Beginnings, Endings, and Blessings

JP finished business school on Friday. The actual graduation isn't until the 21st, but he's done with class and presentations and exams, and I couldn't be happier or more proud of him. We will have been married for 5 years this September and we've had one part of our pair in grad school the whole time. And now, at the end of it, we have a JD, an MBA, and a monstrous amount of educational debt (totaling $178,000 or so). That debt, and the payments we make on it every month, stands in place of the vacations we don't take, the car I don't drive, and the restaurants we don't eat at. But that's temporary-- it also stands for a hell of a lot of hard work and an investment that we've made in our future and the future of our little family. And speaking of that little family, we made that in grad school too.

We're having the official graduation dinner when his family comes into town for the ceremony, but on Friday we celebrated the way that we like to - with a margarita, a diet coke, and a cup of milk, clinking for a toast over a bowl of queso on the pier at Hula Hut. Later we sat on the couch after Landon had gone to bed, together for the first time in weeks without a pressing need to be anywhere else, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of just being with the one you love the most.

And so begins a new chapter. With our baby girl's arrival in a few weeks it's really two new chapters starting at once. Our family of four. Two working parents (well, hopefully two, JP is working on that). A refinanced house- a renewed commitment to this home and this neighborhood that we're making our own. A mini-menagerie of pets (though I still think we have room to adopt a second cat), and a file cabinet full of adult things like life insurance and a will and estate plan. I'm not sure if this is where I thought I'd be, but I sure am happy to be here.

To add to the celebratory weekend, my sister and her boyfriend came over for a cookout last night and then babysat while JP and I went to see a movie. Our first movie to see in a theatre since February of 2009. We had two free tickets and a giftcard as a present from one of his swimmers and we decided we should use them now while we only have to saddle our sitter with the care of one child. Iron Man 2 was fun and mindless- exactly what I wanted- and I enjoyed the movie-going experience even more than I remembered, though I was appalled to find that a medium popcorn and diet coke came to $12.50 ($12.50!) and JP and I both reached out for an imaginary remote when the volume jumped up for an action sequence. On the way out we admitted we were worried about Landon waking up. Little reminders that first and foremost, we are parents now.

I continue to be well. My ultrasound revealed a perfectly formed little girl who looks very cramped in her tight quarters. My boys built a Mother's Day bouquet for me at the grocery store yesterday and Landon could not be more proud of it (or of the flower pot he painted for me at daycare, though he doesn't know that I have never grown anything that lived for longer than a few weeks). We've enjoyed a restful morning of church, pancakes, and chocolate chip cookies. Now Landon is sleeping, JP is swimming, and I'm sitting. Sitting, waiting, and feeling very happy and blessed.

Quick Post (while I think of something to say that does not revolve around my pregnancy)

I finally have a new All Kinds of Pretty post up: "High-Heeled and Pregnant: Embrace the Belly". Because really, at this point, what else can you do with it?

(And, spoiler alert- I'm no longer high-heeled. Well I am today, but I wasn't on Monday or Tuesday. Venturing into the world of flats has been both fun and comfortable, but none of the ones I'm wearing are technically work appropriate- I just trust that no one is going to say anything to a hugely pregnant woman about her choice in footwear, especially when said footwear is still cute and shiny. Because sadly, no matter which brand or size I try, closed toe flats just kill my feet. Something about their narrowness and tallness and the fact that they've been conditioned to find 3" heels comfortable and get confused when the heel and toes are on the same horizontal plane, and they express this confusion through pain and blisters.)

Also, I had my perinatal appointment yesterday and everything looks great! Next up is an OB appointment and ultrasound tomorrow. I never made it to the 35/36-week ultrasound with Landon, so I'm excited to get this last in-utero glimpse of my baby girl!

When There's Nothing Left To Do But Wait

And now I'll make a less whiny attempt at describing my 35th week of pregnancy. Oh, I still feel, and am, huge:

Exhibit A (for it's Awkward posing Alone)

(especially when your husband refuses to take more than one shot of a picture and gives you no warning before he presses the button)


Exhibit B (for Bam! it's a Big Belly!)

but I have some good stuff to talk about. Not really about the pregnancy itself because I still don't like it and I hate this part most of all (this part with the unrelenting hugeness), but I am greatly enjoying hanging out 1-on-1 with my Lanman and I am at least trying to enjoy this calm before the newborn storm.

The Landon enjoyment is easy. He is deee-lightful, a little bouncing ball of sweetness and light (at least 97% of the time). He talks non-stop and I still can't get over how awesome it is that we get to have conversations together- conversations about all kinds of exciting things like roly poly bugs, the existence of rainbows, and what shoes mommy is going to wear to work this morning (he likes to pick them out for me, and while I always wear them while getting ready, I can't say they're usually the pair that end up making the cut for leaving the house). He gives the best hugs and is so funny and full of love... I don't really know what else I can say about him except that I thought I couldn't possibly love and enjoy him more at 2 1/2 and somehow find that I do both 10x more at 2 3/4. How will I handle 3?

We took the suggestion of a commenter (you guys have such good stuff) and bought him the "I'm A Big Brother" book by Joanna Cole. He loves it! We read it approximately 6 times a day and when we turn the first page (which says "Someone new is at our house, do you know who it is?"), he excitedly squeals, "It's OUR BABY!!" And now the baby is always referred to as "our baby" and he loves to visit "our baby's" room and look at "our baby's" clothes and is always quick to remind us that "our baby" will like to be "warm and cozy" (as per the book) and he can help! But, as the book tells him, he, the Big Brother, is also very special and mommy and daddy love him very much. It's good stuff, even when repeated ten times a day. I can't wait to watch play and grow with his little sister, even as a part of me mourns the end of our days as as family of three. The last 2 years with him have been very, very special for JP and me- healing, really, and I treasure the moments and memories they've given me.

I've been far less successful at enjoying my own pre-baby down time. As I was telling JP last night, the last month of pregnancy is so unfair because you know you should be enjoying your long nights and easy mornings, but you're so uncomfortable and so tired of waiting that you just want the baby to get her NOW so you can start the whole crazy journey that you can't stop thinking about anyway. Plus, I am just not good at sitting, and I'm going a bit nuts. There is nothing left for me to do to prepare for our baby girl's arrival - her room is finished, down to every practical detail I could think of, and we have a fully-stocked baby suite in our master bedroom with a changing table, co-sleeper with coordinating sheets, itty bitty diapers, newborn wipes, burp cloths, etc. I even found a brushed silver lamp in our attic that matches our room and will allow us to be up changing the baby's diaper at night without turning on the bright overhead light (don't tell my doctor I was up in the attic, I just wanted to check the organizational status of our Christmas decorations). My hospital bag is packed, with a list of the items I need to grab on the day of. I even have a folder for my mom (or whoever is with Landon when I go into labor) with a map of our neighborhood, a highlighted route to his daycare, and maps to and from the hospital so they can visit. The baby book is as filled in as it can be without attempting to predict the future (I'm so tempted to fill in the birth details, just for the heck of it) and I've printed the address labels for her announcements. There is nothing for me to do. And work is slow, so I get nearly all of my personal to-do list tasks (which I would normally be doing at night), as well as my aimless internet surf time (again, normally done at night), done there. I need all the TV series I've been hearing are so good to go back to episode 1 so I can start watching- I suddenly regret our years of failing to turn the TV on at night. Maybe it will be better when JP is done with school (this Friday!!) and he can emerge from the closed-door study to keep me company.

But as I wait for the big day, I will continue to enjoy being "cozy" with Landon on the couch (probably reading "I'm a Big Brother" for the ten millionth time) and going on very slow walks around the block with him (yesterday we made five separate stops to let a roly poly cross our path to safety; which was great because mommy can't keep up with the Spider Man big wheel anymore). And I will enjoy tucking him in and hearing him talk about how "our baby" is going to sleep in his room when she gets bigger. And I will enjoy taking long baths at night and eating all the cookie cake I want before I go back to clothes with waistbands. I will enjoy all of these things and still secretly count down the seconds until I get to hold my baby girl and my life turns crazy once again.

(31 more days.)

Uff Da

I don't know how prevalent the word "uff da" (according to Wikipedia, also known as uff-da, uffda, uff-dah, oofda, ufda, ufdah, oofta or ufta) is outside of my family, but it is a marvelous Scandinavian phrase that can be used in many circumstances.

For example, when you get a new assignment to review a depo transcript for certain admissions and you open up the PDF to find that it's 400 pages long- Uff da. Or, when you check your credit card bill thinking it should be low because you haven't left the house in days but then remember all that online shopping done from your couch- Uff da. Or, when you go to pick something up only to find it's 3x heavier than you predicted- Uff da. It can be used in so many situations.

And it pretty well sums up how I feel at 34.5 weeks pregnant. I've noticed that I say it a lot lately. But when getting up off the couch takes momentum and skill and maybe a few false starts- it's the perfect expression, besides cursing, which I try not to do around Landon. And Landon has picked it up (which reinforces why I can't curse)! This morning when he was redecorating his playroom by moving his big red chair, I heard a little "uff da" float down the hall. It cracked me up - hearing your own phrases come out of your toddler's mouth has got to be one of my top five favorite things about being a parent.

(not relevant, but I love this picture from yesterday)

But back to me and the uff-da-ness of pregnancy. I am DONE. I feel huge. I am huge. My belly is a giant roadblock in the middle of my body. I can't lean over to pick things up without knocking into its immovable barrier. When I want to switch the slide I'm sleeping on at night, I have slowly rotate the belly until it reaches the halfway point and then I can let gravity roll me the rest of the way. If I accidentally flip on my back I wake up gasping for air because my lungs are being squished by my 20 lb. baby (yes, she's 20 lbs., it's the only way my total weight gain makes sense). Fewer and fewer of my maternity clothes fit and even sitting on the couch while reading a book is getting uncomfortable. I miss being skinny, I miss my waist, I miss my old clothes. I miss sex. I miss feeling sexy. Instead, I feel big and blah and whiny and done.

But I am not done. I have 4 weeks and 5 days to go. And after having a premature baby who lived in the NICU for two weeks, I know that I don't really want my baby girl to arrive early. Even when sometimes I do.

But really I don't. 33 days to go. Uff-da.

Soundbites To Live By

You know those motivational posters that used to line your high school classrooms? Usually a picture of some natural wonder or a cute baby animal with a deep and meaningful quote written at the bottom. I loved those. Maybe it was because I was a competitive athlete at the time and deeply believed in the power of positive thinking and mind over matter and all those other things that helped me get through the last race of a long meet or the end of a tough practice where my arms had turned to jelly. I kept journals of motivational quotes and had copies of them taped all over my bedroom, car, and locker room.

I like to pull up certain entries from my mental quote catalogue to comfort or motivate me at different times. When I think back on Landon's babyhood and start to travel down the pointless path of wishing I'd done certain things differently, or realized certain problems sooner, I remind myself of what a blog commenter once told me, "You do the best you can with what you know. And when you know more, you do better." It's a quote that I think will remain relevant through the entirety of this parenting journey.

There's two specific quotes that I keep dancing around in my head when it comes to being a working mom and I've been meaning to write about them.

One is something I heard at an alumni roundtable my 1L year of law school. At these roundtable lunches, a very distinguished alumnus would come chat with a small group of students about their career path. This one featured a pretty famous law firm partner who had previously held all sorts of fascinating international law positions all over the world. We knew from her bio that she had two young children, so I asked what that was like - balancing her job and her family. And after she talked generally about their childcare choices, her husband's schedule, etc., she said something that has stuck with me, "You know. I tell my children (then ages 5 and 7) that they are THE most important thing, but mommy's work is important too. And I think that's okay- both that it is important to me and that they know it."

The second soundbite comes from a Women's Initiative lunch we had at the firm a few months ago. Colleen Barrett, President Emeritus of Southwest Airlines, was the speaker and one thing she talked about was being a single mother and raising her son while working full-time. She said something along the lines of, "It was important to me that he didn't see work as the enemy, as something that only took me away from him and gave nothing back. He came to the office with me if I needed to stop by on a weekend, he came to company picnics, he met the people I worked with on a daily basis ..."

The idea of work not being the enemy is something I try to impart on myself, JP, and Landon every day. Yes work is something I need to do, but I try not to phrase it as "Mommy has to go to work" - it's just "it's time for Mommy to go to work" or "yes, Mommy goes to work today." The phrase "have to" pops up, as it must, because sometimes, like when it's 8:30 and I have a call at 9, we really do HAVE TO GO. But words have power, and in general I don't talk about my work- my financial commitment to my family- in disparaging or begrudging terms. JP goes to school, Mommy goes to work, and Landon goes to daycay. It's what we do during the day. Landon has visited my office on many an occasion and thinks it is pretty much the coolest place on earth. He sees me get papers out on the weekends and likes to sit next to me at the kitchen table and color while I highlight cases. As he gets older I'm sure that will continue, with our kids doing homework at the table while JP or I do some work of our own. And I hope that the way we talk about our jobs will influence the way they think about their own obligations- whether it be school assignments, family chores, or jobs of their own. Because I have found that in trying to talk about work in a way that does not make it sound like the enemy to Landon, it ends up affecting the way I view it in my own mind. I do not love every aspect of my job and I have had assignments that I have hated with a passion, but in general, I like it, and I appreciate the fact that I have it and that it provides a comfortable life for my family.

I doubt I'm writing this as clearly as I could be, but I really think that having these two soundbites in my mind has helped shape the way that I view my role as a working mother and the way that I live out that role with Landon. My career is important to me- very important, in fact. Landon is more important and I will sacrifice a lot career-wise to be the mother I want to be for him, but that doesn't mean there isn't room left for my career to have any importance at all. And it's okay for him to know that. So I try to talk about my job and our daily routine in a way that is not full of complaint or negativity because this job, this thing that is important to me, it is not the enemy- not to me and hopefully not to my children.

Because man I freaking love this kid, but I still think there's room for me to love and value both him, his sister, and this career path I've worked so hard to barely start.

Steam of Consciousness Update

I've been drafted onto an absurdly complicated patent law case because our battalion of IP lawyers was swamped and we needed to quickly respond to a Motion for Continuance in a federal action. A call for help was sent out for a "top researcher and writer" from our general litigation group, and apparently I was nominated. A dubious honor, I've decided.

Luckily, there is a parallel ITC action (as is, apparently, common in patent disputes) and a Motion to Stay was filed there. Our esteemed co-counsel, another highly ranked BigLaw firm wrote the response, and I was told I should pretty much be able to copy it and then add a few modifications to personalize it for federal court.

I opened up the document yesterday morning and yeah, no, copying was not going to work. So I dug in. I researched patent law standards and procedures, I researched the history of our case, I learned that the shorthand way to refer to a patent involves a backwards little apostrophe, something that only the cool kids on the IP inside track know. My promised due date for sending my draft to the senior associate on the case was "late afternoon" which morphed to "this evening" which stretched into "by the end of the day" which eventually became 1:15 a.m., or "you'll have it when you wake up in the morning."

And my thoughts about the brief I was writing went from, "this is going to be pretty good" to "oh my god this is crap" to "well maybe I can make it pretty good crap" back to "nope, no I cannot" to sending the email attachment at 1:15 with a hope that it was at least written in English with proper citations. Then my first thought this morning was "well, maybe I was just tired and overly negative last night- maybe it's actually really awesome!" to sitting down and reading it with my tea this morning and deciding it was completely within the bounds of acceptability but nothing that would blow anyone away. And thus my motion's evolution was complete.

So far I have yet to hear from any of the patent people, so I'm not sure what they think of my draft, but I'm comfortable with it and know it is a substantial improvement from what was submitted in the parallel action. I think I was supposed to just update the case law and terminology, but once I get in a document it's very hard not to turn editing into re-writing, especially when you know you can make it better. And I know that all my little apostrophes are facing the right direction, which I am told, is super important.

Oh, and the other big event of yesterday: my perinatal check-up and my total lack of progress on the cervical front. Yay! I'm a little effaced, but show no further dilation or other changes, so my nurse practitioner was very pleased and told me to just continue with the general goal of resting as much as possible until we hit 36 weeks. Which is only 2.5 weeks away! JP has been doing just about everything for me at home; I think he's petrified that I might go into labor before his finals and presentations are over on May 7. I do a lot of sitting and thinking of things to organize, and then I go organize them while sitting. Our bathroom drawers are beautiful and our linen closet is a triumph of rainbow-order.

So that's where I am, personally, professionally, and cervically. I am 33 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I billed enough yesterday to make up for my 2-hour accidental shopping trip at Gap Body last Friday (everything was on sale- I bought 6 things and not one of them cost more than $7!) and the fact that I spend too much time each day on baby-related non-billable things. My feet are starting to swell, but I'm in cute silver flat sandals and feel otherwise fine. Landon told me I was "so pretty" this morning, even though I was bleary eyed and huge and weigh an apallingly high amount of pounds.

Ooh and I just got an email from the IP associate with a "nicely done!". Excellent. I'm buying myself a Double Doozie at American Cookie Company after lunch.

Showered and Ready

I've probably reached that point in my pregnancy where I shouldn't go more than a day or two without updating my blog just in case people start thinking I went into labor.

I haven't:

But I did have a baby shower! A quartet of co-workers threw a lovely one for me at lunch on Thursday. It was so fun to be showered in dresses and ruffles and girlyness. I've gone through all of Landon's old clothes and plan for my daughter to wear about 90% of them, and I don't think my baby cares much about her wardrobe or proving her gender to anyone who passes, but oh my goodness little girl clothes are adorable. And my baby girl made out like a bandit:

Landon was excited the baby got so many presents and was a far more captive audience than JP when I went back through each one. He was especially intrigued by the size 1 diapers in a gift basket. After considering them thoughtfully for several minutes, he finally concluded that they would fit on his hands- though he did not explain why his hands might need diapers.

Landon's other favorite gifts consisted of a little green elephant (which he has adopted "so it will have a friend"), a pair of teeny pink crocs (which he slept with last night), and a wee shirt with fish all over it ("FISHIES mama! Fishies for the baby!!"). He's been talking more and more about his sister. Last night at dinner he randomly started telling JP and I about babies. We were informed very seriously that "Babies are fragile. And they cry. Babies sleep a lot of the time. And we have to be careful with them." JP and I found it very educational.

I spent today washing and hanging all her clothes. Her closet is an array of color and her room is completely complete.

All that's missing is the baby. I really just can't wait to meet her. (Except that I can. I can wait until you're full-term- do you hear me little girl?)

Week 33: Hippos and Ankles

I am now two days shy of 33 weeks, and I feel like this:

It's like my body just realized I was pregnant-- really pregnant. I feel slow and large and blah. My feet got a little swollen on Monday after my flight and long day of training in Houston. I wore flip flops to our workshop dinner (fancy golden flip flops! totally work appropriate) and when I took them off back in my hotel room I could see the grooves where the straps had been. Then on Tuesday I wore a dress and by midday I was horrified to see that I was losing the curve of my ankle. I had forgotten how unattractive it is when your leg just extends straight into your foot, and I can see why showing a little curvy ankle was seen as so sexy and scandalous in Victorian England. The way mine looked on Tuesday would inspire lust in no one, except perhaps the rhino pictured above.

Then last night my entire left calf muscle seized up in a horrific spasm from 3:05-3:17 a.m. It spread to my left foot and then my right calf and I was crying and holding my leg and it was so very painful. JP woke up about halfway through and said something helpful like, "you should drink more water during the day" and claimed to have no memory of the entire episode this morning. Next time I'm hitting him over the head with my alarm clock. If I'm in pain, he should be too. (And don't worry, it's a small alarm clock- no permanent damage.)

Today my ankles had regained their natural curvature and I was feeling pretty good. I went to my perinatal appointment for my weekly counseling session/health check. My nurse practitioner was glad to hear that I had grounded myself in Austin with no plans to do anything but go to work and hang out at home until my daughter is born. She was less glad to hear I had a wee bit of spotting over the weekend and that my Braxton-Hicks contractions had doubled. She found some blood in my urine sample, and upon examination, discovered that I was ever so slightly dilated. I've been checked every week since #28 and this was the first notable change. Because she's wonderful, she expressed some concern, but no overt worry. She stressed that I could stay at a centimeter for weeks and for all we know I did this exact thing last time. But because I am still a month away from full term, she advised that I take a few precautions. No more sex. (Of course, it's like we've on some sort of crash sex diet for this entire pregnancy.) And I should attempt what she called House Rest. Not Bed Rest- I can still go to work, but I should make a concerted effort to rest and relax, keep my feet up, etc. No big days of errands, no more travel, no exercise (no problem!). And then we'll see where I am next week.

So that's what I'm doing. I feel good and quite calm. I'm really grateful for my weekly perinatal checks. I'm such an under-reacter/non-worrier that I need the frequent reminders that my actions affect my pregnant body in ways that would never bother my normal self. My nurse practitioner walks the line well, and with the exception of that first visit, I have always left the office feeling better than before I entered. She has worked exclusively in the "pre-term prevention program" for 11 years and is just so knowledgeable. I see my OB tomorrow and it will be interesting to see what she says as well. I completely believe I'm going to get to at least 35 weeks, and I'm even more determined to be grateful for every day I'm pregnant, even if I hate my ankles and grow frighteningly close to outweighing my 6'3" husband.

From an Only to a Brother

Landon has been wearing his "Big Brother" t-shirt for the last two days, so I figured this was a good time to talk about his upcoming transition to sibling. People keep asking if he's excited about the baby, and it's hard to say - to the extent that he grasps the concept, he's very excited about it. When we go up to the nursery he likes to point out where the baby will sleep and talk about how "we don't hurt the baby" and "babies like to sleep a lot." A bunch of his friends at daycare are new siblings- maybe this is something they're talking about while eating sand? He also likes to bring toys into the nursery and leave them behind for the baby- then after a few days go by and there's still no baby, he'll take them back and replace them with new ones. He probably can't figure out why the baby won't just come home to be with us and he's trying to sweeten the deal.

As I wrote about last week, Landon did FINALLY notice my big belly. Up until then, I think he thought the baby lived at the doctor because whenever I said I was going to the doctor he would ask if I was going to see the baby and tell me to give it a kiss. I figured a baby living at the doctor made as much sense as a baby living in my belly, so we didn't push it. Then, about a day or two after the great moment of belly awareness, Landon asked where the baby was. I told him it was in mommy's tummy. He said, "no it's not, it's at the doctor" and then walked off with his train. One day after that he told me that he had a very little baby in his tummy and I had a bigger one in my tummy AND there was a really big baby at the doctor. So we have three babies. I think. I'm not really clear myself. He does like to pat my belly and tells me that the baby is sleeping, so he seems to have some grasp of the baby in the belly concept. We're kind of just gliding along, answering his questions when he asks them and talking about the baby when he does.

I remain so excited for the two of them to meet and I'm optimistic that he will do well with his little sister. He loves babies and was the only toddler to reach out to the new babies whenever one graduated into his old daycare class. The teachers said he'd bring them toys and hand them things on the playground, while the other kids didn't really notice the new additions. He'll continue to go to daycare throughout the summer (though I hope and plan to pick him up early), so his universe won't be completely rocked. In the evenings when we're together, JP will be home to help out, so I should still be able to have lots of Landon-mommy time. And he's also just such a mellow kid- very little seems to phase him. At least I hope it goes well; I was just thinking tonight as I tucked him in bed that sometimes I can't believe how much I love him, and I can't believe I'm soon going to have two little ones to love that much. It's amazing one heart can hold it all.

My biggest concern about the entire event is what we'll do with Landon if I go into labor prior to my 39-week c-section date. It's so different having to worry about a pre-existing child this time around. We're lucky to have friends nearby who have volunteered to help out, but they have jobs and kids of their own and I'd still feel like JP should leave the hospital to come be with Landon once the baby is born so that the little guy will have some normalcy. Hopefully my mom and/or dad can come over quickly from Houston, but my mom still has to teach until June 3 so she couldn't stay long. My worst case scenario involves JP needing to stay at the house with Landon at night while I stay alone at the hospital. I actually like hospitals, so it's not that I'm afraid, I just hate having to bug the nurses for all the little comforts I may randomly need - it's so much better to have a JP sleeping next to me who can get my chapstick and hold my hand and plug in my cell phone into the charger.

Overall, I'm just ridiculously excited about meeting this baby girl and watching Landon meet and get to know his little sister.

P.S. I'm flying to Houston for a 2-day workshop at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning, but if you miss me, here's my last two All Kinds of Pretty posts as well as a link to a great giveaway!

There and Back Again

I feel like I was gone for so much longer than 36 hours. Probably because yesterday seemed to run on for at least 35 of them. I'm starting to admit that maybe I can't quite do all that I think I can do and emerge unscathed- or at least without swollen feet.

I left the house at 7:00 a.m. for my 8:20 flight. I was a little concerned that someone might bug me about whether I should be flying, but nobody did. Maybe because my belly is so small and demure. All 31 pounds of it. The flight itself was fine, though I noticed my toes looked a little puffy by the end and my back was starting to ache like it was still bruised on the inside from its abuse over the weekend. Also of note during the flight, I decided that I need a Kindle. JP has been informed.

Once in Chicago everything was better. The weather was 75 degrees of blue skyed perfection. I cabbed it to my hotel, my smile growing with every recognizable exit between O'Hare and downtown. I know I go on and on about Chicago, but there's just something so wonderful about returning to a city where you loved to live- it's a satisfying blend of well-worn comfort, excitement, and nostalgia, and driving up Michigan Avenue made me feel happy from the inside out.

At the Four Seasons a very nice man at the front desk asked me how far along I was in my pregnancy and then informed me that I'd been upgraded to a King Suite. Great! I thought, I'll have a nice big king-sized bed to curl up in. But when I got to my room on the 43rd floor, this is what I found:

As it turns out, a "king suite" goes way beyond bed size. It has hallways, and multiple rooms, and two full bathrooms. I tried to sit in every chair before I left just so all the square footage would feel appreciated. I also used both showers- wouldn't want one to feel left out.

(Not pictured: the dining room, bar/kitchenette, conference room, and dressing room with giant mirrors and pedestal to stand on.)

It was by far the nicest hotel room I've ever been in in my life and suddenly I was very sad that I was only there for one night and that JP wasn't with me. But my day was fully booked so off I went to meet one of my best law school friends for lunch at Flatwater on the river. K looked fabulous as always, and it was all kinds of lovely to catch up with her in person while watching the river boats go by. After lunch I strolled my way up Michigan Avenue, stopping in the 4-story Gap that somehow always has things I want even though Gap almost never impresses me anywhere else. And because I was feeling very brave and a little giddy from all the Chicagoness around me, I bought a bathing suit. A non-maternity item made of nylon and spandex. It felt like a leap of faith, an act of supreme trust that I will one day (soonish) look like a regular, non-pregnant 27-year-old again. But it's a dark navy tankini, so it's a realistic leap, I hope.

After the shopping my feet were again looking puffy and my back was hurting and I realized I probably should have rested for a little bit, but it was time to change my clothes and head down to the law school for the recruiting event. I think I'll write about that separately, but it was fun because I love chatting with strangers and I really do like my firm and love my job. I was surprised by how nostalgic I felt when re-entering the halls of the law school for the first time since graduation. I never would have believed I'd feel that way 4 years ago when I was drowning and deflated in the middle of 1L Spring Quarter.

After 2.5 hours of standing up in heels, my back and feet were killing me. I headed to dinner with a good friend, my original inspiration for being a law school mama (she was a 3L when I was a 1L and had a baby during her 2L year). After dinner I got to sit down in my hotel room for approximately 15 minutes before I had to go down to the lounge to meet a 2L who is going to be a summer associate in our Houston office this summer. I did not at all feel like going down to talk firm-talk for another hour, but she was very nice and we ordered a survey of desserts that were all very good. Finally, at 10:30 I was able to take a shower and crawl into my big fluffy bed.

This morning consisted of taking a shower in the other shower, enjoying a delicious brunch at one of my favorite restaurants, and then cabbing it back to the airport. I was exhausted. I was sad to leave Chicago. I was happy to come home. And I was thrilled when Landon ran into the house, throwing himself at me and yelling "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I ate pizza!!" an hour later. It's good to be back.