The obligation to blog is almost over, and I'm super pumped.

4. I think one of the funniest things about pregnancy is that you always think you know what to expect... until you're actually pregnant, and then it's literally every man for himself. Or Woman for Herself, if you really want to get technical. The day I found out I was pregnant, I bought "What to Expect When You're Expecting". I read all the way through the first trimester and thought to myself "Well this is going to be miserable." I was only 3 weeks into the process when I found out, after all. As the weeks ticked on, I grew increasingly aware that I wasn't battling morning sickness. I wasn't battling nausea, changes in my baby feeders, or frequent urination. The only symptoms I had were excessive exhaustion, an occasional bout of angry tears when I felt like people were treating me like I was being dramatic, an aversion to food in general, and cramping. Of course, this kept me in a constant state of stress and doom. As my gallbladder started shutting down, the vomiting started, but it was at 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning and after I had taken my prenatal on top of a fattening dinner. I thought that I had "night sickness" and put up with it until the dramatic attack almost 2 months later. Otherwise, my first trimester really would have been a breeze. My second trimester, I still didn't fight issues with excessive tinkle time, I didn't feel "flutters" when the app said I should, and my appetite didn't change at all. I still felt pretty tired most of the time, I had super stretchy ligaments, and I really didn't gain any weight. I consistently chugged water, averaging 4 liters a day, but sometimes more. I always felt like I hadn't had enough water. Other than that, I had a super calm baby, a forgiving weight module, and craved salads or "light foods." The third trimester has been the most "pregnant" of the three. The baby decided that she was done being calm, my back gave up on supporting me, and my legs feel like weights at night. The only time I "frequently urinate" is between the hours of midnight and 6:45 AM, when she lays up against my bladder. The weight gain picked up a little bit, but I've only gained 9 pounds to date. For me, Pregnancy has been 9 months of "Ow," "Are we there yet?," and "I feel like I could sleep for at least 40 hours." I say all of this so that the stranger reading this will know that it's okay not to line up with what your app says. I deleted it when I was about 27 weeks along, and my pregnancy immediately took a turn for the better. I stopped stressing, I stopped obsessing over why my pregnancy seemed so different than what literature said it should have been, and I learned that my pregnancy truly was my pregnancy. My child was always right on schedule, moving wonderfully (she was just laying awkwardly, I never felt her,) and we never received a negative report from the Doctor. So even though there's entirely too much information out there for a pregnant woman to read, try to ignore it and try to relax. Trust that the Lord is present and involved in your baby's life. That's my advice for the newly pregnant woman who stumbled across my incredibly blunt blog.

3. I don't know what you've heard about your pets and pregnancy, but they know. It's eerie, really. I don't want to be one of those creeps that spends thirty-seven minutes talking about my dogs, but I think it's safe to say that Cody and I are "dog people." Our dogs live good lives, sleep inside, generally get scratches whenever they want them, and generally keep us pretty wrapped around their sweet little tails. We know, we know, we won't care about the dogs after Ella is born, but right now, we really like them. I say all of this to say that my dogs are acting CRAZY right now. Well, two of our dogs are acting crazy. I am certain that the third dog is possessed by some sort of dog demon and silently plots my death. Anyway, Ellebelle, the dog that would be considered "mine" in this family, has decided that she hates my face and won't come within 3 feet of me. She ignores me when I call her, locks herself in her cage so that she doesn't have to sit with me on the couch, and is newly obsessed with Cody. It's very, very strange. She generally avoids Cody, remains glued to my side, and gets very upset if I ignore her. I'm not sure how to exist in this universe. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Todd, our obese dachshund, is generally content to be in the room with us, but not really one to cuddle. He generally uses you for scratches until he feels sleepy, then plops down in the floor. Not lately. The dog stalks me. If I'm horizontal on the couch, he tries to lay directly on top of my child. If I'm doing dishes, he lays in the hallway and keeps a close watch. If I step out of his line of sight, homeboy wigs out. I don't know if he knows my litter is coming soon, or if he's just picking up on my discomfort... regardless, it's super sweet, and I'm excessively curious to see if he's protective of the baby after she's born.

2. I just want to say that I can already confirm everybody Else's statement about why people reproduce twice: You forget. I was reading back through my blog, because November feels so long ago these days. I'm not even done with this pregnancy and I already found myself saying "Oh yeah! That was horrible. I hated that part." And I realized, though we've already discussed how different pregnancy is for each woman, for me... the farther along we get, the easier it gets. Maybe your body adjusts to feeling like it got hit by a freight truck. Maybe it's the calm before the storm known as labor. Maybe the Lord knows that we would cease to exist if it didn't become a little more tolerable as it progressed. For me, I think it was knowing that the farther along I made it, the closer to a healthy delivery she was. The first trimester was absolutely horrible. I don't know which part of that was pregnancy and which part of it was a failing organ, and I never will. I do know that the exhaustion was enough to make me feel absolutely crazy... maybe depressed is a better way to describe it. Because we opted to wait until we were done with the first trimester to announce our pregnancy, most of our friends and family just thought I was in a bad mood 24 hours a day. The holidays were exhausting enough without the hormones. And the hardest part of it all was feeling the way I felt, knowing that the Lord was in control, but still fearing that something was going to go dreadfully wrong. Reading back through those first 3 months made me complain a little less about my current predicament. Sure, My back kills me right now. Sleeping through the night stopped about a month ago. Some days, I lay on the couch and I don't move. Other days, the filth of my house sends me into a cleaning rampage. I exhaust easily, and I won't even BEGIN to discuss this heat. But it's all tolerable. My baby responds like a newborn would to most things now. When her Daddy talks to her, she responds to his voice, and it melts my heart. When I haven't felt her move, all I have to do is find a body part (the bigger the baby, the easier knees and elbows are to find) and push a little bit. She immediately adjusts or moves her little appendage from me in an annoyed way. When she's startled by me laughing or speaking louder than usual, she gets the hiccups. When she's uncomfortable, she makes sure I know it. These past few weeks have bonded the two of us, because it's almost like she's kind of saying "Here I am!" with all of her funny little perks and habits. I am absolutely in love with her, and I've already blocked out some of the worst parts of this pregnancy party.

1. Here's my public apology. (As we finish this pregnancy out, I don't know how many more posts I'll be doing, so I may as well do it now.) Back to the apology. Well, I don't even want to use the word apology... Hm. I will change my phrasing. Here is my public explanation. I have been faithful to document every step of this journey, and we have a pretty consistent following of readers. I don't know who you are or where you come from, but there's about 170 of you out there, and you always show up in my page views for each post. In my faithfulness to keep you updated, this meant that you got to see a very detailed, non-sugarcoated version of my pregnancy. Some of you that I know in real life have informed me that I make pregnancy sound horrible. Well... I don't really know what to say to that. It was no walk in the park. I don't know that I've ever met a woman in the middle of pregnancy that said "I wish I felt like this every minute of every day for the rest of my life." Granted, I didn't have a super easy pregnancy. Surgery generally doesn't come with the package unless it involves a sweet newborn at the end of it. I tried to find the balance between "I feel like a bag of crap" and "I'm still thankful for this sweet blessing." Sometimes I was successful, and sometimes I failed. I hope that when you embark down this road in your life, it's easy, breezy, and beautiful. I hope that you have a baby and look forward to multiplying again and again. But don't be surprised when you wake up one day and say "I feel like a bag of crap today." It's better to acknowledge those days. People are already going to walk on eggshells around you, even when you're in a good mood. And as you get close to the end, people are going to start saying "You look like you're ready!!!" and you'll bite your tongue from saying "Nope, that's just my face." It doesn't matter if you feel great or wonderful, people will still find some way to make it seem like you have a sign on your forehead that says "I hate the world!" Even if you're in a GREAT mood, they'll still remind you that you're almost there (even when you're like 19 weeks.) It's something to look back and laugh on, but in the moment, all you want to do is scream "I love my baby and I don't hate the world!" Pregnancy hurts. Pregnancy is exhausting. Pregnancy is hard. Pregnancy is a character building exercise... but it's still such a blessing... To know the Lord trusted you enough to house a child that will pursue Him one day is enough to make me do it again someday... maybe. Maybe not.

That's it. The end of week 36 means that we are officially FULL TERM and could safely have a baby anytime between now and July 19th. Sometimes that's super exciting, other times I think "Get out now. Get out now. Get out now. Get out now." Just kidding. I really do want a July baby. Back when I was newly engaged and plotting our futures when I thought that every aspect of my life would work exactly the way I planned it, I wanted a July baby or an October baby. If we embark down this road again, I will be plotting a birth in the middle of Spring. This summer pregnancy stuff is for. the. birds.

Large Marge Out.

Week 35

This blog has very little to do with the pregnancy. The fabulous thing about getting closer to D-Day is that "new" symptoms stop popping up, and you're really just there to survive. I have a doctor's appointment next week, so I'll do a better update then. I am still feeling great, and I am still preparing to begin jumping jacks as soon as I hit 37 weeks. So in light of this new and boring information, Father's Day fell during Week 35, so this blog is dedicated to my Baby Daddy! Here are the 5 greatest things about Cody!!!

1. He's kind of a redneck, but he's also kind of wonderful.

When I met him, he was fairly poor. Well, we both were. I was poor because I had no sense of budget and had a pretty intense addiction to Rosa's. He was poor because all of his money went to gas and rent... and taking me to Rosa's. The yard wasn't a priority, never mind any type of garden. We never discussed his love for outdoors because we spent all of our free time re-watching episodes of "Friends" and making out when it was time to say goodbye. You see, he tricked me into falling in love with him before he ever mentioned "the farm," "Hunting," or "Love being outside." It's probably better that he kept it to himself, because I probably would have said "Big Cities," "Shopping at Crate and Barrel," or "Coffee Houses" in response. Our common interests were the opposite of common, but somehow the Lord made it work. And now, while I wave from the door when he goes hunting (I went with him once. Apparently you don't sing showtunes while you wait for the deer to come. You just sit and freeze. It's fun for some people, apparently.), we've both changed and compromised our lifestyles. I'm really excited to see who Ella takes after. Will she curl up on the couch and finish a book in an afternoon, or Will she spend hours on end outside, looking for anything to keep her there? Will she drink coffee while discussing dreams, or prefer to dig around in the dirt while discussing ways that she can better her garden? Maybe she'll drink coffee WHILE she waters her garden and picks weeds, like I caught her Daddy doing last weekend. Anyway, he's not a city man, but he finds his own ways to enjoy it. I'm not a farm child, but being there with him kind of makes it feel like home. Sometimes we have to work through his redneck solutions (Like supergluing our child's curtain rod together,) but we have managed to bring "our side" out of of each other, so I love it.

2. He is IN LOVE with his child.

I know that she isn't here yet, but she's captivated her Daddy to his Very Core. There are times that I ponder whether he even sees me when he comes home at night. The first thing he does is wrap his arms around the planet attached to me and say "Hey Ella! How was your day?!" This goes on for about 5 minutes, and it always thrills him to his bones when she starts wiggling in response. I'm generally not allowed to partake in their conversations, and I'm shushed when I say "Ow..." when I get kicked in the ribs during their talks. He's so anxious to meet her that he paces our hallway when he starts thinking about it. He'll talk to anybody that wants to listen about "His" baby. Apparently I've had nothing to do with the process so far. He has daddy/daughter dates planned from now until she's at least 25. He talks to her about the latest studio equipment (though I'm pretty sure it puts both of us to sleep) and insists that Friday mornings will be dedicated to bettering her knowledge of the latest compressors. Part of me feels bad for her, but the other part of me remembers being willing to be interested in anything if it meant being around my dad. The two are already falling madly in love with each other, and while sometimes I feel a tinge of "Hey, little girl... he's mine...," I mostly smile and thank the Lord that she'll never know a life without knowing the love of her Daddy.

3. He's the hardest working man I know, and he's passionate about it.

 

Everybody has a weird passion in their life. In every marriage, each spouse is going to have a weird hobby that the other spouse will never understand. I don't know what my weird hobby is for Cody, but we both know that for me, his studio obsession is territory we'll never be able to discuss. The wonderful thing about that is that he is so passionate and so dedicated to it that he doesn't even need me to care. He has a friend that he's able to bounce ideas off of (much to the demise and annoyance of anybody in the room who doesn't care about the latest plug-in), and if he gets focused enough, he'll spend hours researching ONE piece of studio equipment. It drives me absolutely crazy. Sometimes I have to intervene and say "Hi, you've been in here for 5 hours..." but most of the time I stay out of his way. I respect that he picked something to be passionate about at a young age, and he pursued it. He achieved a degree in something that brought him joy, even though there were times that we both struggled paying the loan each month. Audio Engineering is a really cool degree, but studios are kind of a dying breed since everybody records in their house and "mixes" it themselves these days. But instead of being bitter, he threw himself further into it after work and on the weekends, and the Lord has blessed his faithfulness to the parts of his life that didn't make him feel "alive." He worked hard at a job that he really didn't enjoy very much for a long time, and now he works at a job that he himself has described as "Ideal." He gets to research equipment that would better his work environment, go to conventions and witness these things in the flesh, and spend his days surrounded by the things he went to school for all of those years ago. Jeremiah 29:11 is such a cliche to use, but I love how true it rings in his world. I'll never be able to relate, and I'll probably go to my grave rolling my eyes at his enthusiasm for microphones, but I hope Ella sees how much joy it brings him. I hope she pursues what she loves, even if the "job rate" isn't the greatest.

4. He's the most loyal, forgiving, and Faithful man in the world.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I tend to be a grudge holder. Okay. Maybe that wasn't a shock at all. It isn't my best character trait, but I can acknowledge it, and it's something I'm working through, and I've come a long way from the old Kaylea... but I still struggle with it. I tend to be the person that burns bridges after I've been wronged, usually citing that "I don't need that in my life." So dramatic. I don't keep in touch with people if I don't see them on a regular basis, and I don't really know why...it's never been my personality to "keep the relationship going." I say all of this because there have been times in our relationship when Cody and I have had knock-out drag-outs over some of the people in his life. I won't go into detail about any of it, but he's been faithful and gracious to a few people in his life that didn't deserve it. He's maintained relationships after people have said and done things that would've landed me in jail if they were done to me. After repeated questioning on my end about why he allows some of these people in his life, he always shrugs and says "They're just lost. You never gave up on me." And then it sucker punches me in the gut and I roll my eyes and say "Hm." Because that's the best thing to say when you're unexpected clotheslined by your husband's grace. I don't want you to misinterpret, he's certainly not a pushover, and when a line is crossed, he'll take care of business. But 9 times out of 10, his heart is softened because he recognizes that most of the time, people need grace. People need mercy. I know that Ella is going to make a few bad decisions in her life. I know that there will be times when I am prepared to murder her, and that's when her daddy will step in front of me and say "We'll handle this on a discipline level, but before any of that, she's going to know how much we love her." And then after she's been disciplined, he'll likely be the one to take my hand and go back to her later to make sure she knows we love her again. He isn't a mushy person, but he's tender hearted, and he finds the subtlest of ways to captivate me again and again. I know that he'll be the same way with our daughter, especially if she's a vigilante like me.. she'll need somebody to bring her back down to earth every once in awhile.

5. He loves me in ways that I can't find the words to describe.

 

I am aware that this one is kind of a "Duh...," but lately, I've watched relationships around me take a rumble tumble. I've seen marriages struggle and sometimes falter. I've heard people say "We just didn't love each other the same way anymore." And each time it kind of threw me for a loop. I'm not on a soap box to say that my marriage is the example of what a marriage should be, because there are certainly days that I wonder if I could kill him and make it look like an accident, but that's human nature. No. Murderous thoughts of a spouse is not human nature... that's pregnancy hormones. Human nature is occasionally butting heads with somebody that you co-habituate with for long periods of time. Human nature is acknowledging that sometimes we're selfish, selfish people, and sometimes a marriage takes a hit because of it. I'm thankful and Praise the Lord that those times are few and far between for us, but they happen. And it's usually me that blows things out of proportion. And he's learned that if he gives me a minute, I'll calm down and apologize. Regardless, I've never doubted his love for me, even in the heat of our worst arguments. In the heat of those moments, he's always said "I love you more than anything in this world, but I don't understand your logic right now. Help me understand it." I've never doubted for a second that he is faithful and committed to me as a husband. Romance has never been his thing, but in his own ways, he's stolen my heart over and over again just in the little things he does. His attention to detail blows me away, even in the simplest of things, like building a bookshelf for our baby. His priority has always been my happiness, and he's never been shy about it. When I had baby fever exactly 4 minutes into our marriage, he sat me down and said "I want to love you for a little while. And be your husband for awhile. And I want to do things and see things with you before we bring anybody else along. And maybe it makes me selfish, but that's just how I feel." At the time, it was the most selfish thing in the world to me, but now I cherish his words. I cherish those 3 years together. Playing boardgames over dinner, holding each other in the middle of a rainstorm in Jamaica, and spending Christmas Eve(s) cuddled up next to each other while a fire burned and Christmas music played are some of the biggest chords in our lifesong together... and I can't ponder loving him any more than I already do... but somehow, the longer we're married, the harder I fall. It's truly bliss to be his wife, and I never take for granted how deeply loved I am. I know he'll love Ella in a different way, but I don't doubt it will be just as deeply.

Okay. That's all. We didn't make a huge deal out of Mother's Day or Father's Day to each other this year, as we technically haven't earned those rights. We still sleep through the night (well, he does) and we haven't been victim to an explosive diaper or projectile vomit from our daughter. We're coming into our roles as parents,  but I still wanted to take a minute and celebrate the one that the Lord chose for me. Because that's what you do when you're crazy about somebody. See ya next week!

Large Marge out.

34 Weeks

6. Cody and I have finally started watching the ever popular docu-drama "The Bible." I'm conflicted as to how I feel about it. First of all, I think they've done a mostly okay job of sticking to the text, but if I were a stranger to the Bible stories, I would be completely lost. I feel that the writers assumed that the viewers would know some of the details they skipped over. I also feel compelled to hug each of my Sunday School teachers for drilling those stories into my head, because I catch every skipped detail and feel compelled to share it with Cody. I was beyond shocked that they skipped Joseph. He's kind of a major component to the Old Testament. And I had to laugh a little bit at Scottish Noah. I don't recall reading about his accent in the Bible. All in all, I can't make my final judgement call because we are only 3 episodes in, but I have a feeling that this will be one of those things that I watch once and never again. Maybe it's because Morgan Freeman didn't narrate. I have a difficult time connecting to things if the narrator isn't Morgan Freeman.

5. I've made a grand commitment to Ella's stocking, and I'm over half-way done. There are indubitably a few grave errors, but I think that in the grand scheme of things, finishing it and it resembling the picture is a victory for Christmas. I would say that I'll make her a better one in a few years, when our lives have slowed down a bit, but I can't say it outloud without laughing. I don't know what we'll do if we ever have another baby. Maybe I'll buy a cute stocking and glue sequins on it. Hopefully it'll be a boy and sparkles won't matter. Maybe I'll be interested in it again by then. Who knows. All I know is that right now, this is my last Stocking for awhile, considering my big brother is done with children, I'm done for at LEAST 50 years, and my little brother really enjoys being single. So fortunately, I know the end is near, so it's a lot easier to finish this one.

4. This week, each night at bedtime, I have given Cody my best "I'm miserable" fake cry. It lasts for about 5 minutes before he pulls me up close to him and shushes me, but I would be lying if I said it didn't feel good just to cry at unusually loud levels. It's kind of like in movies when an actress puts her face in a pillow And screams... Except I skip the pillow and say "Wah'" instead. I occasionally throw in a little snippet like "You'll never know my misery!" Or "My stretch marks have stretch marks!" It's a nice way to let out some of my shallow complaints without actually crying about them. I hate stretch marks. I didn't have stretch marks on my stomach until week 30. Even then, it was one lonely stretch mark. It was big, purple, and hurt something awful, but I was okay with it being there as long as it was the only one. During week 34, the baby changed positions, and seemingly overnight, the entire bottom of my stomach is covered in them. It's enough to make me say "WHAT?!" Every time I see them. I'm terrified to see my body after the baby, and I know it's going to be hard, but I know they'll fade in time. Hopefully. Please Lord. And yes, I've seen all of the inspirational quotes about stretch marks reminding you of the journey you went on to bring a life into the world... But pictures of my sweet baby will do that too. These are the facts. I will never smile when I see my stretch marks in the mirror.

3. I'm going to share a bit of an obvious fact with you. Pregnant women feel pretty huge most of the time. Even when we're only 4 or 5 months along and you really can't even tell that we're pregnant and not fat... We feel huge. We wear pants that cover our entire stomach, which was really only acceptable in the 90's, and we wear shirts that have a parachute effect on our physique. Sometimes, we accept that we have a bowling ball under our clothes and wear a super tight shirt to show it off. Then there comes a point that it doesn't matter if we want it to be seen or not... There's no hiding it anymore. So we feel pretty gross and pretty miserable, a lot of the time. It's not that we don't love the sweet bump in the mirror, especially when it distorts and mangles because of the sweet life moving around beneath it, but it's hard to look at when you're seemingly surrounded by really thin women. That being said, I feel it's safe to wager a bet that NO pregnant woman likes to hear the following, in any variation: "Woah! You're huge!" Nope. Because this is what we hear:

"You're the fattiest fatty in the history of all the fatties! There's no way you're just pregnant, you had to have gained at least 405 pounds of extra fat! I can't believe how morbidly obese you are!"

It's also wise not to touch us while you point out our obesity. We're already thinking about stabbing you with our mind forks, so it's probably best that you're not touching our "huge" stomach. It's really pretty rude, and if I were to respond and say "You're huge too!," you would be super offended. There's not a difference. We're growing a baby, but being called fat will never be a compliment to anybody. In lieu of those comments, I would recommend focusing on the baby. Say things like "I can't wait to meet the baby! I know we're getting close!" or "You look great, I'm sure it's no fun being pregnant in the middle of summer." OR "You're so tiny compared to my friend!" Even if it's a lie, we won't know. We won't say "Oh, who's your friend?" We'll smile, because there's somebody larger than us out there. I know this all sounds too silly for words to some of you, but I've also noticed that people who have already had a baby don't make comments about my size. They say things like "I know you feel huge, but you're really not." Or they don't say anything, which is really probably the wisest thing to say. I'm just trying to prevent a fork being shoved into your head if you catch me on a bad day. Thanks for your time.

2. I am drowning in zucchini. Drowning. I have so much Zucchini in my house that I will die under a pile of it. I'm too tired to blanch and save it, I don't want to cook it for dinner every night, but I don't want to throw it away. So it's just piled up on my kitchen counter. SO if anybody is interested in a few hundred zucchinis, I'm your gal! I still love the garden. The little bit of rain we got this weekend has revived it so beautifully. I wish my tomatoes would grow a little faster, though. Preggers can't get enough... they're worth the heartburn! That's a lie. Nothing is worth the heartburn... but since I know that I'm going to get heartburn anyway, I eat them with reckless abandon. I've had to remind myself time and time again that Tums are not candy, and I kind of had to throw myself an intervention. I was completely ignoring the recommended serving sizes, and I made it a week with a new bottle of my beloved antacids, which is kind of the opposite of the recommended serving size. So now, my days kind of consist of choosing if I can soldier through the burn or if I should surrender to the antacids. I really, really, really hope that the wives tale about baby having hair after heartburn is true. Although I've witnessed it be the super opposite of true, I'm holding my breath that Ella will have even the tiniest amount to clip a bow into. That's all I need in this world. Anyway. Garden= grand. Tums=a debt that I can never repay.

1. Week 34 was a pretty simple week. It truly was. I was thankful for a simple week. My mom was able to relax in Florida knowing that I was okay here. I spent the week laughing and loving on my husband, as I'm really trying to absorb the last few weeks as a family of two. I'll miss it immensely, but I know that Ella is going to completely change the way we love each other. We've spent almost 5 years making life wonderful for the other, and I know that she's going to make life wonderful for us. I'm a little nervous, because I've witnessed friends with newborns grow increasingly stressed and they all say it takes a toll on the marriage. I've prayed and prayed against that. I know we'll have days where we just want to sleep while that tiny baby cries. OR maybe we'll feel the need to run away sometimes. But I hope that most of the time, we remember that she was made because of how deeply we love each other, and how deeply the Lord loves us. I hope that we aren't too prideful to call my mom and say "Hey, come hold this baby, we need to be with each other for a few minutes and chug a cup of coffee to make it through the rest of the day." I hope that we recognize when we need to focus on each other. And even though we'll know deep in our hearts that we love each other more than we love anybody else (yes, even more than our daughter,) I hope we never stop striving to show that to each other. We have at least 18 years of a new roomie ahead of us... we're going to need a few reminders.

That's all. Week 34 is done. In the books. Over. I'm feeling "HUGE!" and looking forward to the end. Here's a bump picture. Fattest Fat baby is getting ready! And, it's not a selfie. Somehow the world feels like it's coming back together again.

Large Marge Out.

Week 33

I can't lie to you anymore. I am over blogging. But I choose to carry on, because I've come too far to stop now. Is that an 80's song? I feel like it is. Maybe it's a Pinterest quote.

So, in the name of compromise, since this is week 33, I will offer you 7 facts/funnies. Next week there will be 6. And then 5. I feel like you can catch the pattern we're rolling with here.

7. The beginning of this week was the hardest week of my entire pregnancy. Nevermind the gallbladder, the heartburn, the exhaustion. The beginning of this week was so miserable. My ligaments were stretching so intensely, and it hurt so badly that it made me sweat. Don't EVEN start with the "You just wait until you get your first contraction!" crap. I don't want to hear it. At the end of the contractions, there's a baby. You know what you get at the end of a ligament pain? Stretch marks. Where's the joy? Moving on. I was so upset about my blood pressure diagnosis that I laid on the couch for three days. I felt like I was terrible at being pregnant, missing my husband miserably, and feeling depressed in general. The hormones will take you down, ladies. It wasn't until Wednesday, when I started documenting my blood pressure in a journal that things started perking up for me. It was a miserable beginning to the week, but a wonderful ending. More on that later.

6. Ella's room is done! Is it going to win awards for the world's cutest and most detailed nursery? No. But it does feel like a little girl's room, and while I know it won't stay in such perfect shape for long after her birth, and that's part of the reason I didn't invest too much into her room financially. It isn't that I don't feel like she deserves the world and everything in it, it's that I know she's a baby. And after she's a baby, she'll be a toddler, and if she's anything like I hear her Daddy was, she'll be a tornado of energy, and I would be silly to believe that her room will stay looking serene and peaceful. I would rather her room be a place where it looks like a little girl can dream than a clipping from a magazine. I made a very conscious decision to leave an empty corner in the room, so that her daddy can build a bookshelf for her. Because she will be a reader. She will LOVE to read. I think Santa will bring her one of those little mini rocking chairs to go in the corner too. Or maybe a bean bag. I want her to be able to get lost in a book in the corner of her bedroom. I used to read on the porch swing in the backyard when I was little. When I read "The Diary of Anne Frank," I laid in the swing while it rained and read the entire book. It took the entire day, and the rain never stopped, and the mosquitoes ate me alive. But I've never forgotten it. Please Lord, Let her be a reader.

5. As you all know, Ella is a toe sucker. Most adorable babies show off their sweet baby hands in sonograms, but not our kid. She really wants us to know how cute her feet are. They really are the sweetest little toes, I can't wait to kiss them.  Anyway, We were going through some old pictures that Cody has from his childhood... and look what I found:

Yep! He was a toe sucker too! But he was also the most adorable kid. Always smiling. ALWAYS. He was way cuter than I was as a baby, so I'm hoping his genes dominate mine. I'm just being honest. I was cute enough, don't get me wrong, but his dimples combined with those eyes and sweet gummy smile are just about enough to melt my heart strings.

4. I started Ella's Christmas stocking. I know it'll be at the very bottom of my priority list after she's born, and I would like to finish it before her birth because otherwise she'll be the only one without a sequined stocking at my parent's house for Christmas. Two problems so far. One, I can't find the instructions and it's incredibly difficult. These kits require that each component be cut from felt and sewed to the stocking base. There's a very specific order of duties, and without the instructions, it's really easy to mess up. I've messed up at least 3 times so far, but I soldier on. Two, I have no patience for it right now. It's super time consuming and super detailed. It's interesting, because I complain to Cody about being super bored right now, but I would almost prefer to sleep than sew. We'll see if I finish it or not. I hope I do. My great-grandmother started the tradition and I always loved looking at my stocking sparkle. Stockings are my favorite part of Christmas, after all. I made one for Cody after we got married (it's pretty scary, but I had never sewed before) and then for my nephew and niece last year. I swore them off after that, but then I found out I was pregnant with Ella and bought another kit that day. It looks almost exactly like mine (minus the crazy details that Grandma Bee was able to sew,) and it's so very sweet. Okay. Maybe I'll finish it.

 

 

3. The garden is wonderful and frustrating simultaneously. We had about 4 tomato plants finally die, but the remaining plants are producing beautiful, gorgeous, delicious tomatoes. The ladybugs are REALLY giving us grief this year, so I hate them, but the plants are holding on despite being treated like a buffet. Our squash plants are really struggling, so after a few of the fruits finish growing, we'll pull them up and start over with new seeds. That's what's wonderful about squash. You can plant it anytime, as long as the sun is hot. Our zucchini is my pride and joy. The plants are ENORMOUS and the zucchini itself is just blowing us away. So full of flavor, HUGE, and producing in massive quantities. I LOVE it. I'm even willing to share with anybody that likes zucchini. Our cantaloupe plant is a slow grower, but it seems to be doing well. It is unfathomable to me that it's already time to plant Okra. Those don't produce until August, and we'll have a BABY by then! A BABY! I love the distractions that the garden brings.

 

2. I'm slipping into the phase of pregnancy where time flies and drags simultaneously. Most days drag by for me, but in the grand scheme of things, I only HAVE to be pregnant for another 3 weeks (give or take a few days, considering the blog is almost a week late.) And when I think about it in those terms, I hyperventilate. But then I know that I'm supposed to technically be pregnant for about 6 more weeks, I want to throw myself into a wall. It's exciting. I love the mystery behind it all, and I really hope I go into labor before the doctor schedules an induction date. I would prefer to be caught completely off guard over labor than to spend an entire week prior contemplating everything my body is about to go through. I'd like to go ahead and warn everybody that I don't plan to announce her birth on social media until we're back home from the hospital. I love you all, but hospital visits are awkward. Mom is always exhausted, Dad is always asleep on a cot, the room is always overly stuffy, there's always one person there that won't fork the baby over, Mom always looks on helplessly while every one gets to hold the baby but her, and there's never chairs, so everybody just stands around awkwardly. I never visit people in the hospital for those exact reason. Selfish as it sounds, I worked hard to get that baby here over 9 months, I would like to be the one holding her during her first precious hours on the outside. So, maybe I'm anti-social, and maybe I'll change my mind... but right now, we don't plan to make her birth public knowledge until we're back home.

1. Now for the biggest and grandest news of all: The Pre-Eclampsia scare is pretty much over. At my appointment last Friday, my blood pressure was 129/83. A little elevated, but not bad. I had been home for exactly one week, and I took my blood pressure 6 times a day with a good machine. The readings stayed consistent at 120/80 or lower. I showed my journal entries to my doctor, told him that staying at home helped my swelling significantly, and he was very pleased. There was no protein in my urine sample, and my headaches stopped. He basically said that he was proud that I did what it took to slow my pace down, that everything looked significantly better, and he was no longer concerned about pre-eclampsia. He asked me to continue watching my blood pressure at home, call him if I noticed any of the symptoms coming back around, and then said that I could wait another 2 weeks before I came back to see him. And then I got culture swabbed, and then I got my cervix checked. Ow. I'm not going into those details, but I stand by argument that girls in high school should have to go through the third trimester of pregnancy. Duct Tape a watermelon to them, give them pills to exhaust and back their bowels up, then let them go through third trimester doctor visits, beginning with the glucose test. They won't make it! After the invasive check, the doctor said everything is exactly as it should be, meaning no signs of a baby coming anytime soon. Yay. (I guess.) Regardless, we Bless the Lord, Praise the Lord, and Thank the Lord for continuing to hold us in hands. One of my favorite lines in a song we sing at church says "You are true, You are true, Even in my wandering." This could mean different things for different people, I guess, but I know for me, my mind is so quick to wander when I'm faced with a stressful situation. My heart knows who the Lord is and my heart knows that the Lord is faithful... but my mind wanders. That's how I end up laying on the couch proclaiming self pity and feeling depressed. But the Lord never walks away, and He proves again and again that He loves me just as much as he loves this fat baby.

That's all! I took another selfie this week because Cody was at camp and I was home alone. I don't even know who I am anymore. My world is shaken.

Large Marge Out.

Week 32

Have you ever been worried about having an ugly child? Like, you'll look at it and say "Hmmmm." And other people will look at it and say "Oh, look how big you are!" or the liars in your life will say "What a Cutie!" ...But deep down inside, you know. You know that the kid has a huge nose and bug eyes and an oddly shaped head. I've always wondered how I would combat that. But I don't really worry much about it these days, because I already know I've been suckered in. I know that even if I know she looks like a cavebaby, she'll be beautiful to me; because I made her, and it sucked the life out of me for nine months.

This has been a hard week for me as a pregnant woman in the homestretch. I've had a horribly difficult time  controlling my whining, and I get super irritated if Cody doesn't baby me when I'm feeling blue. In the midst of my irritation, I know that he's a man and that he'll never understand what it's like for a baby to make a woman so happy and so miserable in the same breath. Just last night at the dinner table, I made it about 6 bites into my food before Ella started Jazzercising. I have a really difficult time eating while she's moving that much (it just makes me feel a little nauseated), and by the time she calmed down fifteen minutes later, I felt so full that eating another bite of dinner was just impossible. So I was fairly irritated, and then I looked at my sausage fingers, and my purple swollen feet. Then the baby shot an appendage up into my rib cage right about the time I realized how sweaty and gross I felt. And then my ant bite stings started itching... and in THAT moment, the world started tumbling down around me. And the tears fell. Not a hysterical cry... just enough that the tears fell rapidly and consistently. When Cody came back into the room, I immediately recognized the "Oh Crap" stance that he took... not because he was annoyed with me, but because he knew he was on thin ice, and whatever he chose to do was either going to make the situation better or worse. He chose to hug. Hugs are always good for a pregnant woman. Then he walked me to the couch and told me to put my feet up. And I was okay after that. I think that sometimes, it's just better to cry.

It's so hard to be so in love with your sweetest baby and so ready to stop being pregnant. It's sincerely one of the hardest lines to walk. Don't let anybody tell you that you'll love being pregnant everyday, because you won't. I have sincerely enjoyed my pregnancy more over the last 6 weeks than I could have possibly imagined, but there were days in the midst of it all that I was just ready to be done. Those days are becoming more frequent. I want to sleep on my stomach, have a glass of wine, enjoy a scalding bubble bath, and be able to move freely without somebody saying "Be Careful!" I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Pregnancy is closer to a year of life than farther away from it. It's hard, surprisingly painful, and full things that nobody warns you about in the books. The key to preventing teen pregnancy is developing a pill that makes you feel the way you do in your first trimester or your third trimester. The exhaustion alone is enough to make me REALLY consider making Ella my only offspring.

People always laugh when I say that. Apparently, I'm going to hate being pregnant until the second I see her. Then I'm going to hold her and smell her baby head (I can already testify that few things in this world smell better than a newborn baby)... and I'll forget it all. I'll be willing and enthusiastic about giving her a sibling. I've made a very conscious effort to document the good, the bad, and the ugly on this blog. Even if I forget, I'll read it to remember.

The blog is late this week because I've been battling about sharing details about my latest appointment, but the entire purpose of the blog is to keep you informed. I know that I stalked a few pregnancy blogs before I was even pregnant because I wanted to know what to expect. So, I'll share our latest adventure in pregnancy.

Basically, I've felt a little wonky for the past few weeks. Mostly because of the swelling in my feet. I don't know if you've ever dealt with swelling, but it kind of feels like your skin is going to rip into shreds every time you take a step. My feet were always the worst at work because my legs were too short to reach the floor, so they dangled all day. Blood and fluid pooled, and then they turned purple. I would come home from work and put them up for about an hour, but then I would be back up and around to cook dinner, making them swell right back up. Last week, I noticed my hands felt uncomfortably hot. I looked down and they were sausage fingers, and beet red... except around my knuckles, where they were white. It was miserable. I hated how my hands felt. On top of that, I spent all day typing at work, so when I got home at night, carpal tunnel syndrome kicked in (a totally normal pregnancy symptom, btw) and they tingled. I kept my hands submerged in ice, and felt like I was losing my mind for whining about it all so much. I'm pretty sure I accomplished nothing of true substance of work last week, and I was already looking for reasons to quit sooner. I skipped the blog Thursday because I was being such a negative nancy. At the doctor's appointment Friday, I felt surprisingly zazzy, even though my hands were already starting their nonsense at 9:00 in the morning. They weighed me (I've gained 7 pounds to date) and then took my blood pressure. I wasn't paying any attention because I was looking at the wall of hysterical pamphlets. The nurse said "Is it always that high?" and when I looked over at the machine, the stat read 135/89. I said "WOAH!" and then "No." Which is true, I check my blood pressure at home with a really good machine. Truth be told, my blood pressure has been up the entire pregnancy. I attributed it to the gallbladder in the second trimester, because it dropped after we took the thing out. But it's gradually been climbing again since. I was dreading the conversation with the doctor, but when he came in the room, he said "Hey, so you're 33 weeks." and I said "Why yes, I am." and he smirked. He listened to Ella's heartbeat and said "Alright, I'll see you in 2 weeks. We'll be doing your strep swab then." *shudder*

And he walked out of the room. I debated whether or not I should catch him, mostly because I was shocked he didn't say anything about my blood pressure. I knew my husband would wring my neck if I didn't say anything after all of the whining I did, so I called the doctor back in and asked him what I could do for swelling in my hands. He kind of looked at me, then took my hands. He did all sorts of poking and squeezing, and looked at my feet. Fortunately, they were looking a little purple as well, so he sighed and said the following:

"Well, your blood pressure has gradually been climbing for this entire pregnancy. I haven't said anything because it isn't something you should obsess over. Swelling is a normal part of pregnancy, but swelling that badly in your hands is not a good thing. You're going to have to put them above your head, and if you're not at a place at your job that you can do that, it's probably time to consider maternity leave. I don't want you to stress out, but these are symptoms of pre-eclampsia, and we don't want to mess around with that. I'm not diagnosing you, but I want you to start coming in weekly instead of waiting two weeks. I don't want you to worry. Pre-eclampsia happens in 1 out of every 10 pregnancies. I know exactly what to watch for. So I'll see you next week."

But all I heard was:

"You suck at growing humans. First, your gallbladder gave out. Now you've got pre-eclampsia. Thank you for being such a worthless human being. You may as well quit working so that you can lay on the couch and not contribute to your family's well being. Now I have to see you every single week instead of on a regular schedule. Also, tell your body good job for doing a terrible job at taking care of itself while you're pregnant."

So I've been in a super weird place for the last few days. I've left my job earlier than anticipated, battled my mother daily about what's considered "Overdoing it," missed my husband immensely because these have been those days where his arms are the only place I wanted to be (he's at camp leading street youths to Jesus,) and pondered why the Lord made me the 1/10. Most days, it feels like if it's a risk in pregnancy, I'm a prime candidate for it. And that's hard. It's so hard to watch your friends have simple, surgery free pregnancies, and know that yours is considered "a hard pregnancy" to doctors. I feel like less of a woman, because my body can't do the one thing that a woman should be able to do without it sucking the life out of me. I hate how it makes me feel. I hate that I can't "nest" because my body exhausts so easily. I hate that I have to have my parents do things for me because it's too risky for me to do it myself (you know, like go to the grocery store.)

Of course, my body took this as a cue to go ahead and pile on a little bit of misery. Since my appointment, there have been ligaments stretching in a more painful way than I've dealt with to date. I've felt nauseous almost every minute of every day because my torso is just short enough that my enormous child compresses my stomach all of the time, making me feel sick. My hips have given up on supporting me in bed, and my loose joints make my back hurt all of the time. All since Friday. It's been a hard, hard, hard three days. I didn't want to tell anyone because even though my blood pressure is completely out of my control, you still get a lot of really judgemental looks while you're pregnant and there's a complication. July 19th has never felt farther away. And now that I have seven weeks to sit and stare at the wall, it's enough to make me cry just thinking about it.

So what does it all mean? If my blood pressure won't chill out, I won't be able to have Ella naturally. It's riskier for me to try and push her than to be sliced in half on an operating table. It means bedrest if I can't get my stuff together, and it means that she might come early. These don't seem major problems, but I've already had my stomach cut open once this pregnancy, I don't look forward to it again. It means in a future birth, it's another c-section. It means that it's just another thing that I had planned spiraling completely out of my control. So I ask for your prayers as we venture down the path of the final seven weeks of this pregnancy. Pray for my sanity while I stay "chill," pray for Cody as he tries to not seem like such a busy body around somebody that already feels lazy, and pray for sweet Ella, as she still has some growing to do before she can come and cuddle with me.

That's where we are at the moment. The bump picture this week is a selfie (I hate that I took a selfie. I'm so ashamed.) But Cody wasn't around to take it and now that I'm unemployed, I can't take them at work. I even made sure there were cliche water spots in the picture. Please judge me. I can't stand selfie pictures.

 

 

Large Marge Out.