Along with everything else this week I worry (still) about this pregnancy. I want this baby. I do. I am totally out of my mind to be doing this, given everything we faced last time and everything we're likely to face going forward from here, and I still want this baby. On the plus side of the ledger the OB says that he's about 1 pound now. That's a good thing, isn't it? A very good thing. I'm not so worried about my blood pressure or my blood sugar as I am that he's going to stop growing like his sister did.

The doctor asked me if they had decided what caused the Toddler's prematurity. My mom insists that it was the diabetes and the preeclampsia. Well, yes, but not quite. It is far more accurate to say that the Toddler came when she did because she stopped growing. She hadn't gained a speck in two weeks and my doctor at the time said that she was going to be born sooner rather than later because of that. What do I think? She grew to the limits of her environment. The radiation treatments screwed that area up like the chemo did the rest of me. I can't say with any more surety than that. All I can say for sure is that she's here, she was incredibly tiny, and that I'll count myself lucky to keep this next baby growing as much as possible for as long as possible.

Next year. Right? Next year I'll be having this baby. Not before that.