A List For Sydney

I haven't kept it a secret that I'm a little nervous about having a 2nd child.  With Sam, we were so elated about being pregnant and so clueless as to what we were getting ourselves into that all I really talked about was our excitement.  (Ignorance truly was bliss...)  And it's TOTALLY not that we're not excited this time around.  Quite the contrary.  But I think this time we have a better idea of what to expect, we know that even though we've done this before you're never FULLY prepared to add a new member of the family to your house, and we know there will be an adjustment period for all of us.  Change is good--this change is exceptionally good--but it is a change and one that will take some time for us to figure out a new normal. 

One of the reasons I have this blog is so I can record memories for my family.  But I also like recording a little piece of me.  Someday when I'm gone, my children and their children and their children's children can look at this and know me a little better.  And I got to thinking that Sydney might read my posts about this pregnancy and think that we were less than happy about her. 

Let me say this right now, for the record:  NOTHING COULD BE FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH.

But I also think it's important for her to know that I wasn't a perfect mother, and I knew it.  I didn't have it all together.  There were times that I was pretty sure I had screwed up her life.  That way when she's feeling the same in the face of whatever is going on with her children, maybe she won't feel entirely alone.  Maybe if I'm not around to give her a hug and reassure her, this can be almost like a cyber hug through the ages...preserved forever. 

So I thought it might be appropriate for me to post a list of things I'm looking forward to about having a daughter.  Do I have concerns?  Yes.  Am I certain that the joy she brings to our hearts will far outweigh any of my insecurities or anything I could ever mess up?  A thousand times yes.

So here it is...just for my Sydney...a list of reasons I'm glad God picked us to be her family.

 1)  The moment I see her for the first time will be unforgettable.
 2)  The new baby smell.
 3)  Pigtails.
 4)  Painting her toenails.
 5)  Getting our toenails painted together.
 6)  Taking a break from Christmas shopping together to get some hot chocolate.
 7)  Sharing the books that I loved as a child with her.
 8)  Feeling her baby breath on my neck when she falls asleep on my shoulder.
 9)  Hearing her call me Mommy.
10)  Hearing her play with her brother.
11)  Hearing her dad sing to her.
12)  Little sundresses.
13)  Eskimo kisses.
14)  Teaching her and her brother that licking the beaters is half the fun of baking.
15)  Secrets between just me and her.
16)  Secrets between just her and her brother.
17)  Little sandals.
18)  Telling her she is beautiful on her wedding day.
19)  Sending her flowers just because.
20)  Watching her eyes light up when she "gets it"...be that a hard math problem, a football defensive strategy or the punchline of a joke.
21)  Learning what makes her tick...be it music or sports or theater or science...or all of the above.
22)  Helping her find her niche.
23)  Talks late into the night when she's home from college.
24)  Phone calls late into the night when she's at college and feeling homesick.
25)  Whispering "I love you" to her even when I know she's asleep and she can't hear me.
26)  Hearing her tell me "I love you" back.
27)  The first time I hug her and she really hugs me back.
28)  Movie dates with her to see chick flicks.
29)  Pony tails.
30)  Letting her try on my lipstick.
31)  Shopping for a new shade of lipstick together.
32)  Cannon ball contests off of the diving board.
33)  Watching her roll her eyes at her dad participating in the cannon ball contests.
34)  Shopping for shoes with her.
35)  Knowing that she will reach for me and that alone will be enough to make her stop crying...sometimes.
36)  Teaching her that it's polite to share your food when eating in a restaurant.
37)  Beach trips as a family of four.
38)  Hearing her tell me about "the one" when he really is the one.
39)  Games of patty cake.
40)  Games of peek-a-boo.
41)  Hearing little girls giggle into the night during sleepovers.
42)  Planning birthday parties together.
43)  Twirling together.
44)  Teaching her to walk in high heels.
45)  Watching her do something that she is good at and seeing her confidence soar.
46)  Singing silly songs with her.
47)  Coloring with her.
48)  Saturday morning cartoons.
49)  Watching her brother make her laugh.
50)  Going to football games as a family.
51)  Going to basketball games as a family.
52)  Going on vacations as a family.
53)  Letting her play in my makeup.
54)  Introducing her to new foods.
55)  Going wedding dress shopping with her.
56)  Going maternity clothes shopping with her.
57)  Holding her baby in my arms--and telling her that no matter what she will always be my baby.
58)  Baby dolls.
59)  Coordinating Easter outfits.
60)  Spending the day with her on her birthday just doing something she likes.
61)  Trips to the zoo.
62)  Going to see the Nutcracker at Christmas.
63)  Helping her pick out her first-day-of-school outfit.
64)  Watching her and her brother share an inside joke that their dad and I have no idea about.
65)  Picnics in the back yard.
66)  Saying "the kids."
67)  Teaching her that praying is just a conversation with God.
68)  Hearing her pray.
69)  Chubby little hands.
70)  Chubby little feet.
71)  Feeling her grasp my finger in her tiny hand.
72)  Watching her play in the mud with her brother.
73)  Seeing her brother hold her.
74)  Heavy-lidded eyes when I'm rocking her.
75)  Getting hugs from two kids at once.
76)  Reading the Christmas story on Christmas Eve.
77)  Little hair bows and barrettes.
78)  Learning her toddler language.
79)  Learning her teenager language...or at least trying.
80)  Hearing her laugh in her sleep.
81)  Sharing old family traditions with her.
82)  Starting new family traditions with her.
83)  Cooking with her.
84)  Teaching her to swim.
85)  Hearing her squeal as she runs from her dad--and knowing that she really wants him to catch her.
86)  Afternoons at the park.
87)  Having 2 kids come running and jump in bed with their dad and me on a Saturday morning.
88)  Blowing bubbles in the yard.
89)  Sticky kisses.
90)  Frilly dresses with ruffles on the panties.
91)  Backing her up when she stands up for something she believes in.
92)  Just one more bedtime story.
93)  Hearing her laugh.
94)  Running my fingers through her hair.
95)  Teaching her and her brother to spit watermelon seeds.
96)  Halloween costumes.
97)  Easter egg hunts.
98)  Snuggling on the couch with some popcorn for a movie night.
99)  Tea parties.
100) Seeing me in her.  Seeing her dad in her.  Seeing her in her.  And loving all of her.

Dear Sydney,

Is this my first letter that I've written to you as Sydney and not as Baby?  I think so...  To be honest, I'm not sure why.  We've known your name is Sydney for a while, but I have referred to you as Little Sister, The Baby and various other names much longer than I did your brother.  Maybe it's because you still have no middle name?  (Which your dad, by the way, is freaking out about just a bit.)  He sends me almost daily texts with suggestions for your middle name, but I think I just have to see your sweet face to know what your full name will be.  I mean, how awful would it be if we named you Sydney Kaitlyn and you totally look like a Sydney Nicole?  You'd be stuck with it for the rest of your life, and it would be all my fault for not being patient.  Trust me, you'll thank me for this someday.

Along those same lines, I have been completely incapable of making decisions throughout this entire pregnancy.  I always struggle a little.  I feel like if I'm given only 2 or 3 options, I do pretty well.  But when I'm presented with endless color combinations, fonts, patterns and choices I just get overwhelmed and something in my brain shuts down.  But this pregnancy has only magnified that.  It took me forever to settle on bedding.  Your dad finally just went and bought a diaper bag because I was incapable of making the decision.  He also bought a glider because I wouldn't ever decide which one to get.  Come to think of it, I think he's the one who finally picked out your carseat, too.  Seriously, you should probably thank him because if preparing for your arrival were solely on my shoulders who knows what you would've come home to?

As of this week, we are officially in the home stretch.  We are less than one month from your due date, and at our OB appointment this week the midwife told me that they would let you come anytime you decided.  That's a little dose of reality for me.  While I'm so. stinkin'. excited. to meet you and hold you and get to be your mom, I have some concerns.  Adjusting to life as a family of four seems daunting.  Childbirth is a little scary.  Handling two kids sounds intimidating.  Childbirth scares me.  Working through the inevitable sibling jealousy makes me sad that my kids might actually think I love one more than the other.  Childbirth scares the bejeezes out of me.  Getting two small children ready to leave the house and out the door anywhere near on time seems almost impossible.  I mean I already feel like I've run a marathon just chasing Sam around trying to get him to leave his pants on long enough to get out the door. 

Also, I'm starting to get a little nervous about this whole childbirth thing.  (Just in case you didn't know...)  Our goal is to go epidural free this time.  I'm all for modern medicine, and I think minimizing pain is awesome.  But after the negative experience and postpartum complications we had last time, your dad and I have agreed that we're gonna give the natural birth experience a whirl.  Last time we made it to 8cm before we got the epidural.  (Ten is your ultimate goal.)  And I remember 8.  Eight was no fun.  To be honest, at that point the epidural was a pretty easy sell for my OB.  And I'm trying to not put a lot of pressure on myself this time.  I know there are no absolutes in childbirth.  Ultimately, the ONLY goal I have is to get you here safely.  But skipping the 10-day-long, debilitating headache this time would be pretty cool, too. 

I'm pretty sure that unless God has other plans for us, this is our last ride in this rodeo.  And that honestly makes me sad.  So while I'm kinda ready for this pregnancy to come to it's end, I'm trying to savor these last few weeks.  Your little kicks and jabs.  The hiccups.  Knowing you can hear my heartbeat and you are learning the sound of it so it brings comfort to you when you lie on my chest.  And while it will be nice to walk at something greater than a snail's pace, I know I'll long for that constant togetherness with you. 

Sweet Sydney, we are so anxious for your arrival.  I have no idea what the next few months hold for us.  I'm sure there will be days that I want to pull my hair out, but I know that they will pale in comparison to the hundreds of thousands of moments when I just want to freeze time and feel that overflowing happiness forever.  I have no idea what your role will be in this family--will you be a peacemaker, will you be the instigator, will you bring music or art or dancing into our lives?  Or will you be the one for whom we will sit at ballgame after ballgame and cheer for until we lose our voices?  Will you love science and try to blow the house up at some point or will you be the one who sits in her room dreaming up stories about heroes and damsels in distress? 

We can't wait to find out...

We love you so much already,
Mommy

Showered With Blessings

My friends at work had a little shower for us a couple of weeks ago.  I never cease to be humbled and amazed at the kindness, generosity and creativity of our friends. 

I just love this little name sign.  It now lives right above Little Sister's crib.



And keep an eye on these little fellers.  They may just make an appearance in the bedroom too!

The shower was at the clinic right after work, so I had Sam with me.  He thought the electronic paper towel dispenser was the best shower game they had.

Here's another game we played.  You had to drop clothes pins into a Mason jar.  Sam didn't really understand why some of the adults were having such a hard time with this one.

Three guesses who the winner was!!!

And what's the good in taking pictures if you can't post a couple of the more embarrassing ones of your friends on the internet for the whole world to see?  In this game, each team had to blow up their balloons and put it under their shirt, then "birth the baby" by popping the balloon.  If only it were that easy...

We got so many nice things.  Our little Sydney is going to be so fashionable in all of her new clothes, and her room looks so sweet with all of the little trinkets we got to go in there.  Stay tuned for the big reveal of her nursery!

A Cuppa Joe

Come sit and have a cuppa joe with me!  If we were chatting over coffee (or tea...or Diet Coke...whatever your poison is), I would tell you:

-We recently tried to convert Sam from a crib to a toddler bed.  At his two-year check-up, his pediatrician advised us that we needed to get him in a "big boy" bed.  I was reluctant because he sleeps so. well. in his crib.  But he reasoned that as tall as Sam is, if he ever tried to climb out he would most likely be successful, and he could potentially injure himself.  We've already suffered one broken leg.  It's not an experience I want to repeat.  So Sam and I came home one night to Shawn changing his convertible crib to a toddler bed.  Sam seemed excited.  He immediately sat on it and played with his toys.  He laid down and covered himself up and told us "night night."  So we were thinking this was going to be a pretty good thing.  Then we actually tried to leave and turn out the lights. 

Crying.

Pleading.

Wild-eyed with fear.

We set the kitchen timer and decided to wait it out.  After 10 minutes, Shawn and I could stand no more and we went to rescue our boy.  I rocked him and tried to calm him down while Shawn converted the toddler bed back into a crib.  Then I put him in his crib and he was literally asleep in 5 minutes. 

To heck with what the pediatrician says.  For all I care he can sleep in that crib until he's 12 years old.

-Sam picked out a present for Little Sister.  We were in Walmart (aka The Devil's Lair) a few days ago, and I strolled past the stuffed animals.  Shawn and I had discussed getting a little something for Sam to bring to the hospital, but I hadn't settled on anything.  Suddenly, Sam spotted a Minnie Mouse doll and immediately started reaching for it yelling, "Meme!  Baby!"  He wouldn't hush until I gave him the doll.  I told him I thought it was nice that he picked it out for his sister, and then I explained that it was special gift for her so we couldn't play with it until she came.  But he was kind enough to go ahead and bite her nose just to make sure she met our high standards. 

I'm so impressed that he understood that we were looking for something for the baby, and I'm even more thankful and impressed that he specifically picked an appropriate gift for her.  We might be able to handle this two-kid thing after all...

-I am amazed at how the size of my abdomen seems to be the favorite topic of conversation at the clinic these days.  And not among my co-workers...among PATIENTS!!!  Last Friday, I got five different comments about how large my belly is.  At least once a day (no exaggeration), I get a "Honey, you're about to pop, aren't you?"

My belly is big.  I get it.  My belly button will never be the same.  I will never wear a belly-revealing bathing suit again.  I grunt when I go from sitting to standing.  But here's the thing--I'm totally cool with all of that.  Because I'm gonna get a really awesome kid in exchange for it.  And if she's even HALF as much fun as her brother, we are in for one amazing ride.

A Cuppa Joe

I like coffee.  Not black coffee, but the fancy-shmancy coffee that you go to coffee houses to get.  The kind that is loaded with calories and fat grams and takes you 3 minutes to order.  The kind that I'm always a little embarrassed to order because I have to make so many specifications and I silently add "with a side of high maintenance, please" to the end of my order.  The kind that is served not by a waitress, but by a barista.  The kind that you sit and drink with a girlfriend while catching up and sharing a couple of laughs.

Only I haven't been to a coffee house lately.  And I'm pretty sure if I did go with a girlfriend, I wouldn't be so much sitting and sipping and laughing as I would be chasing a certain little boy around trying to prevent him from picking up coffee mugs and breaking them.  

Just to clarify, that is not a complaint.  Just a fact of life.  But still, I wonder what things I'd talk about if I were to just sit and chat with a friend for a few minutes.  If you were to join me for a cuppa joe right now, I would tell you:

-We still have to sleep with "two boos" at night.  Once again, Shawn and I have found a way to complicate an already potentially complicated situation.  Instead of having one Pooh to keep up with, now we have two.  In fact, sometimes we even have three, but it's pretty hard to carry all three of them, so most days one stays home in the bed.  Only on our sleepiest, whiniest days do all three come out to play.  Luckily, the old, original Pooh seems to still be our favorite, and "Two Boo" (as he has been dubbed) usually stays in the car while Boo goes with us everywhere else.  Still, it's pretty funny to see Sam take inventory of his Poohs in the mornings when I get him out of bed.  He stands up so I can lift him out of his crib, tucks the original Boo up under his chin where he likes to keep him, then thrusts Two Boo at me and orders me to hold him.  Only when I set him safely on the floor is he ready to take on the both of them.

-That it totally cracks me up how my little boy can amuse himself.  How he will build a tower out of Legos and come running to show me, and I have to yell, "Wow!" and then he looks so proud and yells, "Wow!" and I laugh to myself and it never. gets. old.  For either of us.

-That I am feeling seriously huge.  I had a little meltdown a couple of weekends ago because my belly hung out of all of my shirts by about 3 inches, and I had a totally hormone-induced crying fit.  And the worst part was that I KNEW I was being irrational.  Because huge or not--uncomfortable or not--this is a blessing.  One that so many women would give anything to have.  One that I often wondered if I would ever get to experience.  But when  your clothes don't fit and you can't bend over to tie your shoes, it's just a little too easy to forget that.  But I'm so thankful that my sweet husband dropped me off at a maternity store and told me he wasn't coming back to pick me up until I had bought some clothes that fit so I would stop being such an emotional wreck encouraged me to buy some clothes that I felt good in.  And lo and behold, I found a coupon that I had TOTALLY forgotten I had that expired that very day.  That, combined with a little bit of birthday money, made for an amazingly quick emotional recovery.  Ah, retail therapy.  How sweet it is...

-That Shawn busted his butt for an entire week working on the baby's room.  I'm happy to report that her room is now empty of everything non-baby, and there is a fresh coat of paint on the walls.  Her crib is assembled, and the swing and bouncer seat have been retrieved from the basement.  Now it is just matter of getting laundry done and loaded into her dresser, getting a bookcase, and taking care of a few odds and ends.  Oh...and we are also going to get a glider for her room.  (Mommy is so. super. excited. about that.)  But we're in MUCH better shape today than we were a couple of weeks ago.  

So now it's your turn!  What would you share with me over a cuppa joe?

Oh Boy! It's A.....

GIRL!!!

We went for our big ultrasound yesterday.  Shawn and I were both nervous and excited.  Excited because actually knowing the gender of our baby makes it seem so much more real.  Now we can actually start seriously thinking about names, nursery decor and all of the other little (and big) things that go with having a baby.  Nervous because, well, ultrasounds are kinda scary.  There's always that tense few seconds before we see the little heart beating where we wonder if everything is okay.  The night before, our dreams are always filled with scenarios of what ifs.  Because the truth is, having a baby is serious business.  Oh sure, people do it every. single. day.  But in reality, there are hundreds of thousands of things that can go wrong that could end a pregnancy.  Things that could happen at no fault of anyone else.  And let's not even think about the things that could happen to just cause a lifelong disability.  (Yeah...JUST.)  So while we were getting ready for my appointment yesterday morning, we were both dwelling on family histories, congenital disorders, anatomical malformations and other happy thoughts.

Sam, on the other hand, was totally consumed with thoughts of "Nano", which we have recently learned means Mickey Mouse.  He couldn't care less that we were going to look at his baby brother or sister. 

For some reason, I have fixated myself on cleft palate this pregnancy.  Maybe it's because I recently saw a baby that was born with a cleft palate in person.  Maybe it's because I heard a news story about a charity drive to raise money to pay for the corrective surgery for children overseas.  Maybe it's just all of the crazy pregnancy hormones coursing through my body.  But I just kept thinking about our baby being born with a cleft palate and having to have facial reconstruction surgery at such a young age.  Then, just to keep things interesting, we got into the ultrasound room, and Little Miss was bashful and wouldn't let us see her face.  Are you kidding me?!  We examined all of her other organs.  Bladder and kidneys looked great.  Heart had four beautiful little chambers just pumping away.  Umbilical cord looked like it had good bloodflow.  (Or at least that's what the ultrasound technician told us...we just took her word for all of this.)  But she refused to move her hands enough to let us get a good look at her facial anatomy. 

Finally, after I turned over on my side, stood on my head and the ultrasound lady did some kind of weird rain dance-looking thing, our little bundle of pink moved her hands just enough to get a quick look at the bones in her face.  All was well!  But sorry...no cute photo ops. 

At least no photos of her face.  She was more than happy to give us a full crotch shot.  Very proud of her girl-ness, she was.  I've always heard that girls can be tricky on an ultrasound.  Just because it LOOKS like you're having a girl doesn't necessarily mean you should rush out and douse your house in pink.  Sometimes those boy parts can hide from you.  But the nice lady assured us that she got a great look and we can douse to our hearts' content.  Not that we will, probably.  If I know my husband, he'll still be pulling for a UK themed nursery. 

One of the nurses later asked Sam if he was excited to see his baby on the TV screen, and Shawn told her that unless "his baby" is a character on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Winnie the Pooh, Sam has no interest in watching her on TV.  I mean, they didn't even have the courtesy to play the Hot Dog song while we were watching the screen, so what was the point? 

After the ultrasound when we were confident that our baby is healthy, I started letting my mind wander to all things little girl.  And I got a little nervous.  I mean, I never could figure out how to French braid.  I always felt like I needed a third hand.  I have no idea how I'm going to get those cute little tights on a squirmy baby.  And have you ever just taken a stroll down the kids aisle at the shoe store and looked at all of those adorable little shoes?  I may have to get a second job...  And NAMES!!!  Sam was easy because we always knew if we had a boy we would name him Sam, but we have never really agreed on a girl name.  So now we actually have to decide!

Nervousness and reservations aside, we're just tickled to be having a little girl.  As one of my friends told me, it's a whole new ballgame, and it's one that I can't wait to play.  I'm excited to see if she'll be a little tomboy...running and romping with her brother...or if she'll be girlie and prissy...begging me to paint her nails and do her makeup.  Maybe she'll be both.  Maybe we'll have the only girl who carries a purse onto the basketball court.  I hope she's blessed with long legs like her daddy so buying pants isn't as much of an ordeal for her as it always has been for me.  I can't wait to teach her the importance of regular pedicures and spa days.  (Lead by example, I always say.)  And maybe she'll teach us a thing or two, as well. 

So, little Shelby/Sydney/Sarah/Catherine/Nicole/Abbey/Grace/Macy...keep on doing what you're doing.  We'll see you soon. 

Come To My Window

If you were to peek in my window right now, you would see...

...a dining room table covered with left-over Christmas decorations that are just waiting--begging, in fact--to be put back into storage.

...a little boy who is DAILY testing his limits.  Using the word "no" like a pro.  Walking directly toward something that I've told him at least a million times is off limits, all while looking over his shoulder to see if I'm watching.  Helping me put "trash" into the trashcan--trash like clean socks fresh from the laundry and possibly a house phone that has recently gone MIA. 

...a man who busts his butt to help us stay on top of laundry, cleaning, tidying up and every now and then gives a little boy a bath...just because he thinks I might be the one who needs a break.

...a woman whose wardrobe choices are getting more and more creative every day.  It's funny--when I was pregnant with Sam I could. not. wait. to start wearing maternity clothes.  I would jump up every morning and, with an inspector's eye, look for the bump that I longed to see.  This time, I'm putting off those maternity pants as long as I can.  Not because I'm not excited about the baby---probably more just because I'm too lazy to bring the maternity clothes out of storage and make room in my closet for them.  So for now I'm wearing long shirts and employing the ponytail holder trick to button my jeans. 

...a little boy who can be running circles around our living room and will randomly stop to pass out a hug and a kiss.  And it melts my heart every time he does it.

...a blogger who is having a harder and harder time finding time to blog.  And that makes me sad.  When I started this blog, I initially intended for it to just be a way to stay connected to our family and friends who live far away.  But it has turned into a journal of sorts for me to catalog our lives.  Because let's face it:  a scrapbooker I am not.  Blogging is a way for me to record memories--both happy and sad.  I enjoy going back and reading the posts that make me smile, but I have also enjoyed reading the posts that were written through tears.  They are reminders that bad times don't stick around.  It's like I have little post-it notes from God telling me His mercies are new every morning.

...a little boy who is growing up way too fast.

...a mom who still questions her parenting skills.  I know all of Sam's recent boundary testing is just part of him growing up, but it makes me constantly ask myself if I'm handling it right.  Am I striking the right balance of patience with firmness?  Am I expecting too much of him or should I push him?  Do I just take a deep breath and tell myself this too shall pass or do we need to take action now to avoid even bigger problems in the future?  Don't get me wrong--Sam is a great kid.  I can't brag on him enough.  He is a blessing...I get that.  But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to see bedtime get here on some of our recent nights.

...a few empty plastic totes that are waiting to be filled with things that Sam no longer uses.  Things like bibs, burp cloths, receiving blankets...  But for some reason I just can't make myself empty those drawers in his chest.  I guess I think if I leave the baby things in his room he will stay a baby. 

...a mom and dad who cannot agree on a name for a new baby.  Sam's name had a lot of meaning for us.  So for baby #2, I don't want to just pick out a name that we like.  I'd love to come up with a name that is special to us.  But so far we have very few possibilities.    But we're going to have to get serious about it soon because I'm tired of just saying "the baby."

And Then There Were Four...

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you.  Things can happen sometimes that are so unexpected...so out of the blue...that they just smack you right upside the head with a little dose of what-the-heck and a sprinkling of whoa! 

Shawn and I found out a few weeks ago that we will be welcoming a new miracle into our home next summer.  I've always heard that every pregnancy is different, and this one is already vastly different from my pregnancy with Sam...even down to the way I told Shawn.  Last time, I bought Shawn a UK baby blanket, wrapped it up in a nice little gift bag and met him after work for dinner.  This time, it looked more like me walking out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test with a completely shell-shocked look on my face.  Shawn took one look at me while feeding Sam his dinner and said, "Uh-uh."

Don't get me wrong--I'm not unhappy with this pregnancy.  It's just that the timing isn't really what I anticipated.  I always thought when/if we had another baby our finances would be in a position that I could stay home or at least work part time.  I thought I'd weigh ten pound less.  I thought Sam might be potty-trained.  I thought my closets would be organized.  I thought our basement would be finished.  I had all of these things on my to-do list that I thought had to happen before we could have another baby.  Don't you just love it when you have everything all planned out and God chuckles and says, "Yeah...that's one way to do it.  But how about this way?" 

I have to be honest--I'm a little nervous about another baby.  Every life is a blessing and a miracle.  But with great blessings come great responsibilities.  It's an honor and a privilege for me to be a mom, and it's a job I take very seriously.  My only trepidations about having another baby lie solely with my doubts about myself.  What if I'm not cut out to parent two children?  What if I don't have enough patience?  What if I can't give them each the time and attention they need and deserve?  What if I don't pray for them enough...hold them enough...teach them enough?  One night I was hurling all of these questions at Shawn, and he just looked at me and said, "It might not be how we planned it, but God doesn't make mistakes."  I just love how he can cut right to the heart of the matter. 

I'm worried about my blood pressure.  Last time, even though I had a healthy pregnancy, I developed post-partum preeclampsia that led to post-partum hypertension.  I took blood pressure medication for about 9 months after Sam was born.  What's gonna happen in a few months?  Will it spiral out of control again?  And it if does will I be able to handle the anti-hypertensive-medication-yuckiness on top of the I-just-want-to-sleep-all-of-the-time-pregnancy-fatigue?

I'm worried about the delivery.  Last time, I had reservations about an epidural all along.  During one of my OB appointments, I mentioned my concerns to my doctor.  He's very vocal about his faith, and he told me we would deliver the baby however I wanted but he felt like epidurals were a merciful gift to allow women to avoid unnecessary suffering during childbirth.  Shawn, out of concern for me, always wanted me to get an epidural, and when we left the office that day he triumphantly looked at me and said, "God wants you to get an epidural."  But after the terrible experience we had with it last time, I'm pretty convinced that we should deliver this baby without one.  And that scares me.  Because by the time I got the epidural I was honestly pretty glad to get it. 

I'm worried about the recovery.  What if I go crazy again?  I remember how, for months after Sam was born, I questioned everything I did.  EVERYTHING.  I wasn't confident in anything, and I constantly felt like I was doing it all wrong.  At least this time we have a better idea of what we're getting ourselves into, but are you ever really prepared for a new baby?  Whether it's #2 or #22???

But somewhere in the midst of all of that uncertainty, I'm reminded that this is a gift.  A precious, life-altering gift.  When I lie in bed at night and think about all of the questions I have, God whispers His peace to me and I drift off to sleep.  It's all going to work out.  And in the end, Sam will have a friend to walk through life with.  My heart will grow bigger than I thought possible.  We get to experience it all again--the sweet coos, the little grunts, the slobbery kisses, that precious first time they reach for you to pick them up, the 1000th time they reach for you to pick them up that is every bit as precious as the first, the baby food facials--we get to do it all again.  Our cup runneth over.

Welcome to our hearts, Baby King.  It's a good place to be. 

Dear Sam,

Are you already 5 months old??? I feel like I start so many of your letters with, "Are you already x months old?" but time is just slipping away so quickly. It seems like yesterday that I was wandering around Lexington in a total fog because I'd decided to take just one more test. Someday I'll tell you more about it, but I had all but given up on ever getting you without medical intervention. I can't believe that a full year has passed since that day that I told your dad I thought I was pregnant. I can still see his look of bewilderment, then deer-in-the-headlights, then sheer joy.

You had your first cold this month. I was hoping it was just allergy symptoms with the changing of the seasons, but after a couple of days, I could no longer deny that your snottiness was caused not by some pollen and ragweed, but by a nasty little virus. On top of that, we took you for your four-month shots, which made you feel loads better, I'm sure. You're generally such a happy, smiley baby, but during those days when you were sick, I'd talk to you, sing to you, make silly faces at you...anything to get you to smile...and you would smile for about a half-second then your face would crumple into a wail. You'd stick your bottom lip out and let out your hallmark Samuel Squawk. We spent a lot of time with the booger-sucker, or as you like to call it, The Instrument of Torture. You think it's child abuse really like it as evidenced by your incessant screaming shouts of joy! In fact, I've sucked so much snot from your nose with it that now when you see it, you immediately put your arms up over your nose so I can't get to it, and if I try to pull your arms down you start your hiss-and-spit-like-a-cat-in-a-fight routine that you do when you're mad...which is really hilarious, by the way. So, now that we've had a cold and recovered successfully, I think your immune system has had enough practice. We know you're able to defeat those nasty little bugs, so we talked about it and we both agreed that you're not going to get sick anymore.

You're really coming into your own as a little person. Your personality is so laid back and chilled out. Just a few weeks ago, we were shopping in hhGregg, which is what I call a boy store. Your dad calls it an oasis of "cool stuff" in a technology desert. Anyway, we're in there browsing around, and I look down in time to see you all kicked back in your stroller with your feet propped up on the safety bar, and you're completely engrossed in watching all of the televisions. I mean, eyes glazed over, mouth slightly open, not responding to me when I speak, captivated. When I finally squatted down in front of you so you were forced to look at me, I was rewarded with the biggest grin and a sweet giggle. Mom, this stuff is so cool!

Speaking of giggling, that's about all you do these days. (Sometimes you even do it while you're sleeping.) Daddy bought you a little lion rattle as an afterthought one day when we were out shopping. You think it's just the funniest thing. It's a ring with a lion head and a fuzzy mane on one side, and a little floppy tail on the other. You can do all kinds of cool things with that rattle. It's fun to chew on his head. His tail is just perfect for little hands to grab onto. And it's really funny when the lion sneaks up from behind you, jumps in front of your face and says, "Raaarr!" That's when he gets the belly laughs. With as much as you like to be startled, I'm afraid you will have your dad's love for scary movies.

On September 8th, I put you down for some belly time. You have never really liked belly time, and you usually avoid it by rolling up on your side. On this particular night, you rolled up on your side and just kept on rolling! I'm pretty sure it was an accident because you looked just as surprised as I was. I played it off as a fluke, but I knew you were close to doing it on purpose. Just two days later, I put you on your belly and went into the kitchen for just a second. When I came back, you were on your back! When you roll over, you usually look a little scared until we cheer, then you smile and laugh.

You're also getting much better with your hand control. It's so funny when I hold a toy in front of your face. You wrinkle your eyebrows, purse your lips, and reach your hands out to grab it. You have this thing you do where you hold your right thumb with your left hand and reach out the fingers of your right hand...almost like your using one hand to guide the other. Your daddy thinks it's quite ingenious and is a sign of your brilliance.

You're becoming fascinated with the dog and cats. You especially think it's funny when Maddie goes berserk over your lizard. You see, Maddie doesn't seem to mind most of your toys. Your kicktoy that sings and lights up? Nothing. The alligator on the exersaucer that yells shapes and colors? Zilch. The globe that says the abc's and plays jungle music? Uh-uh. But that darn lizard!!! Maddie could be in the middle of one of her hibernating, deep-throat snoring, dead to the world naps, but you bounce on the exersaucer and make that lizard sing the Primary Colors Song, and she comes tearing through the living room, barking like crazy. Alert! Alert! We're under attack by an annoying, singing lizard!!! You usually pause just long enough to observe all of the commotion, shoot me an impish little grin, and give another big bounce.

Sam, I think I've smiled more in the last 5 months than I did in the last 5 years combined. I love your sweet, open-mouthed grins and your funny, donkey-like guffaws. I love the way your butt sticks out if I pick you up and put you on my shoulder while you're sleeping. I love the way you yell when I'm changing your diaper. I love how you hold my hands so tightly when I'm feeding you. I love all of these things and a million other little things about you that I've memorized without even realizing it. My days are so much sweeter with you in them.

Mommy

Better Late Than Never

A week or so before Sam was born, we did some belly pictures. My friend Tina was nice enough to spend her Sunday afternoon documenting my hugeness. Lesson learned: don't wait until you're 37 weeks pregnant to take pictures. These are some of the more flattering shots. I'm so thankful for Tina's talent and her ability to make me look as good as one can possibly look at that point.

The Circus Side Show

Yesterday Shawn had a play date with some of his high school buddies. They got together to play basketball. (Insert jokes about 30+ year-olds reliving the glory days...) Anyway, he thought this might be his last chance to do something like this for a while, so he jumped at the opportunity. I made a WalMart run, then decided to treat myself to something that I might not get a chance to do again for some time...I got a pedicure!!!

Now, before I get a dozen comments about how pregnant women aren't supposed to get pedicures, let me explain. My feet have been a little swollen lately. And by "a little swollen", I mean grotesquely huge. They look something like this:

I thought a calf massage would feel so good and a cool water bath might even help with the swelling. Plus, pretty toes are a necessity for flip-flops, and that's soon going to be the only type of shoes I can wear.

I waited my turn, and when the little man seated me, I explained my situation & asked him to fill the tub with cool water. He was happy to oblige. I got settled in the massage chair (aka Little Piece of Heaven on Earth) and waited for the lady to come start my pedicure.

Here's where it gets sticky. Apparently, I got the least-English-speaking person in the place. She was very nice, but we had a really hard time communicating. When she came over & dipped her hands in the water, she yelled "COLD" and immediately turned on the hot water. I started trying to explain to her that I had requested it that way, but she clearly wasn't understanding. Finally, another lady had to come over & translate for me, and she finally got the message. (This is where I'm regretting my decision because everyone in the place is staring at me for causing such a commotion.)

Apparently, she hadn't really looked at my legs yet. It was at this moment that she decided to do so. She reaches out with one finger and touches my swollen ankle as if it has some kind of disgusting-looking rash and says, "HURT?" (Why do people always assume that if you cannot understand them, shouting will make it better?) I smiled at her and shook my head, not wanting to be a big wimp. She starts doing the foot-scrub/massage portion of the pedicure, and it was like she was afraid she'd hurt me. Again, she was extremely nice & kept asking if I was okay, but I think she was afraid she'd break me. I wanted to shout at her, "Get in there & massage those babies!"

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, another lady walks over to me, points at her belly & says, "ALMOST TIME?" For a fleeting moment, the devil in me wanted to say, "Nope...I've still got like 5 months to go." Then I remembered my manners & smiled at her saying, "Yep...2 weeks." She then decides to come look at my feet, point at them, and say something to her friend in whatever non-English language they speak. **sigh**

Over the course of the next 45 minutes or so, 2 other employees came by to gawk at my feet, which was then immediately followed by some pointing & whispering while glancing at me but not quite meeting my gaze. I was thinking of charging a viewing price. Someday, when I write my book for teenagers about the things nobody tells you about pregnancy, I'm going to include a little chapter on things you just shouldn't do in the last few weeks before you give birth. Getting a pedicure is going to be one of them. Not because the acupressure (or whatever it is) can cause contractions, but because people just look at you like you're a freak show.

But my toes look great!

Dear Sam,

We're in the home stretch! When I went to the doctor this week, he assured me that you won't be making your appearance any time soon, but you have to come out sometime, right? Your dad & I are getting so excited to meet you! Your movements in my belly have changed. Instead of the strong, hard punches & jabs I had been feeling, you now just stick a foot (or something) out & leave it there. Sometimes I can press against it & you'll move it to accommodate me, but sometimes you just kick me back. It's so funny to see your little personality developing even before I have held you.

We've got your room all finished. I hope you like it. You've got a closet full of really cute clothes that people have bought for you. There seems to be a theme between sports (particularly of the UK variety) and dogs in all of your clothes. That's okay--we love both of those things & hope you will too. Your dad & I have been blown away by all of the people who already love you & want to do nice things for you. You're a lucky little man! Some of my favorite gifts that you've received are the giant giraffe, your handmade UK quilt, your UK burp cloths, your great-grandmother book (you have no idea how much pleading & persuading that took) and your handmade scrapbook.

I thought I'd tell you some traits that I think you'll have. Not that I'll be disappointed if you don't--you're perfect just the way you are. I've just had this picture of you in my mind for 9 months now, and I can't wait to see how you measure up against it. I think you'll look mostly like your dad. I think you're going to be tall with extremely large feet. (At least they looked big on the ultrasound.) I also think you'll have dark eyes like him. I can't decide about the hair. I initially thought you'd have dark hair too, but you have to get something from me, right? I fear you're going to be very opinionated like me...payment for all of those years that I back-talked my parents. I hope we can pass along our love of music, animals, & cooking to you. Your dad can't wait to teach you the finer points of football, basketball & baseball. I will probably be no help in that department as my sports knowledge is limited at best, but rest assured that I will be at your games with my geeky "Sam's Mom" t-shirt on, cheering you on. I'm sure there will be times that we'll butt heads. Lord knows your dad & I can, so you're bound to be just as stubborn as the two of us. That's okay, though. I want you to be strong & stand up for what you think is right.

I find myself wondering what things you'll like that are completely from left field. Maybe you'll be a good dancer. Maybe you'll be punctual. Maybe you'll be artistic & creative. Whatever you're like, I'm so excited to just learn about you & hear your dreams.

Come soon, Sam. I don't know that you can ever be ready for parenthood, but we're ready to love you. That should be a good enough start.

Green Light...Go!

Sam has officially been given the green light by the doctor...although he assured me that we're not really close to any action. Shawn remains convinced that we're looking at an early delivery, but I'm not so sure. The random contractions I had been having have slowed down, & I'm actually having very few these days.

Shawn also remains convinced that we're going to have a big baby. I believe "bull calf" are the words he's currently using. (Thank you, Uncle Jerry, for being the first to call my baby that.) My doctor keeps swearing that my belly measures exactly where he'd expect it to at this point. I think his tape measure may be malfunctioning. At this point, I'm wondering how my stomach could be any bigger.

As a matter of fact, my niece, Elli, pointed out to me yesterday just how large my belly is. I explained to her that Baby Sam is in there, and he is almost ready to come out. Without missing a beat, she informed me that her mom has a baby in her belly too, but her belly isn't as big as mine. Ah...from the mouths of babes.

I'm feeling pretty good. It's a good thing too, because we've still got a few projects to finish up! We finally got Sam's furniture in & assembled, and we made our final Babies R Us run tonight. I've got most of his laundry finished, although every time I think I'm done I find a few more pieces that need washed. I suspect I may as well just get accustomed to that... By this time next week, I hope to have the car seats installed, the bag packed and any other random little tasks accomplished. I'll post pictures of his room in a few days.

Age Has It's Benefits

I cannot wait until I'm old and can say whatever I want without thinking or suffering any consequences. If I say something offensive or rude, people will just shrug & say, "Eh...she's old." It may even be a little endearing to some.

Today, one of my favorite little old lady patients told me that she could tell I'm having a boy because I am carrying him the same way she carried her sons. According to her, when she was pregnant with her daughter, she only had a small bump right on the front of her belly. However, when she was pregnant with her sons, she got "big all over" just like me. When she saw me from behind, she immediately knew I was having a boy. Translation: You have a big butt, dearie.

Seriously, what do you say to that??? I know I have, shall we say, blossomed over the last couple of weeks. Every part of my body is swollen...not just my abdomen. Even my cheeks have taken on that squirrel-gathering-nuts-for-the-winter look. I have stopped wearing my wedding band. I have cankles. (At least I think I do. I wouldn't know for sure because it's been weeks since I've seen them.) I'm almost to the point where I can justify Crocs with any outfit. I'm not complaining; it's part of it. In exchange for a few weeks of minimal discomfort, I get a little snuggle-bug who will, at least for the first 12 years of his life, think I'm awesome & know everything.

What's amazing is that even in my overly hormonal, cry-all-the-time state, this lady's comments didn't hurt my feelings. I just stood there looking at her with her sweet little old lady smile & couldn't help but smile back. Partly because I know she didn't mean any malice in her comments. But partly because in a couple of months I'll see her again & I'll have a picture of the cutest baby ever & will be able to say, "See, I might have been huge, but look how it paid off!"

And then I will giggle with the knowledge that I have the ability to replace her Imodium with Ex-Lax should the mood ever strike.

Light 'Em Up!

My friend Beth once compared labor to walking across a bed of hot coals. She said God is very smart in his engineering of pregnancy. By the time you actually give birth, you're so uncomfortable that if someone told you that you would have to walk across a bed of hot coals in order to get the baby out, you'd gladly light them up. Any fear of labor goes right out the window because you are just ready for the pregnancy to be over.

While I'm not at that point yet, I am getting to the point where I frequently have to remind myself what we're getting in return for all of this. I confess, I'm still a little nervous about the labor thing. I only know of two ways to get this baby out of my body, and to be honest, neither of them sound like that much fun. Right now my feelings of gee-I-hope-the-next-6-weeks-go-by-quickly are mixed with oh-my-gosh-we're-still-not-ready-he-has-to-stay-put-until-we-get-everything-done. However, I have a feeling that if this baby continues to grow for the next 6 weeks (and my doctor assures me that he will), I will not only be willing to walk across a bed of hot coals myself, I will also be asking for another set for Shawn...just to be sure we get the job done.

It takes a crane to get me out of bed these days. Not because I'm so tired, but because I physically cannot go from a supine position to sitting up without the assistance of my husband. Shawn handles it all very good-naturedly, but I'm secretly a little worried that he might just leave me in the bed one of these days out of meanness. Getting dressed is another challenge. Every morning when I'm getting ready for work, I look longingly at my favorite pair of sweatpants & reach for one of two pairs of dress pants that still fit around my rear end (and one of those is getting pretty tight). And please, let's not even talk about shoes. Our recent burst of sunshine has had me wondering how soon I can pull off flip-flops without looking like an idiot. Seriously, is 60 degrees ok? What about 58...can I pull them off at 58? Do I hear 55? I haven't coerced Shawn into tying my shoes yet...my pride just won't allow it...but I feel like that day is fast approaching.

On a positive note, yesterday we threw open the windows & spent the entire day cleaning. I just love the smell of Pledge mixed with bleach mixed with spring air. When Shawn walked in & saw me cleaning out the window tracks, he just laughed & shook his head. Luckily, he wasn't there to witness me wiping down the baseboards with antibacterial wipes. I don't know why I was so obsessed with getting the house clean before the baby gets here...it's not like it will ever be clean again after he comes...but I couldn't stop myself.

This kid better be awfully cute...

The Good, The Bad, and The...Smelly???

Things I Love About Being Pregnant
People offer to let you cut in front of them in the line for the ladies' room.

When else can you gain 30 (that's my story & I'm sticking to it) pounds & have people tell you that you look great?

The CARBS!!! Oh, the carbs...

You get to wear stretchy pants all of the time.

You get to buy new clothes.

Snacks are a necessity.

My hair growing super-fast.

You can blame your forgetfulness on pregnant-brain.

My husband is doing more housework.

Hearing that wonderful little swishing heartbeat every time I go to the doctor.

When Shawn talks to my belly.

Having a very convenient place to prop my hands...or a book...or a plate...

When my baby is practicing his kick-boxing & I rub my belly & he calms down in response.

Knowing that I could be holding in my belly a future president, the person who finds a cure for cancer, the greatest piano virtuoso, the first Supreme World Emperor...

Knowing that even if he never ever does any of those things, I'll love him no matter what.

Things I Do NOT Love About Being Pregnant
Pregnant-brain. Seriously, couldn't I just get a little blood flow to my brain cells to help the neurons fire???

When people ask you, "Haven't you had that baby yet?" Yes...actually I had him 3 months ago, but it was way fun having my husband tie my shoes, so now I'm just carrying a watermelon under my shirt.

Crying because we're out of cheese, the lady at Wal-Mart didn't wish me a nice day, it's garbage day or any of the other eleventy-hundred perfectly reasonable & valid reasons I might cry.

The mood swings. I SAID, THE MOOD SWINGS, YOU FREAKIN' IDIOT!!!

Taking up a second residence in the bathroom.

G to the A to the S. Yes, everyone has it from time to time. Pregnant women have a particular talent for it. And if you value your eyeballs, you should probably not mention it. Ever.

Dear Sam,

Pregnancy does weird things to your body & your mind. Someday you'll meet & marry a girl who I will think is not good enough for you. Hopefully, after a few years, she will partially redeem herself in my eyes & gain worth by carrying my grandchild. Let me just enlighten you as to what you can expect.


I love to hear women share stories of their crazy pregnancy moments. I suspect part of the reason this entertains me so is because I, myself, have never experienced any. I've maintained a perfectly sane, logical perspective on everything throughout my pregnancy. (Queue the snickering & eye-rolling.) I will probably not remember any of these sane, logical moments the second I lay eyes on you, so I thought it would be nice to record some of them for your enjoyment later.

I have been so fortunate to not experience a lot of sickness during my pregnancy. Early on, there were days when nothing sounded good to me, but I rarely ever got physically sick. One day, I was having one of those can't-find-anything-to-eat-but-want-to-eat days & I had rejected the entire contents of our refrigerator & pantry. Desperate for some food, I headed to Wal-Mart. I roamed up & down the aisles looking for something, anything, that appealed to my finicky appetite. After about an hour of shopping, I left Wal-Mart with two cantaloupes & a package of pecan twirls.


I have had a few moments of unexplained, unwarranted (according to your dad) emotional outbursts. For example, the morning that I was getting dressed & found I could no longer button my maternity pants, I considered professional counseling. It didn't matter that I knew they were "early maternity" pants & I would probably not be able to wear them for the whole pregnancy. It didn't matter that I was in my 3rd trimester & you had just experienced a huge growth spurt the week before. It didn't even matter that all of my friends were telling me what a cute pregnant person I made. The simple fact was that I had outgrown freakin' MATERNITY pants!!

I also stood in the middle of our kitchen fighting (unsuccessfully) tears one morning because the dog snapped at me. She didn't bite me. She didn't even really try to bite me...she more just gave me a warning growl. When she did, though, I wondered for a fleeting second how far she'd sail if I dropped-kicked her out the front door. At this moment, I still couldn't tell you if my tears were a result of my fears of her someday reacting the same way to you, or if I was upset that I got SO angry SO quickly, or if she just hurt my feelings by growling at me. See what I mean? Perfectly rational.


I haven't really had any strange cravings. I have noticed that I have desired the things I already liked in a stronger way. For example, I love ice cream. I always have--especially soft serve ice cream. While I have always enjoyed this treat, I could go for weeks or even months at a time without it & not feel deprived in any way. However, with pregnancy comes a feeling that I must have ice cream of some form every day of my life or my very breath will cease to come. Seriously. I had to put myself on a one-milkshake-per-week rule just a couple months into my pregnancy because it was getting so out of control. It was like a drug--the more I had it the more I wanted it. I couldn't stop!

Sam, even though I feel like I don’t really have control over my body anymore, I love the fact that you’re making such a visible impression on me. At 31 weeks, something is new everyday. Today, you were poking me from the inside of my belly-button & I started massaging the area because it was a bit uncomfortable. You abruptly & immediately moved your arm, and it was as if I could have reached out (or in, as it were) & held your hand. I can’t wait to kiss your fat little cheeks & snuggle you next to me. I’m so excited for all of the memories we’ll make together & for all of the times you’ll roll your eyes at me because I’m making too big of a deal out of you just being you. You currently reside in my belly, but you will forever reside in my heart.

I love you more than I could ever express in a silly letter,
Mommy

We Graduated!!!

Shawn and I know how to have a baby. We even have a diploma from our childbirth class that says so. It was a hard-fought battle to gain that piece of paper, though. There was a point where I was afraid that one of us (not mentioning any names) would not finish the class because he was about to get kicked out...by the other one of us.



Some of Shawn's wise observations from our class:



-Def Leppard would probably be good soothing music to bring to the labor room.

-Instead of counting for me during the rhythmic breathing, it might be better to communicate with baseball signals.

-He doesn't need pointers on how to give a back rub because he's already a Mac. (Extreme eye-rolling here.)

-I can control the television in the labor room...as long as I choose to watch ESPN.

-We really don't need the breathing exercises because I should probably just request an epidural with the first contraction.

I'm really not trying to paint Shawn in a bad light here...he really was supportive. I think he's decided that the best way to deal with pain during childbirth is to keep me laughing. Or at least distract me by keeping my hands busy with choking him. Let's just hope he can behave long enough so that Sam can be born before I kick him out.

Dear Sam,

Your dad & I have had a very interesting weekend. On Saturday, we went furniture shopping for you. We looked at lots of beds, and we even found a couple that we like. Right now I'm torn between buying good, solid furniture that will last you until you move out & go to college (if I let you leave) & knowing that whatever we buy you'll probably end up writing on with crayons or putting stickers on. I promise to try & not scream too much when I catch you doing it.

On Sunday, we started really shopping for some of the bigger items you'll need: a car seat, stroller & rocking chair to name a few. (Okay, that last one's for me.) It's a little bit overwhelming. We also looked at breast pumps. I'm not telling you this to scar you or give you material for your therapist--I know you probably don't want any mental images of breastfeeding. I promise I'm going somewhere with this. Anyway, we started looking at breast pumps, and I was in way over my head. Luckily, a very nice saleslady offered to help, and your dad & I spent about 30 minutes asking questions & learning about them. Your dad was a real trooper--he actually participated in the conversation & didn't look too uncomfortable. I was so impressed with him. As a reward, I gave him the scanner-thingy to hold.

Sam, I can't believe how my vocabulary has changed over the last few months. If nothing else, this pregnancy has really brought a sense of openness to our marriage, and your dad has never really been one to keep secrets about bodily function anyway. It seems hard to believe that in a little less than 4 months, my days (and nights) will be consumed with diapers, poop, pee, snot & a hundred other disgusting & wonderful things that will make you who you are. Until then, keep dancing on my bladder.

I love you,
Mommy

I'm Growing A Penis

Disclaimer: I cannot claim originality in my title. The best message I received today was from my friend LadyBird. It said, "So, I hear you're growing a penis." I never thought I would hear those words from anyone, but it's true!!!

I would like to proudly introduce Sam. There was never any question about what we'd name our baby if we had a boy. Samuel just seemed to be the perfect name for several reasons.

First, Sam was Shawn's grandfather's name. He passed away when Shawn was just a toddler, and he has few memories of him. He loves hearing stories about the man he was, his likes & dislikes--it makes him feel like he can still be close to him although he never really had a chance to know him.

Second, Sam is the name of a friend of ours from pharmacy school whom we both admire & respect a great deal. Sam is a pastor who decided to go back to school. He stayed in Lexington during the week to attend classes & made the trip back to his hometown twice every week to fulfill his obligations at the church. On top of the rigorous studying that was necessary to complete his education, he also managed to prepare 3 sermons every week & still maintain a respectable grade point average.

Finally, sometime when you have your Bible out, read the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1 & 2. Hannah longed for a child. She prayed fervently for a child, pouring out her heart to God & describing in great detail to him her agony over being barren. She even went so far as to promise to give her child back to God if He would just grant her request. As promised, when her son was old enough to wean, she took him to the temple & left him in the care of one of the temple priests. He grew up to be one of the most powerful & influential prophets of his time.

Most of the people who follow this blog know that Shawn & I lost a baby to miscarriage nearly two years ago. I have never felt such heart-wrenching grief in my entire life. For months, I yelled at God. I couldn't believe that He would take away a child from us when we were so happy about our pregnancy. Every day, I went to work & saw mothers that I deemed unfit for whatever reason: maybe they were addicted to drugs or alcohol, they might be less than kind to their children, maybe they were just too young. Every night I would come home & completely unload on God for putting me in that position. I prayed angry prayers, I prayed sad prayers, I prayed desperate prayers where I begged for some sort of reprieve from my grief.

As our hearts began to heal, Shawn & I began asking for another baby. As the months passed, I began to wonder if we'd ever experience the miracle of pregnancy again. I don't know when it happened, but at some point my prayers changed from, "God give us a baby" to "God you know I want a baby, but more than anything I want what you want. Show me what that is & help me to accept it." It seemed that everyone I knew was getting pregnant, and I slowly began to be less jealous & more joyful when a friend shared news of her pregnancy.

God began slowly opening my eyes to some of the lessons He wanted me to learn during our time without children. The story of Hannah began popping up every time I opened my Bible or went to church, and it really spoke to me. It occurred to me that nobody would have even known who Hannah was had she not suffered for all of those years without a child. She would have just been another nameless woman who had a child & raised him. She probably never would have appreciated the wondrous miracle that having a baby is. Once again, God showed me that He sometimes allows us to walk through some really crummy times so we can more fully acknowledge the good times.

While I have no plans of taking this baby to the temple & leaving him, I do plan on doing everything in my power to raise him to love God. Our Sam is a gift, and I think we appreciate him so much more because of what we went through a couple of years ago. I can't wait to meet him & find out what his personality is. I can't wait to see if he's a little private & reserved like me or if he shares everything with everyone like Shawn. (Lord help us if he's a talker!) I can't wait to see the world through his eyes & be amazed by everyday things. Our lives are getting ready to be turned completely upside down, and I couldn't be happier about it.