Tuesday, April 23, 2013

As we predicted

No heartbeat at u/s today and no real growth since last week.

So after two ultrasounds (the latter a high res one to confirm), a d&c, lots of blood loss, serious vomiting and nausea and gut wrenching cramping followed by 4 Advil and a nap, I'm ready to call it a day.  

I'm still dizzy but mostly feel ok now.  Dr said the clot was enormous and had my uterus all distended which accounts for the extra special cramping, so I'm glad I didn't choose to do this one on my own

But thank you all for rooting for us. It was so helpful and inspiring. I'm going to retreat and lick my wounds a bit, try to lose 10 lbs and get into some physical shape before I decide what's next. 

Monday, April 15, 2013

Today was odd

This was a very strange day.

After last Thursdays U/S that saw a large sac and nothing else (except there is still a lot of blood in my uterus) we collectively decided it was time to be done. So I scheduled another high res u/s and a d&c for today, essentially back to back.

I never made it to the d&c. Instead, there was a fetal pole and a heartbeat. But not an especially rapid one. It's likely to still go south based on the low hr (it's 65 - it's really low), but I was certainly in no position to terminate this pregnancy today.

The sac is low, almost near my cervix, and there is a lot of blood above it, but my cervix is log and closed and nothing is coming out.

The head of obstetric ultrasound who told me I was miscarrying two weeks ago was a bit abashed, but it still is a real long shot. All I can say is that my body Really wants to hold on to this pregnancy. And maybe that and a lot of luck will get us by.  I'm doubtful, as the prognostic indicators are not great, but his is already such a long shot on top of a long shot, I don't even know what to think any more. 

Thursday, April 11, 2013

More of what we already knew

So here we are.

My body, by every possible measure, thinks I am very pregnant.  I have a 20 mm sac in my uterus and HCG levels well above 20,000.  I'm also nauseated, exhausted, craving protein and dying of thirst.

So yeah, I'm pregnant.

But not really.

Because, you see, there is nothing in that fast-growing sac.  Not a damned thing.

At this point, there really should be something. What's maddening (and very surprising to my RE, who is at one of the largest clinics in NYC and has been doing this for a while) is that my betas are and continue to be textbook doubling.  My gestational sac growth is perfectly on track.  But the sac is empty.

So I have scheduled another high-res ultrasound for Monday afternoon to confirm what we already know, and then am waiting to hear back from my OB to schedule a D&E.  At this point, there is enough tissue and other stuff in there that my RE is worried that I will end up in the ER if my body ever decides to do this on its own.

I haven't cried much, mostly because I just don't think it really helps me at all and I don't have the energy.  Except I did today.  After dry heaving in the RE's exam room, I pretty much lost it.  It's really brutal to feel like shit from hormones due to a pregnancy that isn't really anything at all. And then after I got to work to find that I had mis-remembered the time of a meeting that I was supposed to run and so was 30 minutes late, I first yelled at the coworker who informed me of that and then very nearly started crying in my office.

I'm pretty much on the ragged edge.  Things are starting to slip (paying bills?  not happening.  Cooking dinner?  Not so much.). Some people might wait for their bodies to just deal with this naturally.  Others might wait 2-3 weeks to confirm that no embryo magically appears.  I'm frankly not that interested in magical thinking at this point.

I need this to be over.

Monday, April 8, 2013

In other news...

I took my tiny little baby boy to the dentist today.  And he was very brave and has almost all of his teeth (missing 2 molars, but all others are accounted for).

It's amazing. One minute he weighed less than six pounds and I could hold him in my hand and this morning he used a power screwdriver to disassemble an airplane (don't worry -- it's a TOY power screwdriver.  It only could hurt him if he put it in his eye/ mouth/ear....).  And we walked all the way to the dentist, nearly 10 city blocks away.

Right now, B is exceptionally snuggly.  When he is scared or upset he runs to me and says "want to hug mommy" and then he wraps his arms around me and squeezes.  He likes giving kisses -- I usually leave the house for work with a fair amount of toddler slobber on one or both cheeks -- and likes getting kisses, which suits me just fine.

He has started saying things that are just funny -- he is always saying he needs "to go over there and check on something" which cracks me up every time.  He says "Remember when we (insert something from 3 hours or 6 months ago)" and then proceeds to tell me all about it.  We went to a fancy exotic pet store last week and saw a snake eating a mouse.  So we've been talking about that quite a bit.  And he makes this very earnest snake face with his eyebrows up and his tongue coming in and out of his mouth.  It's pretty much hysterical.

I told him Oscar the Grouch (who he knows from his diapers) lives in a garbage can and likes things that are stinky and dusty and poopy, and that caused so many giggles that he had the hiccups for several hours. And then we had to listen to I Love Trash several times.

He has taken to asking "what's that" about 10000 times a day, even pointing to things he knows in his books.  (Yes, B, that's a car. The same car in the same book we've read 100 times this week.)  It's fun to see his mind and his vocabulary continuing to expand. It also makes reading a book exhausting.

This morning, on our walk to the dentist, we saw a dump truck dumping, a digger, a man with a hose and a sweeper truck.  It was possibly the most exciting morning commute EVER. I have never seen so much excitement.

We've been learning how things grow, and so had some forced bulbs in the house (hyacinths, mostly, as I like the smell) and he loves looking at the buds on the trees and how the are turning into leaves and flowers.  He can identify a daffodil and a crocus and a tulip (although the flowers on those aren't out yet) and every once in a while will apropos of nothing pull out the word "forsythia."

He's increasingly physically confident.  He can open most doors, reach all counters (he is almost 38" tall), and is now fully leaping off the furniture.  It's both amusing and terrifying. And he's a great climber.  We've also recently acquired a helmet and so now he has started using his scooter in the park.

Of course, he's still stubborn and a mediocre listener and has periods of really really annoying whining. And he's decided that peeing on the floor is a hoot. And he hits other kids sometimes and also sometimes hits me and seems to think it is hysterical (and then I panic think I have a child who lacks empathy), but as it turns out, he's just a large, rambunctious two year old with pretty mediocre impulse control.

I can't believe I have a little boy who can ride a scooter, and has enough teeth to go to the dentist.  And who can ask for kisses on the cheek.

However this other thing turns out (and all signs are bad), I'm amazingly lucky to have B in my life.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Number 3! But with extra bleeding! UPDATED

So, as I feared, the nascent gestational sac is still quite small and pretty much empty.  Oh, and it's very much in the wrong place, closer to my cervix than anything else.

I knew this was going sideways last evening, when I lost about a pint of blood and had bad cramping.  No amount of googling stories about how that didn't really mean anything to the fate of a pregnancy could convince me that this was going to work.

The awesome thing is that the US detected a lot MORE blood in my uterus.  In fact, it's full.  Cervix is still long and closed, though, so this could take a while.  The only thing that's for certain is that it's going to be messy.

To explain how truly awesome my evening was last night, I have to paint a bit of a picture:
- My husband is in Paris, and getting on a plane at 3am EST to return home.
- I am hosting my cousins and their 19 month old for a playdate.  And my cousin's wife? Of course she is 7 months pregnant.
- I start to feel cramping so retreat to the bathroom.  Blood.  And lots.  I dig up a pad from somewhere in the bathroom and wait until they leave.
- While bathing my son, I spend most of the time watching him while sitting on the toilet hoping I don't pass out.
- I get him to bed and call the RE's office.  I get the really annoying medical fellow who, when she is done hearing my tale of woe and giving me instructions, says "OK, have a great evening"
- I'm still worried about an ectopic and am soaking through a pad an hour, so call her back two hours later.  I'm wondering how I will make a trip to the ER, so I get my babysitter ready to come over if I need her.  She is a saint. (But I feel very awkward.) Thankfully, the bleeding slows by 11 so no ER trip necessary.  But I have a moment of panic that I am internally bleeding and am going to be found dead in a pool of my own blood.
- I'm also out of pads, so wondering what I am going to do.  Then I remember I have a nearly endless supply of diapers!  And nighttime diapers! And pull-ups!  I get a variety of diapers, the scissors and some cloth medical tape ready in case I need to do some emergency arts and crafts.
- I have nice sheets that are white, so I decide the best solution is to sleep on the extra waterproof crib mattress pad.  It's not that comfortable, actually, as it is designed to be fitted around a crib mattress.  But thankfully I don't destroy it or my bedding.

So, yeah.  Loads of scary blood, pregnant people, solo parenting, and a lack of sanitary products. Oh, and I pretty much lost the pregnancy, although we knew that was happening.  Was over all a fabulous evening.

Today, my husband is home and I am going to curl up and do nothing.  Except maybe eat a cupcake.  And cry.  Because I am nearing the end of my rope and I am about to turn 43.  It was not supposed to happen this way.

UPDATE:  Sonafab*tch. My HCG went from 2199 on Monday to over 8000 today.  My stupid body doesn't know I am miscarrying. More bloodwork today and then may have to help this along.  Motherf*er. Can this not be easy???? 

Monday, April 1, 2013

Ugh and double ugh: Udated

Been having some intermittent sharp pains/ dull achiness on the right side and since I was going in for bw this morning, mentioned it to the nurse.

US shows nothing.  And by nothing I mean nothing obviously in my uterus (where there should be a sac visible by now) and nothing definitive in either tube/ ovary.  I'm going to the fancy u/s (with the pregnant women, where they definitively diagnosed my m/c last year) at 11am.

Shit shit shit.

More later.

Fancy u/s shows what may be a very small gestational sac in my uterus.  Nothing obviously awry anywhere else and no sign of bleeding anywhere.  Beta is 2199, so rising appropriately.  So I'm pregnant, but we can't really find it yet.

Option 1- a perfect gestational sac shows back up on Thursday with a yolk sac and other stuff.  All proceeds as we hope.
Option 2 - no sac anywhere/ sac shows up somewhere else.  Ectopic dx.
Option 3 - gestational sac there but small and continues to measure behind until it's all over.

I'm going to hope for Option 1 and bet on Option 3.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

It's up to 1066

Phew. This seems good. Doubling time is now 40 hours, so that's pretty good. Dr. is pleased.  I am ok.

Actually did not hear from the Dr until 630 a even that required several calls and some agita.

I guess we will just keep crossing our fingers until Monday, when I do this again.  If all good then us Thursday.

 No real symptoms to date except some tugging- cramping feelings in my uterus.   Oh and I have had two bloody noses. Which I've never had before. Not sure what that means except I should carry more tissues.

Pretty much now settling into the waiting.  Easier during the weekend than when I am at my desk.

Thank you all for the emotional support. 

Friday, March 29, 2013


Oh but the crazy is hard to work through.

I am obsessively trying to sort out whether my beta levels are actually too low for this to be a real, sustainable pregnancy.  I've convinced myself that this is doomed.  Here is why.  Apparently low HCG levels are associated with an increased risk of miscarriage after heartbeat is seen.  And they define low as 181 on 16 dpo.  And I was 176.

I know this is different than my last pregnancy -- those numbers were definitively low -- 39 at 15 dpo, 264 at 19 dpo, 920 at 21 dpo -- but for some reason I feel that mine are still low now and that, combined with my age, is just predicting disaster.  I feel somehow like this stupid chart that I use to plot betas only means real baby if your betas are ABOVE the max line (as mine were for B).

I don't want to get excited by a heartbeat again and then lose this.  If I do, I think I will see that as a sign and just give up.

I've convinced them I am going in tomorrow.  Even though they really don't usually run HCG tests on the weekend.  I just can't take the crazy.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Beta 2 -- all looks ok

476.  Doubling time of 34 hours and right on the median on the fancy chart I use.  I wish I could figure out how to cut the image from the website, but whatever.

I'm both trying to relax and enjoy each moment as it comes as well as freaking the f*ck out.  At the same time.

I know that my risk of miscarriage is very high
I know the risk of chromosomal abnormality is very high
I know that at my age the risk of preterm labor is high

I also know that I have never ever gotten pregnant before without ART despite months and months of trying, and that this -- especially at my age -- is nothing short of a miracle.  I'm not that religious, so I don't throw that word around lightly.  I speak more of probabilities and likelihoods.  But this?  Defying pretty much all I know about statistics.

So this can go sideways or down or bad in about 100 different ways, but right now I'm focusing on the "miracle" part of this.

I may go in for another beta on Saturday am, just because I am crazy.  I own the crazy though, and frankly I think a situation like this warrants some crazy.

Part of me wants to call my OB, who I love and would be friends with if she wasn't also my OB, and tell her about this.  But then I remember that right after I made the appt. last time I had a miscarriage and when I went to see her it was for the d&c.  So I will wait until after this u/s.  And maybe until after I can hear a heartbeat (although I saw that last time, too).  I'm rambling.  And shockingly unproductive at work.

I'll find out later this pm about an u/s next week.  Holy sh*t.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

So a funny thing happened

I appear to have gotten pregnant.  Without IVF.  At age 42.8.

I went in for bloodwork to check on where my period was to start my IVF cycle, and so imagine my surprise when my RE called me to tell me that I hadn't gotten a period because my beta was 173 at what I believe is 16 dpo.  Or thereabouts.  Because I wasn't really paying attention this month as we had been taking a bit of a break.

Anyway.  I'm surprised as all get out.  And anxious.  Because, you know, this is only the very very beginning of the road and I have been here before.

Because I really thought they had mixed my results up with someone else, I went and bought the fanciest, most expensive pregnancy tests I could find. It says I'm pregnant, too.  I'm including a photo for you to see.

It's ridiculous.  Truly ridiculous.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

My son turns two and we visit the ICU

Let's start by saying we are all fine.  Now.  But it has been a LOOONG week.  This is mostly just stream of consciousness because I need to get it out of my head and on paper.

Ben turned 2 last Saturday, and we had a lovely party with brunch and a cake with ladybugs on it and presents and many many helium balloons and it was all good. (I will write more on that later.  There's a post about being a working mom that is brewing, but I have to get the scary part out first.)  The best way, I think, is with a timeline.

Sunday night, our Superbowl viewing was interrupted by crying.  B had vomited his dinner everywhere and had a fever of 102.  Mommy and Daddy tag team to clean him up and change his bed, and we both regret giving him milk at bedtime and strawberries for desert.  But within 30 minutes he is full of advil and back asleep soundly.

Monday morning, he wakes up fine with no fever.  He's surprisingly not hungry, though.  We take ourselves to his well baby checkup and are pleased to hear that his chest and ears are clear and that this is probably just one of the many viruses running around.  B once again is charming and lovely, after he ceases his hysterics about  having to leave the toys in the waiting room.  He is a picture of health, and we discuss important things like the dentist, potty training and 2% milk.

Monday evening, the fever is back, but just in the 101s.  We give him advil before bedtime and he sleeps through the night.

Tuesday morning, I leave really early, before he wakes.  DH and nanny report he still has a fever, and he's breathing rapidly. I check with his ped and they tell me to control his fever and watch for really labored breathing, but that the rapid respiratory rate can be due to fever. They recommend really pushing fluids, since rapid breathing and fever can lead to dehydration.

Tuesday night, I get home by 6pm. B is still breathing heavily, but he's so congested at this point that it seems reasonable.  Fever still not very high (102) but he has not eaten or wanted much to drink.  DH and I are sick too, at this point, with sore throats and coughs.  Advil and bed.  Sleeps through the night.  We discuss taking him to the Dr. in the morning if he is not better.

Wednesday morning, B is really starting to labor to breathe and his fever is above 103 even after the advil, so DH and nanny and B take a taxi to the ped (I am, of course, at an IVF related appointment across town).  Ped gives him two nebulizer treatments and some oral steroids (both bronchodilators), and then sends them to ER and tells them "don't wait."

Late Wednesday morning, I pick them up in cab and we all go to ER together. Right back to where I was for my early morning appointment. ER triage seems not very alarmed by B, in contrast to his parents, since he is taking 60+ breaths per minute and using his diaphragm to breathe and he is trying so hard you can see his ribs. And his blood oxygen levels are in the mid-80% range. (Note they should be above 95%.) We go into ER and they pretty much immediately start him on supplemental oxygen and another nebulizer, which make no difference at all.  The nurses seem not necessarily alarmed, but we get a fair amount of attention.  IV gets put in, but he wiggles and then (since I am on the bed with him) I am sitting in a pool of my own child's blood.  They start magnesium (another bronchodilator), hoping to make it easier for him to breath.  Fancy oxygen contraption brought in with special mask.  This one is pressurized so forces additional air into his lungs every time he takes a breath. Oxygen levels finally stabilize but he is still working hard. They take a chest xray.  He naps on my chest while I stare out into space and just try not to panic while my baby struggles to breathe. I ask the resident whether my baby boy will recover from this and he tells me "he should." Which is frankly small comfort.

We get asked a lot of questions about asthma history, other health, etc.  He's pretty much been the picture of health since he was born (barring some early reflux), and no one in our family has asthma.  They start him on IV antibiotics since his xray is a bit cloudy.

By early Wednesday afternoon they tell us he has 3 viruses -- RSV and two cold viruses, and the pneumonia is likely viral as well.  RSV is the worst on day 4, and so we hope we are closer to the end than to the beginning, but everyone is surprised he has three different viruses that he is fighting off.

Later Wednesday afternoon his breathing rate slows and he appears to be working slightly less hard to get air into his lungs, and there is an ICU bed available, so we go upstairs.  To the pediatric INTENSIVE CARE UNIT. My brain is sort of refusing to process that we are in a place where the VERY sick kids go, until we are there. And then we are there, and we are sharing a room with two other VERY sick little girls. I can't even look at them with all of their beeping and tubes -- they are both sedated and restrained and it makes me nauseous to think of what could go wrong and so honestly I pretend that they are not there, except I know that they are and that it is the saddest thing I have seen, and breaks my heart for their families (who I never even see).

By this point he is off the pressurized air and just on regular oxygen, and still on IV fluids since he has not had anything to eat or drink in a day.  He's begging for water but we can't give him any since the pressurize air machine can make him choke, so I have to tell him he is drinking through his arm.  At which point he tries to pull out the IV. He's now covered in cords monitoring heart rate, respiratory rate, blood O2 levels, and he, who hates any stickers on his body, is ANGRY.  And screaming.  But thankfully he stops.  Except he wants to get off the bed and walk.  This is a good sign, I guess, that he wants to walk, since he begged to be carried earlier, but there is no way he can walk anywhere with his many tubes and cords. And again, he is ANGRY (and a little bit scared, too).

By early Wednesday evening we get approval to let him drink since he is getting better enough that we don't need the pressurized air machine anymore and he sucks down 8oz of water in about a second.  His fever has broken and he also is finally talking after being pretty silent for most of the day (oh, except for the crying.  So much crying.).  All of this makes me much happier, since I can see his energy levels are back up.  I finally exhale and realize that he is getting better and going to be ok.

If I'm honest, I don't think I actually was as scared as I should have been.  I just stayed in the moment and believed (perhaps foolishly) that once we were in the hospital nothing bad could happen since there were drs and nurses and they would not let bad things happen. I just sort of shut my brain off to the possibility of terrible things and dealt with what was in front of us right then.  When my husband started to cry I did too a bit, and then I told him to get his shit together since I did not want to scare Ben. So yeah, I was anxious when he wasn't getting better with the initial nebulizers and steroids, but it was never panic. I guess that's good. Probably my own coping mechanisms.  I'm actually pretty good in a crisis. (Note I was in a building hit by a plane on 9/11, and while I was scared, I never actually panicked. I just believed that it would all work out ok and that I would walk down the stairs and get out.  When I got home much later I completely lost my shit. But that's another story.)

At around 7pm my wonderful wonderful nanny who had been with B all day went home, and by 11pm so did DH.  B went to sleep in the big hospital bed and then I made the pullout and went to sleep.  Turns out the ICU is noisy, and every time B moved his O2 mask would come off and his levels would drop and he would beep, and then I would leap up and fix it.  But he actually got about 7 hours of sleep.  And except for the 15 minutes that he woke up terrified and screaming, it actually was not so bad. It broke my heart into about 1000 pieces to see him so scared, but I was ultimately able to soothe him and get him back to bed.

At 6am Thursday I wake up with a red and gooey right eye. But Ben is talking and has no fever and his o2 levels are good when off the mask.  WHen DH at 9 I leave to the eye Dr. (catching pink eye from the ER was really not cool, and almost put me over the edge) and home to clean up and pick up lunch for the troops. He's doing so much better that I know that the worst is over.  When I am home and standing in his room I cry. Just because he belongs in his crib not some hospital bed with cords and tubes and beeping machines.

At noon I return and learn he has eaten a bit and is drinking a lot of water and was chatty and alert (all in contrast to the previous day). Attending tells us we will be able to leave if he has sufficient wet diapers and his sleeping o2 levels are high enough.  Which requires him to sleep, which he is refusing to do.  I finally get him down for a nap without o2 and his levels stay in the low nineties, even though he is still taking 40 odd breaths per minute. 2 hours later, he wakes up, and by 6pm we are on our way home with instructions to monitor his resp rate and to go to the ped in the morning to check in.

Overall, we thought that the nurses and drs at the hospital were wonderful. So so good to him and to us.  We are lucky -- we live near some of the best care in the world, and we feel like we got it for our little boy.

By 630 pm Thursday we are home.  He runs around like a madman touching all of his things and talking.  We give him a bath and I weep a little bit at his bruised arm and the sticky stuff from the monitors on his back.  He's pale and 2+ lbs lighter than he was early in the week, and he's still a little wheezy, but he is in our house in warm soapy water in the tub and he is going to be fine.

We put him to bed and then time his breathing all night long. It's fine. He is fine. My husband and I sit on the sofa like zombies, but for our own hacking and coughing (yeah, we now are ALL sick with the miserable cold).  He sleeps for nearly 12 hours and wakes up and in the morning tells me "Actually Mommy is wearing a night gown." For some reason this makes me laugh hysterically and we sit in the big chair snuggling and giggling for a couple of hours.

By Friday he seems fine. Today he seems more so.  Monday he went back to regular activities and playing with kids.  We went sledding on Sunday. But he is skinny and pale still and his arm is still bruised and he talks about ouchies and the mask like an elephant. He's still processing it.  So am I (obviously). I never, never want to go back to the ICU.  My heart breaks for parents of sick children who need to be there more than just one night. We are so lucky -- my baby boy is going to be just fine.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

You are my sunshine

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

This was how I was serenaded by my little boy while he stood in his room wearing a ridiculous hat and strumming his guitar.

My heart almost burst.

I realized that my last two posts were really pretty depressing.  Not just a little bit, but completely grim.  But to be honest, life isn't really like that at ALL.  In fact, our days are regularly brightened by the remarkable little boy in our home.  So this post is all about B and what a wonderful spectacular kid he is.  Note I have not said "baby" because it is pretty clear that he is no longer a baby.  As we approach his 2nd birthday (how the time has flown!), I thought that it might be good to just put some of the wonderful things he does down on paper.

He's fully into toddlerdom now.  Everything is "Ben's turn" or "wanna do it" (we still aren't 100% on the pronouns here.)  While it makes for some annoyingly long processes (putting on pants, pouring milk, scrubbing in the bath), it is remarkable to watch him assert his separate-ness and independence.  He's also increasingly bossy.  "Mommy sit in the chair" "Mommy sit in THAT chair" "Mommy pick me up" "Mommy jump."  The other day, instead of being greeted with a hello or a good morning, I was greeted by "Mommy turn off the humidifier. Sit in chair. Want to sit on lap wearing bib and drink milk."  So yeah, bossy.  But at least the kid knows what he wants. For at least a second or two.

He's also started crying more. When we say no. When we take away an inappropriate object (no it is NOT ok to put a ziploc freezer bag over your head, thankyouverymuch). When we stop doing something he wants to keep doing.  But mercifully, he is easily distracted and we can usually stop the tears in a minute or two. The other day he had the closest thing I've seen to a true meltdown tantrum, and after some hugging and being diverted by a book he was ok.  But I fear for whats coming -- I can see them getting worse.  He already has figured out that by pinning his elbows to his body he can prevent being picked up easily, which, with enormo-baby, makes for some interesting ways of holding him.  Sunday since he refused to hold my hand, I had to scoop him up and carry him like a wiggly, howling football across the street. The nice thing is that it's NYC and no one pays much attention to strangers.

Other things?  He is really starting to do imaginative play all by himself.  He takes his toys and makes little voices and talks to them.  Animals go for walks in the stroller, get put to sleep with a pillow, get woken up, walk, play the piano -- all to his low-level narration of what's happening.  He also does some funny voices for the animals, which is just a riot.  He has some foam bath toys and last night the gorilla was walked down the edge of the tub and was put to sleep.  All in a funny voice.  Which made me bite my tongue laughing.

He loves loves loves music.  We presently have an entire band in his room -- recorder, small piano, banjo, various shakers and bells -- and he will play them and sing songs.  He has a repertoire of about 10-20 songs at this point, which is pretty amazing, and if you are humming one he will recognize it and start singing. We just recently started allowing him to use the iPad (he had the flu and we were going stir crazy and broke down) and he loves the Magic Piano app (as do I!) and has learned nearly all of the instruments in the orchestra from another app that I love (Meet the Orchestra).  I love that he loves music, so we are trying to keep more non-kids music on in the house so that he can hear the instruments and just get accustomed to rhythm, etc.

I think the most amazing thing to see is his language development.  He's always been a pretty good talker, but now he actually speaks.  In sentences that make sense. He can tell me what he did during the day, and I get it. And he can tell me what he wants, and I can help him.  Or he can ask me questions, and I can explain things.  This last bit both blows me away and cracks me up.  "Shall we put on our coat?" "Shall we read a story?" Not quite sure why he speaks like the Queen of England, but I'm not complaining.  Earlier this week he asked "Why is the wipes on the floor over here?" to me when I had put an empty tissue box on the floor to take to the recycling.  It was a good question -- it didn't belong on the floor -- but I was not prepared to have to explain what I was doing.  At least not yet.  I see a lot more "Why..." questions in my near future, and it's pretty amazing.

Along with his speaking, he's started recognizing letters.  He can pretty reliably recognize about 5-7 capital letters ("That's a C over there"  "That's TWO C's!")  So going outside is now a letter finding extravaganza and can make a bus or subway ride, which is already the best. thing. ever. even more entertaining.  He is trying SO hard to find the letters, that he's getting new ones every week.

He is snuggly and wants all bumps and bruises kissed by Mommy's magical kisses, and loves to give hugs and snuggle into my lap while we read stories.  And when I come home after work he runs to me and says "Mommy!" and I scoop him up with kisses and it is the best moment of my day.

Since I've gone on at quite some length about the wonders of B (yeah, biased), I'll leave you with a photo.  He could not be a better, more awesome kid.  (And yes, my husband does wear a coat that color. All I can say is, if there's an avalanche in NYC, he'll be found first.)