Thankful...

I am thankful for this day. Thankful to God, for new mercies every morning.

For cuddle time with McKinley before coming to work. Thankful that our breastfeeding relationship has been successful. Thankful that she is good baby, who likes to sleep and smile. I am thankful for my husband, who hung a new shower curtain and took out the bathroom trash last night. Thankful that he is quick to forgive. I am thankful for our home and our new furnace. I am thankful that our utilities bill was $70 last month.

I am thankful for my family. For my parents and their generosity, their giving attitudes. I am thankful that they love our daughter. I am thankful for my siblings, who can always make me laugh. For inside jokes, and for the relationship with them. To call them "brother" and "sister" and to be addressed as "sister" in return. I am thankful for aunts who bring food to our home after a trying time, who call to sing you happy birthday every year for 29 years, who take you on their Black Friday shopping trip for 13 years even though you're a neice, not a sister. Thankful for uncles who make me laugh. Thankful for grandparents who give until it hurts, and then give more.

I am thankful for my freedom. For my brother, uncle, grandpa, brothers-in-law, friends and strangers, who fight every.single.day. to allow me the freedom to live in America, to be free, to worship God.

I am thankful for my job. Thankful that I have a job. Thankful that I can bring McKinley to work with me if I need/want to. That I can wear yoga pants. That I can take calls on my cell phone and leave to go to the bank. Thankful for coworkers who drive me crazy because they are like family.

Thankful that I have a car that runs. Thankful for a cell phone that allows me to keep in constant contact with friends, and other moms who support me. Thankful for social media, and for my Twitter friends who answer questions and keep me company at 2, 3, 4, 5 am. I am thankful that I have enough money to stop at Starbucks, and even though they don't fit right, I am thankful for the clothes I have.

I am thankful for all things today, and am trying to have this attitude everyday. I am thankful that you are here.

Random Act of Kindness Scentsy Fundraiser

In the spirit of the season, when we all talk about giving to others, I present you with an opportunity, a challenge.

I have a dear friend who I want to help, to make her Christmas a little easier, better, brighter. I won't name names (because she doesn't know I'm doing this), but I want to help her. I want US to help her.

From now until the end of November, I am donating ALL PROCEEDS of all Scentsy sales generated from this project to this sweet friend. Chances are, if you've been around here a while, you know this friend, and love her as I do.

I would love to talk with you about the Scentsy system. There are so many reasons I love the Scentsy products, and I think if you give them a try, you will to. Email me and we can chat. Back to the project...

To place an order for this project, please take a look around my website, then email me at nataliejcline (at) yahoo (dot) com. The order will be shipped straight to your home, and you'll know that you've played a role in making someone's Christmas a little bit brighter.

If you have friends or family members who would enjoy the Scentsy product, please pass this information on.

I know funds are tight this time of year for us all. I just feel that I've been given the opportunity to use my business to bless a friend, and all I'm asking for a is a little help.

The Internet has opened the door for some amazing friendships, and I am so thankful for the wonderful people who've become my friends because of it. Now, I'm paying it forward.

Additionally, everyone who places an order will have their name entered in a drawing for a $10 Scentsy giftcard. If you're not in a place to give, please leave a comment on this post about something you plan to do this Christmas season to make a difference in someone's life. Your comment will earn you an entry in the giftcard drawing.

**All proceeds from sales generated from this blog post will be donated to one of my friends, to make her Christmas brighter. If you would like to know who this person is prior to making a purchase, please contact me at nataliejcline (at) yahoo (dot) com. In the interest of keeping things fun, I will ask you to keep the information I provide you confidential. For your purchase to apply to this cause, you must email me your order by 6:00 pm, November 30, 2010. Thank you so very much. Merry Christmas.

Zzzzooooommmmmmmm

My house is not clean. My sink is full. I've been wearing these jeans for 3 days. I could lie and tell you that I've got this motherhood thing down, that I am able to wash dishes while breastfeeding McKinley in the sling. But I don't do that.

Right now, I work full-time. McKinley gets wonderful care from her dad, and he has nicknamed his job "Karing for Kinley". He sings songs from the Mickey Mouse Club and Handy Manny, and he's gotten good at putting together a bottle with one hand. When I get home from work each night, I just want to hold my girl. I probably could wash dishes and do laundry and vacuum while wearing Kiki in the sling, or just in my arms, but I don't want to.

********************************

McKinley turned 3 months old last Saturday. I can't quite figure out where the last 3 months have gone. I don't remember what life was like without her. I know that sounds so cliche but I really mean it.

She sits in her Bebe Pod and holds her head up for about 10 minutes at a time. She lays on her play mat and swats at the toys hanging down. She sleeps like a champ.

She loves her fingers, mostly her middle and ring finger. They are in her mouth most of the time and she drools all over the place.

Last night, I saw two little teeth, anxious to make their arrival.

My baby is growing up. And it's going by so. fast.

Each night, I wash just enough dishes to get through the next day. Usually, this means pump parts and bottles. And I wear my pants for multiple days because I don't want to spend hours in the laundry room and risk missing a single thing.

{Don't tell, but they're more comfortable after a couple of days anyhow.}

McKinley's 3rd month

I'm Dreaming of Christmas Cards!

McKinley is 10 weeks old already. I’m not quite sure where the time has gone, but we’ve truly enjoyed every minute of it! I’ve taken approximately 2000 pictures of her, and really need to stay on top of printing them out and putting them in frames or books. Otherwise, I end up with 2000 pictures on my computer.

She had her picture taken by my friend Crookedeyebrow when she was 10 days old. She was a perfect little model, and we had a hard time choosing a picture for her birth announcement. We finally agreed on the perfect picture (there were SO MANY GREAT ones to choose from!) and then had to choose the perfect announcement!

My mom has had really good luck with Shutterfly in the past, and has ordered Christmas cards as well as photo gifts, so she told me to check out their website. I scoured the “girl announcements” and narrowed it down to 4 different styles before making Aaron decide because I couldn’t.pick.just.one.

We finally agreed on the Sincere Embrace Design and I would show it to you, but I haven’t exactly mailed them out yet and I think I should show my family first. Heh.

Now, thanks to the Clever Girls Collective, I’m being given the opportunity to receive my Christmas cards from Shutterfly! I checked out the selection over the weekend, and it seems I’m going to have a hard time choosing this card too! I’ve narrowed it down to my favorite three, and will be happy to take your opinions into consideration (I am so bad at making these decisions!).

My top three choices are:

Mod Ornaments

All Wrapped Up

Snow Flurries Cocoa

Now all we need is a photo to add to the card and we’ll be all set. Which just means more decisions to make!

Shutterfly is a great option for Christmas cards, Christmas Invitations for those festive holiday parties, and thank you cards so Grandma knows you appreciated her gift! They also have an excellent selection of birthday invitations, birth announcements, and trendy greeting cards. Whether you prefer traditional or modern designs, Shutterly really does have something for everyone.

Do you want 50 free holiday cards from Shutterfly? Click here to go to Shutterfly for information on how you can get 50 free cards this holiday season, and make sure to select Clever 1000 as the referral source.

This post is part of a series sponsored by Shutterfly. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

Dream A Little Dream

I just don't want to forget...

I've had 2 dreams about my Uncle Jamey since his passing. The first was when I was staying at my parents house and it was very brief and didn't make me feel anything but that I missed him.

But last night, oh, I felt him. And I felt comforted, like he's alright. It was...good.

I turned the corner and was walking on the road back to my parents house, on a route I used to walk for exercise or to think. I was alone.

I heard someone yell my name, and I turned around to see him walking toward me. Wearing jeans and a plaid, casual, button down shirt.

"Hi Sweetie. What's up?"

"Oh! I had the baby! Her name is McKinley! She's beautiful! Aaron and I are good!"

I just kept shouting things to him, and he just smiled as I rambled on. Much like he did when I was younger, or when he would teach me how to play "Password" and I wouldn't understand the directions and he'd tell me 6 times and never get frustrated.

He didn't say anything else. He just continued to walk, faster than me, but was turned around looking at me, smiling, the whole time. A big smile. A genuine smile. An "I'm Alright" smile.

I didn't run to catch up with him, I just let him walk.

And then he was gone.

And I woke up and I cried because I miss him, but I felt such a sense of peace about him. He's alright. And we're going to be alright.

Hear that, sweet family?

He's alright.

And we're going to be alright.

The Story of Us

McKinley,

The story of how you joined our family is incredible and miraculous and beautiful and I would do it again a million times to have you sleeping beside me right now, and for the last 8 weeks. This is our story.

On Monday, August 9, 2010 (8/9/10) I went to my OB for my 40 week appointment. The nurse checked me out and found that I wasn't dilated, so the doctor wouldn't be able to sweep my membranes or do anything to encourage labor. He told me to come back on Thursday, and that we would discuss an induction if I hadn't made any changes.

Daddy took the day off of work on Thursday to go with me to the doctor, and we got to listen to your little heartbeat during a non-stress test for almost 30 minutes. That sound was so beautiful to my ears.

The nurse checked me after the non-stress test, and found that I was still not dilated. She called my doctor, who allowed for me to be induced that evening. My doctor lives in a different town than the hospital I wanted to have you at, and suggested the hospital by his house, so that he could be there in time for your arrival. I agreed, but as soon as we got out to the car, I started crying that it wasn't what I had wanted! So your dad called the doctor back and said that we were going to the hospital I wanted to have you at, the hospital where you were born.

We went out to lunch at TGIFridays, and then went home and tried to take a nap. I couldn't sleep because I was so excited to finally meet you!

Our induction was scheduled to begin that night, Thursday, August 12, 2010 at 10pm. We found a parking spot, and daddy helped me carry all of my things into the hospital. It must've looked like we were moving in. I had a bag for you and one for me, my computer, my camera, and a few pillows. I overpack. All. The. Time.

I was given a medicine called Cervadil at 10pm to soften my cervix. It was left in for 12 hours, and on Friday morning, I was started on Pitocin, which would hopefully cause me go to into labor. I walked the halls of the hospital with our doula and friend Rachel, I bounced on the birthing ball, I visited with Daddy and Mimi and Aunt Paytie. I was having some mild discomfort, but certainly not contractions, and certainly not anything painful.

At 4pm on Friday afternoon, my doctor came to check on me. He assessed me, and found that not only was I still not dilated, but that my cervix was still very hard. He then ordered an ultrasound so that we could see how big you were. It would be the last time I would see you on the screen. I cry just thinking about that time, where it was still just you and me and I didn't have to share you with the world.

And this is where I made a decision that I do not regret, but I know that some of my friends will find weird, even appalling.

My doctor told me that he would allow me to labor for 24 more hours, with the pitocin and lots of walking, and we could hope for things to progress on their own. Or, he would do a c-section that evening. And I chose the c-section.

So the nurse gave Daddy some scrubs, and I got ready to meet you. I was taken to the operating room, and the nurses there were incredible. I was crying while they were getting me ready to meet you, not because I was scared, but because I couldn't believe that I would be holding you soon. They brought Daddy into the room and he sat beside me and held my hand. Just a few minutes later, the doctor said "Look at all that hair!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing! I said "My baby? My baby has hair??" and they all sorta laughed because of course he was talking about my baby. He was talking about you.

The nurse brought you over to me right away and I was able to kiss you and tell you how much I loved you and how I couldn't believe that you were finally here! Daddy was crying and Mommy was crying and it was your birthday! You were born at 6:14pm on 8/13/2010, weighing 8lbs., 2oz., and measuring 18 inches long.

Friday the 13th, 2010. The luckiest day of my life.

Daddy went with you to the nursery and helped the nurse weigh and measure you and give you your first bath. When I got back to our room, they brought you right to me. I cried and cried and talked to you and told you how much I loved you. I put you to my breast and gave you your first meal and it was beautiful and incredible. Mimi was there, and Aunt Payton, and Grandma Sonnie. They held you and loved on you, and then they left and our little family stayed behind and got to know each other. It was amazing.


And here we are, 8 weeks later. And there are so many words I would use to describe this time. Beautiful and incredible and breathtaking. We have learned how to be a family of three. We have discovered that our love for you knows no bounds. We have watched you smile and learn to "coo" and find your fingers and flail your arms and legs about. We have a wonderful breastfeeding relationship.

You've been to Ohio twice, stayed in a hotel, and been to a Toledo (Mommy's team!) and Purdue (Daddy's team!) football game. (They were playing each other. It was a win-win situation.)

Our memories are just beginning, baby girl. And we can't wait to make millions more! McKinley, you will never, ever know how much Mommy & Daddy love you.

This is our story.

Ette

We’d gone back and forth, back and forth on a name and middle name for Tiny Dancer.

We had a name picked out, and then found out she was a girl, and our favorite girl name wasn’t our favorite anymore.

We looked at websites and books that Aaron claims were not created for people with normal baby names (we actually saw the name “Baby” listed as a girl’s name) and then threw the books on the floor and gave up.

And then one day, it just came to me. I loved it and he loved it and we loved the way it sounds with our last name and SHE HAD A FIRST NAME!

But she needed a middle name that fit with her first and last name and that also met the qualifications for middle-naming-a-girl on my mom’s side of the family. The tradition is for each of us to have a middle name that ends in “ette” and if you follow me on Twitter or know my email address, you’ve probably figured by now that my middle name is Janette. My mom is Lynette, my sister is Yvette and my aunts and cousins are Suzette’s and Collette’s and Danette’s and lots of things in-between.

{In order, from my oldest aunt to my youngest cousin: Annette, Lynette, Suzette, Collette, Mynette, Janette, Lynette, Yvette, Annette, Danette, Colette} (Yes, there are repeats. Some are after their own mother, others are named after an aunt.)

Aaron's mom's middle name is Lynn and since my mom's middle name is Lynette, it made sense that our daughter's middle name would be Lynette.

But you know that her middle name isn't Lynette.

Aaron called me one afternoon and suggested the name "Jolette". He had talked with his dad about how my family had the "ette" tradition but he wanted it to be unique, something that no other female had already. Aaron's dad suggested Jolette, which incorporated the "ette" and Aaron's middle name, Joel.

I admit, I wasn't immediately in love with it, mostly because I wanted us to name our daughter and not have influence from someone else. This is part of the reason I didn't want to tell anyone her name before she was born.

Aaron's dad passed away a couple of weeks later.

He'd known our daughter as McKinley Jolette.

We didn't really even talk about her name after that. I just knew that it would be so important to Aaron that we used the name his dad suggested.


And so she is.

It fits her perfectly, our sweet Kinley Jo.

one month.

mckinley turned one month old yesterday.

i don't have adequate words for the feelings i experience every time i look at our daughter.

has it been one month already?

the only postpartum depression i've experienced is knowing that i have to go back to work. i'm not making light of postpartum depression, i'm being serious. i can't stand that i have to go to work and be away from my best girlfriend. we have a pretty good deal, though, and she'll be able to go to work with me for the first couple weeks i'm back. then daddy will be home with her during the winter because his job is seasonal. when he goes back to work in march, we'll have to figure something out, but i can't live in anticipation of that time. i have to enjoy this time, and be thankful for this day.

i should probably write out her birth story so i don't forget any details. and i need to tell you the story behind her name. but for now, i want to look at her while she sleeps on my lap. and i need to go fill up my cookie bowl.

The way she smells.

I cannot hold her close enough, smell her enough, kiss her enough. She smells like sweet milk and the things that heaven must surely be made of. Her cheeks are soft and thick, her eyes dark like the night.

I lift her to my shoulder, she turns her head in toward my neck, and I wonder if she knows that this makes me weak in the knees.

She is my sweet little princess, my best friend.

Our birth story is just how it was intended to be, exactly what I wanted. I got a baby at the end. And I might be biased, but I think she's pretty much the most beautiful baby in the whole world. Her daddy thinks so too.

McKinley Jolette

8lbs, 2oz., 18 inches (My little peanut)

We are in love.

*Very!* *First!* IV!!

It is so hard to believe that we are here! We have checked into our hospital room, which we are calling "the resort", and we are enjoying being together. You know what this means, right?

It means I'm not in labor yet. Otherwise I wouldn't be so jovial at 6:00 am.

My appointment yesterday showed everything being normal and good, except for my dilation. Not only was my cervix still completely closed, but it is "thick". This isn't a problem, only a roadblock to my girl.

Because my doctor and I decided that 41 weeks would be our cut-off date for this pregnancy, it was time to make a decision.

At 10pm, we arrived at the hospital, I received my *Very!* *First!* IV!! at the ripe young age of nearly 29, and a lovely dose of cervidil. And hospital ice - HOW COULD I FORGET THE HOSPITAL ICE! YUM.

Anyhow, the cervidil stays in for 12 hours, causing some cramping and thinning of the cervix. For some people, it will thin the cervix enough to break the bag of waters and for labor to begin. We're hopeful this is where we'll be at 11am today when they assess the situation.

If that is the case, and labor does not progress on it's own, we will start pitocin. Through my *Very!* *First!* IV!!
***** My childhood and adult fears of anything moving, fast, sharp, dangerous and overall not intended for children over age 12 has provided me with this being my first hospitalization since my own birth in 1981. This whole "IV" thing is new to me, as is the HOSPITAL ICE, OH EM GEE. I think I might stay here an extra day for the ice. Just kidding. Kinda.

Anyhow, if pitocin is needed (and likely will be), they will start that and we will wait. After reaching 4 cm, I will be allowed to transfer to the birthing tub if I wish, and that will help with the pain management.

But I'm not going to get that far ahead of myself. Right now, I'm hanging out with my husband, who is like a child on Christmas morning, as he keeps looking over to me from his chairbed, saying "We're having a baby!" and it is the most darling thing that makes me want to cry.

He even suggested we take a picture together to post on our Facebook accounts and I look like I've no makeup on (check) after a day of 120398 degree temps and humidity (check), and the trauma (not really) of my *Very!* *First!* IV!!

One day does not seem like a long time to invest to have our lives changed FOREVER.

Come on, little one! We're waiting for you! And they have really good ice out here!

The post in which I lose friends.

I feel like I have to get this off my chest. Because if I don’t, I will forever feel like a liar or a fraud or something equally terrible.

I don’t care how my baby gets here.

I just want her to get here.

I trust my doctor. My husband and I spent a lot, and I mean A LOT of time looking for and researching doctors before getting pregnant. After the horrid experience I had last summer after losing Angel, I was determined to find a doctor who would calm my fears. And my doctor does that. I asked friends, I looked up internet reviews, I interviewed the 2 other doctors before I let finally let one in my pants. And SHOCKER – he’s a he. I haven’t been to a “he” doctor since I was 16 and didn’t know any differently.

But I trust him. I like him. We have a great relationship. And after getting a positive pregnancy test (December 1), I called his office and he got me right in (December 6). He let me see the beginning of the beautiful relationship, a small speck on a screen, and the tears rolled down my face. Some doctors don’t do ultrasounds that early. Mine did.

And yes, I've had quite a few ultrasounds. I know there are studies that you can have too many, and some people choose not to have any at all, and I respect each person’s decision to have as many or as few as they wish. I lay in bed crying many, many nights during those first weeks, because the headaches seemed all too familiar of the ones I had last summer. The cramping scared the bejesus out of me, and I thought on many occasions that I was losing my baby.

To me, pregnancy equaled loss. All I’d ever known is that you try for awhile (or sometimes a long time) to get pregnant, and then you lose your baby and your hope.

Fortunately, this pregnancy has been uncomplicated, short of an appointment where we couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat on the Doppler, so we opted for yet another ultrasound (she was fine), and from then on out, everything checked out okay at each appointment.

But the fear, the overwhelming fear, that each time I walked into his office, they wouldn’t find her heartbeat – it consumed me. We are very blessed that she is okay, that she has made it this far.

**************************

I don’t know how to convey the following information. I thought about “vlogging” (Heaven help us all), but I can’t talk about it without crying.

I am not a martyr for pregnancy. I do not want sympathy, or apologies. I want UNDERSTANDING, as much as possible. The external factors in my life during my pregnancy have sucked. They would suck for someone who wasn’t pregnant. My lamenting that “I’m so tired” has nothing, and I mean NOTHING to do with getting up to pee 4 times a night. My frustration that I need a day off of work has NOTHING to do with me having sore feet or a sore back. My desire to hold my daughter in my arms has NOTHING to do with me wanting to be “unpregnant”.

I choose not to divulge too much information at the respect of my family and my in-laws. But my uncle didn’t just die. He was 41 years young and he chose to die and it’s literally killing my family. He didn’t think. He didn’t think what it would do to us and what it would do to my step-dad, who was his very best friend in the world and he didn’t know that it would cause my grandpa to have a heart attack and my sweet, adorable brother and sister to both fall into cycles of depression. He didn’t know that people would have to come along side those he left behind and make sure they were okay. HE DIDN’T KNOW. And we didn’t know how things would go, we only knew that we had to move forward. We had to keep getting up and putting one foot in front of the other, even when we were consumed with grief and sadness and anger. We were angry. We were confused. We still are angry and confused.

My husband and parents and family were very concerned for me to be around so much grief and frustration and sadness. They tried so hard to shield me from it. But at his funeral, I sat between my husband and my sister and I tried to hold it together for my BABY, the one person who kept us all going. My brother sat one seat over from my sister and I spent the entire hour placing my hand on the backs of three people who I love more than anything, trying to console them, all the while thinking “when I’m done being pregnant, and the baby is out of danger, I am going to have to grieve this loss. I just can’t do it right now.” And people rubbed my stomach and I was a “welcome distraction”. We left the funeral, and Aaron and I drove back to our home and tried to move on. And I would wake in the middle of the night, overcome with grief and anxiety and I would sit on the bed and cry and plead and question and scream and become exhausted, NOT because of being 27 weeks pregnant, but because of the situation.

And then, AND THEN, 13 days later, I answered my cell phone and my husband said to me “My dad died”. And I couldn’t wrap my mind around those words and I just sat at my desk and looked at the computer for a minute. He said it again, and I kept saying “no. no no no no no no no no why is this happening to us?!?!?!?!?” And we left work and went home and stared at each other and he cried and I could do NOTHING to console my very best friend who had just lost his very best friend and my world was crashing down around me and oh, I was 29 weeks pregnant.

I cleaned the toilet. I didn’t know what else to do. I was losing control of everything in my life that had been so wonderful and so perfectly packaged. I was going to have a baby and she was going to be healthy and then my world was flipped upside down and I lost control and didn't know how we were (are?) going to make it without them both.

So I cleaned the toilet.

And without divulging too much information out of respect for my in-laws, I will say that the next days and weeks were full of sacrifice on my husband’s and his brother’s part to make sure that their father got the respectful funeral that he so deserved. We entertained family and friends and once again, I got to play the part of “welcome distraction” and answer the questions hundreds of times: “29 weeks. Girl. Yes, excited”.

My brother and sister-in-law went back to their home, and Aaron and I carried on. Mostly I carried on and he grieved. And he grieved so hard, for so long, and he’s still grieving and I’m still trying to be the wind beneath his wings because I’m his wife and that’s my duty. And I work and I come home and I love him and take care of him and I do these things with a joyful heart because it’s my calling, but dang. I am tired. And I don’t mean that this pregnancy is making me tired. I don’t mean that I’m done being pregnant. I know that it’s hard to take care of a newborn and I probably won’t get any sleep and she’s easier to take care of inside of my body than outside. I know these things. And I’m not saying that I won’t struggle and I’m sure I’ll cry plenty of tears. I get it. But it is overwhelming to deal with these issues as well as being 27-39 weeks pregnant. There is overwhelming pressure to be the one to "make it all right", to be the one to bring "joy" to the family (and no, that is not her name). It is overwhelming to hear that everything will be okay once the baby gets here, and to know that I am the one who has to make sure that's she's okay until then. THIS is why I'm tired. THEY are all depending on ME to bring HER.

For these next days, please understand that it is not nearly as important to me HOW she gets here, but that she just does. There are different parts of life, parenting, that are important to us all. For example, it is not important to me to cloth diaper my daughter because I will be working 50 hours a week as soon as I come back to work. I don’t want to deal with extra laundry. There are those who will say it’s worth it in the long run, but it’s not to me and my family.

And I will have my baby when and how my husband, myself, and my doctor decide. If she wants to surprise us and come early, then we will welcome her with open, loving arms. And if not, then we will decide when we want to encourage her to come out. But I don’t want to feel like I have to justify that to anyone. I am an adult. I trust my doctor. This should be enough for me and I’ve allowed people to make me feel like it’s not enough or not okay. And I have to change that, because the rest of my life will be full of people telling me I’m doing something wrong when it comes to raising my kids. I guess that’s why we should all just have our own, so that we can decide how, who, when, where, what. In every aspect.

Thank you for your advice and the answers to the millions of questions I’ve asked throughout my pregnancy. I have disabled Twitter from my cell phone and deleted Tweetdeck off both my personal and work computers. I will let you know when she has arrived, and am excited to share with you the information about her and her beautiful name and why it was chosen and what it means to us, especially in light of the things we've been handed.

Emails are certainly welcome, but I cannot guarantee when or if I will respond. I vow to spend the next 10 days focusing on me, and my husband, this sweet baby girl and our new family.

A letter to my daughter.

My dear sweet girl,

There is so much I want to say, but I don't know where to start. Thank you for taking care of your sister on her birthday. You know, sometimes I think you just know what I need and sometimes you know what I don’t need. Yesterday was her birthday. And while I thought it would be perfect to gain a daughter on the day I lost a daughter, you knew better than me that July 27th is Angel’s day. Thank you for letting us keep that as her special day. I promise your day will be so, so special too.

I had a good day yesterday. It started with an ultrasound where I got to see you and my, oh, my – You are so beautiful. I watched you wiggle around, and am still amazed that you’ve found room to do so. The technician was able to show me your beautiful beating heart and your sweet little fingers. You seemed annoyed with us, however, as you kept your hand covering your face while we were trying to take your picture. It’s okay. Sometimes I don’t like to have my picture taken either.

I left the hospital with a very blurry picture of you, almost unable to make out your features (because of your hand being over your face), but every time I look at it, I get tears in my eyes. Soon, I will be able to see you face to face, and will feel your perfect little fingers wrap around mine.

I did have a brief moment where my emotions washed over me while I was watching you. I didn’t realize when I scheduled my ultrasound (for yesterday) that I had my very first ultrasound one year ago today. It didn’t tell me what I wanted it to, but there was so much left to be said. Oh, yes. So much.

I know you’ll come when you’re ready. Just wanted to let you know that we can’t wait to meet you. (And July really is a great month to have a birthday. Wink, wink.)

Love,
Mama

Belly Love.

My friend Crooked Eyebrow took some maternity photos for me a couple of weeks ago. She did an amazing job of making me feel comfortable and beautiful, despite the humidity and excessive temperatures for 5 pm!

(this is my favorite. love love love.)

And maybe tomorrow, I will actually write something instead of just post pictures.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Jamey.

Not an "old man" uncle like you envision losing when you're 28 years old.

No, actually a young man.

42 years young today.

Miss & love you so much. xoxo.

{dad & uncle jim)

Death. And New Life.

Death and grief and sadness is not the direction I intended for this blog to go this spring/summer. But? Life. It happens.

As I was laying in bed last Friday night/Saturday morning, wide awake, playing on Twitter and Facebook, I learned that a young man I went to high school with had just passed away. "Just" as in, 1 hour before I woke up. "Just" as in, 28-years-old, with a wife and three children and did I say 28-years-old? Massive seizure, bleeding on the brain, nothing they could do. 28-years-old.

I stared blankly at my phone, trying to understand something that I probably never will. I wasn't "best friends" with Rusty. We didn't "hang out". But I graduated with 76 people. We knew each other. We knew about each other's families and siblings and plans after high school. When I was in the sixth grade, Rusty is the one who told me (in the middle of Mr. Burnett's 5th period science class) that Brandon didn't want to be my boyfriend anymore (I didn't hold that against him, I didn't want to be Brandon's girlfriend anymore anyhow). (I recall a lot of details of this breakup because I'm a detail oriented person. Not because it was the end of the world for the 12-year-old me. Ahem.)


So I closed out the Facebook application, and opened Twitter. Pregnancy insomnia, infants, and sick babies of all ages had many of my friends awake at 4am. It was comical that so many of us were online at the same time, chatting away, and then ALL OF A SUDDEN, Megan's water breaks. And she's off to have a baby.

And I just laid there and cried. Rusty died. Megan had a baby. Life. A big circle. It happens.

I don't get it. But, it is. It just, is.

I'm not going to get all Elton John/Lion King on you, but the Circle of Life? Yeah.

"Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with the scars

There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round"

Knowing that it's all "part of life" doesn't make death easier. The grief is still overwhelming, from my uncle to my FIL to this man I spent so many hours a day/week/year with. My grief for him is real, while not as intense as that of my family members. But I also grieve for his young wife and 3 young children.

No one thinks that their "mid-life" is 14 or 21 or 29. And yet, in the past 2 months, I've seen it. I don't know if I've hit my "mid-life", passed my "mid-life", or am years away from my "mid-life". But what I DO know is that I don't want to waste a single day. Because not one is granted, not one is promised.

Are you living like you're dying? I think we should do it together. I think it will set us free.

"So if your life flashed before you, What would you wish you would've done?
Yeah, we gotta start
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given
If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking
If every second counts on a clock that's ticking
Gotta live like we're dying" ~ Kris Allen, Live Like We're Dying

Putting my (not swollen!) pregnant foot down!

I love being pregnant. 99% of the time. The other 1% of the time is when people are being annoying.

I'm asked how I feel. I respond "oh, my back hurts a little today, but otherwise, I'm good." And the response is "JUST YOU WAIT! It will only get worse before it gets better! You won't be able to sleep at all in a few weeks. I felt like blah blah blah when I was pregnant for whosit."

Ok. Thank you. So next time someone asks, I will say I'm good.

*next time*

"Oh, I feel good! Thank you for asking!" And the response is "OH, WELL YOU WON'T FEEL GOOD FOR LONG! Soon, you won't be able to sleep or poop or eat or move, you'll just be miserable! Enjoy it while you can!"

Ok. Next time, I will just smile and nod.

*next time*

Smiling. Nodding. "JUST WAIT TILL THAT BABY IS BORN! YOU WON'T EVER SLEEP AGAIN! YOU WON'T EVER TAKE A SHOWER IN PEACE. YOU'LL CHANGE SO MANY POOPY DIAPERS AND YOU'LL JUST BREAKDOWN. YOU'LL NEVER HAVE SEX AGAIN AND YOUR BOOBS WILL BE SORE FROM BREASTFEEDING AND DON'T PLAN ON EVER DOING ANYTHING FOR YOURSELF AGAIN FOR THE NEXT 18 YEARS!"

Ok. Next time, I will pretend I don't speak English.

*next time*

"To go, please." Oh crap. That won't work.

Why must every question be followed with the woes and trials and tribulations of pregnancy? It's as if every woman who has ever had a baby is some sort of martyr for labor, delivery, and child rearing. I'm not ready to be done being pregnant. I'm ready to meet my daughter, but I love this time. However? I'm getting sick of people telling me how aweful the rest of my pregnancy is going to be, and how aweful it is to have an infant and how aweful it will be to try to be pregnant with a toddler, should that day come (even though the same woman just told me I'll never have sex again).

It makes me just want to be alone. Or with men. Which never happens.

And to top it off, I ended up in the glorious Labor & Delivery Department of my local hospital TWICE last week. And imagine my frustration when the nurse made me differentiate between pregnancies and babies. "Yes, this is my first baby." "No, this is not my first pregnancy, I had a miscarriage last year."

To which she replied "Miscarriage and Pregnancy are one in the same."

So I punched her in the face. With my uterus. And THEN, I went back to work. (What the heck is wrong with me. Duh. Take the day off, moron.)

But really. I just want a day off. A day I don't have to think or worry or deal or blargh.

My time is coming. Sometime in the next 7 weeks, I will get my day off. But I'll be in labor, which will surely be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. And then I'll spend the next 6 weeks not sleeping, with sore boobs, no sex (that one's not a joke), poopy diapers, and begging to take a shower.

But I chose this. I longed for this and prayed for this and would give anything to spend time with my daughter in the middle of the night, and get poop on my hands, and go 3 days without a shower or eating a meal while sitting at a table.

Getting pregnant wasn't a mistake. It was intentional. So please stop trying to make me regret it. It won't happen.

A rant.

I’m really quite surprised by who makes accommodations for pregnant women. Don’t get me wrong, I can still open my own door (for now), but it is nice to have someone do it for you (pregnant or NOT!). But I am constantly surprised by who my door-holders are, now that I’m (very) visibly pregnant.

Men.

Men whose wives have probably said “HOLD THE DOOR FOR ME, OR I’M NOT GIVING THIS BABY YOUR LAST NAME.”

Young women.

A category that I myself fell into just 9 months ago. There was always something about the way a pregnant woman walked/waddled that made me think I should help her however I could. It had to do with my upbringing. My parents taught me to respect people.

And this is surely a generalization, but I’m super frustrated with the women who are older than me who walk right past me, or allow ME to hold the door open for THEM. As if, during their pregnancy, someone slighted them and didn’t hold the door open for them. Or they think I need to earn my door-held-open-ness. It kinda irks me, if I’m being honest.

I was leaving Panera today and a woman who looked like she was my grandma’s age was entering. Not only did she wait in between the two doors for me to leave, but when I held the door open for her, she didn’t say thank you. I was shocked.

I don't feel like I'm entitled to much, especially not having a stinking door held open. But if I hold the door open for YOU, I do expect a thank you. Don't be rude.

I guess I’m getting grouchy. You’ve been warned.

Our First NST!

Only for the love of my daughter would I show you this picture. Because really, there are stretch marks that won’t go away no matter what “edit” I try. And even though my stomach feels hard, it doesn’t look it in this picture.

*Sidenote – My stomach gets very hard sometimes. I learned last night, while hooked up to pink and blue, that these are actually contractions. Ha. How about that?

My little one may be a lot like her father, and if you know Aaron, then this will make more sense to you. For very long periods of time, he runs at about 78 miles per hour and he doesn’t ever stop until bed time. But then he is STILL. For a 28-year-old man who I can see, this is fine. For a 34-week-old princess whose presence is only known by her movements, I got freaked out. But don’t worry. She’s fine.

At my regularly scheduled OB appointment last night, it was suggested that I have a Non-Stress Test done due to her lack of movement during the day. I had a small 75 minute taste of what it might be like to be in the hospital. Which was scary but exciting. Outside the door, I heard a dad on the phone, emotion in his voice, repeating over and over "It's a girl!". I was teary just listening to him. She didn't have a name yet, but she was beautiful. I mean, that's what he said. I didn't actually see her. That would have been weird.

Being there, listening to the lullaby play twice during that time, it made me anxious and excited. I can't wait to meet my daughter.

{I didn't get home until almost 9pm, BUT I got ice chips. The night was not a total loss.}

ANYTHING.

If I can deal with all the things I've been handed while being 7.5 - 8.5 months pregnant,

I CAN DO ANYTHING.

{the end}

A failure of all sorts.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

My shirt is soaking wet.

My makeup is streaked and my cheeks are flushed.

I cannot stop the tears that flow from a broken heart. A heart that loves more than I know what to do with, but is still so selfish and desires so much.

I cannot be 8 months pregnant and be the supportive wife of a man who just lost his father. The weight is too heavy and I am crumbling under the pressure.

I was mean and rude and demanding and accusatory and everything that I'd hoped I'd never be, especially when he needs me most.

But I failed him, as I always will, because I cannot do it on my own.

I need help. This is too hard.

***************

"Lord, please! I cannot keep doing this! I am falling apart."

I cry out to him as I drive, on my way home from the grocery store, where I've planned for the week and suffered the anxiety already of not being enough.

"Why do you only come to me when you are hurting? Why only when you need me?"

Drip.

"If you only spoke to Aaron when you needed him, how do you think your relationship would be?"

Drip.

"Talk to me all the time. I will help you."

"I can't stay focused. My mind wanders, I feel like I have too much to do."

"Let me help you."

Drip.

"Just, let me help you."

***************

Here I am. Asking for help. Only the help that you can give. I cannot do this on my own. I do not want to keep trying. I surrender.

Father's Day

Bittersweet doesn't exactly describe this Father's Day.

Aaron is going to be already such an amazing Father. (Remember this shopping trip?)

But he celebrates his first Father's Day without his Father. It's just so...

...I guess bittersweet is the only word I can think of.

Oh, my sweet Aaron. I love you so much. Tiny Dancer loves you so much. We are so proud of you for the man that you are and the Daddy that you're becoming.

My husband's heart.

I have so much I want to say, but the words are hard to come by. There are tears, and a few words. More tears, and a few more words.

My husband is hurting and I can’t make it go away. This is very difficult for me to accept, because I am a “fixer”. I like to make things better. I can’t make this better.

If asked of 50 people what Aaron’s best trait is, 48 of them would say he has a really big heart. The other 2 would say he is a bad mama-jama.

He loves to buy for people, or give to people from what we already have. If you needed a shirt, he would give you the one off his back, plus $20 to go buy matching sandals at TJMaxx. If you needed money for lunch, he would give you $20 for your lunch, plus the gift card in his wallet for Subway because “he doesn’t really like it anyhow”.

I LOVE my husband’s “big heart”.

The only problem?

His really big heart is capable of really big hurt.

Really. Big.

And right now, I could offer him all the TJMaxx gift cards in the world, or golf passes to the course where he would undoubtedly buy the person he was with a hot dog at “the turn” (I’m not a golfer. I don’t get this.), but it doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything I can give him or buy him or make for him that will make this any better. Or any less bad. Or anything other than the suck of the suckiest suck of the world.

But I have my love and I give it to him. I have my hands, so I make him sandwiches for his lunch. I have my voice, so I speak prayers on his behalf. (Not enough though. I'm working on this. Actually, God is working on me to work on this.)

I do not have much, but I am trying to give him all that I have. Because if the situation were reversed, I would own the TJMaxx chain, and we would eat at Olive Garden every day, even though he doesn’t really like it, and he would bring me Starbucks Iced Tea in bed and at work and in the middle of the night. Because he has a really, really big heart.

A heart that I love. With a really, really big love.

I wish it was enough. It's not right now. But one day, it will be. I just have to believe it. And wait. Just wait.

"... but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."
Isaiah 40:31 (New International Version)

I will not let the fear win.

I fear him lurking around the corner. Each ring of the telephone, a quick prayer that it isn’t bad news. I cannot handle more phone calls making known a death. The end. No more.

I will not be gripped by fear. I will not allow the unknown to decay my current state. Fear to fly, fear to drive, fear to walk across the street, fear to leave my husband, my loved ones, for when will I see them again? Will I see them again? I will not have a fear to live.

I will choose to hope. And I will believe. I am safe and I am protected and those I love are cared for. I will trust.

For now, I will not let him win. I will not let the fear, intimidation of death ruin my days. For I know that my days are numbered and so I will count each day, and make each day count.

I just don't know.

you keep coming here, probably to check to see how we're doing. i don't check my stats really ever, but i was curious. and it lifted my spirit, for this moment in time.

for an update? a story? reassurance? i don't know why i come here sometimes.

the update? we'll be okay.

the story? my father-in-law passed away of natural causes. his body was tired and his soul was weary. but we believe that his body has been made new and his soul is dancing before Jesus. there will always be a void in my husband's life, in our lives, because he is gone. BUT WE BELIEVE. we believe that the Bible is the word of God, and that God is who He says He is, and when we add 1 + 1, we get eternity. it's just that simple.

reassurance? we'll be okay. we have to. WE HAVE TO.

because we have a daughter joining our family sometime in the next 10-ish weeks and we just have to be okay. she will help us be okay.

i believe that God is who He says He is. i believe that he heals our broken hearts and makes it possible for us to press on each day, putting one foot in front of the other. i believe that He gives strength to the weary, and i'm praying each moment of each day that He is giving strength to my husband.

It's been a long, hard week.

My uncle is gone.

More than just my uncle. My dad's best friend. My grandparents baby. My aunt's husband. A man who started a tradition in our town that has turned into the biggest event in the history of our 200 person community. A "reunion" for every class, from every school, for every person. When a village of 186 people turns into a party for 1200. A big party, where we play wiffleball and talk about the past year, and forget our troubles for two days.

He started it. 20 years ago. As a 21 year old man, boy. A vision, a dream, that became a reality.

We watched a slideshow of the past 41 years today. There were pictures of him as a baby, a teen, at his wedding. But the pictures that I love, that show me who he was and what made him happy? They were the pictures from this one particular weekend. He smiled. A real smile.

This one particular weekend? It's in August.

This year, our family, our community, will mourn the loss of my uncle during this festival. At all times, we will miss him, we will grieve, but this weekend, this one particular weekend, will be hard. Very hard.

And yet. I feel that God, in His infinite wisdom, knew that my family would need joy in August. He knew we would have loved joy in February, but we'll need joy in August. Oh yes, we will need joy.

And we will have it.

Even though it will be missing an uncle, a friend, a brother, a husband, a son. We will have joy.

She will be our joy.

(She already is.)

Mother's Day.

The funny thing about saying that I didn't want to feel like I had to blog is that now I really want to. But I still don't feel like I have a lot to say.

Mother's Day is this coming Sunday (you knew that already, I'm pretty sure). It is my first Mother's Day, as I was not yet pregnant last year (but it was right around the corner!). It will be spent with my husband, and our daughter, and even though it is not the celebration I envisioned last July, it is perfect and it is perfectly what I need.

But here's the thing - I know I am so lucky, so blessed. I don't take for granted one single kick, or hip pain, or sleepless night, or leg cramp. Because I yearned for this, and now I have it, and soon, SOON, I will have my baby and oh man, I am scared to death, but I am so blessed. And I could say something about how "I hope you have a great day!" on Mother's Day, but I'm not going to pretend that it will be that way.

And I'm so sorry.

I hate the loss that so many mother's know. I don't understand a lot of it, and I would never pretend to. But that doesn't make me not hate it. I hate that I have so many wonderful, amazing friends whose babies are not with them this year. I HATE IT.

This post is not colorful or sweet and I can't think of a transition to get there. Please just know that this year, I will be thinking of all of us, the mother's without our babies. Mothers who've never known their babies, and mothers who said goodbye to their babies entirely too soon. It's not fair and I hate it, but I love you. And I will be thinking of you. And in honor of you, I will love my own mother, and never, ever take for granted the life growing inside me.

**I am so incredibly fortunate to have a mother who loves me and spoils me rotten, even at 28-years-old. She is caring and funny and kind, and she knows this loss too. I hope she has the most amazing Mother's Day, even though I can't be with her. I love you, momma.

Teeter. Totter.

I having a hard time finding balance.

In work and my marriage and preparing for a baby and friendships and blogging and life in general like going to the grocery store and getting my hair cut and remembering to stop at the gas station before the "low fuel" light comes on.

Work is getting busy for me and for Aaron. Time at work goes by fast, time at home, faster. We come home, eat dinner, clean up dishes, mow (eh, not me. I don't know how to turn the mower on.) play with the dog, pack lunches for tomorrow, shower, laundry, collapse. I know we are not alone in this, and I know it will only get more intense when we throw a baby into the mix.

I'm stepping away for a while. I still have things to say, but I don't want to feel pressure to write here, fearing that if I don't have something witty to say, no one will come back.

But I need to spend the time I have enjoying things like my marriage, organizing baby clothes, and washing the 7 outfits on rotation.

Be back later.

**This may have something to do with my decision not to attend Relevant. Plus I'll have a 10 week old and I've already lost sleep thinking about how she and I will get there and get around and get home and so on. It's also the weekend of my anniversary, and as I fall more in love with my husband each day, I realized how much I don't want to be away from him then. Thanks for understanding.

To the Left, To the Left

I am a belly sleeper or a back sleeper. I don't do well sleeping on my side because it hurts my shoulders and makes one side of my hair frizzy. But if I HAD to choose a side to sleep on, I'd choose the right side.

So you can see why this would be a problem. Sleep on the left side? Shouldn't be so hard, right? Well, it is. Mostly because it's not comfortable for me and also because I kept waking up on my right side.

When I was given the opportunity to review a pregnancy pillow, I had no idea what to expect. The Utterly Yours Pregnancy Pillow showed up and I couldn't believe how small it was, while claiming to help me sleep better at night. But then I used it and OHMYGOSH. It is so comfortable. Yes, they sent it to me for free. Yes, I would tell you about it even if they didn't.

The side that goes against your back (the pattern side) is made of a memory foam that is so comfortable, I want a bed made out of that stuff. It is not hard, but is sturdy enough that I can put my weight on it and still stay on my left side.

Also, this picture? Not me. Anyhow. The solid color side goes against your belly. I've been using this pillow since about week 16 and haven't needed the support of the solid colored side until the past week or so. I assume as things go (and my belly grows), I will fall in love with the support of the "belly" side as I have the "back" side.

Because I wasn't aware of how big I would get (still don't know this, obviously), I ordered the Large. I think I could have gotten away with a Medium, especially because I started using it early.

Honestly, I love this thing. I would tell you this even if I had paid for the pillow. It helps me sleep and supports my back. Plus, it is compact and so lightweight, I've taken it with me out of town on multiple occasions. I open it up, put the strap of my overnight bag through the middle, and close it with the loop and button closure. I don't even have to carry it!

If you are pregnant and concerned with sleeping on your left side, or having back pain, or just sick of rolling onto stacks of pillows you've shoved into your back, I cannot tell you how you would benefit from this pillow.

For 15% off of your order, enter code "Promo" at checkout.

I was not compensated for this review. I received the Utterly Yours Pregnancy pillow for my own personal use. The opinions expressed are my own.

My (In)Fertility Journey

I don’t consider myself lucky. I consider myself incredibly blessed.

My (in)fertility story doesn’t have as many pages as some of the friends I’ve met along the way, but still, they are tear stained. The paragraphs of my story contain words like “try” and “loss” and “success”. Their paragraphs contain words like “IVF” and “Beta” and “Clomid” and “Reproductive Endocrinologist {RE}” and "2WW". My story is not the same, and with that, comes incredible guilt.

But also with that, comes incredible friendship.

For years, the idea of taking a pregnancy test was that of overwhelming fear. And yet, when the test was negative, there was still disappointment. It was in me. It is in us, the desire to be a mother, even if we know the timing is wrong. But along the way, the idea of taking a pregnancy test brings excitement and anticipation. One, two, even three negative tests into the journey just meant that the birth control hadn’t left my body yet. But (months) four, five, (and) six negative tests into the journey made me think there might be something wrong. (Months) Seven, eight, nine? Is this a joke?

The doctor said “it’s not infertility unless you’ve tried a year”. So, we kept trying. And there were tears from announcements by girls younger than me, who didn’t have jobs, or even a steady boyfriend. And there were broken toenails from propping legs up on headboards, and there were nights where it just didn’t happen.

And then they were there. Two lines! “Pregnant”! The weekend of Father’s Day, 2009. Joy and more tears and feeling so excited!

And then it was gone. July 27, 2009.

And then we didn’t try anymore. I wasn’t ready, my body wasn’t ready, my heart wasn’t ready to love again.

I wouldn’t call it closure, because I will never have completion in my life due to the loss of my first child. But there was a defining moment in our lives, in our marriage, in our family, when I chose the name Angelina for our first child, and Aaron was there with me, even though not, and we had done this together. This conceiving and losing and grieving and moving forward. Together.

And now we have Tiny Dancer. Our beautiful, sweet, amazing baby. Who is so loved and so desired.

I desire this for my friends who struggle daily with infertility. My story is not the same as theirs, my trying not so long, my longing not so drawn out. I do not boast of this, believe me. I cry tears for them, with them, over BFN’s (big fat negatives) and failed IVF’s and lost dreams. Because in MY darkest hours, they comforted me. They were there for me.

Every woman who desires to be pregnant would be crushed by another’s pregnancy announcement – I know I was. And yet, these women rallied around me and offered “CONGRATULATIONS!” and “SO HAPPY FOR YOU” when I announced my pregnancy, all the while tears probably falling down their faces.

Their grief is deep, but their friendship is deeper.

I am so, so thankful for their friendship.

****************************************

I tell my story to bring awareness to the struggle that thousands of couples face to bring children into their families. We are not all "fertile Myrtle's". Next week is National Infertility Awareness Week. There is a campaign to make "infertility" a trending topic on Twitter to bring attention to the awareness. If you or someone you know or love has ever dealt with infertility, please help spread the word by using #infertility in your tweets.

For more information, follow the #infertility tag on Twitter, and visit the blogs of the women and men there. Their stories are inspiring.

Twitter Home Tour!

I didn't get around to participating in the Ultimate Blog Party, so I thought I'd hop on the 'ole bandwagon known as "Twitter Home Tour".

In the interest of FULL disclosure, I didn't clean my house before taking these pictures. In fact, I haven't cleaned my house all week. And I'm not ashamed, because I kinda feel like my uterus will fall out if I stand for too long. Plus, between me and Aaron (Aaron & me/myself/I??), we worked 97 hours last week. And then add in the fact that we had CENTRAL AIR INSTALLED (DO I SERIOUSLY NEED TO TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM ABOUT THIS????), and really, that explains the clutter and laundry piled high (see picture of master bedroom).

Welcome to our home! Can I get you anything? We have water, tea, and Monster energy drinks. No? Okay then.

Our couch is old and the seat closest to the kitchen is reserved for Duke. In addition to being a hand me down, it is the spot where I spent the entire winter napping away my first trimester nausea.

The blinds behind the curtain are not broken, but the sun is shining in the most amazing way today, and it looks like they are. I'm not the best housekeeper, but you'd better believe if my $6.00 blinds were broken, I would replace them. It's the little things.

Sometime after Christmas (like, the week of the Super Bowl), Aaron went out and bought himself the family a new television. It looks gigantic only because my living room is so tiny. It's usually on the Disney Channel or MSNBC. I prefer Hannah Montana and Aaron prefers to watch something called "Lockup". You may have seen it. If so, it probably gave you nightmares.


Next up is the bathroom. Nothing exciting here, except that my night clothes were on the floor, so I cropped them out. I do like my shower curtain though!


Making our way around the teeny tiny hallway, the next room you would enter is the nursery. Not much to see here either, mostly because it's a SECRET, but the color? It's called "Faint Maple", which for some odd reason makes me think of fairies. No, the room will not be decorated with fairies. I'm girly, but not that much.

Also, it's not done yet. Which is why there is no cover on the light switch. I know better.

Right beside the nursery is the "Master" bedroom. Since there is no bathroom attached, it can only be called the "Master" bedroom because the King and Queen of the house sleep there. (Corny? I tried.)

(When I said laundry day, I wasn't kidding).
(Also, I am in no way being compensated for the Old Navy bag hanging out in the picture, but will show you the cute dress I bought there soon!)
(Lastly, making the bed is the most pointless chore known to man.)

Continuing around the small circle of hallway, we come to the office. I didn't get a good picture of the whole room, but all you need to know is that 1.) it's small and 2.) it's my husband's "Shrine de Purdue (University)". This is just a very small amount of the PU goodies he's collected over the years. The onsies are what I gave him on December 1, along with a just-peed-on pregnancy stick, annoucing this pregnancy.
The Purdue hat was made lovingly by "Ma", Aaron's nickname for my mom.

The file cabinet is full of old pay stubs and electric bills and other random papers that don't exactly have a home.

The whole hallway at one time?

Yes, we have baby gates. They are to keep the dog out of the rooms because he likes to chew on things. If he knew how to do laundry, I would let him in that "Master" bedroom, because, ugh.

The kitchen is where many meals are prepared unpacked from their "to go" containers, at least lately. No dishwasher, so the dishes sit on the counter.

Yes, we use plastic cups. No, we do not play beer pong. Yes, we wash and reuse them.

The outside of the house is Aaron's domain, and where he sits to make shopping lists.

If someone is outside, Duke insists on being there also. If we go out without him, he will stand at the back door and cry.

"Why would you ever go out without him?"

"Because he digs holes in the yard and we get sick of filling them in".

I hope you've enjoyed this tour of our home. If you called and said you were coming by in the next 5, 60, or 1200 minutes, I probably wouldn't do anything to change it. But I might brush my teeth.

My house is clean most of the time (usually). Just not today. Check back tomorrow, no, after the baby is born next year.

You can play along by visiting the homes below and by posting pictures of your home! I'll be by to "visit" soon!

About the Twitter Home Tour - Once upon a time, @MomNom, @jennandtonica, @emmie_bee, @heirtoblair, and @ColeEmmett were talking about home decor on Twitter. We thought it would be so great to be able to see each other's homes! A *bunch* of other tweeps joined in, @Alena29 put together a terrific button, and #twitterhometour (or #twitterhouseparty) was born! Feel free to join us - add a link to your home tour post (pictures, video, or both!) below.

Mover. Shaker.

Wow. No one told me how incredible it would be to feel this life moving inside of me. Sometimes, I think she's doing somersaults because the movements aren't distinct, but they are there and they are her. Sometimes they tickle and sometimes I feel like I've just gotten off a rollercoaster.

Other times, like right now, I feel like she's standing up straight on my bladder and training for a marathon. It is so, so, cool. Except I have to pee. A lot. I used to have to lay real still and focus so hard on feeling her. I could feel my own heartbeat in my fingers and my toes until kick and I knew it was her.

Now, I don't have to be laying down and I don't have to be still, and I don't need to focus on her. She is there and she wants me to know it and she might be a cheerleader instead of a marathon runner but I don't know.

The first time I felt her kick and knew it was her, for sure? Sunday, March 28. Laying in bed, praying for Beth and Eli, kick and asking God to keep them both safe during delivery kick and make sure that Eli was perfect kick. He is. kick.

Now, I talk to her in the car and in the shower and in bed, and she talks back.

Our conversations are breathtaking.

22w2d

I really have nothing to say. Go figure.

But this is what's up. She's dancing up a storm in there and it is incredible!

(Mama is still very, very tired however. So this Sunday has been spent on the couch. Hope you had a good weekend!)

The Feet That Bring Good News

I don't particularly like feet. Baby feet are incredible, but other than that, feet are kinda icky to me. So when I saw the You Capture topic for the week was "Feet", I started thinking of something I could capture that said/showed "feet". Ah-ha.

As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

{Romans 10:15}

The Good News

Not the feet you probably came here expecting...but in honor of Easter (and the current lack of baby feet in my house), I couldn't think of anything more fitting.

You Capture - Feet

You Capture

He was so sure that she would be a he. So sure in fact, that when the ultrasound technician said "That's a girl", he said "Are you sure?".

But then he saw the dresses, and the bloomers, and the shoes, and the socks, and the bibs, and the blankets, and even though he swore we wouldn't buy all pink, this is what he picked out.

My "moment" for the week? Watching my husband be excited about fathering a girl.

(And the next day, he went out ON HIS OWN, and bought her twice as much. Pink. All over our house.)

You Capture - A Moment.

Hey There, Good Lookin'!

New blog design courtesy of Design by Mariah!

Not only is she a talented designer, she's a fantastic cousin and friend.

Love you, Merna!

On Losing, and Gaining

A dear friend from college emailed last night, telling of a recent miscarriage and asking when and if it gets easier. Responding to her email, with tears streaming down my face, I was able to put into words what I've been feeling. It was odd, as I'd never taken the time to write it down until now.

I will say that being pregnant again has helped, especially as Angel's due date came and went (Feb. 18). But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her, and wonder how differently our lives would be if we were parenting a one-month old instead of anticipating the arrival of our little princess. Obviously, we are overjoyed that she is joining our family, but there is a void in my heart that will truly never be filled. Our first baby didn't join our lives. The anniversary of her due date was difficult, to say the least. I am thankful that so many remembered, and honored her. If you haven't told many people, that's okay. But if you have, can I encourage you to share the due date and allow people to celebrate the life of your baby? It helped me so much that people remembered.

On being pregnant again, there is immense fear. I cannot lie. Each day, I pray that she continues to grow, and anticipate as well as dread doctor appointments, as I pray that we'll hear her heartbeat, but dread that we will not. On the days where the fear becomes overwhelming, I have to remind myself of the truth that God is in control and He designed my body to conceive and carry children. The truth is very powerful, but I cannot deny that there is fear. I think He understands this, and sends me peace when I cannot find it otherwise.

...

(disclaimer: these were answers to questions she had, not me boasting of my current pregnancy)