Whenever I dreamed about being pregnant, I always imagined I would be like other women, carrying to near term, going into labor at home, and rushing to the hospital in the wee hours between contractions. As it turns out, that is not going to be my story.

Earlier in this pregnancy, I started showing signs of higher blood pressure at the doctor’s office. I’ve always been someone who suffers with a bit of white coat syndrome, so I was told to monitor at home on a daily basis and report in. I’ve been doing that since around week 18 and it’s been going well.

On Friday, I had an OB appointment and my blood pressure was higher than it’s ever been at the doctor’s. This concerned my OB enough that she asked me to have some additional blood drawn before going home. Because of a quirk in our medical coverage, I wasn’t able to have it done at the lab in the medical building and was sent over to the Perinatal Evaluation and Treatment Unit at the Pennsylvania Hospital instead.

I showed up, thinking it was going to be a quick in and out experience. But when they checked me, my blood pressure was really, really elevated (I don’t remember precisely, but I think it was nearly 180/90. Not good). I was given a gown, they inserted an IV, put me in a bed, and got to work.

That first night, I was really hoping that this was an isolated incident and that I’d get to go home the next day. But by the next morning, I’d been diagnosed with preeclampsia with severe features. Going home while still pregnant was no longer an option.

Instead, a new plan started to form. If they could get my blood pressure under control, I was going to stay in the hospital until I got to 34 weeks gestation, at which point I would be induced. Apparently, that’s the sweet spot where the babies continue to get the most good from continuing to grow while impacts on the mom are slim to none.

And so that’s where things stand. As long as things continue as they look right now, I’ll be in the antenatal unit until July 11, when they’ll induce me. This plan could change again if my situation stops being stable, but right now, my blood pressure is responding beautifully to a single daily dose of medication.

I am feeling at peace with this outcome right now, though it took me several days to work through the grief and sadness of having to surrender my initial vision of what giving birth would be like.

From the beginning, finding out that I was pregnant with twins has forced me to keep giving up my vision and expectation for the coming reality, so this is nothing new. But even though I’ve had some practice with readjusting and accepting the new future as it unfold, this one was hard. Still, I’m making the choice (sometimes minute by minute) to flow with this experience rather than resist it.

I won’t pretend that I don’t have moments of regret for how this time might have been (being home, getting to nest, having more time pregnant). But I’m trying to let them go as they pop up rather than let them dwell. And each time, I come back to the gratitude I feel for having been so cared for.

I am incredibly thankful for all the doctors and nurses who’ve been keeping us healthy and safe. They have been so kind and caring. The fact that these babies and I will get through this formerly deadly disease of pregnancy is because of them.

If we’re friends on Facebook, you probably already know most of this story, but it felt like a good idea to gather it up and keep it here too. I’ll be back with more details in the days to come.

I realized recently that I see this blog like I did my childhood diaries. Certainly, it is an imperfect record of the last 14 years of my life. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve written here and I realize that I had the false belief that I needed to catch this site up on all that’s happened in that time, much like I often felt during my adolescent journaling days.

Instead of trying to recap a year of life, here’s where things stand right now. I am seven months pregnant with twin boys. I’ve known all my life that I wanted to be a mother and it’s exciting and slightly surreal that it’s finally happening.

At some point, I want to document the specifics of the path it took to get here (one particularly fruitful round of IVF), as well as the struggles and joys of being pregnant, but I thought it was important to drop in and share this news, just in case anyone still follows this site but not any of my other online outlets.

I am hoping to breath new life into this blog as things progress. Scott and I have decided to stay in the apartment for as long as we can, so the site name I randomly picked 14 years ago remains applicable and appropriate.

More soon!

I spend a least a few seconds every day wishing I could find a way back to regular writing on this blog. A thought will dash across my consciousness and I’ll comment to myself, “that would make a good blog post.” Or I will read something that I long to share. And then the moment passes and I go back to answering emails or making jam.

Today, I decided that when the moment struck, when I longed to write just of the pleasure of putting words down, I’d do it. Of course, now that I’m here, the clamor inside my head is such that I can’t settle on a single topic. So let me tell you about a book I read recently.

Over the last year, I’ve been working my way through Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone series. It’s also known as the alphabet mystery series (A is for Alibi, etc), and despite being a lifelong lover of female driven detective novels, I’d always dismissed it because of its naming convention.

Late last year, Sue Grafton died and I found myself reading a number of obituaries and tributes to her work. The resounding message was that she was a remarkable writer and her 25 book series was worthy reading if you like well-realized lady detectives.

So, starting at the front of the alphabet, I started reading. In the last six and a half months, I’ve read 19 of the books (along with a collection of short stories mostly set in the same world called Kinsey and Me). Every single one has been highly entertaining. Some have been thoroughly engrossing.

And the most recent one I read, S is for Silence, was truly and utterly excellent. It adopts a different narrative convention than most of the other books in the series, sharing the point of view with other characters rather than keeping us inside Kinsey’s head. It moves back and forth in time in a way that feels natural and expertly crafted. And the story is damned good.

While I highly recommend the entire series, if you’ve never read anything by Sue Grafton and just wanted to dip your toe into the world she created, this novel offers a stand alone entry point that I really loved.

We tried to buy a house in West Philadelphia this week. After nearly three years of looking and we finally found a dwelling that we both liked enough to offer vast sums of borrowed money for. But it didn’t work out. Another offer was accepted and the reason given was the terms.

Our agent thinks that must mean that someone came in with cash (because no person in their right mind would waive the inspection. It was being sold by an estate so there was no seller disclosure. No matter how good it looked on the surface, any number of ills could have been lurking below)

We don’t have nearly half a million dollars in cash, so we could not compete with that.

Despite having some lingering sadness that this house won’t be where I get to live (it had all of its original quarter sawn oak woodwork! The kitchen was dated but usable and enormous! There was a second staircase!), I can see that the exercise of making the offer has been useful.

On a practical level, all our financing is in place for next time. We’ve figured out more clearly what we will and won’t compromise one. I have a lovely letter to the sellers that I can tweak to go along with a future offer.

It was also helpful on a more interior scale. I’ve really struggled with the concept of leaving the apartment since it’s such a tangible tether to my grandparents and I’ve lived here so long myself. However, I could feel how the prospect of this house broke down many of my attachments. That process of detachment is going to be useful no matter where we end up living.

I still feel a little sad. But I also feel hopeful and excited for what comes next.

I just discovered a feature in my feed reader (Feedly, if you’re curious) that let me sort my various RSS subscriptions by how recently they’d been updated. As I scanneds through the list, I was horrified to realize that it has been more than seven months since I posted here. I’ve started and abandoned a few posts more recently, but I last posted in early January. I don’t think I’ve ever let this site go fallow for quite so long.

The other thing that I found striking as I scanned through the list of blogs that had gone dark was how many of them were my blogging people. The folks I discovered when I was just getting started and with whom I struck up real friendships. I miss those early days of blogging, when you didn’t need perfect pictures and a post didn’t require a vigorous social media campaign in order to find some readers.

It makes me sad.

I can’t imagine that there are that many people reading this blog (since it’s been inactive for most of 2017), but here are a few quick updates. I’m working on my 4th cookbook. I’ve become a morning workout person (this took quite a lot mental energy at the start, but is working out well now). Scott and I are still living in Apartment 2024, though we are ramping up our house hunting efforts. We recently spent two weeks out on the west coast, celebrating my mom’s 70th birthday and hanging out with my family. It was lovely.

Every year as the calendar changes over, I spend a little time pondering my life and habits. I’ve set many a goal and resolution over the years, to varying degrees of success. This year, I’m not setting any concrete goals. What I am doing is declaring an intention. And here it is.

In 2017, I intend to show up for the things that matter to me. I will allow myself to drop the balls that need to be dropped and celebrate the ones that remain aloft. I will place people above output. And I will love myself no matter what. 

Of course I also have a long list of things I want to do and be in the coming year. But carving the intention down to the most basic feels good and right for me at the moment.