Twenty-Nine: First Comes Love

Then comes marriage

Then comes week twenty-nine, during which our stroller and carseat were delivered. Cool stuff. It's an absolutely beautiful stroller. I love it. I've been looking at this stroller and carseat basically since I found out I was pregnant. Now that it's sitting approximately ten feet from me, the reality of having a baby has become much apparent. Jordie and I had planned on waiting until closer to our baby's due date to make the purchase, but after having a friend deliver 2+ months early, we made the decision to go ahead and buy it.

In other news, It's been disturbingly cold. There are few things I enjoy less than cold weather.  This week it snowed several inches. Beautiful to look at through my window, painfully awful to be walking about in. Mind you, my coats do not zip. Not even close. And being pregnant generally isn't comfortable, let alone adding even more layers to your body which is already carrying an excess of 30+ pounds. I feel huge. I really wish that such superficial worries would subside, but I'm only being honest. It is particularly strange to see your body change so much and become so unfamiliar, but then again, somedays I don't remember what my body used to look like. Fortunately, I'm pretty funny most of the time, so skin, bones, and body aside, I'm still a big fan of myself. So that's good, of course.

Our baby is doing great. She still has a pretty predictable schedule. Without fail, she's rolling and tumbling about between 9 a.m. and 11:30 a.m., 2 p.m. and 4 p.m., 9 p.m. and 11:30 p.m., and 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. I wonder if this pattern will stick once she's out here in the world. Her kicks and rolls have become much stronger and sometimes even hurt a little. I don't mind it though, I love feeling her move and just knowing that she's really there.

I feel like I know her so well already. I know what she likes- like laying on my side, or a cup of warm tea resting on my belly. I know just how she'll respond. And I feel like she knows I'm here. That I'm not some anonymous womb that she has taken shelter within, but someone who cares about her. I feel that she knows that. And maybe that's crazy, but I don't think so.

Overall, week twenty nine has been wintery and cold, but to be so close to having our baby here with us- where we can see her and hold her- this week has been beautiful.

Twenty-Eight: Spoken from the Heart(burn)

When I hear Adele sing the words "There's a fire starting in my heart", I feel so touched. Like she knows just what I'm going through..

Heartburn.There's a myth that the more heartburn you have during pregnancy, the more hair your baby will be born with. Based on that assumption, I'm having a werewolf. If we were playing the "Desert Island" game, and I was still pregnant on this hypothetical island, I would take Tums and my maternity pillow. These are the most essential items during pregnancy, you should know that.

On a possibly related note, I have been on this crazy grape juice kick. Like, drinking a gallon in two days or less. I wouldn't say that I've had the weird "pickles and ice cream"cravings, but I've most certainly had these strange weeks of a particular craving. At first, there was grapefruit. Then bagels and cream cheese. Then pears, then pretzels, then apples with cheese and milk, and now grape juice. Cheerios have had a pretty consistent and ongoing role throughout my pregnancy, and I'm always down for some Chinese food (but not ever from Canton again- tastes like urine, well what I would imagine urine to taste like). Luckily most of my cravings have been for healthy food, however, I have eaten more sweets and candy during my pregnancy than I ever have in my entire life. There's another myth which says that if you crave sweets, you are having a girl. So yeah. Totally having a werewolf.

I have also been revisited by pregnancy brain. The other day, I tried to open my apartment door with the unlock button on my car key. I hit the button twice, annoyed that it didn't open the first time. I also peed on my hand (completely separate incident), but whatever, I don't want to talk about it.

We had our appointment on Friday, and all is well. No gestational diabetes, no anemia. Maybe drinking skim milk and exercising some is in my best interest. I've gained a little more than necessary (darn you chocolate milk. I've been drinking my calories like crazy). We watched more videos of live births. I cried like a baby.

Overall, I'm pretty content with week twenty eight. We got our first snow here in Virginia, the sun finally came out after a week of rain, and my Christmas Cactus has sprouted several little pink buds. We purchased our stroller and carseat and bought a few other items for Baby S. Time is flying and it's almost Spring.

Twenty-Seven: Sleepyhead

Week twenty seven was kicked off by the the beginning of Spring semester. I had originally planned on taking roughly twelve credits, but being the overachiever that I am (*I'm not. I'm actually a really great underachiever. It helps to keep expectations of you really low, so that when you do satisfactory work, people are super impressed), I ended up with sixteen credits. Go big or go home..and then go to sleep. Because that's what I've done this week. Sleep. Like a champion. In my typical food intake to naps ratio, naps are usually the underdog. Surprisingly, naps managed to win the title this week..if you include the day I fell asleep with a kingsize pack of sour punch straws next to my head. Apparently the key to success is eat a bunch of junkfood and take a bunch of naps, because I did brilliantly with reading all of the assigned material for my classes. I might include that I am taking Parenting, which is pretty cool given the current circumstance.

So overall, week twenty seven was spent mostly in my subconscious.

I don't have any fancy updates this week. We talked about our birthing plan, visited family in Maryland, and unexpectedly ran into old friends and family at church in Kensington. 

Although the events of my week may seem a tad-bit lackluster, the baby's week has been much more eventful. She now can open her eyes and blink and she's up to roughly two pounds. I am overwhelmed by the thought of how soon she will be here and I am preparing to the best of my abilities for her arrival. 

Twenty-Six: Dog Days

Last week of year 2012, last week of second trimester, last week of winter break, last week of wearing leggings guilt-free. I'm almost completely out of Christmas candy, except for the gross flavored jellybeans, and my fish is still dead.

The late Pierre was a gift from Jordan from last Christmas, the first Christmas we spent together married. He spent his days being a picky eater and blowing bubbles. He was the best. Yesterday morning I found him lifeless at the bottom of his bowl.

Then we went to our doctor's appointment. First we went to the hospital to have the glucose and iron tests and to tour the maternity ward. Incidentally, the nurse improperly administered the glucose test and instead of drinking the gross stuff and then having blood drawn, I ended up having my blood drawn twice. Gross. The "gross stuff" tasted like orange soda minus the carbonation...and basically anything else that would make orange soda taste good. It was syrupy and gross. Basically it sucked. The nurse was super apologetic for administering the tests improperly, but I let her know it was no big deal. Augusta Medical has the best staff. Really. Everyone is super nice. We toured the delivery room which was really nice. It wasn't as "surgical" and "sterile-appearing" as I had suspected it would be. Plus there are jacuzzi tubs in every room. Awesome. Then we had to rush over to our Centering appointment. Unfortunately there weren't any good snacks, just crackers and cereal bars, and we both were starving. We made do. We talked about birth control methods, which provided the best/most embarrassing quotes as expected. We also watched a video of a series of live natural births. Surprisingly, it wasn't as terrifying as I had expected. Most of the women were certainly in discomfort, yet very calm and in control. It was encouraging. I felt like "I can do this". After hearing our baby's heartbeat, we talked with our midwife Mary who shared her experience with Hypnobirthing.

See at first everyone kept asking me what my birthing plan was. I was like..Get the baby out?...Until I finally realized that you're supposed to have like, a plan. So after a little research here and there and some good advice, I've decided to thoughtfully focus on the Hypnobirthing method. More or less, it teaches the mother to have confidence in her own abilities- that of her mind and body- in order to deliver her child. Being an adroit day dreamer, I figure that this approach will be attainable for me. I really appreciate the sincerity of this plan. The literature is not anti-hospital like many other natural birthing methods. That really bothered me with the Bradley Method. The literature is very you vs. the hospital and that can be tough for a woman who ends up needing a C-section or deciding to use medicine to help in her delivery. The Hypnobirthing book simply teaches that if you want a natural childbirth and if you are medically able to deliver naturally, than you are physically and mentally capable of doing so. It teaches confidence and what could be better than that when you are preparing to push a watermelon out of a walnut?..

Other than that, our baby is very active. She recently started this thing where she kicks my side a bunch if I'm laying on my left side, but only my left. It sort of tickles and I get weirdly giggly when she does it. I've gained almost thirty pounds, my belly button is putting up a good fight, and shaving my legs is an olympic event (that I mostly don't participate in).

I feel ready and anxious during most days and then frightened and nervous during others. I dream of her often and I feel overwhelmed with love.

Twenty-Five: The West Coast Christmas Flu

View from the Cabin in Mount Pleasant, Utah

I'm a wee behind on writing due to the holidays and what not, but now that I'm back to the real world, I'll go ahead a fill you in.

So Christmas came in its usual fashion. Being that Jordan's family is mostly on the West coast and mine on the East, we switch off on where we go for the holidays, and this year it was Utah. Although I was thrilled to see his family, especially those who I hadn't yet met, I was less thrilled to just generally be in Utah. This was my first time. I don't need to spout off all the Utah stereotypes, but just understand that I've heard them all.

So the plane ride was long. We had two layovers and so our journey ended with 13+ total hours of traveling. Immediately after arrival, my throat felt sore. And then it began. The cough, runny nose, stuffy nose, can't breath, sore body, achy body, itchy eyes, watery eyes, etc., etc. I was sick literally from the time I stepped off the plane in Utah until I returned home a week and a half later. The worst. I worried the entire trip about Baby S and was constantly drinking water and checking my temperature. So imagine me- six months pregnant with the flu, riding on the back of a snow mobile to a cabin in the mountains, with three feet of snow- Cause that's what went down.

Other than being grossly sick, it was really nice to see family that we haven't seen in a long time. Plus we were able to Skype with Darien, Jordan's sister, who is on her mission in San Jose.

Although environmentally Utah is a beautiful place, I learned that it was not the place for me. After a particular experience, I felt strongly that it just isn't the place where I would like our family to live and grow. I am grateful that I was able to figure out for myself, without the stereotypes, that I really just don't love Utah, and that's okay, because I am who I am and I don't have to. And I want our daughter and all of our children to experience the world in another way, and in another place.

So I apologize for the ambiguity of this post, but I think that in order to not offend, I should remember this:

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence"- Desiderata, Max Ehrmann

Lastly, I just want to say that I truly have a wonderful, wonderful husband. I know that people will say that all the time, but I just know it. It is a tangible truth that I have seen and have heard and can feel. It's like a little coin in my pocket- to anyone else it's just a coin- but to me, I know it is much more, because I know its story and know what it's truly worth. And I could go on and on, but other than all of the care Jordan gave me while I was sick, there was a particular moment- just a moment- when I truly understood the sacred nature of our marriage, and I really understood why he is undoubtedly the most perfect father for our baby. I really know that, and a certain knowledge is the most valuable thing you can have at times. And sometimes that is all you'll have, but it will be more than enough.

Twenty-Four: Skinned Knees and Bruises

Six months. Wow. I know that we still have a ways to go, but I feel significant achievement in reaching six months nonetheless. This week has been simple. I really don't have much to say. I can't stop thinking about Sandy Hook Elementary. My thoughts have been consumed by images of children crying and being scared and parents not knowing what to do with Christmas presents for the child they lost and I just can't stop thinking about it. A quiet sorrow has been hovering over me this week, and sinking its claws into my mind. When Dan died, I was absolutely traumatized. I would close my eyes and just see his lifeless face, so I couldn't sleep and I couldn't close my eyes. And I couldn't understand how it happened, and I can't understand what happened to these children. I can't understand how there could be a deeper grief and pain than what I felt when Dan died, but these were children, and their parents are feeling a deeper grief and pain, and I can't understand how they can still live through this. How can they do this? How can they wake up in the morning, how can they sleep. I just have to know that God is with them. I have to know that. I wonder if those children who died are watching their parents mourn and grieve, and I hope not. I hope that they don't have to see that. And I know that God is taking care of it, but it's so hard to know that. 

I know that this is all repetitive from my last post, but I just want to know that children can be children. I want to know that when our daughter is a child, her only worry will be why the mean kid in class called her a "shrimp" and the toughest thing that we'll have to explain to her will be her pet hermit crab dying.

Children should be able to be children. I will never forget about Sandy Hook Elementary. Our daughter will know that we love her every day. 

"I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have."- Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

It's a gloomy day and I just wish it would rain.

Twenty-Three: No Title Would Suffice

So, in a strange turn of events, I have regressed into a toddler.

I have at several moments in the past week convinced myself that I could solely eat sliced apples, cheddar cheese, and milk for the remaining months of my pregnancy. Oddly, I have been craving these pre-school snack time meals all week.

Even more bizarre, I have managed to be a responsible adult and conquer all  of the much dreaded bullet points on my to-do list this week. There were seven. Seven things I had to do, and believe me, doing all seven was a huge life accomplishment for me. Like, I felt like Neil Armstrong ("That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind"). I kind of don't do things usually.

Then Friday. I spent much of Friday morning and noon listening to live news about Sandy Hook Elementary School. I really can't say much else other than I just simply can't imagine. I can't imagine. I remember that while getting myself dressed and what not, I stood at the mirror brushing my hair and thought- None of those children will ever brush their hair again, and none of their parents will be able to brush their hair for them again. And it was so real. And it wasn't just the news  or some place I've never been, but it was real, and for a small moment, I understood. But that was all, just that moment, and then it became the news again. And I am thankful for that moment. And I know that this all might sound strange or not make much sense, but I remember a moment like that before and it was when my friend Dan died.

Later that night I got a call from my mom and she said my Grandma was in the hospital. My Grandma is my best friend, she just is. I hadn't talked to her much this week and it had been on my mind. I had called her Thursday night and she didn't answer and I didn't feel okay about it. So when my mom called, it made sense. My Grandma is stable now, but I just thought the whole time- from when my mom called, during the ride to Maryland, during the time in the hospital, and the ride home to Virginia- I just thought that I couldn't imagine having our baby born in a world that didn't have my Grandma in it. I just couldn't imagine it. And I felt so broken-hearted. I felt so sad for the parents and families of those who died in Newtown and how they would have to somehow continue to live in this world. And I thought how at some point those moms felt those children in their belly kicking and moving around and wondering what they would look like and who they would become. I thought how the gunman's mom felt that too. Then I just didn't want to think about it anymore.

I don't really know why I'm saying this, but I just hope that we can all try not to take things for granted. We do it every day, but I hope that we all can try not to too often. And I hope that when we have moments, like the one I had while brushing my hair, we can remember them. Because that's sort of what makes our time on this earth important- when we really understand something, even if only for a second- because usually we just are sort of fumbling through, doing things that we don't even think about, and then its tomorrow, and we can't really remember yesterday.

I know that I won't always remember everything that our baby says and does and every moment we laugh about her or cry about her, but I hope that even when she's just brushing her hair, I will know that that's important.

One of the twenty sweet children whose lives were ended so early