The backstory, then 10 & 12 week photos

After another frustrating ordeal getting here, we're on our way to #2.

We quit birth control in March and started trying in July, but my irregular periods kept us guessing again for a few months, until I succumbed to the temptation of charting and ovulation predictor kits.  We had just about given up again (remember last time?), and I scheduled a consult with Hershey's reproductive endocrinologist in October.

I also got a +OPK on Oct. 14 (25 days into my cycle), but ended up in the ER with shortpants after a suspicious fall at school that day.

Long story short, I POAS Oct. 29, the morning of Katie and Brad's wedding, and got two lines.  So later that day, on the way home from swimming lessons, we stopped to get a digital POAS, just to make sure.

So I called the RE on Monday, to see if the bloodwork from Oct. 29 read the same as my tests.  Nope, the qualitative bloodwork said negative.  So then I did a series of additonal POAS at the doc's request and started weekly ultrasounds/bloodwork on Nov. 4 to try to date this baby.

The official due date is July 14, but I think this baby is coming a week earlier, based upon my +OPK (even if ovulation was actually delayed by a few days due to the ER stress) and +POAS dates.



So, here are the first of the belly pics:

As compared to 10 weeks and 12 weeks last time around.  Weight gain through the first trimester has been almost identical to the first round (3 pounds), but I'm sensing an earlier shape shift in the mid-section this time.  And I'm already into my maternity bras from last time around (purchased at 22 weeks), so here's to hoping for no more shape shifting up top. :) 

Since I'm so close in timing to the first pregnancy (due July 22; delivered July 28), I'm hoping my maternity clothes from last time will suffice, perhaps maybe with a few additional add-ons.

And here is one of the first shots of ruby #2. July's birthstone is ruby, so until we know if it's a boy or girl (yes, we're finding out, hopefully in February), I'm calling him/her Ruby 2.

Double Digits

Cayden is 10 days old, officially in double-digits. Not giving Mama much rest at night (feeding every two to three hours, then fussing a bit afterwards), but we try to catch up with mid-morning and evening naps. And we're still on the couch, at least for now.

I'm going to try to catch it on video somehow, but this kid has some impressive power behind his poops and toots. No one who has heard them can believe such loud, powerful noises come from such a small, innocent looking baby. He actually scared me the other night, when he let one rip.

Funny thing happened yesterday when I put all my maternity clothes away in the spare closet: I got upset. Turns out I kinda miss being pregnant, and stowing all my elastic-waist pants and room-to-grow shirts in the back of the closet made me realize how quickly nine months went and what a great experience it was for me. I'm very glad to have an outside baby now, but I can't help but feel just a little less "special" without a basketball protruding from my front . Hopefully I'll have one more chance to be special and wear all those clothes again, assuming they're still stylish in a few years.

And yesterday's reflection reminded me how glad I am to have kept this journal along the way, because I can always go back and relive the excitement, the little annoyances and the new discoveries we made along the way. After all, you're only pregnant with your first child one time, and I'm so happy to have preserved a lot of those experiences.

A few random thoughts and updates

Because that's how my brain is working, now. Seems I got the foggy pregnancy brain after pregnancy had ended.

1.) Delivery was the fastest 14 pounds I've ever dropped. They weighed me just before we left the hospital, and all but 6 pounds disappeared almost immediately. Belly looks goofy and deflated now, as the uterus continues to shrink. But the linea nigra is still as nigra as ever.

2.) For all the worrying I've been doing over a lack of wet & soiled diapers, the pediatrician says Cayden is doing great. In fact, he had gained a little weight back (after the initial loss all babies experience) by yesterday's pediatrician's visit. Next doc's visit is next Friday. Oh, and the red patch on his right eye is a "stork bite" -- a kind of birthmark that fades a few days or weeks after birth. Most babies get them at the base of the head; Cayden got one on his eye.

3.) I've dubbed him Chicken Wing, because his arms look and move like chicken wings. And dad says his legs are skinny chicken legs. Hmmm, I remember teasing a certain new dad about his own chicken legs during our dating days.

4.) Brian thinks Cayden looks just like me in my infant pictures. I think he got dad's eyes.

5.) Newborn photos are scheduled for Monday evening!!! We're so excited to see Jodie and Jeff Wolf, and to capture Chicken Wing in his earliest days.

6.) This is HARD. I knew it would be, but everything people tells you just doesn't mean anything until it's happening to you. I'm constantly tired, my emotions and hormones are starting to get the best of me, I can't seem to find the right time/moment to pay attention to the cats and for being so busy all day, and I sure have little to show for it at the end of each day. Sorry to the friends I have yet to call back, and sorry to the family who has yet to see Cayden. It's all I can do to get through the mostly sleepless nights without breaking down. I wish I was a better napper. I just can't seem to fall asleep during the day, which makes the nights even harder. It's a lot of pressure being the little guy's chuck wagon and only source of food, but we're making it work. It will be nice, however, when I can start pumping and dad can take care of a feeding or two. You know, since we're doing about 10 a day at this point. I have no idea how single moms or moms of twins do this. But I just keep repeating to myself: "this, too, shall pass"; eventually, things will get a little easier. And the new dad is really good about delivering hugs and words of encouragement at just the right times.

7.) So you can understand, I hope, if I'm not as regular as I'd like to be in providing updates here. Hopefully I can post more as things calm down a bit, but I now understand first-hand how everything else is just left on the ever-growing to-do list when there's a newborn in the picture.

Here are the two of us, early this morning. Hoping I'm not setting myself up for harder times down the road, but falling asleep with him last night was the only way I had a prayer of making it until morning.

Cayden is five days old.

Last full day pregnant??

Assuming all goes well, this should be my last wake-through-sleep pregnant, at least for a few years. Already today I've done the "where will we be and what will we be doing 24 hours from now" game half a dozen times, and I've only been awake for an hour. This one may be a long day.

But I think I've decided to split the difference (Brian says take off; I was planning to work as usual) and take the afternoon off work. Jess has offered to take me to her salon for a pedicure, and depending what time I get out of the office, we may do lunch, too.

I think it's a good compromise. Gives me a few hours to tie up any loose ends at work (there are very few to none at this point, considering I thought I'd be outta there a week ago), switch over my phones and e-mail and say a few last goodbyes and thank yous. Then I can pamper myself for a couple of hours and try to get to bed early tonight, a good idea considering it will likely be my last full night of sleep for months and we have to be up around 4:30 a.m. tomorrow.

But for now, I've got to finish getting dressed, give Spike his pill and head out to my last prenatal appointment with Amy...

No I haven't had the baby, yes I'm still here.

I'm debating making a sign that says as much and taping it to my office door tomorrow. Because I'm kind of dreading another round of questions and inquisitive looks at work. Brian is trying to convince me to make tomorrow my last day at work, but I don't see the point in sitting home Tuesday, going stir crazy.

Tried just about every labor-inducing trick in the book this weekend (except castor oil; Brian's research on that one scared him a little), to no avail. Did lose more mucous plug Thursday and Friday, and I think I finally identified some Braxton Hicks Saturday night at the Grantville carnival. But no signs that anything is moving anytime soon.

Friday night saw a mini-meltdown and a lot of frustrated tears. Turns out watching shows about babies and birth experiences is not a great idea for someone who wants nothing more than to meet her own baby.

Look folks, I'm just as surprised and increasingly disappointed not to have a baby by now. I know everyone means well, but the same question wares on me after time, ya know?

Two more days. Two more days. Two more days...

Of course induction is complicated; why would I have assumed any differently?

Sigh. After a little research over the past couple of days, I'm no longer so keen on the idea of medical induction.

In my excited naivete, I just assumed Wednesday's induction would be a quick and easy jump-start to the labor process. And it very well may be.

Or not.

Turns out there's a lot of debate over pitocin inductions, the kind we're talking about for Wednesday. Most alarming for me are two things: (1) Pitocin often makes contractions much more intense and painful than they may have been without the synthetic hormone, and laboring through without an epidural is much less likely following a pitocin induction. (2) The rate of emergency c-section is dramatically higher for medically induced labor (because of fetal distress the intense/fast contractions can cause), as compared to labor that begins and progresses without pitocin.

Gulp.

So I'll spend much of this weekend practicing all the tricks I can to try to induce labor naturally. Found a new one, today, too: acupressure.

Hopefully I'm worked up over something I won't have to worry about after all.

Eviction Notice

Dear Baby Cayden,

Now that you are officially overdue, it's appropriate to notify you your time in utero is limited.

I'd prefer you come naturally in your own time (dad prefers you come immediately), but you must vacate the premises within six days. Otherwise, per the eviction notice below, we'll have to take matters into our own hands.

Eagerly awaiting your arrival,

Mama

One dejected daddy

Just got home from my 40-week appointment. Yes, home; not back at work. Because there's no sense running into work for 45 minutes just to run back home, pick up Brian and head to the hospital for our 11:20 ultrasound.

First, the standard details: 1/2 pound weight gain from last week, BP of 102/66 and a strong heartbeat. In fact, Amy let Brian do the dopplar, so he found the heartbeat.

But the fundal height is still low (37 cm), so Amy decided it's best to schedule one more growth ultrasound at the Med Center. No reason for worry, rather she just wants to make sure he's packed away in the back of my torso, rather than not growing as he should.

Oh, and I've made no progress from last week with regard to any further cervical dilation or effacement. Still at 1 cm and 80 percent.

So assuming everything looks good at this morning's ultrasound, we have induction scheduled for 6 a.m. on Wednesday, July 29. Which really disappointed Brian. I misunderstood Amy last week when she said they won't let me go beyond 41 weeks. I thought she meant they won't let me go beyond July 29, the day I hit 41 weeks, when really she meant they won't let me go beyond August 4, which would be the last day of my 41st week.

So I kinda sorta may have led Brian to believe we could possibly schedule induction for later this week. But we learned this morning that we can't, and now he's beside himself because the anticipation is likely going to kill him for another week. I've never seen him so dejected. And if I do get induced next Wednesday, it looks next to impossible for Brian to attend his college friend's wedding in northeast PA on Saturday, Aug. 1.

So for now, we just keep waiting.......

Goodbye, mucous plug (not for squeamish readers)

I'm pretty sure I lost my mucous plug last night. Or at least a good part of it, at about 10:30 p.m.

While it's usually a sign that labor it on its way, my internal on Wednesday could also have caused it to dislodge. Either way, the plug can come out hours, days or even a few weeks before delivery.

So a little bit exciting, but certainly no definitive sign baby boy is coming soon.

However, it was entertaining to me last night to learn just how uncomfortable Brian is with the word "gelatinous" with regard to body secretions.

Four years since we said "I do"

2.1 million minutes, 35,040 hours and 1,460 days of marriage
Thousands of miles back and forth to the cottage in Canada
Countless weekends in Philly, DC, State College, NY and elsewhere with family and friends
A few dozen little arguments
A smattering of big fights
3 Jamaican escapes
3 family trips to the beach
2 homes
2 sibling weddings
2 grandmothers’ passings
1 new cat
1 new job
1 new car
1 baby on the way

Four years ago, today

Three years ago, today

Two years ago, today


One year ago, today

And today. No special plans for our fourth anniversary, since I'm saving up for time off after the baby. Spike was due for his annual check up, though, so we spent part of the evening with Dr. Guise. Then had a nice dinner at Lancaster Brewing Company and headed home for a quiet, early evening. Not quite the images and excitement of the last three anniversaries, but as Brian said at dinner, each of the photos is completely honest: They show where we were and what we were doing that day. Over the years some will be more glamorous than others, but all we can strive for is honesty in capturing the day.

One less surprise at birth

Baby boy has hair!! Not as much hair as I had when I was born, but at least a light dusting of peach fuzz! How do we know that? Because we could see the wispy fuzz on the surprise ultrasound I got this morning.

Went in for my 39 week appointment with Amy, and she decided to do an internal (my first), so that if I go into labor soon, at least I can let the nurses know where I was as of today. Amy said I'm 1 cm dilated and 80 percent effaced. Baby boy is at -2 station, which means he really hasn't started moving down the birth canal at all. I'm not sure what I was expecting (a tape measure?), but I sure wasn't expecting that the medical folks can determine all those measurements just by feel!

The internal itself wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't too bad. Amy made a point of "moving things around in there" to try to encourage contractions. She said my cervix is very stretchable, which is apparently good for pushing and favorable for induction, if it comes to that.

The pee was clear of sugars and proteins, and baby's heartbeat was strong. BP was 110/68, and we finalized that I'll go on the generic mini-pill (birth control) post-partum.

But I was down two pounds from last week (back under 160), and my fundal height only measured around 35/36 cm. Since they like it to be within two of the number of weeks of pregnancy (I'm 39 weeks, so 2 cm off would be 37 or 41), Amy decided to do an ultrasound, to check the amniotic fluid levels.

Fluid looked good, so no worries. He's thriving in there somewhere. Once she got the images and felt around a little more, Amy said she thinks the FH measurement may be off because baby boy is almost all on my right side. He has been for as long as I can remember, which makes for a lopsided look and frequent kicks and nudges around my side.

And it was a nice surprise to leave with three last in-the-womb photos I wasn't expecting: one of his toes jamming up under my right rib, one of his peachfuzz hair and one of his face.

Seems baby boy likely got my squishy chin, 'cause boy does his look round and chubby! Seeing his chin really kind of spun me for a loop, though, because it made it all the more real for me that parts of this baby are me, and parts are Brian. Suddenly seeing that fat little chin brought back a flood of memories from when Brian and I were dating. As silly as it sounds, we used to compare each other's chins all the time. Brian has a bony, pointy chin (almost no cartiledge), while I have a squishy chin full of extra mush. Man our chins entertained us back in the old days. So did Diet Pepsi burps, but that's another story for another time.

Now if only the picture of baby boy's toes was clear enough for me to see if he got what Brian calls his own "perfect feet" or if baby boy got my "royal toe." My second toe is considerably longer than my big toe; don't worry, I've come to terms with it over the years and it doesn't bother me anymore.

Also got a few tips from Amy for encouraging labor: REALLY spicy food for lunch (not for dinner, since that might cause heartburn at bed time); a heating pad on my lower back for 20 minutes each night; nipple stimulation for 20 minutes each night; and the old tried-and-true doin' it.

Eh, maybe I'll try one or more of those things Friday. Tomorrow is our anniversary, and while I'll be happy whenever this baby decides to come, I'd rather keep July 16 just for the Brian and I.

Oh, and if I make it to Tuesday -- my next doc's appointment -- without dropping (looks likely), Amy will schedule an induction for sometime before the end of July. I'd prefer to go naturally (doesn't "picking" his birthday seem artificial?), so I think I'd prefer to schedule for early the week of July 27, if we have to plan ahead.

Tick, tick, tick

Mowed the lawn for probably the last time for another couple of months today. Last mow for baby boy for probably eight or 10 years.

Brian is getting really anxious. He wants baby boy to come out tonight. I'm happy if he stays on the inside for another couple of Saturdays.

Tiredness is definitely coming back. Saturday I was yawning like crazy four hours after I woke up. But then managed to stay up celebrating Katie's birthday until about 12:30. I did lay down mid-afternoon and doze in and out for about 45 minutes.

The belly seems heavier in the past few days. A little harder to pick my legs up to step into pants, and considerably more difficult to sit up in bed at night to get up to pee.

Breast pump was ordered, and maxi pads were stocked this weekend, too. And the nursery got one more vacuum, dusting and laundering. Door is closed, and the room is off-limits to the four-leggeds until after baby boy comes home.
Last to-do I can think of is to find some sugar-free hard candies to take with me to the hospital, to keep my mouth moist during labor.

Have a good day; call me if you're having the baby

That's how Brian said goodbye to me yesterday morning.

Just a couple of notes to report: I've been yawning a lot more since last Saturday, so I think the fatigue may be returning, and today my lower back starting aching a bit on the right side. I've still been staying up until 10 or 11 each night and the back wasn't killing me, so we'll see how these symptoms progress over the coming days.

Oh, and our anesthesia class on Tuesday was informative. Not grounds for any hard-and-fast decisions (other than avoiding opioid Stadol), but worth the hour spent listening to and asking questions of Dr. Po, one of Hershey's anesthesiologists. There were only two other couples in attendance, so it was a nice, small group. Although the other two pregnant ladies were clearly approaching labor from an "I'll take the epidural as soon as I walk in the door, please" perspective, rather than one of meds as a latter resort of pain management.

But the information about spinal headaches associated with epidurals did make me a little nervous. Dr. Po said instances of puncturing the dura, therefore causing spinal fluid to leak and spark incapacitating headaches for up to a week after labor, "are not common, but they're not rare, either." Yikes. But if I make it to transition med-free, as I hope to, the spinal and the epidural/spinal combo they prefer to do both use a smaller needle to intentionally puncture the dura, so the fluid leakage isn't typically an issue.

A very, very good weekend

Three straight days of relaxing, and absolutely no chores or productivity around the house. Just what we needed.

Friday, we spent eight hours at the Hotel Hershey. I started with an 8:30 a.m. Yoga class, and Brian hit the hotel gym. My class ended up being really cool, because I was the only one who showed up for it! So instructor Michelle walked me through 50 minutes of stretching, balance and focused breathing excercises. After my class, I walked a couple of miles on the treadmill while Brian finished up his workout. Then we walked around the hotel grounds a bit (GORGEOUS, and largely renovated/expanded within the past year), wondering how exactly they control or monitor the duck population in the koi ponds. (There was only one duck couple per pond, and we imagine the spot must appeal to more than four ducks.) After our walk, Brian hit the spa locker room & showers, and I got changed into a robe and read in the quiet room until he was done. Then we lunched on soup, gourmet salads, wraps and mini-desserts at Oasis -- in our robes; a FANTASTIC experience -- until it was time for our massages. We got an 80-minute couples massage (loved the Noche Jasmine oil). Mine was on an inclined massage table, and after laying face-up for 40 minutes of rub-down, my masseuse had me rotate for a side-lying second half of the massage. Our massages were so good we both slipped in and out of sleep. After the massages, we collected ourselves for a few minutes in the quiet room, then traded the spa robes in for swim suits. We finished the afternoon at the brand new pool facility,
catching some rays and enjoying each other's company.
(My view from the Hershey pool.) I don't think we could have asked for a more perfect all-day date.

Saturday we slept in, then spent some more time pool-side with Brian's family. Enjoyed a GREAT dinner with my dad at Carrabbas, and we opted for bed over fireworks, both asleep by 10 p.m.

And Sunday rounded out a wonderfully perfect weekend: a great maternity portrait session with Scott Church, then a family picnic and a brief visit to see Jess, Dave & Max.

Mmmmmm, what a great weekend.

The bags are ready, even if I'm not

The sight that greets me every time I go up or down the steps.

YIKES, this bun is baked!

At 37 weeks, baby is considered full-term. Or, as one of the Web sites I've seen puts it, "that means you could literally give birth at any moment to a fully developed baby."

Wow, that's in-your-face.

I gotta be honest: I kinda feel like I'm kicking ass at this pregnancy thing. Flat shoes, swollen ankles and sleep discomfort be damned -- I'm feeling great and looking pretty darn good.

The longer this pregnancy lasts, the better, I say. After all, the impending and unavoidable alternative to being pregnant -- a real baby -- is suddenly very intimidating. But I guess I've got to come to grips with the new reality that will beset us in what could be days.

I'm still hoping he stays inside until at least July 22. And late-in-the game guesses as to my due date and baby boy's stats are welcome -- just click the orange ExpectNet link to the right.

Just puttin' it out there...

I'm still kind of doubting that any baby, even my own, could be as cute as my cats.

Yes, he's on the changing table again, but look at how he's squeezing his face, to block out the daylight.

So call me the crazy cat lady.

A very productive weekend

The boys and I missed Brian this past weekend, but boy did I get a lot done while he was away.

Saturday morning I cleaned the house, nearly top-to-bottom, then tackled the new pile of baby stuff from Friday's shower. Did a load of laundry; finished stuffing and putting away Bum Geniuses; packed the hospital bags 99 percent of the way (we'll just have to grab my hairbrush & eyelash curler on our way out the door); returned some diaper rash cream to Babies'R'Us and made use of three 15 percent off coupons (bottles, crib saver sheet, booster seat); attended Avery Lech's first birthday party; made trips to Walmart, Target & the Carter's outlet; figured out and set up the video baby monitor; and finished the night with a self-pedicure.

By the way, it's a lot harder now to scrub, exfoliate, moisturize and beautify my feet than it was the last time I did my toes.

Today I finished up laundry, made the last of the meals I wanted to prep and freeze before baby boy arrives, scoured the kitchen, sorted through a stack of unattended mail and completed the second round of shower thank you notes.

Not only did I get a ton of stuff done, but I also got to indulge in a weekend of Real Housewives of New Jersey, The Real World and 16 and Pregnant.

Back to work tomorrow, when/where I hope to see pics from Friday's surprise.

The Home Stretch

Just over four weeks to go. Maybe.

Still feeling great, except for a few things:

First, baby boy is constantly digging or kicking up behind my ribs during the day. Uncomfortable. And he really doesn't like it when I try to push him back down, for some relief.

Secondly, I'm not sure if it's a little bit of a cold, or some weird third-trimester nasal thing, but every morning for the past week or so I have awakened with a congestion headache. After less than an hour of being vertical it goes away, but it makes for a grumpy wake-up.

And finally, who knew turning over in bed would become such a production. To turn from one side to the other is not only slightly painful (can't really stand more than a few seconds on my back, and it feels like a ton of bricks thumping over to the other side), but now is almost always cause for me to get up and pee, first.

Also took what I think is my last road-trip before baby boy's arrival, yesterday. Although it was a bit breezy and cool in the morning, tailgating and the game were fun. The ride home was not-so-much fun, but only because an overly concerned drunk Brian is infinitely more annoying than the typical, overly concerned, sober Brian I've come to appreciate.

And for anyone who's interested, here are my rankings, with regard to queer-beer preference:
1. Labatt Blue n/a: tastes a lot like the normal stuff, and a the second and third one still tasted as good as the first.
2. Beck's n/a: tastes almost exactly like Becks, but I'm only a big fan of this one on a really hot day.
3. Excaliber (by Guinness): Good. Not a stout, but a decent-tasting n/a

I've also tried O'Douls since getting pregnant, and I wouldn't recommend that swill to anyone. It tastes like crap and has some pretty nasty "after-effects."

The Pregnant Bridesmaid

I'll be the first to admit I was more than a bit nervous about how this past weekend would go, considering I've never been an eight-month pregnant bridesmaid before.

But I'm happy to report things went better than I thought they would, and I kind of impressed myself with my constant energy, unwavering patience and nearly permanent smile.

First of all, Friday was a marathon day at work, full of the kinds of crazy-stupid things that would naturally only come along when I'm the only one in the office. Really -- a police incident, an unexpected press release and a frustrating bureau screw-up, all in one day? So by 5 p.m. I was irritated, tired and worn-looking.

Didn't get to gussy-up for Nicole and Will's rehearsal and dinner like I had hoped to. Although there are electrical outlets in the ladies bathroom on our floor, I came to find out they have ALL BEEN DISABLED. And let's just say that trying to curl my hair in my office, using only a compact mirror, did not prove a success. Oh well, at least my skirt was cute.

Brian and I ended up five minutes late and the last to arrive at the rehearsal. But the rehearsal went smoothly, and the dinner following was nice. I knew Saturday would be a very long day, so we headed home before it got too late and were in bed by 11 p.m. or so.

Although I was nervous that fatigue may set in sometime on Saturday, I'm thrilled to have made it from 7 a.m. Saturday to 2 a.m. Sunday without ever hitting a wall. I was so glad to be able to enjoy all the hectic excitement and even more proud of myself for making it more than six hours in my four-inch stilettos before succumbing to toe pain and switching to flip flops. :)

I guess the adrenaline kept me going, and I didn't even yawn once until we headed to the Sheraton bar after midnight.

I did, however experience one touchy moment at the reception, the kind of "what did we get ourselves into" moment that made me sad, scared and desperate for my pre-pregnancy life, all at the same time. I was watching the rest of the bridesmaids and the older cousins dance and sing like crazy on the dance floor, when all of a sudden I couldn't keep the tears from bursting from behind my eyes and wondered to Brian if I'd ever be able to be drunk, silly and care-free at a wedding again, or if those days had passed me by for good. You know, since from here on out I'm a mother, with mature responsibilities and a new life of which to be ever-mindful.

Things will never be the same as they were pre-baby, and the "growing up" aspect of this life-change makes me wonder about other unknown sacrifices I've never had to consider heretofore. I know these sacrifices will pale in comparison to the new joys that will overwhelm us in the next few weeks, but I can't help but fear the loss of my fun, young self and long for one more opportunity to party too hard as a gal without serious responsibility.

But I guess that's all part of the process of growing a family -- redefining our expectations, values and ideas of normalcy. I'm guessing that by August 1, the day one of Brian's college friends marries and celebrates with a wedding reception, I won't care at all that I probably won't be able to make the trip, or that if I can make the trip, I'll only attend the ceremony and leave Brian to attend the reception by himself.

At least I hope so. But boy it's hard right now to appreciate lessons I have yet to learn from experiences I anticipate having.