one year

One year ago today, we found out about you, little Mia. I laughed so hard from shock during the ultrasound,  that the technician couldn't continue for a couple minutes: "Ooooh, looks like a BIG baby. How far along did you think you were? No idea? Well...... looks like 19 weeks, 1 day. And...... it's a girl!"

I'm beaming, thinking back on that day. We were taken aback, to be sure, but we never once regretted you.We're so very happy you've been with us for 7 whole months now! Now you:
smile often
giggle often
love your sisters passionately
sit up (at 6 months almost to the exact day)
have started to assert when you don't like something being taken away from you
love peaches and pears and yogurt, which means you must be a member of this family
look so much like your oldest sister, and yet you're so obviously your own person
wake up with cooing
eat like a growing boy - really, you're chunkin' up lately
roll everywhere to get around
are thinking about crawling, but then you just roll instead
have such a bright & sunny personality and bright, happy eyes that strangers stop to tell us that
like pretty much everyone
have the cutest little cough when you're sick (which is right now). sorry, sweetie, but you do

We looked and looked for a name that meant "surprise" as we prepared for your birth, but somehow there aren't many out there, and none that we liked. However, you'll always be my all-time favorite surprise. Happy one year anniversary!

math

So many things have been going through my mind today as I've been dealing with ramifications of complicated maternity leave pay, but the overriding though/feeling for my day has been, "I HATE math! I HATE math! I HATE math! I HATE math! I HATE math! E-SPE-cially payroll math! I HATE math! I HATE math!" Well, you get the picture. I don't teach math for a reason.

surprise!

We've been a bit preoccupied around here, and for good reason. In mid-August, when Lizzie was not quite 10 months old, we found out about this:

 her little sister. Uh-huh. Sister. We know that because by the time I thought I should maybe take a home test (just to rule out pregnancy), got my shocked self into the doctor, and got an ultrasound, I was over 19 weeks along. And since we were so far along, we found out the gender at our one-and-only ultrasound.

That puts her due date (hard to be super exact, since I was still nursing Lizzie & have only big-baby measurements to go by) in January, around the 24th. For many reasons, this is exactly what we were NOT going for, but God is telling us once again that he is the Creator of life, and that babies are born when he wants them to be born, in the exact gender he wants.

So, 16 weeks left on this pregnancy and lots of girl stuff to take back out and wash!

Oh, and in case you're wondering how a person could be so very pregnant and so very oblivious, well... so was I. Except that I had just a teensy bit of nausea this time around, easily attributed to shifting hormones. And I was tired, but Lizzie was only 6 months old when I conceived and I'd had issues with recovering from her birth up until the 5.5 month point, so of course I was tired. And I was run-down, but that's nothing new. And everything else I felt could be chalked up to some other factor in life. Until the belly got bigger while the number on the scale and my exercise routines both got better. I had joked around with Beloved that I wouldn't know for sure if I was pregnant because there was no cycle to miss, and that if I got a belly I would take a test. Which is exactly what I did. And the rest, as they say, is history.

world, meet "Lizzie." Lizzie, world

OK, so Lizzie is not her real name. After all, those pesky teenagers keep me a tad bit paranoid of putting personal info out there. For some reason, Lizzie struck me the day she was born as somehow fitting her. Even though I'm head over heels for her real name, this one is a special name, just from her mama. And isn't she so cuddly that you could just snuggle up under a blanket with her and take a nap?

Here's a look at her life so far, through her mama's eyes:

Lizzie,
You are 1 month old today and my heart overflows because of you just a little more each day. When you were born, they took you away for a few minutes to make sure you were ok, but you and I didn't skip a beat. I called to you from across the room and you turned your head toward me and stopped crying. We locked eyes on your first day on earth, and you've been following me around the room ever since.

You're stepping up your communication, too. You've been playing the "tongue game" since your 1st week, but yesterday you started cooing at me! Oh, my heart! I basked in it. We "talked" this way several times & you "talked" with daddy, too. You have a ready & beautiful smile that can already light up a room. You are mild-mannered; I wonder if it's because you are a gentle, unassuming, soft person, or if it's because your sister is a whirlwind of conversation and activity - do you just stay quiet because you're watching her? Time will tell.

You are happy to go to anyone and don't seem to have the need your sister had to size up new people and situations. If your food and comfort needs are met, your heart needs seem to be met as well. I wonder what that means for your future...

You are so wonderfully complex, "fearfully and wonderfully made," and you intrigue me. Your daddy, your sister, and I are all so very happy that you're here with us. We waited a long time to learn of your presence and then a long time to meet you. Lord willing, munchkin, we will have a long time to get to know you.

I love you deeply already,
mama

the stats

Monday, October 19
6:27 am
20.5 inches long
7 pounds, 1 ounce
lots of dark hair
healthy

79.5 hours of labor (I've decided I've earned the right to bring that up again)
1 hour of pushing
1 blood pressure threat that was going to be treated with an unwanted epidural, in an attempt to lower my bp by taking away the pain
1 threat of magnesium sulfate during labor to lower my bp, that could have had side effects on the baby
no drugs in the end, because I went from a 5cm to a baby crying in just under 3 hours and God gave me my heart's desire of a drug-free birth

one BFF to thank forever for back rubs, encouragement, and phrases that kept me focused, and for being so excited that she had to blog about it twice

one mother to thank forever for participating in something that hurt her nearly as much as it hurt me, who gave me practical tips and encouragement even when I'm pretty sure she didn't completely understand my motivation

one husband to thank forever for the preparation that went into this, for the endurance through 79.5 hours of sleepless labor (there I go mentioning it again), for the encouragement, for the constant attention, for the sacrifice when he wanted to see my pain end, and for not giving up on me so that I could experience my heart's desire

funniest line from the whole experience, which came right after I told the anesthesiologist "No thanks" and decided to try delivering fast enough to avoid the drugs:
"I just sent away the man with the drugs. He came to me, and I sent him away!"

but i don't want to lie in bed all day

Ah, bed rest. A week before my due date with no signs of imminent labor. And an almost-3 year old who likes to throw fits and raise mama's blood pressure, contributing to the problem which has landed me on bed rest. Ah, pregnancy. Wasn't I just saying something about being done with all this? Yes, that sounds familiar.

Good news: I have built-in time to finally finish grading those essays that have been staring at me. Each day when I ship Pink off to be loved on by grandma or a friend, I will be alone in this house.

Bad news: I have built-in time to finally finish grading those essays that have been staring at me. Each day when I ship Pink off to be loved on by grandma or a friend, I will be alone in this house. Grading essays is not exactly my favorite way to pass my time.

Oh well, what's a girl to do when she's threatened with, you know, seizures and stuff if she doesn't obey her dr.?

**updated: Moderately high blood pressure landed me in bed, which is the beginnings of toxemia/preeclampsia. The seizures part only comes on if I progress to actual eclampsia, which bed rest is meant to avoid. It's not at all serious at this point, and as long as I follow my doctor's orders, it won't ever become eclampsia and won't ever be serious. But it is something to not mess around with. So here I am, resting.

i take it back

I had no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this post. Clearly, the baby hadn't dropped quite as much and there wasn't as much going on with my body. I also had the week off from work. Having now reached the one week mark, and having returned to standing in front of a bunch of teenagers all day, and having completely lost the ability to sleep because these lovely cramps keep me up all night, I am officially "done." Nostalgia is 99% out the window (not completely, because I am me, after all, and nostalgia is in my blood).

I would really like to meet this baby. I would also really like to get this over with. When it's all over, I'm going to regret not soaking in the last days of pregnancy. So I rub my belly all day long. And I savor telling people my due date or telling them about the surprise we have waiting for us. But seriously, if this all ended right now, I'd be ok with that.

I'm ready.

in the OB's waiting room

Holy cow. If this couple smooches loudly one more time, I can't help what I'll do. Granted, every woman in here w/ a big belly got here one way and one way only (presumably). However, we do not all need a peek into how they got here. We do not need running commentaries about which pictures in the magazines are sexy and which are not. We do not care to hear the comments and giggles about the "just do it" line from "The Hustle" that remind me of my days teaching junior high. And we can most certainly do without the discussion about whether or not they will try out the coconut-scented bath suggestion at home. Eeeww.

Seriously, I'm sitting here with a big stack of essays that must be graded before baby comes, and loud smacks are making me grumpy. I'd blame it on the hormones, but I really think this one is simple, common courtesy.

takin my time

Many people have been asking me of late whether I am ready to be done with this pregnancy, and I am often at a loss as to how to answer. In one sense, yes, I am ready. Ready to meet this little baby, to know the gender, to assign a name, to study the eyes and nose, fingers and toes. I am anxious to know my child further. And the menstrual-like feelings and the constant pressure are making me feel more "done" than I ever did with my daughter. So sure, I'm ready.

But then again, I have things to do before my days become filled with exhausted feedings and changings. I still need to finish my sub plans for the person who will take over my classroom. I haven't yet packed my hospital bag. We have things to get for Pink. And in that sense, it would be nice to have a little bit more time, and the October 21 due date sounds great.

However, there is a deeper sense of preparedness that struck me as I spoke with a friend the other day. I'm not quite ready to be done with something that passes so fleetingly. Now, this pregnancy hasn't been easy. I've had plenty of "easy" times, but the morning sickness, fatigue, a sinus infection early on, and six weeks of being sick with multiple illnesses (from 29 to 35 weeks) was not exactly fun. Beloved has done much more to support me this time around than he needed to do last time. And Pink carried the burden every day of trying to make mommy happy, a truth that was hard for me to digest.

Yet, how much of my life will I spend pregnant? I have only been pregnant (with a viable pregnancy, at least) for 18 months; is this not a passing phase that will end before I know it? And so, sickness or not, 105 temperatures outside or not, fatigue or not, I feel nostalgic about this pregnancy already, and it's not even over yet. I don't have any idea if I'll be pregnant again, but I do know that I won't be pregnant with this little baby again. There are ups and downs in pregnancy, but the collection of these ups and downs is what makes this time to precious and unique. And so appealing to me, at least deep down.

I'm not a big fan of "terrible two" behavior, either. But the joys involved in that age are priceless gems that I hope to remember for the rest of my life. I fall more in love with my daughter every day, even as she drives me crazy. And it passes so very quickly. Being a tad bit sentimental helps when it comes to savoring every moment of life, I admit. But I believe that if we could all stop to look around us a little bit more, stop to take deep breaths, stop to make a genuine inquiry of a friend's well-being, stop to savor the flavors of each stage of life -- the transitions between stages wouldn't cause us to hang on for dear life, but to embrace the change and the new stage.

This pregnancy's end-date is known only to God. For now, I savor the soreness, the belly that gets wet every time I stand near the sink, the stretch marks that I couldn't prevent, the hormones that take control over my emotions at times, and each little kick/punch/stretch/hiccup from my sweet baby. This, too, shall pass. And I don't intend to miss it.

Am I ready? Not quite. But I will be good and ready when it's time to be ready.

And I admit that there's a slight chance the hormones are making me a bit extra sentimental. Perhaps the reason for a sappy post. Just maybe.

losing my mind

I'm not sure why I keep doing this, but every so often when I feel the baby move I can't help but lift up my shirt to say hello and see the little thing. Cuz there's a big difference in what I can see when I get my shirt out of the way, ya know.

Ummm, yeah, time for this baby to arrive and relieve my curiosity. And also give me my brain back so I'll quit doing things like this. But not until after Pink's b-day party this Saturday. Anytime after that would be great.

my little heart is skipping a beat

We unburied the infant carrier yesterday, took out the baby bathtub, and dragged out a bassinet that was given to us. We sat together during Pink's nap and took apart the car seat to wash the cover, and we set up the bassinet to make sure it would work for us. We washed the tub and imagined the tiny little body that would sit in it and wondered if tears or giggles would accompany the splashes. And there is now concrete evidence in our house that a baby is coming!

I've given up waiting on some news about when & where we are going to move. I still may not be preparing a nursery, buying & washing clothes, and pondering the changes ahead of us, but I'm done holding off my emotions for some kind of certainty. I don't know where this baby will live. I still don't know if I should be using my pre-newborn time to pack up our entire house, or if I should hold off. I don't know possible names for him/her. I don't know how I'll dress him/her. There is no dedicated area for this baby. I don't know so much still.

But we're getting close to meeting this little one, finally, and what I DO know is that he/she will be immensely loved and cherished. And I DO know that if my King could be born into a manger in a stable, and if God is over all things, then my little one and I will be just fine. With a cute bassinet and a clean car seat installed by a strong daddy. And a big sister who is about to explode with anticipation and who is practicing helping with baths, thanks to an obliging baby doll.

And life is good, and my heart is full.

it really IS a boy

When Beloved walked in the door with beer tonight, nothing in the world sounded better to me. I suddenly NEEDED that beer. And (shhh, don't tell the fanatics out there) I sipped off his for a bit while I ate my dinner of BBQ pork sandwiches. As soon as I could feel it hit me (pathetically early on, I might add), I stopped sipping, seeing as how I'm already medicating this little one with 2 antibiotics, robitussin, tylenol nighttime sinus, and 2 inhalers. I figure he/she doesn't really need alcohol to boot.

But when Beloved started searching for something to help cure my craving and found leftover chocolate pie (which is bested only by fresh, homemade brownies), I turned it down. Because I still only wanted beer to go with my meat sandwich. I turned down chocolate for beer. That has never happened in my life.

If this is a girl, she's going to be one tough cookie.

divine communication?

Daddy (to Pink): Does God hear you?

Pink: (nods her head)

Daddy: If you ask for something, will he answer you?

Pink: (nods her head pensively)

Pink: (a moment later, directed toward the ceiling) Hey, God? Can I ask a favor of you? Ummm... Is dis baby a boy or a gul?
(pauses as if listening)
Oh, a boy, God? Ok.
(to Daddy) He says it's going to be a boy.

So there you have it. In case you were wondering, the insider's secret from the heavenly realm, where God's hand is knitting together this little baby, is that this baby's a boy. And who's going to argue with God?

more theories

A few more commentaries on the gender of this baby:

Sinus infection that won't go away? For sure it's a girl.
Sinus infection that won't go away? Gotta be a boy.
Sinus infection that won't go away? Perhaps the lack of sleep combined with stressful decision-making and an overly-full calendar.

Lovin' the dog more lately? Obviously a boy.
Lovin' the dog more lately? I did with Pink, too.

(Relatively) Small belly centered right in the middle? Boy.
(Relatively) Small belly centered right in the middle? I'm tall so there's more room for the baby, who could easily be a girl.

One friend, who is more family than friend, just accepted the uncertainty by saying that she's anxiously awaiting the arrival of her niecephew. Cute.

why? why???

Overall, I enjoy being pregnant. I'm not so much for the nausea, the puking, the fatigue, and the soreness when Pink thinks that giving the baby a high 5, right on my belly button, is a good idea. But I love the initial feeling of knowing a baby is coming to live with us soon. I love thinking about cuddling on a good-smelling little bundle in the middle of the night. I love the clues I get about future personality traits via the types/frequency of various womb movements.

And yet, this whole sinus thing has really gotta go. My doctor and my mother have both advised me to turn the shower water up as hot as I can stand it and then let the water pour over my face for as long as I can, until everything is clear. That's all well and good, under normal circumstances. However, since pregnancy yields anything but "normal circumstances," there are three major problems with that advice:

1) It's August. Granted, it's a mild one with temps in the 90s rather than 100s. 90s plus pregnant-body heat is no consolation. It's still August.
2) I can't exactly take the shower and steam to bed with me. Where I'll be lying down. Horizontally. With no shower or steam.
3) Even if I could take the shower and steam to bed with me, I'd still have a nose & sinus system that are so swollen with extra whatever (blood? tissue? amniotic fluid?) that there would be no true relief from the stuffiness.

All of this enlightens me just a little bit more about the unwritten code of mothers: Do not, under any circumstances, tell a mother who is behind you in child-rearing the whole truth of motherhood, lest she drop her children off at someone's doorstep and swear off future reproduction.

Clearly, these two women who care for me must remember that this little shower & steam trick does not, as they say, do the trick. Either that or their mommy brains made them forget the whole truth. I guess I'll find out someday when I've either lost my mind or I snicker behind the back of some poor, unassuming pregnant mother who is desperate for some sleep.

as this little one is being formed...

the bigger one is wondering aloud, "Mommy, why is God inside your tummy knitting the baby?"

And her mommy is thinking, This child is waaaay to philosophical for me.

cravings

The text sent to Beloved upon his baby's-already-in-bed run to Cazadores, a Mexican food joint, after I'd just said I didn't want anything:

"I would love an apple pie from mcdonalds plz. & a small fry. No. Med fry. & some of ur Cazadores. & I think that's all. Thx pregnancy husband!"

30 weeks and a foot in the ribcage

How in the world time goes by so quickly is beyond me, but we're 3/4 done with this pregnancy and the growing little baby is giving me remiders of that fact in the form of a foot (or some other body part) in my rib cage from time to time.

And yet, it seems like 10 weeks is so far off! When will I meet you, little one?

uh-oh

Ladies,
Something is seriously wrong when your pregnant "beauty sleep" inspires your husband to make the following remark:

"Sawing logs? No you weren't sawing logs. My dad saws logs. That was more like horses!"

Which leads me to wonder, if God wanted the family to stay in tact and the husband to stick around, why in the world did he make pregnancy so ugly?

I must defend myself by noting that I did not snore on my previous pregnancy, and I most certainly do not snore on any kind of regular basis. Thank you very much.

how to keep a straight face in front of teenagers when the baby kicks

*look outside and pretend there's drama out there

*find a student who's about to fall asleep and wake him/her up by dropping a book on his/her desk

*turn around and write a name on the board; then say, "just seeing if you're paying attention."

*return to the roll sheet and make sure you marked it correctly

*yell a threat about what will happen if students don't get to work immediately

*find a phone to confiscate

*distract yourself from a round of in-utero gymnastics by sitting down and writing a post about survival tactics for the pregnant woman in the classroom

true story.