped out and spilled onto the floor making a mess in the laundry room. Matt bee-bopped into the laundry room as I was sweeping to ask, "What hap-peened?" I said I was cleaning my mess up, and he looked at me, shook his head with all of the disappointment in the world and said, "Disappointing."  I know, Buddy, I know...

He's obsessed with his Batman shirt with a cape.  He would wear it everyday.  He would also watch Batman cartoons 24/7 if we would let him, and it's adorable.  He's my super-hero.  He is kind, loving and delightful.  He has moments of threenaging at random times over random things which is what threenagers do, I guess.  And as frustrating as those moments are, I also secretly enjoy it as well. Suddenly, he won't want to wear the blue shorts, or he only wants the Batman pjs and everything else is beneath his dignity.  BJ is absolutely amazing at working him through these things when Ki is not around.  He can make him laugh, if he can't make him reason without fail.  They both amaze me every single day.  I'm a lucky broad, for sure.

Gaga also makes his world go round which absolutely melts my heart.  June is a rough month for a 3 y/o with a January birthday in our family.  I mean Mommy celebrates her birthday from mid-May to the end of June, Ki, Grammy, and Ga-Ga also have June birthdays.  Matt (my brother) & Kim, my parents, and BJ and I celebrate our anniversaries as well.  As Matt said with a pouty lower lip, "Been happy bertie, Mommy, long time."  Well, that's true... But Gaga can fix it!

Now you may...or actually you've probably never wondered, 'What do all these grocery stores do with these decorated birthday cakes that nobody buys?'  Well, apparently, the grandparents of IVF babies buy them for no reason...that's what happens to them.  Gaga bought Matt-Matt a Batman Birthday cake, complete with a Batman "Helitocker" So we had a Happy [it's NOT your] Bertie, Matt-Matt celebration complete with a song and candle that he had us light, sing to him and let him blow out 3 times.    You know, I pride myself on not raising the stereotypical IVF baby who's too much of a miracle to discipline, but then the grandparents literally take the cake...as they should.  And not so secretly, I love it, all.

Peace, Love, & "I Did-it",

Mary Katherine



Matt Facts:

Height: 39"
Weight: 32 lbs
Clothing size: 18mos waist 2T for length 3T according to height/wt chart, but then it drowns him.
Food:  Oatmeal (sometimes pronounced "ought-meal"), Domers - aka Donuts, Chocolate Ju/or Chocolate milk which are completely different or the same depending on how hard we are threenaging (usually it's Instant Carnation)
Toys:  HotWheels or any and most toy vehicles
Shows:  Batman & Robin Cartoons, PJ Masks, Rob the Robot, Wally, Baby Einstein
Books:  StarWars Goldenbooks, Curious George, My First Superman/Batman,
Expressions: "What dat noise?"  "Shoo, dat was close!" "I did-it!" "I peed the potty." "Gewd jahb" "I wuv you, too." "____, where awr yoo?" "My name is Matt-Matt Robber!""Kiss awe better?" "Ees too hot!" "Matt-Matt dew it."
Fave Song: B-I-N-G-O!
Favorite Animal:  Emma and the "kitties"
Nemesis: Actually "dewing" it.  So we just do as much as we can while letting him have the illusion that he is helping all-the-while singing his praises for his "help".  I should apologize now to his future wife for the monster I am creating.  I'm pretty sure this is how men as poor housekeepers start.
Future Career: "Ashernaut" is still a possibility, but his affinity for safety and finding danger when there absolutely was no danger makes me think he'd be great JACHO inspector...

Happy New Year!

Well, 2018 has come and gone in a whirlwind of change for our family, and it's been pretty amazing!

I can't believe our little miracle is about to turn THREE!

In my naivety, I assumed that three year-olds, while not being completely ready for prime-time, were somewhat functional.  I thought 2 year-olds were supposed to be terrible, which for our case, was not true.  Matt is absolutely adorable, good-natured 98% of the time, and completely unreliable.  Perhaps it was the years of infertility and all that time devoted to figuring out what protocols and treatment options we had that by the time I spawned, I was too burned out on reading about how to get and stay pregnant to keep up with "What to Expect when You Have an Actual Spawn..."  Anyway, I have distinct memories from when I was three.  I was potty-trained, I participated in extracurricular activities independently, slept in my own bed without restraints, and I'm pretty sure I was fluent in English.

Matt, who, to be fair has 7 days left as a two year-old, is still completely incontinent.  Speaks fluent swedish Chef and some English.  Enunciation is improving, but it's still kinda like trying to solve Wheel of Fortune puzzles after only 4 letters.  Which, would be worrisome if there was a pattern to what he could and couldn't pronounce, but there isn't. He can say all the letters, in no particular order, mind you, but if a word requires more than two consonants to be articulated he will randomly select two of his choice. For example, "Doma" is what you and I would call a "donut", yet he can say "P-Nutter" for peanut butter.

He still sleeps in a crib because he has not offered to climb out, and when given the chance to sleep in a bed, he gets up multiple times a night to run around, climb in different people's beds, chatter, laugh, and play with his toys.  The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends staying in a crib until age 3 as long as they aren't going to injure themselves climbing out, and since Matt has not offered to climb out of his crib since I dropped it to the lowest setting the first time I saw him hike a leg up around 1 year of age (BWAHAHAHAHA), we've been able to follow that suggestion.  I'm not, however, encouraged to graduate him to a bed anytime soon, especially after his week with his grandparents where he has an adorable toddler bed that he's accidentally slept an hour in once.

As far as potty-training...BWAHAHAHAHA.  My husband and I have carefully discussed this and we are down to 3 options at this point.

1.  Shaming
2.  Beatings
3.  Prophylactic colostomy and catheter with leg bag

He wants to wear a diaper.  He asks for a diaper when we put training pants on him.  While he sits on the potty for his sitter, at home it's like trying to put a feral cat in a bathtub full of water.  He has enough control of bladder that he waits until he is in the tub or has a diaper on to relieve himself.  He does discuss poop or "poopt" (see...2 consonants whether you need them or not).  Everybody poops, just like the book, and it's a great conversation.  We love to point out all of the people that have "poopt"...Mommy "poopt", Dada "poopt", Gaga "poopt", Emma "poopt", Grammy "poopt"...endless possibilities to the number of people and things that have poopt.  He's told us a couple of times that he "poopt" and was then compliant during a diaper change.  Other times, he's told us that his Uncle Marvin the Goldendoodle "poopt" in his diaper, which I have difficulty believing.

Shades of the mythic threenager are starting to become apparent.  Where he used to not care what kind of cup/character juice container he had, suddenly these things are very important.  I had no idea a blue cup when you wanted a green cup could ruin your life...like for forever...Sheesh...and then he doesn't seem to appreciate it when I laugh.  Apparently I'm not "honoring his feelings", but they don't deserve to be honored, so I'm okay with it.  I also throw away participation awards.  This is why I'm not winning any mother of the year awards.

He also has all these mystery injuries all the time that "hurts" and need kisses.  Like he can be sitting next to you and then his hand just spontaneously becomes injured and needs to be kissed.  You think,
"Awe, how awesome it is that I can kiss my own son's hurts away."  Except, I'm not entirely convinced he would not ask a herpetic, street walker to kiss an injury with just as much enthusiasm. Sometimes you have hurts that you didn't know about that need to be kissed, and he performs his magic healing kisses.  And you think, 'Wow, what a sweet, wonderful boy I have. I am so blessed.' Two minutes later he body slams your spleen and you think...'So blessed...where did I leave the Tylenol?'

He's generally a happy kid who is super into Mon-ser Truhs, Di-saurs, Vol-kay-NOs, Or-Nay-dos, Aush-o-nauts, Rocket-Ships, Trains, Caws, Heli-cotters, Soup-man, Batman, PiderMan, Hulk, and sometimes Elmo.  He's still a very high efficiency model of a toddler that can go for up to 48 hours on 4 hours of sleep and a couple of cups of Instant Carnation Breakfast from what we can tell.

Peace, Love, and dreams of continence,


Mary Katherine

Matt Facts:

Height:  Not very
Weight: 29ish lbs
Relationship Status:  Single
Employment:  Unemployed, Not in school
Fave Food:  "Soup-man Jew" or Superman Juice for those who don't speak Matthewese.  AKA Instant Carnation Breakfast Shake
Fave Drink:  "Soup-man Jew"
Fave Animal:  Di-soars, mo-kees, key-cats, Emma
Fave Hobby:  Dumping out boxes of things onto the floor, like hot wheels cars, blocks, legos, the more painful to step on and the the louder they are when you spill them out and the further they spill, the better.

Fave Show:  Alien Monkey, Carl's Carwash, Super Wings & Cam and Leon... They're all medium bad.
Fave Book:  The Pea That was Me and Tractor Book
Fave Song:  Baby Shark
Fave Activity: Seat drops EXCEPT when at gymnastics class when it suddenly becomes a completely foreign concept even though it would be perfectly appropriate.
Future Career:  Well, "aush-o-naut" is looking like a viable option with the diaper situation :)...he did say something about being a "docker".  He did get invited to an ACT prep course last year, so maybe I'll let him go to the MCAT prep course before he starts kindergarten just in case...