Up late again

All this week, I've been up late--really late--either working, or with insomnia, or both. I seem to be averaging about one entry per month on this online journal. I intended to journal to Zoe, but of course, I haven't. But here's a chance, tapping away in my living room at a quarter to three in the morning.We had a bit of a scare this past Monday. Your Mom said she couldn't feel you moving much, even after she ate, which is when you are most active. She has been on insulin for a couple of weeks now, and I've been reading about gestational diabetes and wondering what effects it might have on you. I keep seeing stillbirth mentioned, though apparently, it's rare. When Carolina called me in the office, I had just arrived. I woke up at 2AM and couldn't get back to sleep. I got up and worked most of the night, finally getting a couple of hours starting around 10:30. I got to work at 2, and at 2:30 your Mom called, concerned. I told her to call the doctor, and by 3 I was on the Metro.The doctor had said that if C had been younger and not diabetic, he'd have just told her to close her door, take the phone off the hook, and do a kick count for 15 minutes or so. But you don't screw around with diabetes. So he said to go to the hospital, NOW. C said she had a meeting, and he said, cancel it, and go to the hospital.We got to GW Med Center in DC around 4:30, I guess. A resident hooked C up to a fetal heart monitor. I grabbed a bite to eat in the cafeteria. (How the hell can they not notice that the food in their cafeteria is even more unhealthy than what most Americans eat?) When I arrived in the exam room, the resident asked me to leave for 10 minutes. I did so and came right back. Turns out those ten minutes were to ask C if I ever abused her. I guess it's part of the protocol now. Good thing, too--I hope there are successful interventions sometimes.The residents said your heartbeat was perfectly normal. Your Mom did say on the way to the hospital that the doctor predicted you'd start hopping around as soon as we got there. You did get more active, actually. So we went home, relieved. Now C says both the doctor and I overreact. She was embarrassed that we'd gone "for no reason". But as I still think we did the right thing. I think your Mom thinks so, too, but it's hard to tell with her, sometimes.Tuesday was much happier. We went for an ultrasound to see about your size. Babies often get too big when the mother has gd--sometimes 11-12 lbs. The sonographer, Slava (well, Borislava, but she goes by Slava), was Russian. When I commented on her excellent English, she told me that she had been an English professor in Russia. Now she's working on a PhD in public health or something. Anyway, she was a fascinating person. She showed us that you were a girl, which is now abundantly, anatomically clear. I joked that maybe we should get a print of *that* image to show to your boyfriends later on. She measured you all over. Your Mom has some extra amniotic fluid, and some fibriods, but your numbers, my dear, are right on the money! I'm very happy about that. While the doctor says they'll take you out two weeks early (Jul 25 or before), I want you to have as much time as possible. C says the two weeks early bit is based on statistics. I haven't read about that myself. I'm just trusting the doctor.My favorite thing about the ultrasound, other than that you are healthy, is that we can already tell that you have your mother's chin.In just over a month, you'll be here with us. It still doesn't seem real. While I was waiting for them on Monday to finish with your Mom, I wandered the hall a bit near the neonatal unit. There was a tiny baby on a table in there, with a heat lamp over her. It looked like she was on a heat table in a restaurant. (Now there's a gruesome image.) She was sleeping soundly. The umbilical stump was about 3" long, and looked like a piece of latex. (I even thought it was latex, at first.) Earlier, I'd seen a black family, probably new aunts and uncles, videoing and talking about the baby. She was born at 3:13PM, so I was seeing a little life that was less than three hours old. She'd been breathing for less than three hours, and yet was already doing it reliably. Amazing. Amazing. Later, I watched her for about 5 minutes. So peaceful, sleeping there all by herself. I have no idea why she wasn't with her parents. It made me so sad to see her there all alone. There was a nurse at a desk in the room, but still. Where were her parents? Later, when Carolina and I left the hospital, they'd closed the blinds, but you could still see through the cracks. That little baby was crying, and nobody was holding her. When your time comes, they're not keeping you away from me that long, unless there's a serious problem!Odd that I said that you'll be here with us. You're already here, of course. But I don't know your world right now, and you don't know mine. They say you already know our voices. I sing to you, and sometimes you move and kick. Soon, we'll try putting a flashlight on your Mom's belly to see if you respond. You won't remember any of it, of course. But I can tell you what you did, and maybe someday, you can read it for yourself. My dear little Zoe. I love you already. Who will you be? Where did you come from? It's a strange place to be in. I know that six weeks or so from now, I'm going to be totally exhausted, and totally, madly in love with you. But tonight, I'm sitting here in the dark, and you're floating in your darkness, and we're waiting to meet each other.