Sisterly Love

We were a little concerned about how Avery would react to her baby sister's arrival. But our fears vanished on the last day we were at the hospital, when my parents brought Avery for a visit. As they were pulling into the parking lot, Avery excitedly exclaimed, "Baby Chloe's house!" And then this happened:

And once we got home:

Let's hope this lasts through the teenage years.

Chloe is Here!

We were overjoyed to welcome Chloe Mae Berberick at 9:36 this morning, July 8, 2010.

Weighing in at 6 pounds, 10 ounces, and measuring 20 inches, her mom and dad agree that she is perfect and beautiful in every way. Big sister Avery is somewhat more skeptical, though it appears she’s warming up to the idea.

Chloe is the piece that was missing from our family, and we're thrilled to finally have her here.

B Minus One and Counting

In about 24 hours, we'll be holding our new daughter. I'm so excited to finally see her, I had dreams about it all last night.

It'll be a little bittersweet for me when she's finally born. Right now I'm the only one who know when she's asleep or awake. I feels her hiccups, kicks, turns and stretches. It's like a secret little conversation that only the two of us are in on, and I'll miss it. Of course, I realize eventual separation is the whole point. But that doesn't make it any easier.

We've been enjoying our last days together as a family of three as we await for our baby's arrival. Here are a few ways we've been passing the time recently:

Dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant

Arts and crafts

A day at the beach

And of course, lots of naps.

Waiting

I had my last doctor's appointment today. At the end, Dr. Barmeyer said, "I'll see you next Thursday," the day of my scheduled C-section. I reminded him that that he said something similar during my last appointment when I was pregnant with Avery. She was born at three the next morning. "Well then, I'll see you at three in the morning," he replied.

He's a little nonchalant that way, and I like that about him. There's so much to worry about when you're pregnant, I find his don't-worry-about-it manner comforting.

Perhaps hoping to spur another early arrival -- though not entirely on purpose -- we ended up recreating the remaining events of the night Avery was born: dinner at Souplantation with friends, an evening on the couch watching "So You Think You Can Dance." No luck; the baby stayed right where she is. I think now Dr. B. was right. Next Thursday it is. I guess I won't worry about it.

Any Day Now!

From the weekly pregnancy e-newsletter I get:

Happy Father's Day!

Today's a day to celebrate fathers. A day for dads, grandpas, papas and daddys. And at our house, it's a day for two very lucky girls (and one on the way) to celebrate one very special dada. Happy Father's Day, Michael! We love you.

Nesting, Again

We're getting close to the day when we'll finally be able to meet our new baby, and we're feeling the familiar nervous excitement and anticipation we felt just two short years ago. If she comes on schedule, we've got a little over three weeks. I know it'll go fast, and so the nesting has begun in earnest. I recognized it was happening when I found myself removing all the jelly jars from the fridge door this weekend so I could wipe off the shelf beneath them. Then replacing the jars in color-coordinated order.

The nursery came together this weekend as well, with Michael hanging the curtains and me finally making decisions on wall art and onesie storage. Like Avery's room, it ended up being beautiful, feminine and serine. We hope that -- unlike Avery's room -- it'll inspire many nights of uninterrupted sleep.

That Makes Three of Us

I often wonder what babies dream about. Avery's been giving us some hints lately, waking up in the middle of the night and making random exclaimations: "It my jacket!," "I jumping," or "I watch [Curious] George."

This morning, she must have been anticipating the weekend Starbucks-with-dad ritual, because she awoke at about 4 a.m., declared, "I need coffee," then went back to sleep. Oh honey, you don't know the half of it.