For all the analogies, pigeon English gesturing and completely illogical logic that I heard from the old Belgian bike racing aficionados who had a (generally fatalistic) answer for everything, one nugget that has stood the test of time for me is;

"It's not the rain that makes you strong, but the wind. The rain only makes you wet."

I interpret that to mean it's not the obvious but the subtle that forges us. For example, it wasn't the physical running of the stairs to the Philadelphia Museum of Art that got Rocky Balboa to go the distance against Apollo Creed but rather getting up at 4:30 every morning to do it on a diet of 5 raw eggs (fiction).

Adrienne lost the baby last week. There has been a lot of wind and rain for us over the years, but this experience has enabled us to look at, act on and appreciate real hard our faith in God, our love for each other, and our family and friends.

In classic form, there is a back-story. On Sunday night around 10:30 all three of us started puking. So violently that I thought any one of us might not just bear hug the toilet while kneeling in front of it, but rip it out of the floor and throw it through the window with a single contraction of the abs. It was that bad. Gavin and I fought over a garbage can to sink our heads into at 3:30 in the morning while watching Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse over and over and over again. A stayed up stairs having dibs on her own bathroom. This lasted for about 10 hours. Every 15-minutes. Some forty bouts of heaving times 3 people. Then the fever, misery and diarrhea lasted another 7 days.

An E.R. ultrasound on Monday showed that baby Quattro (the 4th Newmaforma) had a strong heartbeat and even fingers, toes and a nose. Friday night, after another day in the hospital for fluids and monitoring, A went into labor and early Saturday morning, A's birthday, Quattro passed. The rest of the weekend was like a semi-conscious hang over from our viral induced week of sleepless fasting and purging. Monday night, 8 days on, we finally sat down to dinner as a family, a Newma-trifecta, for a meal of soup and crackers. Another 4 days of doctor visits, surgery and consults between her 3 specialists and A seems to be out of the woods.

When we explained the risks of this pregnancy to friends, the most common response was that there was seemingly no good ending. Watching daily the pain A was in and the process of shots and blood draws from her tiny, hard to tap veins, I wondered how she was going to fair through another 6 months with no guarantees of longevity for her or Quattro.

We had to talk through various scenarios I would rather not consider. Reflecting on previous struggles through our 13 years of marriage and marveling at how God has provided and reassured us through it all we realized how resilient and trusting of him we have become. Things work out. One scenario or another there is always a positive. Quattro missed a life on earth, instead skipping straight to Heaven. A remains a part of our family, but the more subtle positive is that over the last months, through heady conversations and in passing, I have been able to tell her how much I love her.

As a family we don't do well with the execution of vacations. Extended weekends have served us best. Weird things go down when we plan and execute a full week off. Last month we took a whole week, planning to stay home and simply relax. We made it to the part where I was making coffee on Saturday morning, thinking of the stress-less 7 days ahead. Then, like a train wreck, A walked into the kitchen with a pregnancy test in hand, crying hysterically. All I could do was laugh.

In all seriousness this is a heavy situation. We almost lost her after G was born but have since been able to identify and manage some pre-existing issues that were unknown while she carried G. The fact is, we are crazy blessed to have her today, before even discussing another pregnancy.

I believe she is safer with this time around given the team of doctors watching over her. She's had 3 ultrasounds in as many weeks. Watching the development of the baby has been reassuring. Because of the Coumadin, the initial concern was if the baby would even thrive. Initially there was no heart beat. This set the stage that we may be dealing with a potentially unsuccessful pregnancy. When we went back for another ultrasound expecting a miscarriage, the baby was thriving. A is certainly on a rough road, but the new kid and all of it's in vitro accoutrement seem to be hanging tough. Literally.

A's home now on bed rest already. She's absolutely miserably in pain and nauseated. Much more so than with G. We're nearing the end of the first trimester. Six months is a long time to just hang around the house. Especially for A since I suck at cooking. Gavin is gonna be a master BBQ and short order cook as I've already trained him on the gloriousness of cereal and p,b&j.

Gavin has been mesmerized by the Squirrels running around on our fence with nuts to stash away for the winter. His Spider is fattening up too. Despite wind and rain storms, he's hanging tough and eating plenty. I can't wait for this spider to finally go to "the farm". In the meantime, every morning, G is anxious to check on his spider friend.