'Pret-echo'

23 weeks, October 23rd

In Dutch it is called a pret-echo, an ultrasound scan just for fun.
On Tuesday I took my mother along to a small clinic, so she could see the miracle for herself. I always think the blurry grainy scan pictures are only cute as a reminder of a scan, not necessarily cute by themselves.
My mother did enjoy the scan very much, enjoyed sharing the experience and the oh-s and ahh-s. 
I asked my friend Lily to come along as well, hoping she could take some little movies with my mom's camera. What I didn't realise was I would get more than just 6 pictures of our 15 minute appointment (like the website said), we actually got the whole scan on DVD. Including the sound of the heartbeat for about 10 seconds.


I remember when my brother was over the moon happy showing 3d scan pictures of my unborn nephew that my father was withdrawing, it was too much technology for him. (or so I thought)
So when the next day I dropped by my parent's to leave a copy of the DVD on my mothers apple computer I was a bit surprised he offered his own windows laptop after about 1 second of me trying in vain to work with hers.
It took some effort to get the file to play, and then the settings needed some tinkering. But we ended up watching the DVD about three times overall, with me explaining what I could about what we saw. And at last my father said it was beautiful...

The nice thing of the scan on my request was that I could also ask if the scan lady could still find the twin. She did. There is still a small sac visible, 1.5 cm across now. This little universe, built from the twins dna, dissolving, shrinking like a tiny private black hole now.

For a month now (Nov 23rd) I've been thinking of how to make this into some kind of goodbye. And ~surprise~ I can't really. It seems never enough or right. May made a final point (second half of that post) I can agree with. I'm not that angry at the moment, but sad.
I find myself dreaming of how to put it on the birth announcement, even if only for a few people. So hard to find the right words.
I don't allow myself much time for sadness, but this blog feels like the natural place to come back to it.
 

it's very pastelly yellow

Very pastelly yellow was my first thought when I saw it standing in my parents living room. I like the iron work, the curly feet, the wavy side. It looks, mhm, quite modern in a way. I will give it some time to see if I can get used to the fabric. Our current house is quite full already, and there are a lot of green little stars on the outside. Plus you can't see much of the iron this way. The inside is yellow with tiny white dots, much quieter.
On the other hand: I'm quite clumsy when it comes to fabric and sewing and such. Taking off the fabric  I could easily do, but getting something else back on? I have no idea how old or new this fabric is though, last baby in the crib was born 2006, the 3 before him late 90s, so probably less than 20 years...
Oh, when we arrived home there was one tiny detail: the top (bed) half didn't fit through the front door. (I wasn't kidding when I said the front door is smaller than your fridge door) The widest point of the crib-handles is only 69 cm, but it wouldn't fit. Luckily the neighbours arrived soon after us and were kind enough to let us use their front door / staircase / balcony. (and then on to our balcony)

{update: After one night I can say it is still so surreal to have this in our house. Like it is a prop for a play maybe}

Drama with stepteen refusing to see me and/or come to Amsterdam continues (It's been two months now). DP spent two male-only days with the boys for their autumn break at his parents place and the contact was perfectly normal. (But the topic was avoided) Now the Amsterdam kid weekends are only filled with his youngest son.

When DP was getting ready to drive the crib filled car from my parents' to our house his boy was suddenly keen to cycle back with me. He was fine in traffic and kept talking all the while.
Did I know what was strange? In fairy tales the stepmothers are always evil, but there are also some very lovely stepmothers. Oh, there is our bridge, here we turn right!

I think he was right on all accounts... (the thing is, we never refer to me as stepmother, we just use my name, so I'm slightly puzzled if this came out of the blue)

1880

It was the year 1880 and my great-great-grandmother unexpectedly gave birth to a baby. My great-great-grandfather was overjoyed and ordered a crib from a blacksmith for this occasion. This crib must have been reasonably solid, as it was passed down the generations. Can't remember if my mother slept in that crib as a newborn, but she could tell me that my brother and I did, as did some of her nephews and nieces. the youngest of whom is 27 now. In the mean time this crib has been in a different branch of the family, which my mother got in contact with. Next week the crib will be delivered back to her. She reckons she probably kept the sheets for the crib. For more than 40 years? 'Well, they are only small' she said.
I will not be passing down any dna, but I'm so very happy and grateful to hopefully have a chance to pass down this tradition. And the most amazing thing? my favourite baby name that I've been savouring for years, was also given to this baby in 1880...

Shopping

My mother told me that as a kid I always dragged her into the Mothercare store so I could push around the prams (but I can't remember).
As a student I loved to browse through baby aisles of warehouses, and my favourite gift was to pick out baby socks, just because they were so small.
As an infertile it became a nightmare to be in a shop surrounded by baby items.
Last week I decided I really couldn't put it off any longer to buy a flexible bra. I'd done some research online to find a shop that should carry the size I needed. I went in (in a baby/mother shop), but by the time I reached the back wall with the bras (had to pass multiple aisles with baby clothes) I was already in a mild panic. Bought two as quickly as I could without trying them on.
At home I saw I bought nursing bras. Can hardly express how embarrassed I was. Or how much I dreaded going back. (yes, in my mind it is still impossible to buy things only needed in a certain kind of future) In the end my colleague Lily decided we could go together during lunch break, as it would probably be quieter than on the weekend. She was right, the store was deserted, and she calmly helped me pick not only the right size but the right item as well. (Plus riding with her on the tandem was both great fun and a nice distraction)

On Saturday I asked my mother to go shopping with me for pants I can keep wearing to work. I wanted black pants that say 'nothing to see here, move right along'
Normally she is very good at being pleasant with the sales people while giving me little nods of approval or tiny shakes of no. This time she kept encouraging me to try more things on and in the end she liked almost everything, so I ended up with 6 items that all mix and match and will get me through winter.
I think my mother enjoyed it very much, being surrounded by maternity clothes and talking with the sales lady. (she may even have toned down her outward enthusiasm for me)
22 weeks today and I still find it weird and hard to believe. It's only 5 kilo's difference and so far only 1 person has come up to me to ask if I was just getting a little belly or pregnant.

Growing just fine

Big scan was all OK.
It was quite a difference being scanned by a ultrasound technician instead of a midwife. This lady wasn't interested at all in any waving of arms or legs! (or me for that matter)
All kinds of organs were looked at, brains, skin, bones. Nothing out of the ordinary, so yippee.
It was lovely to see DP glued to the screen, his face shining. Even though most of the time we had no real idea what we were seeing, (e.g. I couldn't tell the difference between the inside of the belly and the inside of the head) half of the time the little one was moving and that is something we understand.

At the end I asked if she could find the other sac, but she said she saw nothing. didn't really give the impression she even wanted to look for it, was running late even at 10 AM. I was a bit sad to not have a somewhat final goodbye. Or maybe just the feeling that the other one doesn't matter at all anymore is what hurts.

DP was eager to get back to the office, but once we got there (11:40 AM) I just couldn't bring myself to go inside. My boss had informed the team, my colleague Lily had texted that reactions were quiet and happy, but I needed some more time. I got HB to join me outside for lunch. Oh we found out the gender, but DP wants to keep that private. The thing is that HB sees right through me, so while I only said that everything is OK HB already knew. ah well, he will keep it to himself. He just might have to be the godfather of this little one.

What else?
Loads of things happening.
On Mondays yoga and orchestra rehearsal.
Wednesdays an evening course of 10 evenings (work, mandatory) to learn about Plesiochronous Digital Hierarchies, Wavelength Division Multiplexing and other things I never wanted to know about.
Thursdays bootcamp.
And some stepkid drama going on. I'm thinking it's his age, 13, he is thinking it's me (and my sarcasm).
I find it hard to blog about it, and equally hard not to. I suppose the good news is that DP is quite rational about it and not blaming me but standing by my side, but as long as the stepteen isn't rational and refuses to come for the weekend DP misses out on his son (and son on his father) It makes for rather silent evenings around here.

HB left today for another diving trip in Egypt. I feel guilty for not going (no mixing scuba and grasshoppers), for not being there as his buddy. More in the emotional sense than actual practical scuba. Thinking he might need me. A shoulder to cry on when/if he finally allows himself to miss his parents. Although I'm afraid I need him more (and his shoulder). Scared of not being on the same wavelength.
ah, phone beeps, my text messages are finally getting delivered to HB, so this means that at least his phone got safely off the plane.
Always so reassuring to get a sign of life. Whether it is small beeps or little blubs from below.

Take care.