Yep, I'm going there. This is the post I so longed to read when I was neck-deep in post-partum emotions. I just wanted to relate to SOMEONE. To know that I wasn't alone. To feel the camaraderie of other women who had experienced similar emotions and made it to the other side in one piece. My life has generally been pretty drama-free. Minimal painful seasons and few traumatic events. So when baby Bennett was born, I was knocked down hard. And didn't come up for a breath for 9 weeks and 2 days.
Since September 1 (the day Bennett decided life was going to be okay and the first day I felt like myself again), I've had lots of time to process those early weeks. And I've come to many conclusions. I think every woman has at least one part of childbearing that's challenging. Getting pregnant was easy for me. Being pregnant was so dreamy (until the last 4 weeks...but no one can honestly say the last 4 weeks are lovely). Childbirth was even (don't shoot me) easy - I got me some drugz after 7 hours of pain that made me want to bite my fingers off and Bster entered the world 90 minutes later. My body recovered nicely after he was born and I was feeling great after about a week.
But then. My emotions went berserk. Nursing was legitimately the hardest thing I have ever done. Harder than being the new kid in a class. Harder than my first year of teaching. Harder than any marital challenge. It wasn't painful for me. It was just hard. I don't even have the words to describe how challenging it was for me.
People said we would get into a rhythm. That eventually we would get the hang of it. So I pressed on.
It's about to get real here.
My whole life I've struggled with not really feeling like I have any real strengths (that's another story for another day). So I think I was desperate to be able to say, "I nursed my baby. And I was good at it." Oh sweet Heidi, I just want to stroke your hair as it falls out after giving life to a human and tell you that IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD IF NURSING DOESN'T WORK. IT'S JUST NOT. FORMULA EXISTS FOR A REASON. USE IT. IT'S NOT WORTH THE TEARS - FROM BENNETT OR FROM YOU!
In the first few weeks of Bennett's life, I cried all the time. On my first day home alone with him, I remember sitting on the floor in front of his swing weeping while he slept peacefully. Because I couldn't believe that I had this perfect little boy to care for. And because I was terrified that something might happen to him someday and that I wouldn't be able to protect him for forever. My heart was so heavy with love for this tiny human. And it was overflowing in a way that I had never felt.
I chalked up my intense emotions to the ridiculous hormonal changes a woman goes through after childbirth. I told myself it was going to be okay. That I just needed to make it to 6 weeks and everything should go back to normal. That I didn't need medication to help me feel like myself again.
When Bennett was 5 weeks old, our family of 3 went to a birthday party and I spent almost the whole time upstairs sobbing and unsuccessfully attempting to nurse my wailing infant. Daniel had just returned from a week-long business trip and while I had held in my emotions while he was away, the floodgates were bursting and I couldn't make them stop. I remember texting my bestie in Africa from the floor of that room saying that I was crying and I couldn't stop. I thought things couldn't get any darker, but they were about to.
Seven weeks after Bennett was born, I asked one of my lifesavers to come over and snuggle B so I could pack for a family vacation to Colorado. I was packing upstairs and just started crying. And again, I couldn't stop. By this point, I was accustomed to daily tears. And I had tried everything - eating right, exercising, sleeping when baby slept (note to self: don't ever tell a new momma to sleep when baby sleeps...some babies don't sleep), reaching out to my incredible support system, praying every minute of every day. And nothing was working.
I remember walking downstairs to my sweet sister and, through tears, saying, "I think something's wrong with me." She ever so gently encouraged me to call my doctor. So I did. And left a message on the answering machine. I was bawling as I left my message (which actually turned out to be great - the nurse called me back minutes later). At my appointment the next day, I recounted the last few weeks and without even missing a beat, the doctor suggested that I might need some medication. And I immediately took her up on her offer.
Prior to this moment, had anyone suggested taking medication for my emotions, I would have responded with any of the following:
I don't take medicine.
I don't need it.
I can handle this.
It will be okay.
Oh sweet new momma Heidi, there is so much you don't know.
About 10 days after beginning my meds, I was still a hot mess. We had just returned from Colorado and Bennett hadn't gained any weight in a week. Our pediatrician wanted to refer him to Children's Mercy in Kansas City to do some tests in an attempt to figure out what the problem was. I sobbed uncontrollably after hanging up the phone with the nurse. I remember taking Bennett upstairs and rocking him while I did the ugly cry and held him so close completely afraid that he would be taken from me.
Another one of my lifesavers came to visit two days later. And I cried all day. She watched as I tried, again unsuccessfully, to nurse my extremely fussy baby. She loved on me. She brought me food and encouraged me with all she had. And I finally said out loud what I had been thinking for weeks: I feel like I have lost my joy. I'm not myself right now. I'm at the end of my rope and at the bottom of a pit and like there is no way out. Life is incredibly dark right now and I don't know what to do except cry.
The next day was a good day. Bennett ate well and I thought we had turned a corner.
Then Sunday hit. And Bennett, again, cried all day. I skyped with my African bestie and sobbed while I told her I didn't know what to do. That this is not what I had envisioned. That the two things I was most afraid of pre-baby were post-partum depression and a fussy baby. And I had both.
From the rocker in the nursery, I texted a dozen of my praying friends and pleaded for them to intercede on my behalf. My faithful brother called me immediately and gave me every encouraging word he had. My in-town sister dropped what she was doing and came over to hold my sweet, fussy baby. And daddyDan, again, made me laugh. It was at this point that Daniel and I decided to change how Bennett ate. We decided to try the bottle instead of nursing. I knowwwwwwwwwww. Why didn't we do that before?! Because I'm stubborn. Because I wanted to succeed at something. Because I wanted to be what my baby needed. And because I was so tired and so emotional and so unable to make rational decisions.
The next day, September 1, was the best day of 2014. It was the day I decided that Bennett's well-being was more important than my stubbornness. It was the day I finally realized that at Bennett's one-year birthday party, I'd rather be able to say, "My baby eats formula and is happy" than "I nursed him for a whole year and it was AWFUL." I physically became a mom on June 27, but I think September 1 is the day I emotionally became a mom. Bennett's needs trumped my stubbornness.
Bennett was a hard baby. For me. I'm sure other moms would look at the first 9 weeks of his life and say that he wasn't anything compared to their challenging babes. And that's okay. Having a baby knocked me off my feet in the most intense way. It made me rely on people more than I ever had before. And I am so thankful for that.
Ladies who are pregnant, don't read this and be afraid. Know that it will be hard. (For some gals it isn't though!) Don't hesitate to ask for help - whether that help is from your friends, family, or doctor. As one of my colleagues told me, sometimes the only mantra worth repeating is: survive and advance. And remember, it's going to be okay.
First-time mommas who are in the trenches of life with a newborn, know that you are so precious. Ask people to bring you food (I asked my mom to make me a handful of freezer meals and she showed up a week later with 15 meals. The best gift ever.). Invest in a nice stroller if you don't have one. The mall is a great place to walk when it's cold.
I feel like I should end this post with a shout-out to my ridiculous support system, but the list of people who loved on me is far too long. Just know this, my gracious lifesavers, you mean more to me than could ever know. Your prayers and words of encouragement got me through the darkest time of my life. You rode the waves with me and for that I am eternally grateful.
I'm back to being myself, but an even better version, I think. I love my life and I adore my little family. Bennett brings Daniel and I joy every single day and I couldn't imagine life without him. I'm still tired, and I hear that won't change any time soon, but I'm okay with that. I'm still very type-A and still quite stubborn, but I'm slowly learning how to chill out. And I love it. God is unbelievably faithful in all things. Jesus is my rock and I will forever cling to Him.
I'm an open-book, friends. Don't hesitate to ask questions if you have them. Ladies, if you are feeling any emotions related to post-partum, please reach out to me or to someone you trust. I've totally got your back, girl.
December 30, 2014
September 4, 2014
BDC Week 10: AKA Figuring Out All Things Bennett D
OH. MY. WORD.
So we have this tiny human who lives in our house now. He weighs 12 pounds 11.6 ounces. And he is over 25 inches long (holla tall people!). And he has given us a run for our money for 9 weeks. But, friends, finally (I know, 9 weeks doesn't seem long, but, friends, 9 weeks with our troubled babe was long), we have started to figure out our long, skinny friend.
This post is dedicated to anyone who has said a prayer for us over the last 9 weeks. You know who you are. The ones who received an SOS text from yours truly. The ones who received emails, texts, and calls from my mom eliciting prayers. The ones who listened to me bawl over the phone or skype (you know exactly who you are). And the ones who prayed every day and hoped with us that we would eventually figure something out.
Thank you. Your prayers made the mountains we were trying to cross with little B turn into molehills. Your prayers gave me peace when I was literally about to lose my mind. And your prayers comforted me during countless challenging feedings.
So here's what works for our slender bundle of happiness:
So we have this tiny human who lives in our house now. He weighs 12 pounds 11.6 ounces. And he is over 25 inches long (holla tall people!). And he has given us a run for our money for 9 weeks. But, friends, finally (I know, 9 weeks doesn't seem long, but, friends, 9 weeks with our troubled babe was long), we have started to figure out our long, skinny friend.
This post is dedicated to anyone who has said a prayer for us over the last 9 weeks. You know who you are. The ones who received an SOS text from yours truly. The ones who received emails, texts, and calls from my mom eliciting prayers. The ones who listened to me bawl over the phone or skype (you know exactly who you are). And the ones who prayed every day and hoped with us that we would eventually figure something out.
Thank you. Your prayers made the mountains we were trying to cross with little B turn into molehills. Your prayers gave me peace when I was literally about to lose my mind. And your prayers comforted me during countless challenging feedings.
So here's what works for our slender bundle of happiness:
- I nurse only at night - middle of the night once and first feeding of the day
- Bster takes a bottle of breastmilk every other feeding
- We still give Benji-pants 3 doses of Zantac every day
And here are factors that made this all come to be:
- We think the B-man has some reflux - we tried different nursing positions, gripe water (even the Canadian stuff - thanks, Sarah!!), gas drops, and finally Zantac
- I was highly stressed when his feeding started to go downhill - this resulted in a drop in my supply which meant that my babe was likely not getting as much as he needed for a few weeks. The stress turned into anxiety which became so awful that I went to see my doctor (more about this in another post when I'm a bit more removed from it all).
- Benny-boo-bear is slightly collicky. Apparently some collicky babies are comforted by nursing...not our BBB
- Daytime feedings got so rotten that he was sometimes going 6 hours during the day without eating. And during these 6 hours, we would pace with him, sit on our porch swing, try (often unsuccessfully) to get him to fall asleep, and do The Happiest Baby on the Block so many times it wasn't even comical.
So we said, screw it all, we're trying the bottle. And, what do you know, he took it like a champ. On Monday DaddyDan questioned who switched our baby in the night. He really is like a brand new baby and all three of us are ridiculously thankful. We recognize we may not be out of the woods yet. BUT we finally feel like we've had enough victories to get us through.
Our baby is healthy.
Our baby is growing.
And our baby is finally happy.
Serious PTL.
July 15, 2014
BDC Week 3
The last 2 1/2 weeks have been challenging, exhausting, and overwhelming, but also joyful, sweet, and extremely fulfilling. This pendulum of emotions is exhausting in itself. So I'm cherishing the here and now in an attempt to remind myself that he's only a newborn once.
Bennett will not always be this needy. I need to cherish the fact that what he needs most right now are his parents. We are his sustenance and security.
His tiny bottom won't always fit in the palm of my hand. His most comfortable place for napping won't always be on my chest. He won't always be able to be calmed by being swaddled, shushed, and rocked (please picture someone rocking a teenage boy...doesn't happen, right?). I know I'll blink and we'll be sending him off to college (#peckemjays).
He won't always be calmed by the rhythmic squeak of the porch swing or momma singing "Victory in Jesus" over and over (currently his favorite tune).
He won't always wake in the night needing momma. And he won't always have kick-stand arms when I unswaddle him.
His hair won't always be this greasy due to momma and daddy constantly stroking it. Something tells me tween Bennett won't really want his parents always touching his hair.
Baby Bennett won't always receive so much attention from momma and daddy. Someday he'll be a big brother and he'll have to share his two favorite people. But for now, he's an only child and we're eating up that fact.
Even though the last two weeks have felt a bit like an eternity due to lack of sleep and general fussiness (on behalf of both baby and momma), this time is truly precious. Bennett D is not perfect. No baby is. But he's our Bennett D. And we, as they say, love him to the moon and back.
Bennett will not always be this needy. I need to cherish the fact that what he needs most right now are his parents. We are his sustenance and security.
His tiny bottom won't always fit in the palm of my hand. His most comfortable place for napping won't always be on my chest. He won't always be able to be calmed by being swaddled, shushed, and rocked (please picture someone rocking a teenage boy...doesn't happen, right?). I know I'll blink and we'll be sending him off to college (#peckemjays).
He won't always be calmed by the rhythmic squeak of the porch swing or momma singing "Victory in Jesus" over and over (currently his favorite tune).
He won't always wake in the night needing momma. And he won't always have kick-stand arms when I unswaddle him.
Even though the last two weeks have felt a bit like an eternity due to lack of sleep and general fussiness (on behalf of both baby and momma), this time is truly precious. Bennett D is not perfect. No baby is. But he's our Bennett D. And we, as they say, love him to the moon and back.
July 1, 2014
He's HERE!!!
Our tiny friend has arrived! With feedings every 2 hours, I don't have time to give you the deets (of course you'll get all the juicy details sometime), but for now, know that our favorite little person is residing outside of the womb and we couldn't be more thrilled.
Bennett D Carlson was born Friday, June 27 at 4:20 pm. Weighing in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces and measuring 22 inches, we're pretty sure he'll pass up momma in height before he turns 15. DaddyDan and mommaD happily welcomed little B home on Sunday.
Who knew it was possible to love a little one this much!? Life is sweet.
Bennett D Carlson was born Friday, June 27 at 4:20 pm. Weighing in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces and measuring 22 inches, we're pretty sure he'll pass up momma in height before he turns 15. DaddyDan and mommaD happily welcomed little B home on Sunday.
June 25, 2014
Pregnancy Journal #5
Disclaimer: I never thought I'd do another pregnancy journal with this pregnancy because I NEVER CONSIDERED BEING OVERDUE. Shame on me. Here I sit, 3 days overdue with no end in sight. I'll admit, I'm being a bit melodramatic (figures, right?), but I truly never imagined that I would be going on an anniversary date with a basketball-sized belly. When will I ever learn? Ha, hot mess. All the time.
Here are some of the recent capers of baby C, #daddyDan, and giant mother:
Stranger Observations: We ate at Chipotle Saturday night to celebrate one last evening without a tiny friend (hahahahahahahahaha, "one last night," hahahahahahahaha). I went through the line and ordered my fave (flour tacos, chicken, a little white rice, corn salsa, pico, cheese, sour cream, guac on the side - now you know). When I moved from where the high counter meets the low counter, one of the workers saw me and literally gasped, "Ahhhh! I did NOT see that coming!" As in, "Whoa, giant belly, did not expect that!!" I about died. Yet another reason baby C must exit the premises immediately. It's striking fear into the hearts of strangers!
Exercise: Weeeeelllllll, I try to do something active each day. Sometimes that means running errands and attempting not to grunt too loudly when I enter and exit the car. Other times that means convincing daddyDan to take me walking (last night our venue of choice was Lowe's). Other times that means swimming at our local fitness club. But let's be honest, I don't swim. I stand. Occasionally I bounce. And sometimes I even walk laps. Oh to be a fly on the wall in the office: "There's that pregnant lady again. I guess when a few days pass and we haven't seen her, we'll know she's not a giant anymore." During one of my latest swimming sessions, I was pausing at one end of the lap lane before taking off on my sprint once more and one of the lifeguards came over to me and asked me to move from the lap lane if I wasn't going to use it. I have no words. But so many, MANY emotions including, but not limited to, anger, rage, and any emotion that a sailor with an excessive potty-mouth would experience. Not pretty.
Contractions: I swear I was in labor Friday night. And then again Saturday night. And then again Sunday night. And then I gave up.
Friends: We feel so engulfed by love. Every day for the past week I've heard from someone out of the blue "just checking on me." And it's so sweet. My girlfriends have seriously rallied behind me, from taking me on walks to bringing me Sonic happy hour drinks (diet watermelon limeade, easy ice...now you know...I also wouldn't say no to mozzarella sticks) to sending me boxes of "get to the finish line" supplies to last-minute dinner invites to pool party invitations to quick phone-call check-ins to daily "here's what I'm doing today, feel free to join any of the aforementioned activities" to so many other loving things. You gals are the best. Seriously. I believe I have all 5 love languages as my top love language (Danz thinks this makes me high-maintenance...I think it makes me easy to please, anywho), but my number one is definitely "words of affirmation," and let me tell you, I am feeling might affirmed. So a huge heartfelt thanks to all of you who have reached out. Your words have meant the world and have legitimately kept me from going insane.
Grateful: You all know I'm sarcastic and snarky and full of ridiculous things. But I really am so thankful for this journey of carrying a wee one. I'm thankful my body has proven to be a decent home for a tiny human to grow and flourish. And the fact that I can absolutely not wait until babe arrives is truly a testament to God's grace and provision and timing. You see, up until about a month ago, I was so full of fear that I couldn't even think about my due date or what would happen once babe actually arrived. You may or may not know that I'm a teacher. And I am a processor and love to spend lots of time reflecting on life (I'm a bit of an extroverted introvert). Historically, summer has meant house projects, visiting people I love, and resting. This summer, so far, I've completed zero house projects (with exception to finishing the nursery, of course) and I have spent minimal time traveling to visit people (because, as I mentioned in a previous post, car rides are of the devil....oh, and because baby was supposed to come early). But oh have I rested. And processed. And reflected. And what a gift it has been. I can't count the numbers of hours I've spent sitting on our porch swing or in our nursery just thinking. I know, I know, "enjoy it now because it will never be the same." I get it. And I'm ready. I'm ready for a new normal and a new routine. I'm ready for sleepless nights. I'm ready to watch daddyDan be daddyDan. I'm ready for endless loads of laundry and for losing tiny socks in the wash. I'm ready for a messy house due to a human the size of my thigh. I'm ready for spontaneity to be a bit more challenging. I'm ready for playdates with other tiny humans and their mommas. And I'm ready for my heart to explode with love for someone I've never met. It's time, baby C. We're ready for you.
Here are some of the recent capers of baby C, #daddyDan, and giant mother:
Stranger Observations: We ate at Chipotle Saturday night to celebrate one last evening without a tiny friend (hahahahahahahahaha, "one last night," hahahahahahahaha). I went through the line and ordered my fave (flour tacos, chicken, a little white rice, corn salsa, pico, cheese, sour cream, guac on the side - now you know). When I moved from where the high counter meets the low counter, one of the workers saw me and literally gasped, "Ahhhh! I did NOT see that coming!" As in, "Whoa, giant belly, did not expect that!!" I about died. Yet another reason baby C must exit the premises immediately. It's striking fear into the hearts of strangers!
Exercise: Weeeeelllllll, I try to do something active each day. Sometimes that means running errands and attempting not to grunt too loudly when I enter and exit the car. Other times that means convincing daddyDan to take me walking (last night our venue of choice was Lowe's). Other times that means swimming at our local fitness club. But let's be honest, I don't swim. I stand. Occasionally I bounce. And sometimes I even walk laps. Oh to be a fly on the wall in the office: "There's that pregnant lady again. I guess when a few days pass and we haven't seen her, we'll know she's not a giant anymore." During one of my latest swimming sessions, I was pausing at one end of the lap lane before taking off on my sprint once more and one of the lifeguards came over to me and asked me to move from the lap lane if I wasn't going to use it. I have no words. But so many, MANY emotions including, but not limited to, anger, rage, and any emotion that a sailor with an excessive potty-mouth would experience. Not pretty.
Contractions: I swear I was in labor Friday night. And then again Saturday night. And then again Sunday night. And then I gave up.
Friends: We feel so engulfed by love. Every day for the past week I've heard from someone out of the blue "just checking on me." And it's so sweet. My girlfriends have seriously rallied behind me, from taking me on walks to bringing me Sonic happy hour drinks (diet watermelon limeade, easy ice...now you know...I also wouldn't say no to mozzarella sticks) to sending me boxes of "get to the finish line" supplies to last-minute dinner invites to pool party invitations to quick phone-call check-ins to daily "here's what I'm doing today, feel free to join any of the aforementioned activities" to so many other loving things. You gals are the best. Seriously. I believe I have all 5 love languages as my top love language (Danz thinks this makes me high-maintenance...I think it makes me easy to please, anywho), but my number one is definitely "words of affirmation," and let me tell you, I am feeling might affirmed. So a huge heartfelt thanks to all of you who have reached out. Your words have meant the world and have legitimately kept me from going insane.
Grateful: You all know I'm sarcastic and snarky and full of ridiculous things. But I really am so thankful for this journey of carrying a wee one. I'm thankful my body has proven to be a decent home for a tiny human to grow and flourish. And the fact that I can absolutely not wait until babe arrives is truly a testament to God's grace and provision and timing. You see, up until about a month ago, I was so full of fear that I couldn't even think about my due date or what would happen once babe actually arrived. You may or may not know that I'm a teacher. And I am a processor and love to spend lots of time reflecting on life (I'm a bit of an extroverted introvert). Historically, summer has meant house projects, visiting people I love, and resting. This summer, so far, I've completed zero house projects (with exception to finishing the nursery, of course) and I have spent minimal time traveling to visit people (because, as I mentioned in a previous post, car rides are of the devil....oh, and because baby was supposed to come early). But oh have I rested. And processed. And reflected. And what a gift it has been. I can't count the numbers of hours I've spent sitting on our porch swing or in our nursery just thinking. I know, I know, "enjoy it now because it will never be the same." I get it. And I'm ready. I'm ready for a new normal and a new routine. I'm ready for sleepless nights. I'm ready to watch daddyDan be daddyDan. I'm ready for endless loads of laundry and for losing tiny socks in the wash. I'm ready for a messy house due to a human the size of my thigh. I'm ready for spontaneity to be a bit more challenging. I'm ready for playdates with other tiny humans and their mommas. And I'm ready for my heart to explode with love for someone I've never met. It's time, baby C. We're ready for you.
June 11, 2014
Nursery Tour!
AKA: "The One Where Heidi Gets All Sappy"
I've been waiting until the nursery is officially "done" to show you any pictures, but it technically won't be done until we know if we'll hang a "Q" or an "X" above the crib*. Soooooooo, here are some pictures of progress!
Enjoy my lackluster photography skillz.
One my favorite parts of the nursery is the sweet yellow built-ins. My parents and I SLAVED over these suckers last 4th of July and I couldn't be more pleased with the results. So bright and chipper. And the shelves house many special treasures.
Worry not, worriers, all blankets and animals will be removed prior to the placing of baby here.
So happy. We purchased black-out blinds since this room is on the southeast side of our house. So far we've been pleased with both how cool the room stays and how dark it stays when the shades are pulled. They're certainly not the most glamorous-looking window treatments, but they serve a very important purpose, so we're okay with the lack of aesthetic value.
A happy rocking corner. First of all, how adorable is the whale sound machine? I die a little every time I look at it. Claim to fame: one of my colleague's sons is a designer for Homemedics and he designed it! So that makes me kind of a big deal.
And how about a close-up of this chair!? This chair's former home was the basement of my mother-in-law's house. It belonged to Danz' grandma and we snagged it over Christmas. THEN I had a friend of mine recover it with this gorgeous fabric from Shlobby Bobby. (Andrea, if you're reading this, please know that I am forever grateful to you for your work on this chair. It. Is. Perfect.) The chair is a swivel/glider/recliner and we already have spent some quality time breaking it in. In fact, I'm sitting in it as I write and daddyDan uses it in the morning before work.
The lamp was a sore subject for a few weeks as I purchased several that did not pass daddyDan's lamp test. After many heated conversations, we landed on this one, and I'm decently satisfied.
Sentimental moment: My grandma Vogt (mom's mom) knitted both these blankets. The yellow one was my baby gift 27 years ago and the green one is baby C's. The yellow one smells like my parent's house and the green one smells like my grandma - both smells are so comforting and remind me of home. While grandma has 8 grandchildren, she only has 4 great-grandchildren (5 including baby C), but she has a stash of great-grandbaby blankets because she knows that once they start coming, they'll come in droves. :) I think this blanket has been done and ready for a baby since my wedding! Can't wait to wrap our little stinker in it.
Most parents buy their babies sweet puppies or adorable bears or cuddly bunnies. Not these parents! DaddyDan says we're "fun people" so we need to buy our babe a fun animal. I kid you not: he narrowed it down to a bald eagle, a donkey, and a buffalo. I was disturbed by the bald eagle, the donkey had long fibers and a tag cautioning from using it with an infant.......so the buffalo won. It'll give us a chance to teach babe about Kansas, so I can get behind that.
Danz does not love this picture, but it is one of my most treasured possessions. The year we moved to Abilene (holla 1994!), my mom gave this to me for my birthday. I love the idea of the kids being guided and watched as they walk over treacherous water. You better believe this sucker is staying in the nursery.
Another angle of the cheerful shelves. If you gave me a book at any time in the past 9 months, you better believe it's on a shelf!
Babe's friends. They will be instant besties. Especially the snuggly buffalo.
So that's that! If I'm really on my A-game (let's be honest, I never am), I'll post pics once some art is gracing the walls.
*I got you so good. Baby's name beginning with a "Q" or a "X"? Hahahahaha, no. Or maybe yes. Hmm, only time will tell!!
I've been waiting until the nursery is officially "done" to show you any pictures, but it technically won't be done until we know if we'll hang a "Q" or an "X" above the crib*. Soooooooo, here are some pictures of progress!
Enjoy my lackluster photography skillz.
One my favorite parts of the nursery is the sweet yellow built-ins. My parents and I SLAVED over these suckers last 4th of July and I couldn't be more pleased with the results. So bright and chipper. And the shelves house many special treasures.
Here's to hoping that sleep will actually occur.
*I got you so good. Baby's name beginning with a "Q" or a "X"? Hahahahaha, no. Or maybe yes. Hmm, only time will tell!!
June 10, 2014
Pregnancy Journal #4
Officially two weeks from due date! And baby C is making me very aware of that. Constant kicks, constant punching of my bladder, and constant giant kankles. Babe is bored and ready to make a dramatic appearance, I'm sure. It's been a pretty dreamy 38 weeks, but daddyDan and I are getting anxious to meet the little one who requires so much ice cream, fruit, and sour candy.
Best stranger or student quotes:
Sleeping: These days I wake up at least 3 times a night. Actually, that's a bit of a lie. I've been waking up at least 3 times a night ever since December. What has changed is now when I wake up, my body feels like I've just run a marathon. I literally have to tell myself: "Self, you have been SLEEPING. You did not just do P90X nor did you participate in bikram yoga. You literally make no sense right now." I'm also excessively sweaty at night. I've had two fans pointed directly at me and no covers while #daddyDan freezes beside me.
Getting "checked": You all know I like to keep these posts G-rated, but I must give you the following information. At 35 or 36 weeks, pregoz have the option to get "checked" by the doctor/midwife to see if dilation has occurred. I dodged that bullet at 35 weeks but was not given the option at 36 weeks. I won't name any names, but someone (whose name rhymes with Hammy) told me not to worry and that getting "checked" is less invasive than a yearly physical. LIES. ALL LIES. Let's just say I wanted to die and was seeing stars afterward. Sooooo at my 37 week appointment when the midwife asked if I'd like to be checked, I kindly declined. Um, I'd rather you not jam your arm inside me up to your elbow. No thanks, walking on lava sounds much better right now. Mmkay, see you next week WHEN I WON'T HAVE A CHOICE (Lord, grant me the serenity...).
Food: Danz works with a gal who is about 6 weeks behind me in her pregnancy. About two weeks ago, she mentioned to him that she can no longer eat full meals because the baby is taking up too much room. Quoth daddyDan: "Hmm, interesting. Heidi hasn't hit that point in her pregnancy." TRUTH. Baby has, in no way, diminished my ability to shovel any amount of food into my stomach. Not sure if I should be concerned or just really proud of this fact. I aim to impress, people.
Car rides: ARE OF THE DEVIL. There is nothing I loathe more than sitting in a car at this stage of my pregnancy. Except maybe getting "checked" (see above). End of story.
Water breakage precaution: daddyDan is seriously concerned about my water breaking anywhere that would require clean-up. He's so concerned, in fact, that I must sit on a towel while driving and I'm probably about a week from being required to sit on a towel on our couch. We do have an awesome couch, so I'll humor him.
Birthing class: I had Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the whole class. I think baby C was just warming up. So bizarre. Daniel and I also laughed 56% more than everyone else combined. Not because we think labor and delivery is hilarious, but because there were so many words and images that we could either choose to cry about in anticipation of or laugh because, one way or another, this baby is coming out of me.
Prayers for baby C: During the first two trimesters, I prayed for EVERYTHING: a good (and easy!) birth, a healthy baby, a baby that isn't collicky, ease in the transition, ease of nursing, yada, yada, yada. Then about 2 months ago I realized that I couldn't pray away all the challenging aspects of labor, delivery, and post-partum. So now I pray for peace in the transition. That Daniel and I will work as a team to meet baby's needs and that we will take every challenge and immediately turn it over to the Lord. Parenting will be difficult, of this I am certain. BUT I have the best baby daddy of all time and a God who is bigger than my fear of all the things baby-entering-the-family. Amen.
Best stranger or student quotes:
- Over-enthusiastic student: "Mrs. Carlson, awwwwwww, you look so lovely. You gonna go all-natural when you give birth?"
- Sonic car-hop (said when I was only 32 weeks pregz): "Oooooooooo girl, that baby coming any day now, right?!" "Nope. Still have 2 months." "NOOOOOO! That is one BIG baby!"
Sleeping: These days I wake up at least 3 times a night. Actually, that's a bit of a lie. I've been waking up at least 3 times a night ever since December. What has changed is now when I wake up, my body feels like I've just run a marathon. I literally have to tell myself: "Self, you have been SLEEPING. You did not just do P90X nor did you participate in bikram yoga. You literally make no sense right now." I'm also excessively sweaty at night. I've had two fans pointed directly at me and no covers while #daddyDan freezes beside me.
Getting "checked": You all know I like to keep these posts G-rated, but I must give you the following information. At 35 or 36 weeks, pregoz have the option to get "checked" by the doctor/midwife to see if dilation has occurred. I dodged that bullet at 35 weeks but was not given the option at 36 weeks. I won't name any names, but someone (whose name rhymes with Hammy) told me not to worry and that getting "checked" is less invasive than a yearly physical. LIES. ALL LIES. Let's just say I wanted to die and was seeing stars afterward. Sooooo at my 37 week appointment when the midwife asked if I'd like to be checked, I kindly declined. Um, I'd rather you not jam your arm inside me up to your elbow. No thanks, walking on lava sounds much better right now. Mmkay, see you next week WHEN I WON'T HAVE A CHOICE (Lord, grant me the serenity...).
Food: Danz works with a gal who is about 6 weeks behind me in her pregnancy. About two weeks ago, she mentioned to him that she can no longer eat full meals because the baby is taking up too much room. Quoth daddyDan: "Hmm, interesting. Heidi hasn't hit that point in her pregnancy." TRUTH. Baby has, in no way, diminished my ability to shovel any amount of food into my stomach. Not sure if I should be concerned or just really proud of this fact. I aim to impress, people.
Car rides: ARE OF THE DEVIL. There is nothing I loathe more than sitting in a car at this stage of my pregnancy. Except maybe getting "checked" (see above). End of story.
Water breakage precaution: daddyDan is seriously concerned about my water breaking anywhere that would require clean-up. He's so concerned, in fact, that I must sit on a towel while driving and I'm probably about a week from being required to sit on a towel on our couch. We do have an awesome couch, so I'll humor him.
Birthing class: I had Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the whole class. I think baby C was just warming up. So bizarre. Daniel and I also laughed 56% more than everyone else combined. Not because we think labor and delivery is hilarious, but because there were so many words and images that we could either choose to cry about in anticipation of or laugh because, one way or another, this baby is coming out of me.
Prayers for baby C: During the first two trimesters, I prayed for EVERYTHING: a good (and easy!) birth, a healthy baby, a baby that isn't collicky, ease in the transition, ease of nursing, yada, yada, yada. Then about 2 months ago I realized that I couldn't pray away all the challenging aspects of labor, delivery, and post-partum. So now I pray for peace in the transition. That Daniel and I will work as a team to meet baby's needs and that we will take every challenge and immediately turn it over to the Lord. Parenting will be difficult, of this I am certain. BUT I have the best baby daddy of all time and a God who is bigger than my fear of all the things baby-entering-the-family. Amen.
April 22, 2014
Pregnancy Journal #3
Let's dive right in, shall we?
Emotions: Holy hot pickle on a scorching Sunday afternoon. These emotions. They are my nemesis. A few short days ago, hysterical laughter turned into hysterical tears without any warning. By nature, I'm a bit of a procrastinator. So I'm 31 weeks into this whole "being pregnant for the first time" thing and I hadn't spent one second looking for child-birthing classes. Shame. Finally when I remembered to look, ALL classes in Topeka, Lawrence, Olathe, and Overland Park were either booked or at times when we're out of town or have a major event. Not even kidding. At first, when when I shared this conundrum with #daddydan, I about died laughing. Then reality struck and the tears started to fall. Poor daddy Dan. His response? Unprompted by yours truly, he picks up the phone and starts calling hospitals in a 60 mile radius to ask about birthing classes. Meanwhile, I'm sniffling and wiping snot on his t-shirt (because his t-shirts are the only ones that fit me anymore...cue more tears). #besthusbandever
Itchy Everything: I'm just itchy. Always. Apparently my skin is stretching (??) and a side-effect is itchiness. Not a big deal. Except when you get paid to stand in front of teenagers for 8 hours a day. Let's just say I think I've perfected the art of nonchalant itching. Just don't verify with my co-teachers.
Kankles: I've never been one to have chubby ankles, but now it seems as though they are part of my daily wardrobe. Said ankles are so chubby that some of my socks don't fit. Truth.
Nesting: If baby coconut came tomorrow, he/she would be sharing a room with bags of clothes waiting to be donated/sold, painting supplies, suitcases galore, and enough furniture to fill a small flea market. Dear friends, daddy Dan and I talked through our "must happen before baby coconut arrives" list and we were so overwhelmed that our only reaction was to continue swinging on our newly installed porch swing. About every day I remind myself that nothing that "needs to happen" truly needs to happen. It's going to be okay.
Gender: I have my suspicions about what baby C is, but apparently since my suspicions aren't based in science (aka: sonogram), people don't believe me. Whatever. I will laugh my "told you so" laugh when baby arrives...or I will laugh my "I'm always wrong" chortle. Whichever color baby C comes home in will become my new favorite color, of this I am certain.
Shakira: Just call me Shak because my hips don't lie. Pajama pants that used to be baggy on me are now excessively taut. Supposedly this is because I'm about to push out a head that is in the 99th percentile (quoth the doctor: "you know, the head is the most difficult part to get out." NBD.)(and daddy Dan is still reigning champion of the widest shoulders in McPherson county...you think I kid, but I assure you I could not be more serious). Bring it, baby C. My hips were made for birthing, and that's just what they'll do.
Prayer: My most recent prayer comes from the book that is currently rocking my world - Restless by Jennie Allen (do yourself a favor and read it). I pray that baby C's "soul is steadied and secure because his/her eyes are laser-focused on the one who built and rescued his/her soul." Amen and amen.
31 weeks down. 9 to go. We press on!
Emotions: Holy hot pickle on a scorching Sunday afternoon. These emotions. They are my nemesis. A few short days ago, hysterical laughter turned into hysterical tears without any warning. By nature, I'm a bit of a procrastinator. So I'm 31 weeks into this whole "being pregnant for the first time" thing and I hadn't spent one second looking for child-birthing classes. Shame. Finally when I remembered to look, ALL classes in Topeka, Lawrence, Olathe, and Overland Park were either booked or at times when we're out of town or have a major event. Not even kidding. At first, when when I shared this conundrum with #daddydan, I about died laughing. Then reality struck and the tears started to fall. Poor daddy Dan. His response? Unprompted by yours truly, he picks up the phone and starts calling hospitals in a 60 mile radius to ask about birthing classes. Meanwhile, I'm sniffling and wiping snot on his t-shirt (because his t-shirts are the only ones that fit me anymore...cue more tears). #besthusbandever
Itchy Everything: I'm just itchy. Always. Apparently my skin is stretching (??) and a side-effect is itchiness. Not a big deal. Except when you get paid to stand in front of teenagers for 8 hours a day. Let's just say I think I've perfected the art of nonchalant itching. Just don't verify with my co-teachers.
Kankles: I've never been one to have chubby ankles, but now it seems as though they are part of my daily wardrobe. Said ankles are so chubby that some of my socks don't fit. Truth.
Nesting: If baby coconut came tomorrow, he/she would be sharing a room with bags of clothes waiting to be donated/sold, painting supplies, suitcases galore, and enough furniture to fill a small flea market. Dear friends, daddy Dan and I talked through our "must happen before baby coconut arrives" list and we were so overwhelmed that our only reaction was to continue swinging on our newly installed porch swing. About every day I remind myself that nothing that "needs to happen" truly needs to happen. It's going to be okay.
Gender: I have my suspicions about what baby C is, but apparently since my suspicions aren't based in science (aka: sonogram), people don't believe me. Whatever. I will laugh my "told you so" laugh when baby arrives...or I will laugh my "I'm always wrong" chortle. Whichever color baby C comes home in will become my new favorite color, of this I am certain.
Shakira: Just call me Shak because my hips don't lie. Pajama pants that used to be baggy on me are now excessively taut. Supposedly this is because I'm about to push out a head that is in the 99th percentile (quoth the doctor: "you know, the head is the most difficult part to get out." NBD.)(and daddy Dan is still reigning champion of the widest shoulders in McPherson county...you think I kid, but I assure you I could not be more serious). Bring it, baby C. My hips were made for birthing, and that's just what they'll do.
Prayer: My most recent prayer comes from the book that is currently rocking my world - Restless by Jennie Allen (do yourself a favor and read it). I pray that baby C's "soul is steadied and secure because his/her eyes are laser-focused on the one who built and rescued his/her soul." Amen and amen.
31 weeks down. 9 to go. We press on!
March 21, 2014
Pregnancy Journal #2
Greetings, sweet readers. Per the usual, I have many thoughts. Last night as I was word-vomitting to Danz (typical), I stopped and said, "You do know that I just need to hear myself say this." His response: "Yeah, I figured that out about 10 minutes ago." Lolz. I just gotz lotz of thoughtz in my head and they ALL need to be said or written. So without further adieu, here are some of the latest capers of baby scallion.
Daycare. Let's just go here first. People, BUCKETS of tears have already been shed about this one. Completely serious. Most would think the financial piece of daycare would frighten me (which, by the way, HOLY COW, how can something so small cost so much!!?!? Talk about sticker shock...). But it's not the price that bothers me so much. I'm just already so dang attached to the little scallion swimming inside me and head-banging after I eat sweets. And the idea that someone else will get to hang out with the little stinker 8 hours a day is killing me. Mommas of littles in daycare, I completely welcome any encouragement you could offer. You guys, it's gotten so bad this week that I actually texted Daniel on Tuesday and requested that he swing home in the afternoon because I was such a hot mess. Full disclosure - I have yet to vomit as a result of this pregnancy, but I actually threw up on Tuesday thinking about daycare. I got it bad for this little person inside me. Who knew I could love someone so much without even knowing if it'll have the petname "sis" or "buddy"?
Shin splints. I'm not a runner. I tried once several years ago and it was okay. But my gangly body, I'm convinced, is just not built to run. It's built to be graceful and dainty (hahahahahahahaha, nope). Instead I prefer to walk. Plus, then I can actually carry on a conversation with someone or hear myself think instead wheezing the whole time. My co-teacher bestie, Courtney, and I have been walking a few times a week after school. And I have developed shin-splints. Those closest to me don't believe me and even laugh (how cruel, right!?), but I swear to you it's true. Maybe my body just isn't accustomed to carrying extra weight or maybe I'm waddling when I'm walking. But whatever it is, it's weird. And painful. And hilarious. The only other time I've experienced pain like this is when I ran long-distance in 8th grade (cue uproarious laughter). So I had my mom write a note to my track coach explaining that I could no longer compete in the 2 mile. So cute, I know.
Registering. Pregnant mommas, this it the only piece of unsolicited advice I will give you. Take a seasoned momma with you to register. Otherwise I promise you will implode. We are thankful to have a momma of twins in our midst (holla sis-in-law Tammy!), so we coerced her into joining us. And I just made her make all my decisions. I quite literally would have burst into tears in every aisle. Especially the bottles. Um, excuse me, but is it really necessary to have 85,000 types of nipples? Perhaps, but to this emotional and extremely hormonal prego, it was just stress-inducing. Our first stop (Baby's R Us) was hilarious and actually enjoyable, but by the time we got to Target, my eyes had glazed over and I just made Danz and Tammy make all the decisions. I was done and overwhelmed. But it's done. And I think we did a bang-up job.
Nesting. Not really happening yet. I've looked at the closets in the nursery three times already with the full intention that I will clean them out and get them ready. I stare for about 3 minutes then decide that I still have time, so I close the door and walk away. The nursery is painted (have I told you that my parents and I actually painted it last summer in hopes that baby scallion might make its presence known sometime this school year? Well, we did. #typeA) and I'm in the middle of making valances, ordering black-out blinds, and prepping for carpet. But other than that, the nesting has yet to officially begin.
Belly-rubbing. Those of you who follow me on facebook might remember a post from a few months ago: "I experienced my first unauthorized belly-touching today. Not only did I flinch at the awkwardness and suddenness of the pat, but I also yelped a little. Pregnant women, unite!" I've identified why it bothered me so much. While it was sweet that the Mexican exchange student just wanted to touch baby blueberry, she was quite literally just touching my stomach. The babe was extremely low at that time, and there was no way I was going to say, "Oh sweet student, the baby is lower! Just move your hand about 8 inches down." #awkward But now that the bump is finally visible (holla tall pregos who don't show until week 23, I get you) I love it when people touch it. Within reason. I'm sure my first stranger-danger touch will make me bust out my two Taekwondo moves, but I love it when friends and family get all up in my bidness. Especially girlies who have never been pregnant. They're the best. Their eyes get all sparkly when I point out the head and the legs and the bum. So fun. So if I see you, I give you full permission to wax on.
Prayer. I'll end on a more serious note. My current prayer for baby scallion is that (s)he'll be a leader and not a follower. That (s)he'll know from an early age that mops and pops love him/her but that Jesus loves him/her even more. That (s)he'll be more concerned with honoring Jesus than pleasing others. That (s)he'll use his/her influence to change the world. And that (s)he'll have a killer head of hair and not need braces. It's the little things.
#14moreweeks
Daycare. Let's just go here first. People, BUCKETS of tears have already been shed about this one. Completely serious. Most would think the financial piece of daycare would frighten me (which, by the way, HOLY COW, how can something so small cost so much!!?!? Talk about sticker shock...). But it's not the price that bothers me so much. I'm just already so dang attached to the little scallion swimming inside me and head-banging after I eat sweets. And the idea that someone else will get to hang out with the little stinker 8 hours a day is killing me. Mommas of littles in daycare, I completely welcome any encouragement you could offer. You guys, it's gotten so bad this week that I actually texted Daniel on Tuesday and requested that he swing home in the afternoon because I was such a hot mess. Full disclosure - I have yet to vomit as a result of this pregnancy, but I actually threw up on Tuesday thinking about daycare. I got it bad for this little person inside me. Who knew I could love someone so much without even knowing if it'll have the petname "sis" or "buddy"?
Shin splints. I'm not a runner. I tried once several years ago and it was okay. But my gangly body, I'm convinced, is just not built to run. It's built to be graceful and dainty (hahahahahahahaha, nope). Instead I prefer to walk. Plus, then I can actually carry on a conversation with someone or hear myself think instead wheezing the whole time. My co-teacher bestie, Courtney, and I have been walking a few times a week after school. And I have developed shin-splints. Those closest to me don't believe me and even laugh (how cruel, right!?), but I swear to you it's true. Maybe my body just isn't accustomed to carrying extra weight or maybe I'm waddling when I'm walking. But whatever it is, it's weird. And painful. And hilarious. The only other time I've experienced pain like this is when I ran long-distance in 8th grade (cue uproarious laughter). So I had my mom write a note to my track coach explaining that I could no longer compete in the 2 mile. So cute, I know.
Registering. Pregnant mommas, this it the only piece of unsolicited advice I will give you. Take a seasoned momma with you to register. Otherwise I promise you will implode. We are thankful to have a momma of twins in our midst (holla sis-in-law Tammy!), so we coerced her into joining us. And I just made her make all my decisions. I quite literally would have burst into tears in every aisle. Especially the bottles. Um, excuse me, but is it really necessary to have 85,000 types of nipples? Perhaps, but to this emotional and extremely hormonal prego, it was just stress-inducing. Our first stop (Baby's R Us) was hilarious and actually enjoyable, but by the time we got to Target, my eyes had glazed over and I just made Danz and Tammy make all the decisions. I was done and overwhelmed. But it's done. And I think we did a bang-up job.
Nesting. Not really happening yet. I've looked at the closets in the nursery three times already with the full intention that I will clean them out and get them ready. I stare for about 3 minutes then decide that I still have time, so I close the door and walk away. The nursery is painted (have I told you that my parents and I actually painted it last summer in hopes that baby scallion might make its presence known sometime this school year? Well, we did. #typeA) and I'm in the middle of making valances, ordering black-out blinds, and prepping for carpet. But other than that, the nesting has yet to officially begin.
Belly-rubbing. Those of you who follow me on facebook might remember a post from a few months ago: "I experienced my first unauthorized belly-touching today. Not only did I flinch at the awkwardness and suddenness of the pat, but I also yelped a little. Pregnant women, unite!" I've identified why it bothered me so much. While it was sweet that the Mexican exchange student just wanted to touch baby blueberry, she was quite literally just touching my stomach. The babe was extremely low at that time, and there was no way I was going to say, "Oh sweet student, the baby is lower! Just move your hand about 8 inches down." #awkward But now that the bump is finally visible (holla tall pregos who don't show until week 23, I get you) I love it when people touch it. Within reason. I'm sure my first stranger-danger touch will make me bust out my two Taekwondo moves, but I love it when friends and family get all up in my bidness. Especially girlies who have never been pregnant. They're the best. Their eyes get all sparkly when I point out the head and the legs and the bum. So fun. So if I see you, I give you full permission to wax on.
Prayer. I'll end on a more serious note. My current prayer for baby scallion is that (s)he'll be a leader and not a follower. That (s)he'll know from an early age that mops and pops love him/her but that Jesus loves him/her even more. That (s)he'll be more concerned with honoring Jesus than pleasing others. That (s)he'll use his/her influence to change the world. And that (s)he'll have a killer head of hair and not need braces. It's the little things.
#14moreweeks
February 14, 2014
Marital Quirks
The longer I'm married (3 1/2 years, holla!), the more I realize how bizarre marriage makes you. And I think it's absolutely fabulous. Danz and I have developed about a billionty common quirks throughout our tenure together. Now, it's important to note that I'm not telling you these just for kicks. Instead, I'm telling you these so you can feel some solidarity in the fact that there are people in the world quirkier than you. Without further adieu, here are two reasons why the Carlsons are quirktastic (not to be confused with twerktastic...as that would not be appropriate blog material...mom, don't look that up).
Quirk 1: I have a handful of shirts that have small, entirely useless, pockets on them. Ladies, you've got to know what I'm talking about. The pockets are merely a stylistic addendum that serve no practical purpose. Even before Daniel and I were dating, whenever I would wear a shirt with a tiny pocket, he would try to put things in it...like pieces of gum or keys or chapstick. All of this put-pocketing has led us to creating a song that must be sung whenever a small-pocketed-shirt is worn. And it goes like this: "I put small things in my pockets. I put small things in my pockets!" Yes. You'll notice the second sentence ends with an exclamation mark because, if I were singing it to you, the inflection of my voice would go up and my eyebrows would raise. It's okay if you want to call us genius song-writers. We'll gladly dust our shoulders off and write another song someday.
Quirk 2: One of my nicknames for Daniel is "Flurff and turf and flurff and turf and surf, woo." I'm not even kidding. And here's how that lolific name came to be: we used to call each other fluffy - maybe because we like fluffy pillows or because we would fight over the same fluffy blanket?? Who knows. Naturally, I couldn't continue calling him such a simple name. Simplicity is for the birds. Must. Make. Life. Complicated. So one of us added an "r" which made the nickname "Flurffy." And then in a further attempt to rhyme the nickname with every possible word under the sun, I added several more nouns ("surf" and "turf" on an average day, "smurff" when I'm feeling really spunky). The "woo" at the end just adds the pizazz that sends the nickname over the top.
So happy Valentine's day to you all. May your day be filled with quirktastic things that remind you how unbelievably hilarious this life really is.
 |
| This was taken on our honeymoon segway tour of Savannah, Georgia. Little did we know, months and years of marriage makes one totes cray. |
Quirk 1: I have a handful of shirts that have small, entirely useless, pockets on them. Ladies, you've got to know what I'm talking about. The pockets are merely a stylistic addendum that serve no practical purpose. Even before Daniel and I were dating, whenever I would wear a shirt with a tiny pocket, he would try to put things in it...like pieces of gum or keys or chapstick. All of this put-pocketing has led us to creating a song that must be sung whenever a small-pocketed-shirt is worn. And it goes like this: "I put small things in my pockets. I put small things in my pockets!" Yes. You'll notice the second sentence ends with an exclamation mark because, if I were singing it to you, the inflection of my voice would go up and my eyebrows would raise. It's okay if you want to call us genius song-writers. We'll gladly dust our shoulders off and write another song someday.
Quirk 2: One of my nicknames for Daniel is "Flurff and turf and flurff and turf and surf, woo." I'm not even kidding. And here's how that lolific name came to be: we used to call each other fluffy - maybe because we like fluffy pillows or because we would fight over the same fluffy blanket?? Who knows. Naturally, I couldn't continue calling him such a simple name. Simplicity is for the birds. Must. Make. Life. Complicated. So one of us added an "r" which made the nickname "Flurffy." And then in a further attempt to rhyme the nickname with every possible word under the sun, I added several more nouns ("surf" and "turf" on an average day, "smurff" when I'm feeling really spunky). The "woo" at the end just adds the pizazz that sends the nickname over the top.
So happy Valentine's day to you all. May your day be filled with quirktastic things that remind you how unbelievably hilarious this life really is.
January 24, 2014
Pregnancy Journal 1
I've got lots to say. No seriously, this could end up being the longest post ever. And my guess is that my mother and perhaps two other people will be the only ones who make it through. You see, ever since we found out I'm pregnant (October 10 to be exact), I've wanted to sit down and write about my pregnancy......but those dang pregnancy hormones.......they've just gotten the best of me (more on that later). So here we are, almost 19 weeks in, and I have so much to say. Brace yourselves, this could be a strange mixture of hilarity and strangeness.
Finding out: It was a brisk fallish day when I first took a pregnancy test in October. Scratch that. I took 5 pregnancy tests over the period of 2 days. Not because I was in shock and wanted to confirm, but because I kept doing it wrong. Yes. If you've ever wondered, yes, you can take a pregnancy test wrong. Something about avoiding shaking it. Whatevs. After the fifth test, I still was only slightly convinced. So I didn't even tell Daniel - although I thought about it, I wanted to be sure I was pregnant before I told him. I almost told him in frustration after the ordeal. You see, we were in the middle of "taking care of the leaves" season and I was tasked with starting to bag the leaves as soon as I got home from work on that particular Thursday. And by the time he got home (at his usual time, he wasn't running late), my back was already sore and I was hating everything about what I was doing that I almost said, "I hate this so much and I can't believe I have to do it BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT!!!" But I believe the Lord worked a miracle and closed my mouth so as not to ruin what would otherwise be a beautiful moment. Moving on. Three days later I took another test....you know, just to confirm...and what do you know, the plus sign was big and bold. Hooray! When I showed Daniel the test, his first words were, "It worked!" TMI? #sorrynotsorry Ha! Then we went to church (it was a Sunday) and I don't remember anything about the service. Not a thing. So blissful.
8 weeks: I took yet another pregnancy test. By this point I had literally had zero side-effects. (Sorry mamas who have horribly painful/uncomfortable first trimesters.) Yep, still pregz.
10 weeks: First doctor's appointment. The midwife struggled to find the heartbeat. There were a few terrifying seconds when she said, "Are you sure you're pregnant?" I wanted to scream, "YES WOMAN!!! I TOOK 7 PREGNANCY TESTS AND DID AT LEAST 2 OF THEM RIGHT!" Again, the Lord held my tongue and I just said, "Yes." They proceeded to do a sonogram and then we saw and heard the little bean. Whoa. What a powerful moment. Heartbeat - 181. And smiles all around. I even swear I saw the bean smile.
10 weeks, 2 days: We FINALLY got to tell our families. Daniel and I decided to wait until after the first appointment to tell our people and, let me tell you, it was the longest 6 weeks EVER. It was so fun to tell my family about the first grandbaby and Danz' family the 8th grandbaby. I literally could not sleep the night before we told because I was so excited...and so strangely nervous! I'm super sentimental, so I just had to have an object with which to announce. My family is all about shoes, so we told my family using baby shoes. And Daniel's family plays this card game called Priscilla so we used that to our advantage (see pics below). Fun memories.
11 weeks: This is when the nausea began. To this day I still haven't thrown up, but OH MY WORD I felt like passing out every moment of every day for about 10 days. My cure was eating one Saltine (Daniel thinks it was placebo...whatevs) right when my alarm went off in the morning. Worked like a charm. Consider that nausea beat. Curse you, nausea. You are never welcome back. Mamas who battle nausea all throughout pregnancy, I salute you.
12-15 weeks: Holy exhaustion. Without a nap after school every day, my bedtime was 8 pm. Not even kidding. And holy hunger. At least 3 snacks in between breakfast and lunch and often just as many between lunch and supper. Poor students. They still didn't know at this point so they probably thought I was just chubby and hungry. On the last day before Christmas break, I told most of my students. Aaaaaaaand it was hilarious. Many clapped. Some cheered. Some didn't care and were annoyed (remember, these are teenagers). One girl said she wished she had known earlier so she could've thrown me a shower (awwww). I assured her that I still had 6 months to be pregnant, so there would be plenty of time for such festivities.
16-18 weeks: Sleeping is a total B. I'm on my feet most of the day and moving almost constantly that I think the little blueberry doesn't know what to do when I go to bed. It's all, "Um mom, this is not okay. I have lots of energy and would prefer that you keep moving. Mmkay, thanks." And I'm all, "Sweet little blueberry, I'm done for the day. Feel free to move about the uterus, but I'm just gonna stay put. Mmkay, thanks." (Um, ladies, how fun is it to talk to something inside you?!?!? Let me just say - that's one of my favorite parts of being pregnant.) I've had lots of back pain and hip pain and stomach cramps and leg pain, but it's totes okay because baby bell pepper (sis-in-law Roxanne's current nickname and baby's current size) is HEALTHY and active. And I couldn't be happier about that.
Miscellaneous:
Finding out: It was a brisk fallish day when I first took a pregnancy test in October. Scratch that. I took 5 pregnancy tests over the period of 2 days. Not because I was in shock and wanted to confirm, but because I kept doing it wrong. Yes. If you've ever wondered, yes, you can take a pregnancy test wrong. Something about avoiding shaking it. Whatevs. After the fifth test, I still was only slightly convinced. So I didn't even tell Daniel - although I thought about it, I wanted to be sure I was pregnant before I told him. I almost told him in frustration after the ordeal. You see, we were in the middle of "taking care of the leaves" season and I was tasked with starting to bag the leaves as soon as I got home from work on that particular Thursday. And by the time he got home (at his usual time, he wasn't running late), my back was already sore and I was hating everything about what I was doing that I almost said, "I hate this so much and I can't believe I have to do it BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT!!!" But I believe the Lord worked a miracle and closed my mouth so as not to ruin what would otherwise be a beautiful moment. Moving on. Three days later I took another test....you know, just to confirm...and what do you know, the plus sign was big and bold. Hooray! When I showed Daniel the test, his first words were, "It worked!" TMI? #sorrynotsorry Ha! Then we went to church (it was a Sunday) and I don't remember anything about the service. Not a thing. So blissful.
8 weeks: I took yet another pregnancy test. By this point I had literally had zero side-effects. (Sorry mamas who have horribly painful/uncomfortable first trimesters.) Yep, still pregz.
10 weeks: First doctor's appointment. The midwife struggled to find the heartbeat. There were a few terrifying seconds when she said, "Are you sure you're pregnant?" I wanted to scream, "YES WOMAN!!! I TOOK 7 PREGNANCY TESTS AND DID AT LEAST 2 OF THEM RIGHT!" Again, the Lord held my tongue and I just said, "Yes." They proceeded to do a sonogram and then we saw and heard the little bean. Whoa. What a powerful moment. Heartbeat - 181. And smiles all around. I even swear I saw the bean smile.
10 weeks, 2 days: We FINALLY got to tell our families. Daniel and I decided to wait until after the first appointment to tell our people and, let me tell you, it was the longest 6 weeks EVER. It was so fun to tell my family about the first grandbaby and Danz' family the 8th grandbaby. I literally could not sleep the night before we told because I was so excited...and so strangely nervous! I'm super sentimental, so I just had to have an object with which to announce. My family is all about shoes, so we told my family using baby shoes. And Daniel's family plays this card game called Priscilla so we used that to our advantage (see pics below). Fun memories.
12-15 weeks: Holy exhaustion. Without a nap after school every day, my bedtime was 8 pm. Not even kidding. And holy hunger. At least 3 snacks in between breakfast and lunch and often just as many between lunch and supper. Poor students. They still didn't know at this point so they probably thought I was just chubby and hungry. On the last day before Christmas break, I told most of my students. Aaaaaaaand it was hilarious. Many clapped. Some cheered. Some didn't care and were annoyed (remember, these are teenagers). One girl said she wished she had known earlier so she could've thrown me a shower (awwww). I assured her that I still had 6 months to be pregnant, so there would be plenty of time for such festivities.
16-18 weeks: Sleeping is a total B. I'm on my feet most of the day and moving almost constantly that I think the little blueberry doesn't know what to do when I go to bed. It's all, "Um mom, this is not okay. I have lots of energy and would prefer that you keep moving. Mmkay, thanks." And I'm all, "Sweet little blueberry, I'm done for the day. Feel free to move about the uterus, but I'm just gonna stay put. Mmkay, thanks." (Um, ladies, how fun is it to talk to something inside you?!?!? Let me just say - that's one of my favorite parts of being pregnant.) I've had lots of back pain and hip pain and stomach cramps and leg pain, but it's totes okay because baby bell pepper (sis-in-law Roxanne's current nickname and baby's current size) is HEALTHY and active. And I couldn't be happier about that.
Miscellaneous:
- I'm due June 22. That gives me 4 weeks after school gets out and 6 weeks before school starts again. And since babies ALWAYS come on their due dates, this will work out perfectly...as all my plans do. LOLZ.
- We're not finding out the gender. (Gasp! Yikes! Sigh! What!?! You crazy.) Yes to all. We're seriously looking forward to the "it's a......!!" moment. Yep I'm a planner and yep this is totally unlike me. But I'm pretty pumped.
- I am indeed headed back to work in the fall. The awesome part about having a baby in the summer is that I'll be able to take as much time off as I want without using all my sick leave (that's the way our district works maternity...if you want it paid, you cash in sick days). I'm planning to go back mid-September, so I'll only miss about 4 weeks with students. Perfect, no?
- Daniel is a champ. I have been an emotional disaster for the past 6 weeks and he just takes it all in stride. When I burst into tears at dinner, he just listens and then lets me lay on the couch and cry while he cleans up. Sounds pitiful, I know, but it's really okay.
- My students have been hilarious. Several times a week they ask how big it is. A few weeks ago one of them touched the belly without being authorized. One asked, "Is it ever weird that there's something ALIVE in you!?" Many are irritated that we're not finding out the gender.
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