Busy, busy weekend. My whole family (those who weren't already down here - Maggie had been visiting me anyway and Mom drove down for the birth) came down Saturday to spend the day and see the new grandson/nephew. Dad and the boys drove back Saturday night, but Mom and the girls stayed, since yesterday was Rosie's baby shower. We planned it weeks ago, and after Daniel was born she wanted to go ahead with it, so we did. Maggie and Katie (and Bryan, who is continuing to earn his World's Greatest Husband badge) did all the work for the shower, so I can't claim credit, but it went very well.
The four days since Daniel was born on Thursday feel like weeks to me, so I can only imagine how it's going to feel in October (please, God, not November, although I'm bracing myself for that) when Pahoehoe (which, by the way, is pronounced Pa-hoy-hoy) is born. That reminds me, here's a picture of the gorgeous little man.
Okay, what the heck. Two pictures.
In this second picture, especially, I think he looks a lot like his mother. For comparison, here's a picture of her (with Mom and me) when she was a baby:
She's older and chubbier in this picture than he is now, but you can still see the resemblance.
(Incidentally, how huge was my foot when I was a toddler? I wear size ten shoes, and have since I was about eleven years old, but I didn't realize that my freakishly large foot size dates all the way back to babyhood. Geesh.)
Anyway, I was completely unprepared for how much I would love my nephew. I've always enjoyed babies, but thought that very new newborns were kind of boring. All they do is lie there - what's so enchanting about that? But in my entire adult and semi-adult life there has not been a baby born who was closely related to me - I was ten when my youngest brother was born - and it makes all the difference in the world. I find Daniel completely enchanting. I could hold him all afternoon and not get bored in the slightest.
And of course, I love him only a fraction as much as my sister and brother-in-law love him. Watching them go through this has made me unbelievably grateful that we get to meet our own little one in just a few short months.
Speaking of which, that little one has been kicking up a storm these past few days. I'd been kind of concerned because I didn't think I was feeling anything in the way of movement, but when we went in for the ultrasound on Thursday Pahoehoe was very clearly still alive, so I stopped worrying. Then Friday morning I was lying in bed and suddenly felt a couple sharp, unmistakable kicks. I lay there for a few minutes while he kicked some more, and realized that I've actually been feeling these sensations for several weeks, but since my intestines have been quite active during this pregnancy, I'd just assumed it was that. Now I know, and since then I've been enjoying feeling the movement, which generally occurs in several sessions of varying length throughout the day. So cool! I love that I'm going to get to keep feeling baby-movement until the end of the pregnancy; it's such a blessing to have the reassurance that the baby is still alive in there.
I forgot to mention this before, but at the ultrasound Pahoehoe was measuring large by dates, sometimes as much as a week and a half. I know his due date is approximately right because because my estimates based on my cycle matched the early ultrasound dating, which is more reliable than later ultrasounds anyway. So apparently he's just big. Which makes me nervous, because Bryan and I were both big at birth, especially for first babies: I was 8lb 11oz and he was 9lb 14oz. Both of us also had huge heads: he was born by c-section because the doctor was concerned that his head was too big, and after I was born the nurses measured my head and were amazed that my mom had pushed me out, because my head was so big. Needless to say, I am mildly concerned about giving birth to a freakishly large baby with a head the size of a pumpkin. I imagine such an experience would not be exceedingly pleasant, to say the least.
You may have noticed that I've been referring to Pahoehoe as "he" throughout this post. That does not mean that we think he's a boy. In fact, although we didn't see or not see anything on the ultrasound specifically relating to the gender issue, both Bryan and I came out of it with the feeling that it's a girl. By Friday night we realized that we'd been calling the baby "she" for two straight days. But since we don't actually know the sex of the baby, we don't want to get into the habit of referring to "she" and then have a baby boy come out. So I decided that the best thing would be to switch off, alternately referring to "he" or "she" depending on the day. It seems to be working pretty well so far. Yesterday was a "she" day; today is a "he" day, which is why all the references to a boy in this post. On another day, if I keep writing "she," you'll know why.
I get to go see Daniel this afternoon! And, since all my family except Mom have now gone home, I'll get to hold him as much as I want without having to fight a sibling for the privilege. Bliss.