The purpose of this blog has never been intended to serve as an advice column, nor do I claim to have all of the pregnancy questions and answers. I do, however, feel obligated as a woman to share some of the details that nobody prepared me for after the birth. I feel like if I had been prepared, things would've been WAY less dramatic. That being said, this is not a blog for male eyes. I know you're going to keep reading it anyway and then scoff at my lack of boundaries, but I won't feel sorry for you, because I tried to warn you. This is for the ladies. Not the single ones. I'm not Beyonce.

1. You will be on an adrenaline rush after the baby is born.

This one is kind of obvious, but it's important to cover all of the bases, here. I suffered through 31 hours if labor, and around hour 27, all I could think about was getting the baby OUT so that I could sleep in peace. I had great plans to hold her until around 11, then send her off to the nursery for a sleep I had been looking forward to since I was about 5 months pregnant. I was going to sleep with reckless abandon, and no one was going to stop me... Except for me, apparently. I was so exhausted that I had transitioned into a super alert state of delirium. I was wide awake after I sent the baby to the nursery, and even though my body was so exhausted that I literally couldn't move any of my limbs, my mind was racing. I was so in love with my baby that my heart was still pounding, I kept looking at pictures of her on My phone, I wiggled my toes in an almost anxious fashion, and I waited for sleep to come. When sleep finally showed up at my door, so did the nursery. It was time to feed my tiny baby, which leads me to my next point.

2.  You will not sleep the first night.

The nursery brings your baby to you every two hours (if you're nursing.) This part of the tale is extremely exhausting and extremely hard. You see, your baby doesn't know emotions yet, so all they know is that they've had an especially long day, and they're ready to sleep. I don't know much about newborns, but I have learned that they aren't waking up unless it's of their own accord. Maybe I have a child who likes sleep more than the average bear, but from the day she was born, she would not wake up to eat unless she woke up on her own. This was excruciatingly frustrating, considering that she was sleeping for 4 hours at a time, and the hospital demands the baby eat every two hours. The nursery would not back off, and eventually decided that leaving her in the room was the best thing for me,  because that way I could "bond" with her. Don't be me. Page the nursery back to the room and demand that they take the baby. You'll thank me. This leads me to the second half of the sleepless first night: regular nurses. Because I had a c-section, my vitals had to be checked on the hour, every hour. This meant someone coming in my room, checking my blood pressure, temperature, and pulse every time I started to doze off. It was horribly frustrating, but fortunately, they had me on some pretty intense pain killers, so I was fairly unaware of my annoyance. I don't know what happens to the people who deliver naturally, maybe they leave you alone at night, but if you end up being gutted like a fish, prepare for a long night.

3. Breastfeeding is easily the hardest part of post-partum.

I didn't read too much about breastfeeding, mostly because I knew it was a natural experience, but also because I thought it would come easily to me. I was so looking forward to the beautiful moment when my baby daughter would latch on, and I would provide sweet nectar for her to thrive and grow on. That moment didn't come. My daughter opted to take an approach that involved latching on for 2 seconds and sleeping, or latching on for 2 seconds and screaming her head off. I tried for two days straight to feed her, all the while enduring pressure from the nursery to "supplement" her with formula "until we found a rhythm" and going on 5 hours of sleep in 48 hours. I cried and cried every time I tried to feed her, and pondered what was wrong with me as a woman. I couldn't feed naturally, I couldn't deliver naturally, and eventually the hormones had me so depressed that I allowed a formula feeding. While I was wheeling her back the nursery, she threw up every ounce of the formula that they had forced down her baby throat. It smelled awful, broke my heart in two, and rejuvenated my desire to feed her myself. I'll be honest and tell you that it wasn't until I was home from the hospital, exhausted on the couch, and making a half-hearted attempt to feed her while I took a nap that she latched on for the first time. She ate for about 10 minutes and then slept. For 3 hours. Babies really have a mind of their own, and the nursery is going to make you feel like a bad mother if you don't feed your child every 2 hours. I would encourage you to meet with the lactation consultant at the hospital, because she was wonderful to remind me that the baby's stomach is only the size of a marble for the first week of life. They really don't need much, and they'll make sure and let you know when they do. Breastfeeding is hard, feels like the world's most UN-natural thing, and you'll be tempted to give up. Don't. Once Ella got it down, it really did become beautiful to me, and watching her little fat rolls pop up Pushes me to soldier on. It is natural, it IS beautiful, and it's free. Every mom loves free things.

4. You're not as strong as you think you are.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. I was basically sliced in half to deliver my daughter. Doctors cut through skin, muscle, fat... you name it. And I was up and walking around the next day. You're on some INSANE pain killers, and even though you kind of say "Ow" every time you take a step, it's a very tolerable pain. But the pain killers are masking the extent of your pain. If you don't make yourself rest, by the end of day 2 of recovery, you'll be miserable with the pain of trying to move in bed, as they start weaning you off of painkillers so that you can go home the next day. Once again, I don't know how it works for natural births... but c-sections are painful. Don't be me, don't be the hero. Stay in your bed and cuddle your newborn. They smell like heaven.

5. You will be absolutely insane for the first week.

Like, we're talking bi-polar, schizophrenic, and manic-depressive all rolled into one giant blob. I am quite certain that Cody pondered leaving me at the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was very easily stressed, moved to hysterics over things that wouldn't normally bother me, and so exhausted that I had a mini-panic attack on the second night. This is a true story. People had been coming in and out of my hospital room all day long, so I hadn't slept at all. Never mind the fact that I was still running on fumes from labor and the first night. All I could do was cry by about ten o'clock that night. Cody tried hugging me, consoling me, comfort in all of it's forms, but it only made me cry harder. I knew I was acting like an idiot, which only made me madder, which only made me cry harder. Cody knew that if the baby stayed in the room with me again, I wouldn't sleep. He called the nursery, and while I've never hated my husband, I think that watching them roll the baby away was the closest I've ever come to it. I was already crying, but that flipped a switch in my crazy brain, and I was gasping for breath between sobs for about 30 minutes. Cody basically sat in silence on the other side of the room and waited for me to fall asleep. When I finally fell asleep, I didn't move. Even when the nurses came in to check my vitals, I was so tired that the literally had to lift my arm for me to put the blood pressure cuff on. I slept like I've never slept, and even though I hated that they gave Ella formula that night, if I hadn't stopped and slept, I have no doubts that I would have suffered a serious bout of post-partum depression. To be completely honest, I thought that getting home would be the key to feeling like myself again. Nope. When I got home, I realized that I didn't have a doctor to page about every weird thing Ella did. I didn't have nurses there to weigh her and make sure she was eating enough. I didn't have nurses to track my recovery and calm me whenever I felt a weird pain or twinge by my incision. I was on my own, and it felt lonely. I didn't know how to express this without crying, but I didn't want to freak everyone out by trying... So I basically didn't talk for about a week. I knew my parents were concerned, I knew Cody was wondering if he would ever get his wife back, and I absolutely hated the way I felt. It's normal. Your hormones are running rampant, and it takes a week or two to balance out a bit. The first week really is about surviving. Cry when you feel like it, and take showers when you feel like you're about to lose your mind. It helps.

6. The Second night home is the hardest.

The first night was tough, don't get me wrong, But it was manageable because I was prepared for sleepless nights with a newborn. I survived the first night (even though we ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room, and she slept for 3 hours, tops) and didn't rest the next day. I'm going to be really honest with you and say that the whole "Sleep when she sleeps" thing is crap. You're still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from the night before, and you're constantly checking on the baby, even if she's in a cradle right beside you. It takes a couple of weeks before you're okay with letting them sleep without poking them every 10 minutes. When the second night rolls around, you regret not taking a nap immediately. Your body is beginning to shut down, and you'll fall asleep in places you never would have imagined. I fell asleep in the glider with my head hanging down to my chest. I still have a knot in my neck from it. The baby is still trying to establish a routine, and their only source of communication is crying. It's completely okay to cry with them. I know I did. The second night is the night that you'll wonder what you were thinking by choosing to reproduce. This doesn't make you a bad person, and it really doesn't make you a bad mother. It makes you a human being. It means that you're still functioning despite overwhelming exhaustion. It means that you will miss life before the baby, when you could at least sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. It means that the hormones coursing through your body are doing their job. It's a tough time, because you're so thankful for your beautiful baby, but you're so miserably tired. It will be awhile before it becomes "the new normal" and you'll learn how to function again. Hold on!


7. You're not hemorrhaging.

... Just trust me. You're not.

8. There are tools to help you survive.

I have very quickly discovered a couple of baby items that have been our saving grace. I'll share them here, just in case you want to investigate on your own time.

This is where our daughter sleeps for the time being. It started as a "nap" idea, but she has slept like a queen in it since the very beginning. She sleeps in it beside my bed at night, but also uses it for naps during the day. I love it because it's tall enough for me to be able to reach in and grab her at night, but low enough that I can still roll over and look down to make sure shes okay. The cradle keeps her at a slight incline, so she's not flat on her back, and I completely believe that it's a major contributor to her lack of tummy problems. It folds up for travel (I take it to my mom's house when we visit,) and it's super lightweight. I have loved and adored this cradle. I'm so glad we chose it over a bassinet.

 

This is a nursing pillow called "My Brest Friend..." and it is. It really is. You can't tell from the picture, but each side of the pillow has a small raised pillow for sweet baby heads to rest on while they nurse. The pillow straps around me, which is one of the greatest advantages it carries over the Boppy. The pocket is great for storing cell phones (I use my timer on my phone to track her feedings.) This has been a complete lifesaver for late night feedings, because I'm able to throw her on the pillow and lean against my headboard for feedings. I don't have to worry about holding her up, smothering her if I fall asleep, or keeping her latched. It has been my favorite baby item to date.

 



 9. Fluids are crucial.

Even if you aren't breastfeeding your child, your body still needs the hydration to help recovery. I wish I had known this. I wish I had maintained my gallon of water a day immediately after recovery instead of waiting 2 weeks to start it back up. I'm 3 weeks post-partum, and I've been back on my gallon of water a day for 3 days. I have not suffered a single after-pain... those are real, by the way. After-pains are pains that are similar to light contractions, and it's just your body putting everything back together without your uterus in the way. I noticed them the most while nursing, but since the water is back in my system, I haven't felt them at all. I haven't had an breakthrough bleeding (just being real,) and I feel more like myself than I have since birth. It's no coincidence. It's the water. Stay hydrated... ESPECIALLY if you're nursing, because otherwise you won't produce enough to satisfy your tiny little leech.

10. It gets Better, almost overnight.

I'm not saying it gets any easier to feed a baby at 3 o'clock in the morning, and I'm definitely not saying that it's easy period... but it gets better. You begin to see the fruits of your labor through tiny baby fat rolls, good reports from doctors, and sweet baby grins. Your baby begins to see you as a comforter, and instead of screaming until you feed her, she calms when you pick her up and talk to her. She might scream again a few minutes later, but the satisfaction of knowing that she's beginning to recognize you is one of the most wonderful feelings. The first time Ella smiled at me, the world stopped spinning, and as tired as I was, I spent the next hour looking at her sweet face and wondering how we were ever "the Gaines" without her. Your husband starts treating you like his wife again instead of walking on eggshells around you. You'll find that you enjoy hugging and kissing him again. He'll change the way he loves you, and it's all because he loves you as his child's mother, which is a new, tender kind of love. He'll still tease you and playfully tap your behind when he walks by, but you'll notice that he hugs you a little longer, and kisses your cheek a little more often. You'll feel so incredibly adored that you won't care about the strange new shape of your stomach. The only thing you'll care about is this new dynamic to your marriage, and eventually you'll smile every time you realize that you're a family instead of a couple. Everything about your world is different, but somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The feedings and constant sleepy kind of become part of the new normal, and you start to feel like yourself again. Eventually, the baby sleeps for 4 hours at a time instead of thirty minute intervals, and those extra two hours feel like twelve. Ella is a wonderful sleeper, and she has been since our fifth night at home, but I try not to brag about that, because I know others that have 6 week old babies that are still up every 2 hours. Every baby is different, and hopefully yours is going to be a dream, but be thankful for the 4 hour stretches. I know I am.

Okay. That's probably enough. There are other things that go on that weren't appropriate for blogging, but I'm still thrilled to discuss them if you have questions. In the meantime, prepare yourself, ask the Lord to prepare your heart, and Sleep while you can. Cliche advice, but you'll wish you had listened.


Medium Marge Out.

Ella Morgan: The Arrival

I guess it's a good thing I bared my soul in week 36, because it was my last pregnancy blog. I know I mentioned there that we were full term and baby could come at any minute, but I really didn't understand the weight of my words, apparently. I'm a little bummed that I won't get to do the 37 week blog, because I was half-way done and it was actually a pretty fun post, but this tiny baby yawning on my chest makes it okay. Before we get too far into things, I want to give everybody fair warning that while bringing my daughter into this world was one of the most beautiful moments of my entire life, the process was pretty disgusting, and some of that is going to be shared in this blog. I also need to express that it is about 4 o'clock In the morning, and I tend to get a little weepy and sentimental running on limited sleep and lots of hormones. So if you aren't one for the "details" of a story or the joy that consumes my soul now, this isn't the blog for you.  It was only fair that I warned you.

On Monday, July 1st, I went for my 37 week check-up. Technically, I was 37 weeks and three days, but it's apparently all the same. I was feeling fantastic, decked out in Rangers gear from head to toe, and plotting a day of cleaning and naps. I got to the doctor's office and there was a woman in full blown labor sitting across from me. Next to me, there was a woman going through a list of foods she needed before her induction the next day. I smiled a little bit, because I was thrilled that in just a few short weeks, it would be me either dying from labor pains or bossing Cody around as I prepared to give birth. As usual, When my name was called, I had to step on the scale, and noticed I gained 2 pounds in a week with no changes to my diet. We took my blood pressure and I closed my eyes while the machine pumped the daylight out of my arm. It took several minutes to get the reading, and when the numbers popped up on the screen, I almost came out of the chair. 149/97. That's pretty much 150/100, y'all. The nurse immediately started asking all sorts of questions and took me to a room. My doctor came in about a minute later (even though I knew there were still people in front of me.) He was very calm, collected, and casual about everything as he checked her heartbeat, listened to mine, and prepped me to check my cervix. Of course, it was no where close to ready, and only a little "softened." He did say he could feel her head, which was exciting for me because it meant the process was starting. I started to relax, prepared to hear "bedrest", and thanked The Lord that she was okay. He sent the nurse for a sonogram machine and asked me where Cody was (Mondays are incredibly busy for him and my appointment was late morning. I had forced him to go to work with the promise that he wouldn't miss anything.) He found Ella on the sonogram machine and explained as he went that he was checking position and fluid. He turned the machine off, said "Hey, so, I want you to call Cody and tell him to wrap up whatever he's doing at work and come on back, because we're going to have a baby." Of course that grabbed my attention, and after a delayed reaction of "Ummmm, what?" He explained that Ella was completely okay, but her fluid was incredibly low, there were calcium deposits on my placenta, and my blood pressure/weight gain pointed to pre-eclampsia (again.) he basically said that since we were 37 1/2 weeks, it was safer for her to be out than in, so we were going to induce. I called Cody, he kind of sat in silence for awhile, then got REALLY excited. The doctor had me go home and get my stuff, then head straight to the hospital. I called my parents to meet me at the house, tried not to throw up, and took a deep breath. The moment I had cried out for only days before was here, and I had no idea how to cope with it.

Admission to the hospital was quick and easy (pre-registering has that effect) and it still felt surreal to walk into the room and change into a hospital gown. The nurses immediately hooked the blood pressure machine up, and we got a reading of 153/98. Baby was cool as a cucumber, with her heartbeat hanging out right at 160. They shoved a needle into the side of my arm, right by my wrist (ow) and checked my cervix. In one hour, I had dilated a centimeter and was 60% effaced. I celebrated and smiled, thinking that the day might not be too dramatic. The nurse placed a pill by my cervix that was supposed to dissolve and hopefully begin labor. I had to stay in bed and on my left side for 2 hours. At the end of those 2 hours, I was allowed to get up and walk around for a bit since my blood pressure had dropped to 118/77. Annoying, right? As soon as I stood up, I felt a contraction. Nothing bad, just enough that I noticed it. About thirty minutes later, I was put back in bed and had my cervix checked. No change. I watched Sleepless in Seattle and A League of Their Own and smiled that two of my favorite movies were on TV while I was waiting for my baby to come. Two hours later, another pill was placed, and not even fifteen minutes later, I was having contractions about 2 minutes apart, and about thirty minutes later, the needle was going off of the charts because they were so strong. Cody was downstairs eating dinner by then, and I think he only panicked a little when he walked back in to find his previously happy wife in a ball of tears. He sat beside me, held my hand, and kissed my cheek each time I survived another contraction. I was having them about a minute apart, and while I wouldn't say that the pain was enough to make me scream and slap Cody for putting me in this position, it was a pretty bad pain. I think the very worst part of it is that you do great for the first few hours, and then you just want them to stop for a minute. All I wanted was a break from the pressure and pain. But that wasn't happening. This went on for about an hour before my new nurse, Amanda, came in and said "Hey, I've been watching your contractions on the monitor, and I know you haven't asked yet, but I called the anesthesiologist. He'll be here in about thirty minutes. Those are really big, fast-paced contractions and they're obviously not pleasant since you're crying." I almost hugged her, but it felt like my hips were breaking, so I didn't. She checked my cervix and told me I was finally a two, and I almost punched her because I was annoyed that I wasn't at least a 5. Your mood changes rapidly and without warning during labor. Shortly after, the anesthesiologist came in, and even though he was completely in love with himself, I tried to be patient, because he had the drugs, and I needed them. The epidural was not a pleasant experience for me, mostly because he didn't tell me what he was doing, then told me not to move when he shoved a needle unexpectedly into my spine. Half way into the process, a contraction kicked in, and I was pondering ways to kill him when he said "You really shouldn't move right now."

Epidurals are a blessing and a curse. Well, for me anyway. It was wonderful to stop feeling the contractions, but I hated not being in control of my legs. It was about 9 o'clock at this point, and hunger was making itself evident. I was incredibly thirsty, and already battling dry mouth. I chewed ice chips like it was the best thing I'd ever had, but my mood was gradually declining. The next 12 hours were the most miserable part of the entire experience for me, as I was basically paralyzed in a bed, and had to page a nurse anytime I wanted to roll over. Cottonmouth was the worst part of it all, as I knew water was still hours away. I was awake until 4 o'clock in the morning, my body held prisoner, and labor had almost come to a standstill. I don't know that I've ever prayed as hard or as continuously as I did that night. The contractions were hardly even peaking. I had another pill placed at 4, and I was foolish enough to ask what happened if the 4th pill didn't work. The nurse told me we would have a 12 hour wait period, then start again. That meant another 24 hours with no food, no water, and no legs. She checked me again, still a 2. No changes in my softening cervix either. I finally fell asleep about 6:35, and my new nurse woke me up at 7:30 to check me. No changes. I threw my head back against the pillow and asked when I would get the 4th pill. She shook her head, said "The Pills obviously aren't working for us." And started a pitocin drip. Mother of mercy, even in the midst of the epidural, I could feel my uterus contracting in response. I was delighted. About 2 hours later, she came back in and said that my doctor wanted to stop the pitocin drip (it elevates blood pressure) if I wasn't dilating. She checked... No changes. At all. Defeat began to fill my heart as I waited for the 4th and final pill before a 12 hour wait. She mentioned that I would be able to eat during the 12 hours, but all I heard was that it was another 12 hours trapped in a bed before another 12 hour round of pills. I was so, so, so irritable. I was disgusted with my attitude, and I pity anyone who dared to converse with me. About noon, Cody was brave enough to come and love on me a little bit. I lost it. Tears fell faster than they've ever fallen before. Of course, the nurse walked in right in the middle of it all, and said that my doctor was in an emergency C-Section, but she would make sure he came in immediately. Well, about an hour later my doctor walked in. He checked my cervix (again) and sighed. Still a two. He sat back in a chair and said "Did your mom deliver naturally?" I said "Nope." Then he went through an entire list of scenarios and basically said that because of the position of the cervix, Ella's decision to disengage her head and hide in my ribs, and the lack of progress, he felt that there was about a 1 in 10 chance of me having her naturally. He said something about my pelvic bones also being an issue, but I had stopped listening. I already knew this meant I was going under the knife whether it was on July 2nd or July 3rd. He was wonderful enough to still allow me to believe that the decision was mine, and laughed when I said "If I was your wife and you loved me madly, what would you tell me to do?" He stood up, told the nurse to book the O.R. at 5, and said we would deliver her via C-Section. That was a weird moment for me. I knew it was the best option, and if we're being honest, the Lord prepared my heart the entire pregnancy for a C-Section. I knew. I just knew. But a piece of me was still sad, because I knew that I would be the last to see her. I knew I would have to go to recovery and go through endless vital checks because my body couldn't do what it was created to. Part of me wonders what would've happened if I had gone into labor naturally, but the other side of me knows that her life is pre-written, and nothing about that day took the Lord by surprise.

My mood lifted significantly after learning that the end was in sight. I had about a three hour wait, but I was on cloud nine. About an hour later, I gradually started feeling itchy across my chest and back. It spread to my arms and legs, and I finally buzzed the nurse because I was tearing my skin and bleeding from excessive scratching. The nurse immediately started looking for the source of the problem... I should probably mention that I have a pretty severe latex allergy. Her only conclusion was that it might be my catheter, and I told her that we sure weren't taking it out to check it now. She gave my IV a shot of something about 30 times stronger than benadryl, and I felt immediate relief. She warned me that I might feel sleepy, and I thought "Um, sleepier than going on 3 hours of sleep?" But I didn't. I just smiled and nodded. Not even 5 minutes later, I started feeling a sensation that I don't want to go into excessive detail about, but I basically thought my water broke. Cody threw the blanket back to check, and I knew by the look on his face that my water wasn't what I was feeling. My mom ran to find a nurse, and all I could do was lay in the bed and pray. I felt the blood start gushing again right about the time the steroid filled benadryl kicked in. It was a surreal moment because I couldn't decide if it was the medicine or blood loss that was making me feel sleepy. I fought with my entire being to stay awake. The nurse came in, changed my bedding, told me to relax, and had me watch Ella's heartbeat. No changes. Her sweet tiny heart never slowed, skipped a beat, or accelerated. The nurse assured me that it was because my cervix was irritated, and it likely shifted back toward where it needed to be, causing a bleed. I told her I was feeling sleepy, and she smiled and said "Then go to sleep." I prayed that the Lord would knock me out for the next hour and a half, as I couldn't stay there and think about the situation. He sure answered that prayer. Apparently during that time, Ella woke up and started moving all around my stomach. Nurses kept coming in and adjusting the fetal monitor because she kept disappearing from the radar. It was apparently a panic filled hour for those aware of the circumstances, but I was blissfully unaware. The anesthesiologist came in and started talking to me about the surgery, but I couldn't focus on his words. I knew it was go time, but I couldn't make myself wake up. It was nice to be so laid back about it all, but frustrating that I felt too drugged up to really absorb what was happening.

 They wheeled me into the O.R. and my body started quivering. I was assured that hormones were causing the problem and everything would be fine. Cody came in and I immediately felt the quivers cease. It was a wonderful feeling to know that just the sight of him could steady me. I was still feeling overwhelmingly sleepy, and only snapped out of it when the anesthesiologist said "Since they've already made all of the major cuts, I'm going to assume that you're not feeling anything." I focused in on the weird sensations on the other side of the curtain, and while it's not something I would do everyday, it really did feel cool. I heard them count to three and both doctors started shoving my daughter out of my ribs. They were both shaking because of how hard they were pushing, and I felt it as soon as they finally unwedged her. About 30 seconds later, I heard him say "Cody, get your camera" and watched Cody's face move from anxious to a state of awe. He kept saying "Oh my Gosh. Oh my Gosh. Kaylea... Oh my Gosh." My husband fell in love with my daughter and I was blessed enough to watch it happen from my side of the curtain. Of course, I blame the drugs, but all I could say was "Is she bald?!" and Cody laughed. "No, Kay. She's not bald at all." They whisked her by me and over to the table so that they could get the fluid out of her lungs. A short time later, I heard a sweet baby cough and a whimper. I smiled, felt the tears well up, and thanked God for her life. They let Cody hold her, but sat him down behind me, so I still couldn't see her. They whisked her to the nursery to start oxygen (Which she didn't even need) and took Cody with them. I was left to listen to the doctor's talk about their weekend plans while they stitched me up, and then I was wheeled to recovery. The quivering started again, and it freaked everyone out. I had to assure them I wasn't seizing and it was apparently my body's response to the birth. Cody came in and showed me pictures of a tiny baby with a ton of hair, and my heart was full. I encouraged him to go and see his tiny baby, and I only had to encourage him once. People filed in and out of the room over the next half hour, and then I was taken to my post-partum room. About 15 minutes later, they wheeled my tiny baby in, and I almost clawed the nurse's eyes out when she made me go through a long list of do's and don'ts before she would let me hold her. Part of me wanted to scream "LEAVE, DOOFUS!"... but I didn't.

After the world's longest (and lamest) speech, she placed a baby in my arms. I looked down at her tiny face and felt closer to the Lord than I ever have in my life. I couldn't form words, and I think I said "Hey!" about 30 times. My heart was racing, my cheeks were blushing, and I was completely in love. Of course, Ella took the opportunity to let out a giant scream, and reality settled back in. I looked over at my husband and fell in love with him in a different way. I was indubitably the farthest thing from his mind, because all he could do was kiss our baby and say "Daddy loves you so much," but I didn't mind. The pieces from the past 9 months fell into place. Every ache, every hurt, every hormone, every tear-filled evening during the first trimester, every stretch mark, every pound gained, and every MOMENT of the pregnancy made sense. It was the greatest sacrifice I've ever made for another person, but looking into the eyes of something that was made out of love was overwhelmingly wonderful. I had waited anxiously to see what sort of creature Cody and I's genes would form, and instead of cringing, I saw the most beautiful face looking back up at us. I always kind of knew that even if she looked like Smeagle, I would think she was wonderful, but I can say with certainty that she is absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I look into her eyes and see her Daddy's staring back. She smiles (I refuse to believe that it's gas) and I see a dimple that my Dad and I both have. Her tiny toes are just as funny looking as they were on the ultrasound, and even though they probably won't be very pretty when she's older, they're cute now. I don't even have to mention how completely perfect her hair is. It blows me away every time I look at pictures.

I see the Lord's design in every facet of her being, and my heart races when I consider the times that I thought we might not see a baby Gaines. Our hearts are full of love, and we believe more than ever that the Lord is good, and that he's super creative. I am certain that we serve a God who really does want good things for us, even if our timing doesn't line up with his. I see now that the journey to get here was hard, but I don't think I was ready for how drastic and life changing the process would be this side of a year ago. It sounds so cliche to say, but your world really does change overnight. I went from arrogantly assuming that parenthood was the reward for 9 months of work, but I think it's better to warn you that pregnancy is the easy part. After the baby is here, you don't care about anything else but their well being, health, and general happiness. Sometimes, it's easy to see that they're content. Other times, you feel so helpless that you cry with them in the wee hours of the morning. The difference between the two phases is that in pregnancy, you're sacrificing your body for a tiny stranger. In parenthood, you're happily sacrificing your sanity to make sure that your child is provided for. It's the hardest, most exhausting, sometimes even the most stressful thing I've ever done. But it's also the second greatest thing I've ever done in my life. The first was marrying Cody. I know our lives will never be the same, and I probably won't ever fall into a deep sleep again, but man, when I look at her baby face, I know it's worth it all.

 

That pretty much sums up her arrival. I plan to blog about Post-partum and things I wish I had known, but that's a different story for a different time. I also plan to continue blogging about Ella's life, but I'm only promising to do so once a month. I'll be consistent with it though, I promise. I guess I should sign off of this party now, because I hear a baby stirring, which means that it's almost time for Gaines Family Dairy to open. See ya later!

Large Deflating Marge Out.

Week 36

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.