I still haven't completely decided how I'm going to do the blog with this baby. It was absolutely tedious and a pain to blog every single week of my last pregnancy, so I know for certain I won't be attempting that route again. I feel like doing one blog a trimester is too few, but also don't know that I want to commit to a blog every month. But blogging on a weekly or even monthly basis for the first trimester is just silly, so I know for a fact I'll knock it out in one post. Basically, I'm just going to wing it. Story of my life, right?

The first trimester with Gaines #2 has been simultaneously easier and harder than with Gaines #1. With Ella, my Gallbladder was slowly but surely giving out over the course of the first thirteen weeks, so I blamed baby for what was actually a failing organ. I believe most of my vomiting and cramps were attributed to the gallbladder rather than the fetus, but over the last year, I've been terrified of being pregnant or ever feeling that way again. It was enough to make me consider never having another baby. Was she worth it? Absolutely. Would I do it again to get her here? Absolutely. Would I ever re-live it for nostalgia and memory lane? Not in a million, trillion years. Whenever the time rolled around that Cody was even brave enough to mention baby #2, I immediately said "Not until Ella is potty trained." As friends and family started asking (sigh), we always laughed and said "We'll probably just get pregnant tomorrow. May as well do it while we're tired!" So I'm sure this pregnancy won't come as a shock to many people, but believe me whole-heartedly when I say, this sweet baby was a wonderful surprise. The Lord knew. He knew that I would put it off until it was too late to logically have another one. When I saw those pink lines, did I weep tears of happiness? No. I cried a lot of tears of selfishness, frustration, and sadness. Were a lot of those feelings hormone rooted? Yes... but some of them were just human nature. Ella was still breastfeeding almost exclusively, and waking up almost every two hours at night. Looking back now, we see that she was genuinely starving because my supply was drying up faster than it could produce for her. When I was put on the progesterone supplement, it only accelerated the process, and it finally came down to her pediatrician and my doctor saying "Hey, we respect you for trying, but you're both miserable. It's time to wean." And you know what? It took one day. One Tuesday afternoon, I skipped a feeding and offered milk instead, then waited to see how long she would make it before she melted down for more. When she was hungry again, she pointed at the bottle sitting on the counter, and never tried to breastfeed again. Y'all. I cried for three days straight. I mean sobbed. Like, huddled in a corner and gasped for breath. Like, Buried my face in Cody's chest and blew my snot into his t-shirt. My heart was broken into a hundred different pieces. Every feeling I could feel was hurt. And Ella just kept right on living in Ella's world... only exponentially happier. And sleep? Sweet Mercy, the child slept for twelve hours the first few nights after moving to milk. We had our own struggles with the transition, like we initially had to switch to lactose free for awhile before moving over to organic whole milk. Diaper rash was a brand new rodeo for us, as breastfeeding never gave us those problems. We dealt with tummy aches and how much milk was too much milk for the first time in her life, but after a couple of weeks, we hit a groove, and we've never looked back. I still find myself saddened that I was only able to breastfeed her for 13 months, but this break has also been wonderful for me. Sleeping at night as been the answer to so many of my mood swings... I already dread the newborn phase. 

I've also been informed that the progesterone supplement is likely what caused the majority of those awful exhaustion feelings. I always shrug off warning labels on prescriptions, like "May Cause Dizziness or nausea." Hey friend, don't shrug the progesterone warnings off. Mercy gracious. The first day I took the pill, I took it almost immediately, because obviously I was terrified and wanted it pumping through my system. Mistake. Dumbest Mistake. The room was actually spinning. At one point,  I asked Cody if my recliner was turning, because I was so dizzy, I couldn't remember the basic function of my equilibrium. On top of that mess, the nausea that accompanied the drugs was miserable. It was never enough to send me running toward a trash can, but enough that I curled into a ball and cried some days. Eventually, I learned to take the pill long after Ella went to sleep, because functioning as a mother wasn't possible during the first hour or so after taking a pill. I was so happy when Dr. Lane told me I didn't need to take them anymore at my 9 week check up. Another month of those things probably would have done me in. 

After weaning Ella, I was roughly ten weeks pregnant, and the exhaustion was still almost more than I could handle. I believe this can be contributed to chasing a one year old almost non-stop, and pushing through the tired because I really don't have a choice this go-around. I can't call in tired to mom duty like I did to a desk job. By the time Cody made it home every day from what has honestly been the busiest season in his work history, there was a silent battle for who was more exhausted. I'm humble enough to acknowledge that I was annoyed with his yawning, as I'm sure he grew frustrated with me saying "I'm too tired to cook." We spent money we didn't have eating out, and I'm sure that Cody silently stressed over the bank account, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I am one hundred percent sure that the sleepy/fatigue/hit by a bus feelings were worse with this pregnancy, but I would still choose this first trimester over my first trimester with Ella. So I'm very, completely, totally thankful for that.

Otherwise, this pregnancy has been pretty by the book so far. Of course, true to form, my blood pressure was off the charts at each of my appointments, so we fought a battle of medical degree vs. a woman knowing her body. A compromise of a 24 hour urinalysis was the peace treaty, and as gross as it was, the results landed in my favor. They're still monitoring it closely, but I'm thankful for an attentive doctor. Looking back, I see now that I didn't have that kind of care my first pregnancy. I had a great doctor, and my baby is here and healthy, but he was a little old school, so things went from fine to scary in a matter of minutes. I would prefer not to do that again. As gross as it was to complete the urinalysis, if we start seeing symptoms of pre-eclampsia with this pregnancy, I'll repeat the test and they'll compare the two results and be able to confirm the diagnosis. OR they'll finally say, "Kaylea is a big fat chicken and suffers white coat syndrome. All of this drama has to do with a psych-out she gives herself each time a blood pressure cuff is attached to her arm." I tried arguing this point to the doctor, even going so far as to request being admitted for a 6 hour monitoring appointment. The entire time I was in labor with Ella, my blood pressure never moved from about 116/70. I was never given magnesium, wasn't forced to lay on my left side, they eventually removed the cuff from my arm completely. I will fight this fight until I'm blue in the face. I don't believe I have a blood pressure problem. If white coat syndrome is a real thing, I'm a victim.

Wow, look at that. All I have to do is pretend somebody on the other screen is rolling their eyes at me and it sends me on a tangent. Let's blame that little rant on the hormones, Yes? Apologies. Anyway. I think that sums most everything up. I'm happy that we're almost done with this part. I still see no sign of my energy returning, but being removed from the progesterone supplement was a wonderful, magical morale lifter. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but now my job is to drag my pregnant legs toward it. We'll see ya... well... Whenever we see ya!

Three Became Four: Two Under Two

Well friends. It's true.

Cody, Kaylea & Ella Gaines will soon become Cody, Kaylea, Ella & Another Baby Gaines. 

Family of 3 becomes Family of 4. Only Child becomes sibling. Studio becomes nursery.

You can take some time to soak that in if you need to. You'll probably travel through a realm of shock, confusion, uncontrollable laughter, a round of sobs, slip back into shock, and then back to sobs. Or maybe that was just me.

I should begin by saying that I've been taking pregnancy tests since the middle of June. I was a mood swinging, cramping, excessively sweating fool. I felt that old familiar exhaustion creeping back up, and I could only remember one other time in my life that I had felt that way. I was falling asleep sitting up in the recliner in the middle of the day, sleeping when Ella slept, and falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow at night. I repeatedly informed Cody that something was off and he shrugged and said "You're in charge of two kids during the day, we had Stella for a week straight at camp and there's been no break since. I think you're just worn out." "Okay, Dear" I said, then opted to  ignore Cody and buy a pregnancy test... which was negative. Over the next week or so, I noticed my patience levels with my niece were just out of control... I struggle with letting her be a kid as it is, but I was a special kind of Malificent to her some days. After an attitude check and lengthy (shrugged off) apology to Stella... I took another test. Still negative. So after a slammed door and a hot flash, I called a doctor because clearly something was wrong with my hormones and I was pre-menopausal. I called a doctor that family friend recommended and was told I couldn't be seen until July 24th, and then if I was pregnant I couldn't be seen at all. "No problem. No pregnancies here." Famous last words.

On June 30th, I woke up in my usual state of sluggishness, and had some cramping... it felt a lot like ovulation cramps, and I know if you're not a girl that won't mean anything to you. Intrigued, I grabbed an ovulation test from under the counter. "Why did you have ovulation tests under the counter?" Well, they were meant to be used as a preventative measure after my next cycle... but because of nursing Ella, I didn't know when that was going to be. Anyway, I did the test... instant, immediate pink lines on the test. That was interesting and thoroughly confusing for me, considering that "ovulation" was over a month late. So I immediately sought the services of old trusty google, and one poster said "I always got positive ovulation tests when I was pregnant." Cue stomach dropping into the floor. We had to be a lunch function for Cody's work in 10 minutes, Ella wasn't dressed, and Stella's shoes were missing. Was this something I had time to deal with? Of course not, but boy howdy did I take that pregnancy test anyway. Negative. "Well, at least we're done with that," I said to myself... And then I scrambled around the house gathering babies and shoes. In a last ditch effort to find Stella's left shoe, I went back to the bathroom. There was a shoe... and another line on the pregnancy test. A line that wasn't there a mere 3 minutes before. My heart began racing, my phone rang, and Ella started crying all at the same time. I did another test, then another, then another. Double line, double line, double line. Another text from Cody saying "Uhm... just let me know when you get here." A quick glance at the clock said we were already 15 minutes late, and I left hating myself for taking the test right before a social function.  I cried the whole way to the church, which made Stella cry, which made Ella cry. There was an estrogen overload in that car, and I almost called Cody and feigned an illness. I dried my tears before I called him out to the help me corral children, and planned on telling him in a few weeks, after I played dumb at the doctor and found out then. JUDGE ME. 

Well... that didn't really work out for me. As soon as Cody made eye contact with me I lost it. He didn't even have to ask. Just said "You're pregnant. When did this happen?!" Tears. More tears. Collapse into his arms blubbering about New York and no break from breastfeeding. *I should add we were planning a trip to NYC for our 5 year anniversary* Cody laughed for ten minutes, probably to make me cry harder, then said "This is a good thing. Let's go eat." And just like that. I was pregnant and It was just another day for Cody.

Later that day, we sat down and actually acknowledged the bomb that those two pink lines dropped on our everyday mundane. "TWO BABIES UNDER TWO" was generally the only contribution I provided to the conversation, but eventually we cycled back around to what this meant in the more immediate tense. Did this mean weaning Ella? Did this mean we go to the doctor now, or play dumb until my appointment at the end of the month? Was there a logical first step in all of this? Well. I guess the answer is no. And truth be told, I wasn't very excited to learn that there was another human invading my womb (I think we can all agree that I'm just not a pregnancy person, okay?!) and I was avoiding the months to come like the plague. I finally called a local doctor that a few friends recommended and learned that he was taking new patients. "We can see you July 31st!" Well that's a month away, but swell. Over the next day or so, it started really bothering me that I didn't know how far along I was. Surely I was only 3 weeks, because that's when I found out with Ella, and the test last week was negative. I called the doctor back and requested bloodwork, only to be called the next day and hear "The blood test confirmed your pregnancy." The hormones spoke before I could stop them and I said something along the lines of "Well I could have peed on another stick to know that..." I ended the conversation frustrated and irritated, but still a little relieved (I dare say excited) to know that this was the real deal. It made me happy to feel happy about this tiny fetus, instead of tears and confusion. Thirty minutes later, my phone rang and the doctor's office basically said "Hey, we still have your blood, so we're going to run the HCG and Progesterone, but it'll be tomorrow before we know anything."

The next day was our fourth wedding anniversary. Around 10:30, I got an email that said the HCG levels showed I was 5 weeks along (?!?!?!?!) and that they were prescribing progesterone because my levels came back dangerously low. There were phone calls and reassurances that lasted most of the day, but I was still extremely upset. I cried for most of the day, got extremely sick from the pill, and had an overall sense of despair. How could this happen? How could it be that when I finally get excited about this tiny fetus, bad news floods our ears? Trust. A sweet word laid upon my heart in the midst of my sadness. I took on a nonchalant attitude about it all toward everyone else, saying things like "It is what it is," and "Whatever happens, happens." While my journals and time alone were filled with fierce and forceful prayers for life over this baby. It's amazing how a mother can become such a lioness when it comes to one of her young. I plead with the Lord for a beating heart and a healthy pregnancy. It was a different kind of prayer from the early days with Ella. I think the prayers with her stemmed from fear, while these prayers stemmed from determination and boldness. This baby was going to live, and I was going to make sure of it. You will never BELIEVE what happened Sunday at church. I slipped in late just in time to hear the second to last song. What song was it? Never Once. If you don't know why that might be significant to me, you need to go WAY back to my first pregnancy blog and read through it. I made it through half of the first verse before I was in full on revival sobs. It was a sweet, tender moment with the Lord, one that required repentance for my lack of trust, and one of affirmation that the Lord is sovereign. A different part of the song stuck out to me this time, and I've written it all over everything I see frequently: "Carried By Your Constant Grace, Held within Your Perfect Peace." Sobs. Even now. And from then on, I really was okay. I wasn't fake okay, guarded okay, or timid okay. It was just going to be fine, and I knew it. After what felt like the longest weekend in the world (As in playing nonchalant at Ella's party that I wasn't beside myself with stress,) I went back to the doctor for follow-up bloodwork. I waited all day long, no phone call. The next morning, I called because I couldn't stand it another minute, and got the answering service for two hours. A frustrated email and three hours later, I got a phone call from the nurse. "Hey Kaylea! Everything looks good. Your HCG is registering at 6-7 weeks along, and your progesterone looks great!" Let's all breathe a collective sigh of relief together.

And that was all she wrote. As it stands, I don't know exactly how far along I am, nor do I know my due date. Based on the information I have, we're looking at Early March (probably late February.) An ultrasound will give me those answers, but that isn't until July 31st. I am aware that July 31st was well over a month ago to those of you reading this now, but I'm writing this on July 10th, and my plan is to just push "Publish" when we announce the news. I don't have a lot of answers, but I am confident in the health of this tiny little life in my womb. I am shocked that we're so far along, and I don't know why it took so long to get a positive pregnancy test, but in the grand scheme of things, I don't care. We are infatuated with this tiny love, and while maybe I regret that it took almost losing it, we are so blessed and thankful for it now. With Ella, I had a gut feeling that she was a girl, and I'm having that same gut feeling that this one is a boy. SO if I type "him," it's totally an accident. We clearly don't know the gender of our 7 week old fetus.

I think that's all for now. I'll only be updating once a month with this baby, as a weekly pregnancy update gets old quickly, and I dare say it's impossible with a one year old. I hope you're ready to venture through this with us again, because ready or not, here comes another Gaines!

***Update*** Our Doctor's Appointment on the 31st went wonderfully, we were measuring 9 weeks along, putting our due date in the first couple of days of March. The doctor told us to prepare for a February birth!