Stuff

So much is on my mind that I'm just going to have a gobbledy-gook post this evening. Sorry about that.

Went for my prenatal blood test today. We went all the way down to Porter Medical Center to do it so we could see the Birthing Center. It's about an hour drive. Today it was snowing. Fifty minutes was good enough, especially considering I didn't know exactly where I was going. Come August, it will either be easier or harder to make it in an hour, being in the heart of Construction Season and all.

The blood draw was easy. I hate blood draws, so the lab tech letting me babble at her was fantastic. I hope Alex's first real blood draw isn't traumatic; I'm pretty sure she's O neg like me. I'd like her to be able to donate blood without inducing trauma on volunteers.

The tour was cool. The Birthing Center is tiny. We were shown the recovery room that one might be moved to if they are really busy. There are two of those. Then we were shown a birthing suite. If it's not busy that would be the room I'm admitted to, labor and deliver, and recover in and the baby would room-in. There are three of those rooms. The nursery is all glass and the nurse reassured us that the baby would only really be there for a heel prick, or in an emergency, that is where the baby would be stabilized before transport.

I live a fifteen minute bus ride from the hospital they would probably transfer the baby (or myself) to, if there were an emergency. Taking public transit from my house is a quicker ride than in a speeding ambulance from Middlebury... I know that birth is normal and natural and has happened all over the world for eons. As a reader and student of the female condition, I have a hard time forgetting that women and infants have died in childbirth, or shortly thereafter, for eons. I was a C-section because my mother's pelvis would not separate. After 46 hours of labor, my delivery was an emergency. I spent a week in the NICU at Mary Hitchcock (a tale worth its own post). Alex was born after my membranes were ruptured for me and the doctor had me on pitocin for a total of 16 hours. I got nine hours off for sleep and one for lunch. I'm a little nervous. I think Bryn is too, but we haven't really articulated our fears to one another. He doesn't like "dwelling" and thinks that bad thoughts can manifest into the things feared. I want to talk about our fears, but I don't want to upset Bryn. He'll just tell me there's nothing to worry about.

I want waffles.

So Dev, I've been reading a bit and I'm not sure I need a doula. At least not this far out. I'll still need to research a bit, but I think I may (oh boy) be fine. I have a fantastic set of midwives - who are beloved of the nursing staff at Porter, by the way. The nurse who gave us the tour asked who we were going with and she just had fantastic things to say about each of the midwives. She loves the midwife we are going with, but she is pregnant so we are going with Martha for our visit next week, which was just fantastic with the nurse, but Anita is really very sweet too, she should know, she used to work in their office. And then there is the fact that my mom's new best friend is a midwife who has offered her more maternal services. Lord knows I'm not letting Mom in for delivery, but her best friend may be welcome. And then there is Bryn. I think the family friend may be what I need. I'll keep researching though.

I think I may be over the worst of the queasy thing. I still have bouts of it, but my main urge is to eat my way through it. What I really want is cantaloupe. Or waffles. I had a mad craving for cheese steak sandwiches two weeks ago. I must have eaten three of them that week. Spinach salads sound good until I go to choose a dressing. I like creamy dressings on my spinach, vinaigrettes don't really cut it, but the smell of the creamy dressings just puts me off. Pretzels were unappealing for a while. That was just weird. Peppermint tea, one sugar, room temperature is the greatest beverage ever. I can even forgo the sugar, just don't make me drink it hot.

I want a Twizzler.

I have a new primary care physician. He's asked me to call him by his first name. I feel old. He's really friendly and super sweet though. He checked me out, told me that the midwives can check my abdomen and breasts, and recommended a new brain care specialist. I was not in the least off-put by his attitude towards my pregnant places - I kind of liked that he was more than happy to defer to the ladies who DO pregnancy. I will see him again in a few months.

The new brain care specialist (I have seen counselors, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, etc... I've seen them all for the same thing - my mental health (that I stole the phrase from a Vogon is irrelevant)) is a neat lady in the same office as the new doctor. She let me babble for the first hour. Maybe at tomorrow's meeting she will speak more. She implied that she would, but time will tell. I was working on weaning off of my anti-depressants while I was trying to get pregnant. The stomach virus finished the job. She and I are going to work on keeping me that way, at least until the baby is weaned. That is my goal. I had a rough time last year. Wish me luck.

I've been a bit of a hormonal mess. Bryn can probably speak to it better than I can so I will leave off with the fact that I was bawling yesterday about dishes. I was threatening to pile them in the driveway and run them over with the car rather than wash them. He couldn't understand me through the blubbering and thought I said "tissue", as that was what I was looking at when I spoke. He really didn't get the driving pantomime in reference to the snotty tissue. It wasn't just the dishes, of course. I was also a mess about not hearing him correctly. He teases me but I haven't been able to hear his smile lately; all I hear are the words, which I then have an over-reaction to. So he teases me about not doing the dishes, I freak out on him, he tell me to calm down, I realize I'm over reacting and completely meltdown. Within said meltdown I bring up all the other things that make me unhappy. I have no passion anymore, I can't hear his smile, I can't stand being touched, I have no idea what I'm going to do with my degree, I have no idea how we are going to pay for the trip to Boston, I have no Work-Study money this semester, crap I haven't finished reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, I sleep too much, there's too much laundry, should we cloth diaper the baby?, if I could afford disposables I can afford the diaper service, right?, AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!! And then I start driving over tissues. It's a good thing Bryn loves me. Alex worries when I cry. Bryn tells her I'm fine and I try to reassure her as well, but I think it may be a bit scary for her.

Anyone have a Fudge Round? Twix? 3 Musketeers?

I think I'm doing better. Next week is the midwife appointment where I may actually lie down on a table and get my belly prodded. I may get a sonogram. We may discover the gender (maybe).

I want a boy. I want a boy badly enough that I'm wondering if I'm willing to have three girls in an effort to get a boy. I am the only daughter of an only daughter of an only daughter. Bryn has female cousins and a sister. He's it for the Milks name. A boy would be so cool. My mom thinks it's cool enough that I'm breaking the only child chain, a boy would be gravy. (Please little Zoe, if you read this, don't be offended. We love you.)

Mmmm.... when is cantaloupe in season again?

Yes, we have names picked out. Yes, if it's a girl her name will be Zoe. Alexandra and Zoe. Get it? I'm not divulging the middle name. I was on a forum when I was pregnant with Alex and we went around one day and shared the names we had chosen for our April babies. A woman who delivered on Alex's due date used my boy name, first and middle, for her son. I was so offended. I looked back and she was going to call him Micheal. I suppose it means I have better taste, but it was weird and I felt robbed. Suffice to say, I'm not really worried about anyone stealing the names so much as I want there to be a bit of surprise. On a side note, neither of our mothers like the girl name. We're sticking to our guns though. We think it's perfect.

I think I've blathered enough for one post. I'm off to find some ice cream. Or an apple. Fruit leather?

Baby bonds

I just read a really interesting article on Boingboing, which I don't normally credit with ... being credible... brain not working...
Anyway, it says that baby cells are still in the mother's body and vice versa. Anybody have any thoughts about this?

Birth Plan

I wrote up a birth plan.
Earth Mama Angel Baby, on top of having some really fantastic healthy products, offered up the form. It was weird when I received it, until I realized that it only showed the choices I had made and none of the things I had decided against.

I think that having what I want in writing, and in my midwife's hand, will empower me to have the birth I want instead of the one my doctor wants to give me. Alex's birth was ... a little on the traumatic side.

I thought Alex and I were going to be fine. I was not allowed to think this for the last day of labor. I had been given pitocin. My membranes had been ruptured. I was forced to wear the external fetal monitor that refused to stay still and confined me to the bed, itched, and constantly threw the nurses into a tizzy by picking up my heart and not Alex's. I got to squat up to a point, then I was manhandled onto my back with my feet in stirrups. One of the nurses grabbed my left knee and told Alex's dad (former varsity football player, varsity wrestler, physical laborer) to pull on my right, "Don't worry, you can't hurt her. Pull!" Needless to say, my right hip has never been the same. I was given an episiotomy against my express wishes. I did not see my daughter until an hour after her delivery, though she never left the room. The only thing about the entire experience (other than Alex) that made me smile was this weird endorphin rush - I had stripped down naked: my bra was hanging from the IV stand. I asked the pediatrician, "Dr. Hall, now that you've seen me naked, may I call you Elliot?" He smiled back and said, "Just for tonight," and handed me my perfect baby. He was a fantastic pediatrician. I really miss him.

I hope that this birth goes better. I have very high hopes.

Food

I've been thinking about this post for ages now. This was going to be the first one, but ... I love Bryn. If you know nothing about Bryn, know this: he is a phenomenal chef and it is the talent that he prides himself on. He is a decent marksman, he is a great wire-wrapping jeweler, he is the world's best Papa - but his food is... I have no words. So this is going to be hard, but I think I need to be honest.

Have you ever read a Neil Gaiman book called Coraline? The title character asks her father, repeatedly, to stop making "recipes", she just wants dinner. Yeah... that's pretty much how I feel. The only two meals I have positively raved about have been the Philly cheese steaks we had a few days ago and the English muffin pizzas I asked for tonight. Seriously, I raved. They were all kinds of awesome. I wolfed down the first half of both meals and had to stop, terrified I was going to make myself ill by eating so fast. I wanted them, therefore they were awesome.

A little over a week ago I asked for spaghetti. I literally just wanted tomato sauce and spaghetti. Maybe shaky cheese. Bryn cooked bacon, Cajun venison sausage, and ground beef. This was the base for his meat sauce. He put it on top of rotini. Then he grated parmigiana fresh on top of it. I went to collect the bowls from the kitchen to bring to the table and had to BOLT out because of the smell of the cheese. It was almost too strong to sit at the table with it on Bryn and Alex's pasta. Bryn very kindly made my dish without it on top. The sauce was too rich. The mouth feel was too... textured. There was too much stuff in my mouth. And then the smell got to me. I looked so apologetically at Bryn and pushed my bowl toward the center of the table. I'd have said something, but I was still trying to swallow.
Bryn went to the kitchen and made a small bowl of rotini and put some butter on it and brought it to me. The feel of the rotini was too much. I got one mouthful. Just thinking about it is making me feel icky.

Do not judge me. I have fallen madly in love with Sour Patch Kids candies; they calm the queasies, for the most part. I love Twizzlers. I bought Fudge Rounds. It's not like this is my exclusive diet, but they are easy to grab, satisfy munchies, have yet to make me queasy, and make me happy. I don't have to cook anything, which involves smelling the kitchen smells, so that is a bonus. The smell of cooking eggs... the smell of burnt toast crumbs in the bottom of the toaster oven... that weird smell that wafts out of the fridge (it's totally clean, no ancient leftovers, just cold stale air)... the smell of an orange after struggling to peel it for more than 3 minutes - it is now too strong and completely unappealing... Twizzlers don't do that to me.

This would be when I confess that I wish I liked yogurt. I can't stand it. On my best days it makes me want to hurl. I used to make Alex's Annie's Mac and Cheese with yogurt, because it was better for her than milk and butter. I had to hold my breath the entire time I was opening, measuring, stirring... After Alex had her tiny little bowl I would be able to eat it, but I had to let it mellow. I cannot open the little cups for her, I get it on my hands and I tend to freak... Stonyfield now makes yogurt tubes! I no longer have to open little cups for her! But that also means that I have no really healthy options that are ready to eat that can live in the fridge. I like the texture. I like spoons. Pudding is just not the same nutritionally...

I want food to make me happy again. I mean, how can a Fudge Round not make you happy? But I want real food to excite me again. I want one of Bryn's fantastic recipes to make my mouth water when I smell it cooking. Veal picata sounds awesome... I don't think I could handle the smell of the frying right now. Back to bagels with cream cheese - but Bryn did buy fresh tomatoes for them!

Chairs

I've been thinking a lot about where I put my butt lately. Bryn will probably say that this has a lot to do with how much I've been on it. I'm tired... But I have been thinking about when I was pregnant with Alex and the chairs that made me happy.

There were three chairs that I spent most of my time in. The big computer chair shouldn't really count. I had no laptop so if I wanted to look up gestational stages and keep up with my web comics I had to sit in the big ugly, uncomfortable computer chair.

Alex's dad had a big ugly, overstuffed, recliner. It was orange. It was lumpy. I sat in it for hours on end watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Gilmore Girls on DVD with a bowl of salsa balanced on my belly hoping the spices would inspire contractions. It may have been an eyesore, but I couldn't see it when I was in it.

The other chair was a big blue swivel rocker. It was insanely comfortable. Rocking felt so good while I was feeling queasy or overstuffed. The arms were the perfect height when Alex was finally in my arms. I nursed her in that chair until she was weaned. Bryn's cat also loved that chair. I frequently sat on him and batted him away from scratching the fabric. The chair got a lot of abuse. We don't have it anymore...

A friend of mine had a rocking chair in her yard sale. Standard wooden rocking chair, nothing extraordinary. She had recieved it as a baby shower present for her first child. Neither of her daughters ever got rocked in it - it just didn't fit their space. She let me have it for $5. It sat in my mother's garage for years. I think it may have disappeared to the Parent-Child Center along with my electric roaster.

We have two chairs now. One is the computer chair. It's okay for working at the computer, but it's not comfortable for just sitting. The other chair is this really pretty recliner we got from Bryn's mom. It's lovely. It's also falling apart. There is constantly foam under the chair; it's just falling out of the seat. I sit on a pillow in the chair and that helps; but I've thought about nursing in it and I'm pretty sure the arms are too high and far apart.

I don't know... I'm being weird. I could curl up on the sofa. I do wish I had a rocking chair though. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I've never thought this much about my butt and where I park it.

Signs, Symptoms, and Sickness

When I found out I was pregnant, the only real symptoms I had were that I was tired and my breasts were really sensitive. When I say "really sensitive" I mean that I had to dress and undress very deliberately in case the fabric brushed them the wrong way. Silly me, I thought it was PMS despite that never having been one of my symptoms before.

I'm always tired. I can sleep forever. I have always loved naps. I am not sure if I worked in the theatre because I loved the job or the hours. I will gladly stay up into the wee hours of the morn, just don't wake me before 10 am. I am really not the right person for motherhood given this particular weakness - kids are, for the most part, morning people. Like my grandmother. Mom and I were convinced Gram was adopted. No one should be cheerful at 6 am. Mutant. Anyway, tired didn't seem like a symptom of pregnancy. It was just that I finally had a chance to fulfill some nap wishes and I should be tired after my first semester of graduate school. Stress and whatnot.

Queasy... The first time I remember being queasy was after the Yule celebration. I knew I was pregnant at this point, so I treated it like morning sickness. Pretzels, crackers, cheese for protein, ginger ale, and lemonade. Parties are awesome for scrounging tummy settling snacks. Since Bryn was spending the night out at the fire with Ed to make sure the sun came back (old Asatru thing, very neat tradition, second year I've had to forgo it), I curled up in the big comfy chair at their house, slightly propped up. Bishop is the doofiest chocolate lab in the universe, and I adore him, except when he is breathing in my face. Since he is the kind and compassionate type, he was in my face trying to make sure I was okay the entire time I was queasy. I hate shoving him, but he takes hints like an anvil. Dog breath + queasy = dear God, save me!

The Christmas holiday went off without a hitch. I was a little queasy, but I still got to eat. I was a little tired, but I still got to see everyone. Then we drove Alex to meet her father, and Bryn and I were going to have some alone time. We were looking forward to being grown-ups. Tuesday, I felt really sick. Nothing appealed to me. Wednesday it was worse. And then I threw up. I don't do that. Ever. I had friends that worried I was going to die of alcohol poisoning because I don't throw up. Less than ten is the number of times I have thrown up. I don't do it. I prayed the entire time that I was really sick and it wasn't morning sickness.

Thursday I got a call from Alex's dad. She's had a fever since Tuesday and she threw up on Wednesday. What do I want to do? Since Bryn had been suffering with a head/chest cold thing for the past couple of days, I had the stomach thing, and Alex wanted to do nothing but sleep, why don't we just pick her up a bit earlier on Friday than planned? Grampa decided that a sick kid was not a deterrent, so we met at the usual time. Alex slept the entire way home.

We were all gross and sick, so I took Alex to the pediatrician once we got back into town. The pediatrician said it was the Yuckavirus, a bug going around, and the best treatment was Tylenol and popsicles. Boo cheered at that. She was cuddly and snuggly for a few days and then the fever broke. She's been more snuggly with Bryn since her fever, but I think it's because I'm so touchy about my stomach.

Everyone else feels much better. Bryn gets headaches and Boo falls down, but I'm still tired and queasy. I want to feel better. I remember being pregnant with Alex as some of the best feeling times of my life. I felt healthy. My allergies went away. My lactose intolerance went away. I just felt good! Please let the queasies go away...

The Midwife

Bryn and I are going to a midwife recommended to us by dear friends. These dear friends had their last two children with this midwife - and she's at least an hour away from them. Our friends are devoted and I think that speaks a lot. Having met her, I get it entirely.

We are seeing Heather at Tapestry Midwifery. She is delightful. She saw us a few months ago, while we were still just planning and told us all about the practice.

We saw Heather on Wednesday and we talked more about what to expect. Our next visit will be at about 12 weeks where we can have an ultrasound (!) if we want. We will deliver at Porter Medical Center, in Middlebury. Please note the nice write up about Tapestry on the Birthcenter page! Considering how long it took to get Alex, I'm not very concerned about the one hour drive to the hospital. Bryn might be though.

Great meeting with Heather, she approved of my vitamins but recommended iron and calcium supplements - not at the same time as the iron will inhibit the calcium's absorption. Other than that just a few run of the mill items. Oh, and she's pregnant. She's 20 weeks and will be taking most of the summer off. ...

So our next visit is with Martha. I may as well get to know everyone who may be present at the delivery. That said, so far I've liked everyone I've met at the practice. We are greeted and asked if we would like water or tea. We were asked to smile for a picture for our file. We were given a 3-ring binder full of useful information, from signs that would necessitate calling them and procedures for admittance to the hospital to how to treat a headache, who to call for prenatal yoga classes, and good snacks for morning sickness. There are also numbers for doulas, but I'm not quite sure what a doula is... More research!

I need to have some blood work done before the next visit, so Bryn and I will travel down to Middlebury to get it done. We will try out the trip and see the facility at the same time. I'm not very excited about all the driving - I take the bus past a medical center and get off it at Fletcher Allen to get to class - but Porter has nicer things said about it's birthing center and Porter is where my midwife practices. ...but no one likes their local hospital... We'll see.

Spreading the news

I'm a bit superstitious. Blame it on being raised in rural Vermont. Blame it on years working in the theatre. Whatever the cause, I toss salt over my shoulder, pick up pennies, and avoid the Scottish play to such a degree that I've never actually read it (quite the accomplishment for an English major with a background in theatre). All that said: I wanted to wait three months to tell anyone we were pregnant. That went completely out the window on the drive home from Planned Parenthood.

Annie, Bryn's mom, called while Bryn was in the waiting room awaiting me to be done with the official test. He told her that he was waiting for me in the doctor's office and he'd call her back. Needing to explain why we were both at my doctor's appointment necessitated telling her what we were really up to. She was thrilled, apparently started crying, and swore she wouldn't tell my mother. Since I finally had an explanation for my fatigue and nausea, I was thrilled to have someone to talk to about it other than Bryn.

This was Monday, December 19th. I was not going to see my mother until the 24th. Bryn, Alex, and I were visiting friends on the 22nd, and on the 23rd, we would be visiting my father. Bryn's sister, her husband, and their sons were coming on the 25th. There were lots of people we would get to tell in person, but it would have to wait a few days. I'm not good with surprises. Bryn frequently gets his Christmas presents for his birthday (in November) and his birthday presents ... the day I get them.

We live with Alex, the six year-old. Keeping it from her was nearly impossible. It was also important to me that she be aware that Bryn and I were discussing moving. The move would affect her the most: she would need to change schools. Alex was terribly excited about the pregnancy and completely at ease with the idea of moving and changing schools. I'm a bit torn about this. I wanted her to have a sense of stability at least for the couple of years that I'm a UVM, so the idea of moving upsets me more than it does her, apparently. That and living in Colchester is the elementary school jackpot. Moving 300 yards down the street changes everything for her. Anyway, this is a topic for another post. Needless to say, my pregnancy was the topic of Circle Time on Tuesday morning and Wednesday evening's Daisy meeting. Most of Colchester knew I was pregnant before my parents did.

Bryn told his best friend, Ed, Monday night. He could not wait until he saw Ed on Thursday. At least Ed hadn't told his wife by the time I saw her. Joann and Ed have three kids. In the time I have known them I have not known Joann to not be either pregnant or nursing. I told her that I was pregnant this Christmas so she didn't have to be. The smile and hug were epic!

The next day Bryn and Alex and I set off for my father's house. Dad was so excited about Alex that I was hoping for more excitement for the new baby. I prefaced the announcement by saying that we had news. Dad looked happy and excited and said, "You're getting married?" at the same time Alex said that we were having a baby. Dad's face fell, "Oh". I know my dad is old fashioned and if I explained the money side of our decision he might understand, but I was just kind of hoping he would match his mood to the ones we were projecting and complain about it after we had left. My relationship with my father is not really relevant to this post or this blog, but his general disapproval of my life makes me less inclined to call or visit him which tends to make him less approving of me, so he may not show up in this blog nearly as frequently as my mother. I just wish he had been happier about our news. Kathy, my step-mother, and Aunt Barbara, my father's sister, seemed happy, so there's that.

Christmas Eve. I wanted Mom to be comfy and settled in before I told her. Telling her while she's hauling boxes and we're setting up dinner and stuffing our faces seemed imprudent. Mom brought her dear friend Kathleen with her to celebrate the holiday with us. Kathleen is a nurse midwife. Once we were all settled and fed, I was pooped. I told Mom and she practically squealed with joy! I then collapsed into the comfy chair and Mom and Kathleen doted on me. It was nice to have someone around to take care of me. Don't get me wrong, Bryn takes excellent care of me, but the sympathy given by women who have been there and witness it all the time is much different. They did all the dishes! They brewed tea and gave me sour candies! They sent me to bed!

Christmas Day was sort of anti-climactic. Four extra people were coming, but when Phil asked what was new, and Bryn said we had news, Beky squealed from the bathroom, "I knew it!" and that was pretty much the end of it. Eva, Bryn and Beky's stepmother called, and we told her too. Everyone was very happy. But we were done with the personal, face-to-face news telling.

A few people got texts from me on New Years. Bryn made an announcement on Facebook. I made an announcement on Facebook. Bryn told his boss - she is in charge of determining graduate housing so she was going to find out when we applied for a three-bedroom anyway. And she told everyone else.

Guess that's it. The news is out. So much for waiting three months.

Before the Baby

I suppose I should start with why Bryn and I are having a baby. We aren't married. I'm still in school. It doesn't seem like the most rational choice. But it is, sort of.
While I'm in school I'm legally protected. I can take the time I need and not be penalized. They have to let me nurse or pump when I return. In Vermont, there are a lot of allowances for pregnant and new mothers in the workforce, but it's hard to not be a burden when the majority of employers have fewer than 50 employees. I also would not have wanted to put off having a baby much longer and asking for maternity leave soon after getting hired in a career just seems rude.
So, that is how we decided to become parents to a new baby while I work on my Master's degree.
About the married thing... We'd love to. And it may happen before the baby comes, but as it stands, financially it is more prudent to remain living in blissful sin.

We decided to start trying in August. Life grabbed us by the throats and shook us around a bit, so after the initial decision we thought no more about it until mid-September. I joined a study here at UVM that is looking into pre-eclampsia. I'm a pretty decent candidate for the study, but after the initial tests they really need the subjects to get pregnant. So they gave me ovulation and pregnancy tests. As many as I wanted. I took an ovulation test every day for over a month. I started charting my temperature. I was using computer programs, graphs, marking the calendar, and making appointments with Bryn. It was terribly romantic. Then about two months after I started this it occurred to me that we are still relatively young and I'm stressing out about this more than is really necessary.

I was tired after getting the six year-old on the bus and Bryn out the door, so I went back to bed on Monday, December 19, 2011. I had a dream that I woke up to Bryn and Alex coming in the front door and waking me up from dozing while side-nursing my infant son. I woke up suddenly and took a pregnancy test. It took a while for the result to register and even longer for it to register with me. "Blithe, you are a Master's of English candidate. You can read a simple word. It says what you think it says." But I still needed to check a few more times.

I called Bryn and asked him if there were any three-bedroom apartments on our side of the townline and he sounded confused so I let him get back to work.* When he came home we were both in shock-ish and went down to Planned Parenthood, where I ran over a curb, went in the out and tried to get in the backdoor, but they verified the results on the little wee-stick.

Just in time for Christmas!

* the decision to have a baby means possibly moving again. None of us like moving, but even within UVM housing it would mean crossing the townline into Essex Junction from Colchester. That means Alex would have to change schools. Again. Colchester is the jackpot for elementary schools in Vermont, so I hate the idea of leaving this town for the one three blocks away, but Alex seems okay with the idea. I hope she's not expecting Smartboards and computers in every room at the new school.