24 weeks

No baby news this week, really. But he's made it to 24 weeks! According to the ol' Wikipedia, 50 to 70 percent of babies born at 24 or 25 weeks live. And the chances just get better from here on out. 

Kisses from big brother.

We've been in California for exactly a week. Setting up went very smoothly, probably because we were just here on home service less than a year ago. Thanks to that, the prices don't seem shocking and the town hasn't changed much. I even remember (though not with perfect precision) little details like when the library has story hour.

I've been really tired since we arrived. Surprisingly so. I think it took a lot of adrenaline to get through those last couple of weeks in Kyiv, and now that it's draining out of my system, it's leaving me exhausted. The boys adjusted to the time change with no problems at all, plus Eric and Dietrich are still in SoCal (and, by all accounts, having a great time), so I have been able to rest more than usual. 

Though I very much did not want to leave Kyiv at this point in our lives, I do appreciate the opportunity my kids have here to experience farm life. Lev's had a tractor ride and done some weeding; we collect the eggs and feed our produce scraps to the goats.

My dad's new tractor. The old one is rusting out in a field, and Lev claims that he will fix it for Papa.

Yesterday, we awoke to find quail in the garden, and when I went to chase them out, I noticed a deer strolling through the empty property next door, so we snuck over for a closer look. Later, Lev told Eric that we saw a moose next door. Seems our city kid NEEDS some farm time.

Farm life is exhausting!

Best of all, three days ago, my dad knocked on the door of our trailer a bit past bedtime with a newborn lamb in his arms. No ultrasounds, genetic tests or doctors for our wooly sheep mama. We didn't even know about the lamb until my dad went out to feed the animals in the evening, and found the wee little thing in the barn. It's darling and clumsy and waggles its long tail wildly while it drinks its mama's milk.

Here's hoping our baby boy develops and arrives with equal ease.    

23 weeks

I'm a bit late posting this one, since I was flying over the ocean on the first day of Week 23. And no belly shot since there's no properly positioned mirror in the trailer that we're living in on my parents' property. Suffice it to say, I feel huge.

This was a crazy week! On Saturday, we found out that Dietrich had gotten into our first-choice school for first grade. You have to do a test/interview to get into primary school, and they told us immediately after the test that he made it in. So on Monday, I arrived bright and early at the school to explain our situation with the baby. We had three questions: Could Dietrich start a month late? Could he be in a particular teacher's class? And could Dietrich's friend Matvei also be in the class? The director and teacher agreed on all three points, so I turned over his documents, paid our share of the cost to renovate the school's bathrooms and stopped off on the way home to pick up some of his textbooks so that he won't fall too far behind. 

Then it was home to clean and pack for the next day and a half. Dietrich had his last day of sadik on Tuesday. I was too consumed with the cleaning and packing to get too terribly emotional about it, but I imagine the nostalgia will set in later. Here he is with his teacher, Oksana Grigorovna. She will be Lev's teacher in the fall, and she's been working with him on his Ukrainian for some time now. Lev loves her.   

We'd found someone to rent our place in Ukraine on Sunday, but they weren't going to move in until mid-June. On Tuesday morning, dear friends of ours called because they needed a place to stay for a few weeks, so our apartment will be occupied the whole time we're gone.

Wednesday morning, we woke up at 2:30. Ick. The flights were smooth, the kids did great, the baby was kicking a bit on the plane, and all was well. The boys explored Baba and Papa's land until bedtime, and they both basically slept all night long, with just a few brief wake-ups. They've done awesome with the time change.

We spent Thursday doing set-up errands: Car registration, cell phone plans, Target run for shampoo and toothbrushes and the like. Neither of us remembered the pin numbers for our U.S. ATM cards, so our shopping was limited to the cash we had on hand, which was probably a good thing.

And today was my first appointment with the OB here. Oh my, what a delight to get in the car and drive 15 minutes through farmland with hawks soaring overhead to get to the doctor! In Ukraine, it was 80 minutes of minibus and metro rides -- lines and crowds and balancing on bumpy roads. Being surrounded by nature soothes my soul.

The doctor is the same doctor we went to last July, when we found out our last little guy had died. We really appreciated his compassion during that difficult time. He was great today, too. Very calm and reasonable and reassuring. The visit went exactly as I expected: He listened to baby's heartbeat, looked over my test results from Ukraine, and referred me to a specialist for a super-detailed ultrasound. This is the first time in a long while that a doctor's visit didn't end with some concerning news about the baby, so that was really nice. I have an appointment with the specialists on May 31, in the morning.

After the doctor, we drove Eric and Dietrich up to the airport, and they flew down to Southern California for the next two weeks. This year's Talbot—Kyiv Extension graduates fly in tomorrow to take part in a week of graduation activities, and Eric will serve as their guide. He loves this group of students and is super excited to spend so much time with them. Also, he gets to drive a really big van. Dietrich will spend the time pestering his grandparents to feed his Lego addiction. And, being extremely sweet grandparents, I've no doubt they will cave a time or two. 

And now, I must sleep. For, while the boys have done great with the time change, I woke up at 4 a.m.,  panicked about an ultrasound report that I wasn't sure had been translated into English, realized it was 2 p.m. in Kyiv and that I could still get it translated, turned on my computer, found the report (which had been translated after all), freaked out about something written on it that the doctor in Kyiv hadn't mentioned to us, spent 30 minutes Googling that something, and then couldn't fall back asleep. But, with today's nice, calm doctor's visit and with two weeks to wait until the super-duper ultrasound, I think I'll be able to sleep well tonight.   

22 weeks

Well, in this case, no news is good news. So long as the baby keeps kicking, we're on pause from visits to the doctor until we get to the States. And he is kicking. Hard! Hard enough that Dietrich was able to see my stomach jump yesterday. And then, every time I took a breath, he claimed he saw the baby kicking.

We fly out on Wednesday morning, and I have an appointment at a general OB on Friday morning. Most likely, he will refer me to a specialist, and then we will have to wait for that appointment. So, it might be a few more weeks until we have some clarity.

On the one hand, clarity will be good. On the other hand, if the specialists find something significant, something life altering (I mean more so than the changes that would naturally come with having three boys), we will have to grapple with that, whereas right now, we're just living with hope that all will be well. Honestly, I get a little panicky when I think about that upcoming ultrasound, so I'm trying to focus on what's before me at this very moment, not what lies ahead.

When we initially got the not-normal test results about five weeks ago, our big prayer was that we wouldn't have an emergency while Eric was out of town. Since then, he's visited Odessa, Sumy, Ivano-Frankivsk and Kremenchuk. Now he's back and he's staying put until we fly out on Wednesday. We are so thankful!

I'm scurrying around, trying to wrap things up before we leave. Washing the winter clothes, now that spring has solidly arrived. Cleaning out drawers and cabinets, in case someone lives here in our absence. Collecting the documents (seven of them!) that need to be turned in so that Dietrich can go to national school next year. Buying his school supplies. Figuring out a Ukrainian-lessons-by-Skype plan with his tutor. Celebrating Easter with dear friends (a truly restful and wonderful day).

My first attempt at Ukrainian Easter bread.

Egg hunt at the house some friends built outside the city. So lovely!

Lev didn't find many eggs, but he sure was cute.

Natasha telling the Easter story with the help of Resurrection eggs.

At this point, it seems that packing and cleaning will have to wait for next week. 

Hopefully, next time you hear from us, we will have safely arrived in California.

21 weeks

We are so grateful to have people all over the world who want to be praying for our little baby. What a joy to know that he already is so loved, even though he's not yet born. I've been thinking over the best way to communicate with such a broad group over the next few months, and have settled on this blog as the best option. I'll update whenever we have news.

Some history: Well, first of all, I'm pregnant! This has been a long, strange pregnancy, and I'm only 21 weeks along. Our history of second-trimester losses has put me on edge ever since we found out in January that we were expecting. For the most part, however, God helped me grapple with those fears.

Then, three weeks ago, we received some alarming blood test results. In essence, they showed a 50 percent chance that all would proceed smoothly, and a 50 percent chance that we would face complications. The range of possible complications is vast: from in-utero death to very early labor to late-term eclampsia.

Based on those results, we made the decision to finish the pregnancy in the States, where we will have family around to lend a hand, and where (in the event of an early delivery) specialized postnatal care will be readily available and easier for us to navigate. 

Yesterday, we (hopefully) had our last ultrasound at Eurolab, the Ukrainian clinic where we've done prenatal care. The baby was alive and kicking and clearly male, so that was all great to see.

We were hoping for some clarity about what (if anything) is wrong with our little one, but we didn't really receive any. The doctor focused on the parts of the body that can cause excess protein to leak out of the baby and into my blood. (This was one of our abnormal test results.) She noted five areas of possible concern (including some spine, heart and brain abnormalities), but didn't seem definitive about any of them. She said things should be more clear at our next ultrasound.  That will probably be in about a month. It's a LONG time to wait.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful cousin who happens to be a genetic counselor. I thank God daily for giving me someone who is uber-knowledgable about these issues and who is only a phone call away. Her take on yesterday was that the results (as told to me by the doctor -- we haven't received the official ultrasound report yet, and it might be more informative) were too vague to draw any conclusions. And so, we wait.  

And we pack. We fly out May 15, and we plan to live on my parents' property in Northern California until the baby is born. Eric will be able to continue his role as Area Director via Skype and e-mail, plus we expect that he will make at least one trip back to Ukraine over the summer.

So, that's where we're at today. It's only been three weeks since these issues cropped up, and I'm already feeling very weary and desperate to know what is going on. Prayers for peace and patience are much appreciated.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask them in the comments. I'll try to answer them the best I can.

Spring snow

You may have heard that we had some snow over the weekend. Like, 20 inches of snow on Saturday, with quite a bit falling on Friday and Sunday, too.

This was the scene from our kitchen window on Saturday morning. My theory is that the owners of the cars that are fairly cleaned off got up periodically throughout the night to dust them. The snow pretty much consumed the cars that are a little right of center. (They still look that way. I guess their owners are out of town. Or waiting for a thaw.) 

On Saturday, we had scheduled an appointment to get the kids started on their medical clearance for school. (Lev's supposed to start sadik next month, and as long as we're taking him to the string of specialists, we figured we might as well take care of Dietrich's medical card, too, even though school doesn't start until September.)

Saturday morning, the clinic called and asked if we still planned to come in. When I said yes, they asked whether I was scared of the snow. Well, I wasn't until they asked! From the window, it just looked pretty. Intense, but pretty.

We gave ourselves a few extra minutes to get there, and I'm glad we did. There were only a few marshrutka (minibuses) running; we were unable to cram onto the first two that stopped, and we only got onto the third one because the other people at the stop insisted we get on first. (So kind!)

While we waited, Dietrich pleadingly asked, "But Mama, WHY do we need more snow?" Good question, kid. 

I stepped off the marshrutka into a snow bank up to my thigh. We couldn't get to the sidewalk, so we slogged down the street, heads ducked to avoid the wind. Lev is a champion walker, and even he kept asking to be carried. I was so glad I had asked Eric to come with us, because I could not have handled both kids on my own.

The doctor's visit went well (only two more days, six more specialists, and some blood and urine tests, and then we'll be done).

The walk back was even harder. We were walking into the wind. We didn't know where the marshrutka stop was, so we walked past it. Once we found it, marshrutkas drove by because we couldn't get from the sidewalk to the street fast enough. The marshrutkas themselves were as jam-packed as you can imagine, but once we got on one, I was just so happy, I didn't mind the crowding. And people were fairly jovial about the whole situation, actually, which really makes all the difference.

Once we got home, Dietrich begged to be allowed to stay inside for as long as possible. So, we mostly watched in awe as the snow continued to cover cars in the parking lot.

Here's the view from our bedroom window. 

Notice the car on the top left of this photo? Or the one smack-dab in the middle? Also, this is hard to see in the picture, but the snowplough pushed mounds of snow between all these cars, so even after they are cleared off, someone will have to shovel all that snow before they can actually drive anywhere. So, so glad we don't have a car. So glad.

Evidently, there was a 14-hour traffic jam to get into the city. One airport closed; the other cancelled most flights. Trains stopped running. The city declared Monday a non-work day. We actually didn't feel much of an effect until Monday, when we had an appointment at the consulate. It was closed, due to snow emergency. Sadik? Closed. Grocery store? Open -- but with very lightly stocked shelves. It made me feel rather unsettled to not have any alternative means for obtaining basics, like milk.

Per Dietrich's request, we stayed inside (again). We spent a lot of time sitting on the windowsill, watching people clear off their cars and looking for snowploughs. We even spotted some cross-country skiers cutting a path through our courtyard. And, of course, we played with Lego.

Everything was open again today. Here's Lev on the best-cleared path in our neighborhood; the walkway on the sadik grounds.

This is about a sixth of the path. The man in charge of clearing it is our neighbor, and he said he worked on it all day Saturday, Sunday and Monday, and now his back hurts. Poor guy. He tried to hire a tractor to clear the path, but the tractor said he'd do more harm than good. And I believe it. When the snowploughs pass, they leave behind a layer of packed snow, which is slippery to walk on. But our neighbor did good work; this was the only long stretch of entirely cleared sidewalk I saw today. And, despite his sore back, he seemed pleased to have given the neighborhood's families a place to stroll with their baby carriages.

Tough guy

Lev took a tumble in the play room at McDonald's a month or so ago. He and Dietrich were with a friend of ours. He would not calm down and there was a LOT of blood. (Head wounds, you know.) So the McDonald's workers called the ambulance while our friend called Eric.

On his way to McDonald's, Eric called me. All he could tell me was that Lev had fallen and hit his head, and an ambulance was on the way.

The next 15 minutes passed very, very slowly, as I waited for more details. I kept flashing to thoughts like: "What if they can see his brain?"

His brain was fine. The wound was deep, so they shaved off a little circle of hair and gave him one stitch. The stitch came out a week later, and now we're just waiting for the hair to grow back. 

Lev was a trooper. He willingly let the doctor examine his head the day after the accident. A week later, he sat quietly on my lap as a nurse held his head immobile and the doctor pulled out the stitch. He's a tough kid, and it all ended up being no big deal. But doesn't this look dramatic?

Happy holidays

This is the typical post-holiday scene here in Kyiv. This photo was taken January 24, and a similar pileup takes place every day for a week or so. Our tree was one of the first to hit the street.  

And then there's this.



I took this photo on March 2. As I was taking it, a man yelled out of his balcony, "What are you taking a picture of?"

"The trees," I said.

"Why?"

"Well, in America, we usually throw out our trees quickly after New Years. And today is March 2."

"This is normal."

What I said: "Yes, but to me, it's interesting."

What I wish I would have said: "It's better than normal. It's wonderful."

Because you have to love a country where it's totally permissible to keep your tree up through the start of Spring. Why not celebrate as long as possible?