I promised a post on Sunday but couldn’t wait to update my blog friends, so I’m doing a quick picture-less, graphic-less post from my iPad.
IT’S A GIRL!!!!
Pictures coming tomorrow. After all the excitement of our gender reveal party, I’m in bed at 8:30 and crashing hard.
I’m still in shock. A girl! We are going to have so much fun. And Mr. Right is going to be such a great dad to a little girl, don’t you think?
So blessed. My heart is full.
Last night we went in for our 15-week sonogram, and being a little people-pleaser like his/her mama (or exhibitionist, in which case, we’re all in trouble) Baby Right went full spread eagle the moment the sonogram started. Way to go babe – apparently the tech got an up close and personal view. Way to cooperate for mama.
Now comes the hard part – waiting for the big reveal, which will happen Saturday night with both of our families and some of our close friends. It was killer to go to bed with that sealed envelope just BEGGING me to take a peak. But I’m the world’s WORST liar, so the last thing I could do was cheat and then pull it off – everybody would totally know. And so I’m in the dark, just like everybody else.
So in the meantime, I thought it would be fun to make predictions – what do YOU think Baby Right is? Here’s what others are saying:
Both of our moms, my father-in-law, and Mr. Right are convinced it’s a boy.
My sister and my dad are convinced it’s a girl.
And until this week, I was totally convinced it’s a girl. Between the nausea and the daily pimples, I’ve just known. Or, maybe it’s a symptom of me being too tired to wash my face properly before bed.
But for some reason, this week I haven’t been as sure. I only crave salty/savory foods right now (I can’t STAND anything sweet), and I’m carrying the baby low and in front, which tends to point toward boy. Then again, I haven’t had a good meal in almost four months, which could account for the fact that I’m not carrying “baby girl weight” anywhere else. As soon as this nausea clears, all of that may change.
So there we go. I really have no idea. I’m going to be in love with whatever it turns out to be – whether it means a lifetime of hairbows and hairbraiding, or superheroes and football (Lord, I don’t think I can handle a lifetime of football).
PS–I dreamed I was feeding my baby last night – and it was a girl…
Leave your predictions below. I’ll let you know Sunday what we find out.
I have a secret.
Like, no idea whatsoever. Thank goodness for Google.
Speaking of Google stories, last night I was telling Mr. Right some things I had learned from friends about breast feeding, and I mentioned mastitis. And that’s when he said, “I know all about that.”
(me): “What?”
(Mr. Right): “Yeah, Cows get that.”
Oh yeah, I forget, I married a man from the country. Who used to show animals at the stock show. It turns out everything Mr. Right knows about pregnancy and having babies, he learned from cows.
I’m either in very good hands… or I’m in trouble. Time will tell.
But back to babies and how little I know. We’ve started to talk about the nursery, and as we look at various products, I need to know:
1. We need a rocker/glider. What did you use? Did you like the wooden kind with a big/comfy cushion…
or the plush lazy-boy-like chair?
I thought I wanted the plush chair, but now I’m wondering if I would want the rocker with a cushion to offer head/neck support as I feed in the middle of the night. Please tell me what you think.
And, if you have one you loved, where did you get it? We don’t want to break the bank, but I want to invest in something comfortable, since I figure I’ll be spending some late nights rocking Baby Right in it.
One more question – some folks have suggested putting a twin bed in the nursery. Moms, did you do that, or did you wish you had?
Discuss amongst yourselves… in the comments section. I’m all ears.
About a week ago, during one of my many hormone-induced tearful meltdowns, Mr. Right kept asking me what was wrong, what I was upset about, and I couldn’t even verbalize it.
In our house, we call that fracturing from reality.
Does that mean I’ve officially punched my ticket to the crazy train? When you’re sobbing and you can’t even explain why you’re upset? How do you give words to that crazy cocktail of fear and nausea and exhaustion and frustration with not feeling like yourself for ten weeks in a row. And I think there may have been a discussion about childcare in there somewhere (which I can’t think about right now – it’s too hard).
And then, as Mr. Right did his best to talk me off of my cliff and bring me back to reality, he did that thing that drives me crazy in the moment (pitfalls of marrying a minister) but really gets me thinking later. My husband is incredibly wise.
He asked me to tell him one thing God has been teaching me through all this.
Which is totally the right question – how has He redeemed the past ten weeks of nausea and complications and sitting on my couch watching 13 seasons of Law & Order SVU while sipping on red Gatorade?
What made it worse was that I had no good answer. I don’t know. I can’t see it yet. After being so sick as a newlywed, I was able to look back and see so many things God taught me. But right now? Right now I just can’t see past right now.
It may take awhile to be able to answer that question. But in the meantime, I will choose to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer. And Baby Right, as tough as this is, you’re worth it.
Oh friends. Where do I begin? My brain no longer works, my body is overcome with exhaustion, and just when I have 2-3 good “almost” nausea-free days (while still on the Zofran, mind you), the nausea comes back and punches me in the face and I find myself lying on the floor of my office, trying to regain the will to go vertical so I can finish out my day with some semblance of professionalism.
You could say I am crawling to this first trimester finish line. And I’m a bit scared that my body missed the your-second-trimester-starts-on-Saturday-and-you’re-supposed-to-start-feeling-awesome memo.
I spent my anniversary too sick to go out for a simple, quickie dinner date with my man to a local restaurant. Not even a fancy night out, which we knew was asking too much (although it’s still in the plans for when I feel awesome again – that’s going to happen someday, right?). Instead we celebrated our anniversary with me in saggy yoga pants, eating take-out on china by candlelight and then me going to bed alone around 9:30, barely able to hold my head up from exhaustion.
Is this what a pity party looks like?
It seems so selfish of me – I am so very relieved to no longer be dealing with the pregnancy complications I had up until week 12. The stress of bleeding every few days and never knowing if that was going to be the time that I lost my baby. Heck, if I think back real hard (which is tough, because this baby has used all of my brain cells for sustenance and there are very few left for me), I remember the many months of disappointment as we tried to get pregnant and it didn’t happen. The longing I felt while sitting through baby dedication at church.
So don’t get me wrong. I am filled with joy. I am grateful. As I look down at my tiny baby bump (which seems kind of soon to be showing, but I definitely am and will take pictures as soon as I have a day where I feel halfway cute when I get home), I finally feel like there’s outward evidence of all of the crazy things going on inside my body. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real that there’s a tiny life in there, since I can’t feel him/her yet. But then I saw baby’s heartbeat after a big scare (and cried), and saw baby kicking on the ultrasound two weeks ago (and cried), and I’m reminded that there’s a precious little life inside. It’s worth it. I still choose this.
Plus, in happier news, pregnancy has done wonders for my hair. I am one step below hair model status– even on rainy days it just does what I want it to do.
The other upside is that I usually run a pretty high-stress life. I go non-stop, commit to too much, and rest too little. That has easily been fixed these past eight weeks as I’ve quickly become a hermit. I’ve been to church once since Thanksgiving. Once. I’ve been to Target once, and the grocery store once. I haven’t hung out with friends. I’ve seen nobody except for coworkers and family. I no longer feel pressure to be Martha Stewart – to make crafts or cook amazing dinners or have the perfect house. I don’t even wash my hair every day. I feel free.
I did clean out my bathroom cabinet on one good day. And I did a few loads of laundry, although poor Mr. Right had to put it all away (and has done the rest of the laundry). I married a very good man. And in true transparency – today is January 9 and my Christmas tree is still up. I hope to have it down before the baby arrives. In July.
It’s okay to admit that I’m not one of those perky pregnant girls who rocks this whole pregnancy thing. Right now I’m a hot mess with pockets filled with preggie pops and nausea wristbands that have replaced my bracelets and an unnatural addiction to chips and salsa (the only food I really love). I hope this will prove to be a freeing experience for me – I no longer care what other people think about me, because frankly I don’t have the energy. And that’s a great way to live.
Simply by getting up every day, I prove that I am tough.
Week 13 starts on Saturday, and I hope to emerge from my cocoon soon, ready to see friends again. Ready to shop in real stores again (did you know you can buy toilet paper on Amazon?!). I’ll even wash my hair. Probably.
By now you’re probably thinking, “All that crazy girl sews is yellow and gray triangle quilts.” And you would be right… almost. I have been in a weird phase lately, but I’ve also got dozens of quilt ideas swimming around in my head, just waiting to make it out onto my sewing studio floor. The only thing that’s stopping me is time and money. Those silly quilts require a lot of both!
One of the quilts I’ve been aching to make is the strip and flip quilt I found on Cluck Cluck Sew’s blog. She posted a great tutorial, and I had been jonesing to do some sort of strip quilt, so it was a match made in heaven.
This is just the unfinished quilt top, which I made with a Moda jelly roll I picked up at my local quilting store. I’d never sewn from a jelly roll before – they’re expensive (this one cost $41), and I typically only buy fabric on sale, but it saved me from having to cut much of anything, and the entire quilt took me less than two hours to piece. Plus, I love ombre rainbow effect – such a nice change from the muted colors I’ve been addicted to lately.
I picked up a brightly colored backing and am in the process of quilting it right now – I hope to have pictures of the finished quilt up on the blog next week!
This quilt will be going to a special someone at a later date – I’ll tell you more later, but for now, it’s a secret.
Wow, what a week we had last week. In just one week we:
Got a nephew. Refinanced our house. Built a new patio and vegetable garden. Spent two evenings at the hospital with the baby. Spent a third evening in the emergency room with another loved one. I did a 9-hour television commercial shoot that involved me leaving my house at 5:30 in the morning. We celebrated two Fathers’ Days. We hosted a dinner party at our home. We went to a wedding for Mr. Right’s old roommate. We cheated on our Paleo diet for the first time.
And we took one of the longest, best Sunday afternoon naps we’ve taken in years.
Thankfully today begins a new, somewhat less exciting week, and I’m finally organized enough to post BABY PICTURES!
In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit smitten with my nephew. He’s just about the most precious thing you’ve ever seen, and I’m happy to report that my sister is recovering amazingly. I hope it runs in the family, because she made having a baby look easy.
So without further delay, I hope you enjoy a few shameless baby pictures of our sweet nephew Luke James, born June 11, 2012, a full week overdo, to my sister and brother-in-law. He’s our first nephew (we already have a niece, Ella, who’s almost three, and another nephew coming in October to Mr. Right’s brother and his wife) and first child on my side of the family.
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| On his birthday – June 11, 2012 |
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| Those tiny fingers, and even tinier finger nails! |
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| My husband, the baby whisperer |
Oh that little face just melts my heart. He is such a sweet, laid-back baby. Little Luke, I know God has big plans for you, and your family loves you dearly!
I have hit my wall, slid down that wall, and ended up a wet puddle on the floor. To say I’ve had an intense 24 hours is an understatement – between an unexpected and very stressful trip to the ER (and a phone call that made my heart stop – thankfully all is now fine), an all-day commercial shoot that involved a huge crew of people in multiple locations, and about 4 hours of sleep between those two… I’m pretty darn useless.
So instead I’ll just post a picture of my dear nephew Luke. As tired as I was, I couldn’t help but swing by his house to hold him for a little while. Holding a sleeping baby just slows your heart beat a little, calms your nerves, and makes your stress melt away. Thanks Luke for the pick-me-up. You are so dear to my heart, little man.
My day began with stepping in a giant pile of dog poop in the backyard, and then tracking it throughout my house before realizing it was stuck to the bottom of my flip flop. And all over my feet.
How did your day start?
Luckily my day quickly improved, and I didn’t get any poop on our carpet. These are big wins, people.
And now to something much more important: an open letter to my sweet nephew Luke.
Dear Luke,
Your Aunt B can’t wait to meet you, and I’m afraid you may already take after me, for I, too, tend to run a little behind schedule, trying to fit too many fun things in, always forgetting how long it takes to do my hair, and habitually underestimating the length of my commute. Not to mention all of the traffic from road construction.
So I totally understand that it’s easy to be a few minutes late. But sweet Baby Luke, you’re already a day late. A whole day. I would never be that late to something. It’s just not good manners, my child.
Plus your dear mama (my sister) is so anxious to meet you, and hold you, and love on you for the first time. She’s waited so patiently for the past 40 weeks, and now every day seems like an eternity. Plus it’s awfully hot outside – I don’t blame you for not wanting to make your grand entrance in this blazing Texas heat, but trust me, it won’t get any cooler. And your mama is hot – help a girl out.
Please, please come out to play. I promise when you do, you’ll be greeted with so many people who have loved you before you were even, well, you.
Sweet Baby Luke, I prayed for you years ago, before your mama even married your dad. I prayed back when the doctors told your mama that she might never be able to have a baby. We knew that our God was bigger than that, and so we started praying immediately that you would prove those doctors wrong. And we never stopped praying, and you DID prove those doctors wrong! You’re almost here!
Your aunts and uncles and grandparents promise to keep on praying for you after you’re born. So let’s hurry this thing up and get your birthday party started. I’m free tonight, if you are. Please, oh please, don’t make us wait any longer.
From your favorite aunt,
Bethe
PS- I promise to end this crazy Paleo diet before your first birthday so I can indulge in a little birthday cake. Not that I’m craving sugar or anything. No, not at all.