By Kim Blakely, pregnant mama

Lately, a night on which I can stay awake past 10 is a wild one indeed – but it’s no wilder than the ones on which I fall asleep at 9:30 and have the weirdest, most vivid dreams imaginable.

Last night, I dreamed my employer had trumped up some misdemeanor charge that was sending half the staff to prison for a year. I, of course, was wringing my hands about missing Christmas with Mojo and about how I would keep my unborn child safe while spending so much time with all those scary, hardened criminals. I woke up in a cold sweat trying to figure out what I would be allowed to bring with me when I reported for punishment.

And – here’s the real kicker – I was actually wondering if they would let me keep possession of my laptop and a cell phone so that I could meet my writing deadlines. Seriously. (Work-related stress diagnosis, anyone? I’m sure there’s some symbolism in that dream, but I’m slightly afraid to delve into what it might represent.)

Anyway, I wake up at 4 most mornings and I can’t go back to sleep … until around 7, when it’s time to get up for the day.

I’ve tried forcing myself to stay awake later in hopes that I can actually sleep through the night, but so far that’s just resulted in less sleep. I still wake up. My own little internal alarm clock chimes and that’s that. My brain snaps to attention, niggling about every little thing under the sun that could possibly be cause for concern – whether I’m really still pregnant, whether I’ll be able to get all my work done on time, whether we’ll be overcome by debt in these troubling economic times.

Over and over, though, I worry about whether I’m getting all the enjoyment I possibly can out of Mojo at age 3 – whether my deadlines and day-to-day responsibilities have overshadowed my real reason for being here, and whether my nighttime/early morning anxiety/all-day nausea and run-of-the-mill first trimester ill-feeling is sucking the enjoyment out of life for him.

Then the sun comes up, and we get up and get busy…

In the light of day, I mostly do feel OK about it all. I just realized as Mojo and I were giggling hysterically about something silly that I probably just need to relax.

There’s never enough time, it’s true. And what there is of it does seem to pass too quickly. But I know we all just have to relish the moments we have. Tomorrow is, after all, another day, and I know I’m free to make of it what I will. After all, that prison thing was just a dream.

By Kim Blakely, infertile pregnant lady

I almost jumped for joy when the nurse in my ob/gyn’s office told me I would be having an ultrasound at today’s appointment. Going into it, I was hoping that I would at least get to hear the heartbeat (you know, as reassurance that there is actually still something growing in there), but to hear the heartbeat and to see the baby, too – wow!! That was a fantastic surprise!!

We saw the baby wiggling around on the screen, and we could see the little heartbeat flickering – the heart rate was recorded at 171. Everything measured on target, although apparently the technician who did the ultrasound a couple of weeks ago recorded the predicted due date as June 7 instead of June 17 and caused some momentary confusion.

My doctor marveled at the thickness of the umbilical cord, remarking that she didn’t usually see them that thick this early and that she wondered if that meant this was going to be a big baby. (Mojo was born three weeks early at 6.0 pounds. Not big.) She didn’t seem concerned about the cord thickness at all … and I wasn’t either, until I left her office and started panicking about whether that could be an indication of some sort of problem that didn’t instantly spring to her mind. Surely not, right?

My morning sickness is still around … most of the day and night. I was blaming it mostly on the progesterone supplements, but my doctor informed me today that it’s probably the baby’s fault – not the medication’s. I should know by now that if I haven’t eaten dinner by about 5 p.m. I can just forget about it because the nausea sets in in earnest shortly thereafter. I haven’t actually gotten sick yet, but sometimes it’s strong enough that I wish I could just throw up and get it over with. Mostly, food just sounds … unappetizing. In general. All the time. And to my husband, who questions whether thinking everything edible is utterly disgusting can actually be termed morning sickness, I only have this to say … Bleh.

I have a more detailed ultrasound, with a nuchal translucency test, scheduled for Dec. 1, the same day as my next ob/gyn appointment. That seems like forever and a day, away.

But, then again, maybe it won’t seem like such a long time after all. This pregnancy tends to go unnoticed (by me!) for hours on end – so unlike my pregnancy with Mojo, when I could scarcely think of anything else. Does that just mean I’m busy (I am, extremely), or am I already playing favorites? Egads. Having two kids is already harder than I thought it would be.

(By the way, someday soon, I really will tell you why I think the South Beach Diet got me pregnant … )

By Kim Blakely, pregnant lady

People - I’m just a little over 7 weeks, but I LOOK PREGNANT. I’ve heard that the belly pops earlier in a second pregnancy than in a first, but good golly …

(I’m hoping that and the fact that I can’t stomach any of the grocery store aisles beyond the produce section are signs that things are still going well … but it sure would be nice to know that for sure anytime I wanted.)

Most days it’s not a problem that I can only tolerate my regular pants for a couple of hours, max, and that I practically live in yoga pants and track suits. I do work from home, after all – with the exception of going out on assignments in two or three hour blocks of time – and Mojo and the pets don’t seem to care about my fashion sense. But this Saturday I have to leave my house before daybreak clad in something presentable until after dark.

What am I going to wear?! Isn’t it a little early to break out the maternity wear? I’m not sure it would even stay up around my hips, actually. With Mojo, I was showing earlier than expected, before I was ready for people to know my secret, so I just went out and bought a couple pairs of pants in a bigger size than what I usually wore. I may have to do that this time, too, although I hate the thought of wasting money on clothes I will probably only wear once or twice. What’s a girl to do? Sigh …

My first ob/gyn appointment is coming up on Monday, and I’m anxious about that to say the least. I’m expecting (yes, I am! See, I’m still not used to that idea.) … um, anyway, I’m expecting to at least hear the heartbeat, and I’m also thinking my doctor might send me for a second ultrasound sometime soon. The nurse did mention another one at eight weeks. I’m also wondering what my doctor will say about all those extra tests recommended for us over-35-year-old moms-to-be.

I’m also wondering how to handle Mojo and the first appointment. My husband wants to be there with me, of course, but I don’t have anyone else lined up to stay with Mojo. We haven’t talked to him yet about being a big brother, and I’m thinking it’s probably too early yet to broach the topic. It would be a long wait for him even if we put it off for another couple of months, and what if something goes wrong? But on the other hand, I’m worried that he’s going to overhear us talking about it or that our families are going to slip and tell him the news. I really want him to hear it from us. Honestly, he’s a perceptive kid, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if, after all this agonizing over how and when to tell him, he announced the news himself.

Or maybe he’ll just imply that I need to lay off the cupcakes. The belly, like I said, is burgeoning.

By Kim Blakely, Mojo’s mama

I was so nervous about my ultrasound appointment that I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and by 8 a.m. I had showered and dressed, vacuumed the entire downstairs, washed the dishes in the sink, made Mojo his breakfast, and a whole host of other things I can’t even remember.

Naturally I arrived at the radiology center early. AND, miracle of miracles, I got called back for my ultrasound early. My husband hadn’t yet arrived and I was worried momentarily that he would miss the whole thing. No need to fret, though – he showed up as I was disrobing in my little curtained cubicle and all was well.

So … the technician asked me a few questions about why on earth I was having an ultrasound so darned early, and I was answering as best I could without grabbing the wand from her and inserting it myself so I could just see what was going on in there already.

She finally got around to doing what I had come there for her to do, and although in hindsight I very much appreciate the thorough explanations she gave for what she was looking for and what she saw, at the time I just wanted her to cut to the chase. I wanted to know if there was, indeed, a living baby in there, and was it in the right place.

There is!! And it is!!

(An ectopic pregnancy was a real concern in my case. My doctor told me after my laparoscopy in February that the ends of my left fallopian tube were ruffled from the endometriosis and she wasn’t sure it would work the way it should. As yet another aside, this technician was the same one who gave me good news last year that a painful, walloping nearly-5 cm cyst on my left ovary was shrinking. I was hoping she was going to give me good news again, but I wasn’t entirely sure my luck could hold out.)

The baby measured 6 weeks 5 days, although by my calculations I’m actually 6 weeks 2 days. Huge difference, I know.

And oh, people … the heartbeat. When I heard the heartbeat, it was all I could do to mouth the word, ‘Wow.’ I was in utter and complete awe of that sound and of the corresponding flicker in the picture on the screen.

The heart rate fluctuated between 117 and 120 beats per minute – completely normal, the technician assured me.

The technician seemed almost apologetic as she handed us the ultrasound pictures before we left. It didn’t look like much, she said, but it’s still early.

But to me, it looked like a masterpiece. I’m seriously considering framing it and hanging it over the mantle.