Guest Post:

In all the talk about Vanessa, no one has mentioned her birthday. It is December 22. Happy Birthday!

For a bigger version of the picture, click here.

I AM FORT KNOX

Well, I'm still pregnant.

I'm in my 38th week now, so this is considered full term. My goodness! We thought this was an impossibility not too long ago. You should see my OB's face light up when he sees me still pregnant and the baby behaving with such obvious good health.

I'm going in twice a week right now, because there are two issues to follow. One is that I'm flirting with preeclampsia, which is a systemic inflammatory response that can harm the baby. In this day and age no one dies of preeclampsia, but if left unchecked, it could be fatal to baby and mother. The cure for preeclampsia is immediate delivery. So far, my blood work looks fine and my BP and proteinuria are holding steady, so no preeclampsia for me.

The second issue is that Vanessa has not dropped. I'm carrying at 40 cm which means I constantly feel sick and she does not have her head down into the birth canal. My OB is concerned that she cannot get her head into position because of the mesh stitched tightly to my abdominal wall. If she can't get her head into the birth canal we have concluded she won't be getting anything else through there, either. My OB is discussing an elective c-section more and more with us. Of course we'd be fine with that plan.

Jack keeps prepping me for my appointments by saying, "Be sure to tell him how uncomfortable and sick you have been. We don't want this going on much longer." It's true: I have made something as natural and wonderful as pregnancy seem like one of the worst diseases known to woman. But when I arrive at the OB clinic I get so jolly and excited I can't contain myself. I keep grabbing my belly and shouting, "HO! HO! HO!" at the front desk staff. They are amused.

Grandma has arrived from Vermont, Granny is soon to follow, and the house is decorated and ready for Christmas. (See Chica disguised as a Christmas ornament.) Now we just need our wee miracle baby!

WHERE IS THIS DAUGHTER?

Yesterday I saw my OB for a check-up and, thinking I may have been progressing towards labor all week last week, I was disappointed to learn that nothing had changed. In fact, I continue to carry very high, prompting my OB to have a grown up conversation with me about possibly needing to schedule a c-section. He can't tell if my abdominal mesh will ever allow the baby to drop. Then, after reviewing my vital statistics and symptoms, he sent me across the street to the hospital for blood work, to see if I have preeclampsia. The cure for preeclampsia is delivering the baby, but my labs came back "normal," so I'm still here, still pregnant.

I find that I am increasingly ready to be done with this amazing and eventful pregnancy.

Last week I purchased a new pair of shoes so I won't have to wear Jack's slippers around town. My new shoes are size 11, a size that many of the shoe stores I visited don't even carry. I love these new shoes, but my feet do still ooze over the sides, thanks to world class edema.

Because we noticed a few changes to my body last week, Jack and I hustled around and got all the basics done around the house. Now we feel relatively ready to hop in the car and rush to the hospital if Nestle decides to make her debut. Here is a shot that Daddio feels is some of his best (and sneakiest) work ever. The other belly shots we took this week are too awful for me to post. In fact, after reviewing the back of our digital camera during one downtown photo shoot, I said, "Okay. Let's get in the car, drive to a bridge, and I'll just jump off." I mean, I look terrible. Jack insists I'm crazy for thinking that, but he's clearly biased and cannot be trusted. I will admit, however, that my horizontal protrusion is impressive. Looking at me from the front, I don't look very pregnant, but from the side... HELLO.

I'm beginning to think this daughter will arrive in June. Surely she'll be delivered in the psych unit if that's the case.

MY FIFTH YEAR DIAGNOSIS ANNIVERSARY

Well, aside from being Pearl Harbor Day and my baby niece Corey's 19th birthday, today is the fifth year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. Usually I try to celebrate the date in some small way, since I believe Dr. Letterie saved my life by discovering cancer. You may recall that Jack and I had been trying unsuccessfully to conceive, and that is what ultimately led me to be diagnosed.

On my one year anniversary, I had a giant surgery with Dr. Sinanan - you know, the one where he snipped out my rectus abdominus muscle - thanks to quick thinking by brother Jim. If it weren't for that surgery, I probably would not be sitting at the computer typing a blog entry right now. In fact, that was about the time I started planning my own funeral. The following year I had a second cancer recurrence and was deep in chemo one again. Making the five year anniversary seemed a daunting challenge and there were many times I envisioned throwing a giant party if I ever made it.

It's been over two years since my last chemo and over three since my last surgery. I so prefer to be pregnant! Many a foxhole prayer went up, but not for a cure or a long life. Instead I prayed I'd live long enough to know what it is to be a mom. My prayers, and the millions of prayers many of you said on my behalf, were answered with an emphatic YES! As sister Anne says, "We don't know why God wants us to pray for others, but we know he does want that." So thank you to all the prayer warriors who joined in or led this community baby project.

Last night Vanessa wriggled and twisted all night long. Since I'm missing an abdominal muscle, I can feel her every move on that side. Today I found myself bawling my eyes out on the highway, thanks to two songs on the radio that I thought would be funny to play during my labor. One was Anything You Want You Got It by Roy Orbison and the other was Twist and Shout by the Beatles. Both have the word "baby" in the lyrics, so of course I was a sobbing mess, with mascara running down my face in true Tammy Faye Baker fashion.

This year, to celebrate, Jack and I talked it over and we did not feel a giant party was in order. How about a fat baby girl instead? Such a celebratory slam dunk, don't you think? Nessa won't be born today - I feel too normal - but I imagine she'll debut this month. Thank you God for our miracle child!

DECEMBER ALREADY?

My, time flies when you have been white-knuckling it to October 15th, doesn't it? Jack and I feel our baby is way overdue right now! I finally ordered that crib mattress today, so little Nessa Van Hoyt will have something to sleep on when she arrives. Phew!

This week we had another birthing class. The topic was labor and pushing, and our instructor gave us many ideas on positions to get into for breathing, pain relief, and/or actual pushing. Coach Hoyt perked right up, since most of the positions looked like calisthenics. In fact, one of the positions was called The Squat - Jack's new favorite lift. I could smell Daddio's competitive juices flowing, as he equated Exercise with Daughter and surely began thinking birthing coach has been his true calling all these many years.

In our class we noticed most of the other mothers look a lot larger than I do. Some are even due weeks after me. We've decided that Vanessa has stretched her 87th percentile self out vertically along my 5' 9" frame. We already know she's making full use of my torso! Of course my 40" barrel chest, broad shoulders, and thunderous thighs surely make my belly look relatively modest. As I was getting undressed the other day Jack said, "You still look like a swimmer from behind, Wife." Ha! Such a sweet liar! Even so, I must say my inner Demi Moore has been urging me to snap a photo or two in my underwear. The pregnant body is so beautiful (minus the potato ankles). I promise to not post any of these photos, so don't be shy about checking the blog again in the future.