A Father's Love

Welcome to the world Emerson.... I had always hoped that someday I would have a child of my own.  For a few years we weren't sure about it, the world is not a pretty place (and seems to be going down the tubes more and more each day).  Once we made the decision that we would try this thing called parenthood, we thought specifically about adopting.  Again, the world sucks, and if, by adopting, we can help a child without parents, how wonderful would that be.  
Then about 2-3 years ago we decided that if we didn't have our own child, maybe we would be missing out on something.  We tried for what seemed like an eternity, (I do know that there are people who have tried for longer than we, but it just seems hopeless) and decided maybe to get dogs.  It wasn't long after that, that we found out we were pregnant with a little girl.  Fast forward to today, (fast forwarding since the rest of the experience is already on previous blog posts) Emerson is approximately 34 hours old, and our whole world... has... changed...

Friday night at about 10pm Shawna (who I thought was asleep on my shoulder) said to me "I think my water just broke".  My first response was to start the car.  Obviously that was the least of our worries at that time.  Shawna called the Midwife, she said to monitor the situation and call back in an hour.  I showered (not as selfish as it sounds, I knew it would be a few days until my next shower, and nobody would be happy with that), and then finished packing items that we may need.  I let the dogs out to play, as I knew that for a few days they would be mostly in their crates (thanks to Tracy and Traci for helping with the dogs).  We then called our parents, and I called my 2nd in command to let him know he was working in the morning.  I then made sure the car was started a few more times (the timer on the remote starter is 15 minutes) so it would be warm and cleaned off for our trek north.  Shawna called the midwife again @ 11:15 and told her what was going on with how things were progressing, she said to begin our trip in to the hospital.  We got to the hospital @ midnight and by the time we were settled it was shortly after 12:15am.  Sometime around 2, maybe later (forgive me I wasn't looking at the clock) the pain started.  I don't know how most men feel about this, but this was my hardest part of the whole thing.  I hate hate hate my wife being in pain.  I don't know if I could have handled it any longer than it was (of course she felt the same way).  I wish there was some way i could have eased it, other than cold wash cloths and getting new barf bags for her....

12/28/2013 at 8:48 our lives changed forever (as if the last 9 months it didn't at all).  Emerson weighed in at 7 pounds and 7 ounces.  Shawna was in labor for around 7 hours (hard pushing for 20 minutes or so).  Emerson was also 21 inches long.  For all you math people out there, 7+7+7 = 21, I thought that was pretty cool.  Throughout the last 35 hours I have been completely swept off my feet with this little one.  I knew I would love her, I wasn't worried about it at all, but I didn't think I had the capacity to love like this...  Which brings me to my next point, it deserves another blog post, but a paragraph will suffice.

I drove home today to shower and change, and check on the dogs.  I also needed something for the incredible headache I had - stupid me didn't drink nearly enough water.  I also had to use the *ahem* toilet.  Its amazing the link a man has with HIS toilet.  (I am sure Rob Petrocci would understand if no one else does)  Anyways, that being done, shower done, dogs taken care of, and laundry started (to be finished by my awesome sister), I headed back to the hospital.  I have to tell you right here and now, I have become a cryer.  I guess I always have been an emotional man, but since the water broke, so did the floodgates of my emotions.  As an aside to an aside, crying is a pretty awesome thing if you think about it from a creationist stand point.  Its totally the bodies way of releasing pressure built up by emotions it cant handle, our souls are capable of much more emotion than our body can handle.... So, back to the story....  As I drove back to the hospital, I was listening to Jesus Culture, and hearing Gods voice from a totally different point of view.  Sobbing, singing, I was a mess.  This is when I realized that the incredible love I have for our new child, a love I just can't explain, is the same love that God has for me.  Sure I have screwed up ALOT in my life, and will continue to.  And Emerson is going to do the same crap I did growing up, even if I tell her why it's not a good idea (probably in spite of it) - but that does not mean I will ever love her any less. (I know its easy to say that now, when she is only 35 hours and 30 minutes old, but bear with me).  And how much more does God love me, than I love Emerson?  I won't quote scripture, mostly because I haven't really memorized any (close your eyes Pastor Jon), but the experiences I have had in my life that have shown me Gods love never really explained that love until today.  The next song was the one that follows here (of course it was), Your Love Never Fails, by Jesus Culture:

  Nothing can separate
Even if I ran away
Your love never fails

I know I still make mistakes
But You have new mercies for me everyday
Your love never fails

Chorus:
You stay the same through the ages
Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night but joy comes in the morning

And when the oceans rage
I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that You love me
Your love never fails

Verse 2:
The wind is strong and the water's deep
But I'm not alone here in these open seas
Cause Your love never fails

The chasm is far too wide
I never thought I'd reach the other side
But Your love never fails

Bridge:
You make all things work together for my good

So, through the sobs, I was singing this and realizing that Gods love for us is so incredible, maybe only a new parent can understand it.... I don't know, but I am forever changed!  Its amazing to think of the lengths He has gone over the years to show us this love, and it comes to ME in the smallest, most helpless package.  Thank you God, help me to never forget your love for me.

So until next time, happiest-father-in-the-world out.

So close!!

It's December 18th.  13 days from the (presumed) D-Day.  The nursery is busting at the seams with seas of pinks and purples.  We have more bibs than most department stores stock.  Hooded towels, Johnson and Johnson deliciousness, onesies, blankets, books...  I think it's almost all in place.  And being that in less than two weeks (or somewhere in that time frame) we will start putting all of it to the test, I'm so grateful.  More than all of the tiny items in the nursery, I think the love and support that we've felt over the last several months is especially important to us.  Maybe it's through the showers and the gifts, but we definitely know that there are people just as excited about Emerson's arrival as we are! 

As my body winds into a very low gear with regular pings of twinges and pulls, it is all a reminder of the major, life-changing event that is about to come.  As I sat on the couch last night and began to cry out of hormonal angst, Travis simply held out his hand and took mine, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.  He asked me if I was okay.  He understands me more than I thought anyone could.  I am so grateful that I know he will adore our daughter the way he does me.  We are four very lucky girls in the Spencer household...even if two of the four of us are put in crates from time to time ; )

As just a glimpse of the love I get to experience every day, take a look at the beautiful photos captured by one of my best friends and photographer, Jessica Burt of Jovial Photography.

Merry Christmas!  May God bless you and your family as he has mine this special time of year!

35 Weeks...and 1 Day

I just found out that the offices at my place of employment are on a two-hour delay.  Woo hoo is all I have to say about it.  I start my weekly doctor appointments today, so I get to go to work for a whopping hour and a half, only to leave to head over to the obstetrician's office...with Travis playing chauffeur.  What a great day before Thanksgiving break!

Had you told me a year ago that I would be attending baby shower after baby shower, googling things on breastfeeding and epidurals, or freaking out about how fast 34 days can go, I would have never believed you.  But here we are.  Reading up on all things baby, finalizing a nursery that is full to the brim of all things little girl, writing Thank You notes to gracious family and friends, and prepping freezer meals for those days we can only function long enough to turn a crock pot dial to low.

I'm going to go on a side bar here.  My husband is such a hero.  He stood cutting ten pounds of onions and 6 green peppers last night...starting with a pair of safety glasses but eventually ditching them when he realized the tears were flowing anyway.  We prepped:

• 4 bags teriyaki pork chops
• 3 bags apple bbq pork 
• 1 bag beef stroganoff
• 3 bags bbq chicken
• 5 bags honey bourbon chicken
• 2 bags pork carnitas
• 2 bags southwest chicken chili

And through it all, my husband was almost as engaged as I was.  He's awesome...

Other things going on in the realm of pregnancy?  Heartburn.  From what I hear, it's just the name of the game.  Fortunately I haven't had the horror stories of some women (which ends with vomiting due to the amount of stomach acid they are producing).  I also have a fun crampy thing going on under my growing belly.  Apparently it's uterine ligament stretching, which just makes it uncomfortable after long bouts of standing or walking.  Our recent trip to Boston had me huffing and puffing and holding my belly while we found places to eat and shop.  (Just for the record, the only places we bought non-meals were CVS for two liter bottles of root beer and Lindt truffles.  Yeah...Travis is in love with this pregnancy thing too).

Other than that, I'm really feeling well.  Sleeping has become a bit uncomfortable, but I've bought a body pillow which helps things a bit.  I call it my boyfriend since it is usually squished between Travis and me, making me joke that it feels like a third body in the bed.  Fortunately, I've noticed Travis cuddling up against it also.  My mom was also impressed that I was able to handle raw meat last night without any terrible side effects.  I know she couldn't endure any cooking meat during her pregnancies.

Anyway, during this time of Thanksgiving, I am overwhelmed by the number of blessings that are a part of my life.  Travis celebrated 34 years on Monday, our two puppies turned one year old yesterday, and now we have a 34 day countdown for our next little family member.  I have a job with so many caring and fun colleagues.  Travis has a job : )  We have a great support network of parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins...plus a church family that goes the extra mile.  Plus we have so many material things...a home to live in, food on our table, vehicles to drive, clothes to wear.  The list is endless. God's presence and grace are certainly tangible as a part of our lives. 

I have had some crazy dreams lately, but there was one where my mother was swearing like a sailor about something.  When I woke up, I started thinking about how different my life would have been had my parents not found their hope in Jesus.  Where would I be today?  I can tell you that their legacy has certainly changed my life...and this is probably the most important thanks I can give this season.  All else may not have been in place if it wasn't for that significant step in each of their lives.  Thanks Mom and Dad!

Happy Thanksgiving! 

Tribute

Tribute :

a gift, testimonial, compliment, or the like, given as due or in acknowledgment of gratitude or esteem. 

 

I am writing this "tribute" about a person whom I have just reconnected with after almost a decade.  It's amazing how life gets busy, and you can almost forget about people who once meant so much to you.  Mrs. Brownell, this tribute is for you.

 

I have known Mrs. B. for almost my entire life.  She was my sisters kindergarten teacher, and then my kindergarten teacher.  My sister was in kindergarten when i was 2, and now I am turning 34 this year, its hard to imagine knowing someone for 99% of my life, that isn't a blood relative.  Almost all of my childhood memories have Mrs. B. in them, she was very close to our family.  Most importantly, she is the one who introduced our young minds to church.  Our church was a small one growing up, maybe 30 or so people.  Mostly old, but there were a few children around to play with.  Usually after church Mrs. B. would come over for lunch, or take us out for something to eat, or even go fishing.  I remember our travels all over the northern part of the state looking at the map just to find a new fishing spot.  The time spent with Mrs. B. at such a young and malleable age is most likely the reason I am the person I am today!.  I remember hardly ever hearing her curse, which is astounding growing up in the culture we did.  This one time, apparently I said the word "crap" way too many times, and Mrs. B. took a hold of me, and explained abruptly that the word crap, was just like saying the word "shit"....  I was speechless.  That was the first, and possibly the only time I ever heard her say anything that bad.   Mrs. B. was like the third parent, a mentor that every kid should have.  I can't begin to think of what path my life would have taken had she not been a role model.  Well, I shouldn't go that far, I did take a wrong turn, but the guidance she had given me up to that point, helped me to realize that I was going down the wrong path.  

Recently, I had been thinking a lot about reconnecting with Mrs. B. and ran into one of her old colleagues, and was able to get her email address.  Not even sure what to say, since it had been since my wedding that we had spoken, I directed her to this blog.  My email to her has a signature on the bottom, as I sent it from work.  It said that I as the store manager of Whites Lumber.  In her response, she said she was proud of me.... *Gulp*  Its amazing how one sentence like that can evoke such emotions.  I don't hear that statement all that much.  My loving wife tells me that, but isn't she supposed to?  I don't remember hearing it that much from my parents, or any other family members.  And hearing it from someone who means so much to me brought tears to my eyes.  And is now also.  That lead me to write this blog, in appreciation for Mrs. B.  We so often go through life and never tell those that we care about, how much we truly are grateful and appreciative of the time they spent with us.  This year Mrs. B. turns 79...  I like to think that when we get to heaven, and enter the gates, there will be a line of people waiting to greet us, that we have touched in some way.  I know that your line, Mrs. B. will be incredibly long, as you have touched so many people.  

I guess I can never put into words what you truly mean and have meant to me... I hope that you can understand from the things I have stated in this blog that you have always been an important part of my life, and have shaped me into the man I have become, and the husband I have become, and the christian I have become.  I hope to raise my daughter in a way that will closely resemble the way I was mentored by you.  A million "Thank Yous" would never touch my gratitude for what you have done in my life.    I and countless others Love You very much!

The Top Ten Lessons Learned at Week 26

1) Do not roll your eyes when your husband says he has to go to the bathroom.

2) If you have any friends with little girls, you are bound to get more clothes than you thought possible...and as a side bar, how do you tell pajamas from a fuzzy zip-up daytime outfit?

3) Extra sugary fruit punch causes a major crash after you get your blood drawn (needles are so fun, right)?

4) Breastfeeding pumps have nipple sizes...I never realized it was going to be necessary to take such a measurement.

5) Women LOVE planning baby showers, as there are currently 4 in my queue.

6) Smartfood popcorn is delicious at 5 AM on Saturday mornings when you can't sleep.

7) You can never have too much caramel.

8) Babies in-utero are really nocturnal.

9) Husbands get secret signals from pregnant wives that alert their brain to cut the crap.  It could be a glaring expression that helps once in a while too (not that I do that).

10) I have had my first non-suggested belly touch...from a non-native former student.  Her genuine pleasure at finding out about my pregnancy made it not as awkward as I would have imagined.

Reverting Back to Toddlerhood

I feel like the last couple of weeks could be summed up the same way a toddler's life could-crying, whining, hair-pulling, and an unbelievable need for naps and sugar.  Shall I explain?

My husband and I took the dogs for a walk this past week.  It wasn't super long, nor was it super hot outside.  After stopping into Dollar General to grab a card, I succumbed to the pressure to buy some Cheetos in order to "bribe" the dogs to be less disobedient on our walk home.  All that happened instead was that my fingers were now slobbery and orange, I ended up with a significant leash burn, and my frustration level had peaked.  I sternly told Travis, "We are going to sit down in the park when we get to it."  He asked me if I was frustrated (he's super observant), but then lovingly began to walk both dogs as I walked ahead of the cat parade.  I started crying.  Not just a tear or two in frustration, but the kind of cry where my chin quivers.  When he recognized something was going on, Travis asked, "Did I make you mad?"  I really am so thankful for a husband that is sensitive to my emotions.  I told him no...and that as soon as I could gain my composure, I would share with him what was going on.  

Jumping back to my comparison to being a toddler-a child probably would not articulate what I told my loving husband, but the fact that I was sobbing due to frustration with cheesy Cheetos hands does say something...  In fact, had I not been called into the local police for doing bath salts, I may have thrown myself on the ground in an utter tantrum.

When I finally got to the point where my emotional roller coaster was coming to a plateau, I simply told Travis, "How are we supposed to raise a child when we can't even get dogs to walk on a leash?"  He was sympathetic (he knew he was probably in danger of being smacked if he disagreed in any way), and we completed our walk.  It wasn't until the end of the walk that I realized he had worked doing a shingled roof that day, and his fingers were very sore from the texture he had dealt with on the shingles.  What a guy!!

We had some bread to be used up, along with some pizza-type toppings, so I decided to pull out the sandwich maker for those pizza-like sandwiches.  Pulling his dinner out, I realized that I had added too much sauce, which had sogged out the bread in those areas where it pinched the two sides together, and had essentially burnt these edges to the maker.

Travis took a bite and all I could hear was loud crunching.  I asked him if he was eating gravel, my mood a bit lifted with the prospect of food in front of me.  He smiled and said he was not...until his next bite, which was louder than the first.  I asked him, "Do you want me to make you another sandwich?"  He said (even with a straight face), "No, I like the taste of burnt sauce."  Somehow, the patience of Jesus had blessed my husband that day.  I again started crying at the sincerity that he was putting into my happiness, and when he asked what was wrong now, I responded that it was a good thing he liked the sandwiches burnt because there was no more bread anyway.

Ugh.  The one positive?  While toddlers sniffle and sob, it usually results in liquids coming from all orifices.  For me, I could at least clean myself up.

Not to be too mushy, but here is one more thing I love about my husband.  The picture below shows what looks like a heap of a mess.  In reality, it is a devil's food cake cupcake plastered in homemade German Chocolate frosting.  When I saw the recipe on pinterest, I was immediately interested in making it (even though my bedtime was approaching at 8 PM).  When I asked Travis if he would be interested, he showed obvious enthusiasm.  That guy is the coconut and pecan to my German Chocolate frosting.

The other thing my dear husband did?  He agreed that the current harness system was not working for our overly bossy dogs.  So, we went to a pet store and purchased a new system.  While Bianca doesn't seem all that thrilled about it, I think it may be partially the vulnerability she felt at that moment while her sister runs towards her (unharnessed).

The last comment about my attitude at 25 weeks?  I want to pull the next woman's hair who implies that I look large.  While I understand the intent is not necessarily to be malicious, referring to my stomach in terms of basketballs, "very" anything, or anything that follows "wow" will not be taken as a compliment.  In fact, I may even start scratching and biting if this is the pattern that I will have to endure for the next three months.  Just for the record...I have gained very little weight, but it just so happens that the front of my belly has suffered the blow.  I believe that I have a sweet baby girl inside who needs a little room, as she appreciates frosting as much as her mama...and Lord knows that ever-pleasing Travis wouldn't want to deprive either of us of such luxuries (for his sake or ours).

Excuses, Excuses...

Want to know the best way to be able to use excuses and get away with it?  Pregnancy.  I didn't realize what a powerful tool pregnancy could be in this category until this past week.  Remember...my brain is a little slow (and you are completely forgiving me now, right??).  I was on a panel for new students at the community college where I work.  I answered questions about tutoring, library,and accommodative services.  We had two days of responding to the same questions 3 times each day.  It was very informative for the students, but also a bit monotonous for the panel.  At the end of the sixth time delivering the same information, I exclaimed to my coworker how I was going back to my office for a nap.  (*Disclaimer-Of course, I was kidding, though it would be awesome...in case my boss takes a gander at this).  My coworker responded with, "I agree.  At least you have an excuse" and my secret weapon was discovered.

"I'm hungry...and I've already eaten six pizzas."  Response?  You are pregnant...eat as much as you need.

"I'm tired...and I slept all night plus took a nap."  Response?  You are pregnant...sleep as long as you need.

Hysterical crying...

Obnoxious gas...

Horrific tantrums...

Breathlessness at walking three steps...

Walking into the kitchen for my wallet and forgetting it all three consecutive times...(this actually happened this afternoon)...

It all boils down to people giving me the pass because of my pregnancy.  As one gracious friend told me yesterday, "You are creating a human being."  

While I will try not to abuse my new super power, it certainly could become a useful tool.  I would also not become pregnant just in an effort to earn this privilege.  While it's awesome for now, it has dire consequences.  1) The whole morning sickness, yuckiness that accompanies the beginning of pregnancy, 2) 18 years of a child trying to cop excuses at you...  and 3) What is 3 again?  Sorry...I can't remember...pregnancy *sigh.

Squishy ville, bats, and doctors appointments.

8-7-13

So the other night, Shawna wanted me to feel her belly.  Apparently when a woman is pregnant, as the baby grows, the uterus feels like a rock.  So I was poking around and sure enough, hard as a rock.  The mistake I made (and to my own credit, this week has been a rough week for sleeping, so keep that in mind when reading this next part) - as I was poking around I got to what was the edge of her uterus and I said, this part is still Squishy ville....   I will try not to make this mistake again, Shawna was a good sport, but it was still a bad choice of wording....

Lets go back to Saturday night to explain the sleep deprivation...

We were sleeping, or rather falling asleep.  I heard a noise, looked down beside the bed and saw something crawling on the floor.  I didn't think anything of it, as i was mostly asleep when i saw it.  about 14 seconds later it was flying around the room.  As panic set in, i nudged Shawna, and said "Shawna (when i call her by name she knows something is wrong) cover your head, there is a bat in here".  she didn't believe me right off, and peeked around, saw the bat and then made herself a mummy under the covers.  I laid in bed for what seemed like days, contemplating my next move.  the bat then landed on the door frame, mocking us as this was our only escape, and of course right next to the light switches....   As i waited for its next move, i slowly opened the curtain, and opened the window.  The bat, not wanting to make it easy on us, then started circling the room, which made me cover my head.... not really the best move, as our blankets are not see through, and i now couldn't see where the bat was.   a little bit later i heard scratching, thought it was on the floor again (someone told me that if a bat is on the floor it cant fly (which is a load of crap BTW)) so i uncovered and opened the screen, saw the bat wasn't flying around, and turned the light and fan on.  i spotted the vulture sized critter in the garbage and covered him up while i contemplated my next move...  as i was getting a pillow case to put him in, he escaped the poorly covered garbage can and started flying again.  so i covered my head with one hand / arm, and swatted at him with a pillow case.  as i was on the verge of screaming like a girl, i connected and he fell to the bed.  this of course made Shawna shriek "is it on me, is it on me?"  as i collected my slightly squeamish self, i covered him up with the pillow case and as he tried to escape again, i grabbed the pillow case and bat, and threw it out the window.  and then slammed the window shut.  then the willies set in.  i started shaking, probably spouted some gibberish and began freaking out.  this all happened between 10 and 10:30 pm...
needless to say, we slept with the lights on Saturday night, what sleep we did get anyways.
Sunday night, we slept with the TV on, no bat.  maybe it was the 4592345 cans of spray foam i used to close up any and all cracks i could find in the bedroom and other upstairs rooms and closets.  at least the ones that were dime sized and bigger, as bats can get into some pretty small holes.
Monday night we slept with the TV on, no bat.
Tuesday night we slept with the TV on, no bat.  is it over?  will we be able to survive this, or will we have to put the house on the market?  i didn't sleep much, but if i don't sleep, my fuse is pretty short and i can get unbearable to live with...
Wednesday night (last night) - our visitor came back.....  i don't know if i have ever been more irritated by anything in my life.  instead of waking Shawna this time, i covered her up all the way (which woke her up).  she asked if there was another bat, and i think i grunted yes...  she kept asking me stuff, which i didn't answer because i was fuming.  as he was circling, i opened the window.  then he decided to climb up and down the curtains.... if i could have gotten up without him flying at me, i would have, then tackled him to the ground and strangled him... but the girl in me didn't dare...  a few more circles and i was able to slide the curtain open and the screen.  he decided to walk the curtain rod like a circus freak a few times, and then fly around and then out the window... and then i slammed the window shut...  tonight we go to war...  the bat obviously didn't get the message the first and second time, and i don't really want a bat in my house again.  and i do enjoy sleeping.  the bat dies the next time it enters my bedroom.  my pregnant wife does not need to deal with this, i will protect her and our unborn baby.  even if it takes me hiking my skirt up to do it, swallowing my pride, screaming a war cry as any 14 year old girl might, and doing the deed...

Today, 8-8-13

We did end up getting to sleep after a bit last night, fitful as it was, it was sleep.  today we had the big anatomical sonogram.  today we found out what sex the baby is.  i was hoping to do this on a little more sleep.  so when i saw the sonogram screen with fingers, toes, arms, hands, feet, legs, i wouldn't cry as much as i did.  but oh well, its a beautiful thing, something i have never seen with my own eyes before.  a wonderful creation of ours wriggling and kicking.  there are no words to describe what it meant to see that today.  as time went on, and the technician showed us the different anatomical features of our baby, i just got more and more caught up in the moment.  we saw the 4 chambers of the heart, the brain and all the different parts that i cannot spell or pronounce, femur, tibia, and on and on.  so without further ado, Shawna and i would like you all to meet our daughter, Emerson Paige Spencer:

The Big Reveal

Tomorrow will mark week 19 of pregnancy.  I continue to read up on how many ounces the baby is (aka-what is the fruit equivalent of the human being growing inside of you?), the new functions the baby is learning, and all of the beautiful side effects that I should be experiencing.  So far, so good.  They say constipation is common-Thank the good Lord, this one has skipped me so far.  Indigestion?  It has decreased for the most part.  Weight gain-hardly any, but I can definitely see and feel my expanding belly.  Hormonal side effects-I tend to cry at the television much more than I used to, but it generally is emotionally charged stuff.  Jeopardy doesn't push me over the edge, but the ASPCA commercials definitely can if I don't change the channel quick enough.

From all I've read, it is not uncommon for women who are "fluffy", shall we say, to not put on as much weight as the women who are underweight or of a normal weight when they get pregnant.  So, as long as my doctor continues to okay my weight on my monthly check-ins, I will continue to keep my diet as it has been...eat what sounds good when I'm hungry.  The other night I made some chocolate ice cream.  Sounds like a pregnant girl's dream, right?  Eh-I ate a scoop or two and gave the rest to Travis.  In fact, I think that so far Travis has put on a few more pounds than I have thus far...but he also needs it more than I do.  I haven't really experienced true cravings.  I had a little kick with nectarines, but they just happened to be the most delicious nectarines ever.  I've since purchased nectarines, and they continue to disappoint in their flavor and texture.

Thursday is the big day.  I get to drink until my bladder floats and lay on a table for a technician to press with a cold, wet wand on that exact location...but in earnest, I'm so excited.  I have felt from day one that we are having a girl.  Another YouTube pregnancy extravaganza I went on was all about gender tests.  They range anywhere from food ingredients such as red cabbage or baking soda (all of which are mixed with a healthy dose of urine), to swinging a variety of objects over a variety of body parts.  I gave in to curiosity and tried the pencil pendulum over the wrist.  Sure enough, after it stopped wiggling in each of the possible 360 degrees, it did a perfect horizontal line.  This signifies a girl according to the woman who filmed herself at the kitchen table, confirming my suspicions.  In fact, I have felt this so strongly that so far I have nursery colors, names, and everything centered around girls.  If it's a boy, we shall start from scratch.  We will be perfectly happy either way, mind you.  My other scientific experiment regarding the sex of our baby has to do with the other pregnant girls around me.  My father's younger cousin's wife, Jess, is due for her first-which they've just discovered in the past week is a boy.  Another friend, who is pregnant with her second, has discovered that her second boy is on the way.  Scientifically, it seems like all three out of the three pregnancies as boys would put the world's spinning at a stand still.

On a side note-having a due date on New Year's Eve definitely makes it difficult to send out cute little pregnancy announcements with the year written next to a teeny-tiny pair of shoes, or written underneath an "Expected to Pop" balloon.  My wager is that we'll be pushing into 2014, but at this point there is truly only one omniscient being who knows.    

And so, I will make a definite post once we have discovered whether boy or girl.  I probably won't have a big party about it, nor will I send out announcements giving all the details.  Facebook will probably be the primary go-to for filling everyone in.  My biggest hope is that he or she is not camera shy, otherwise we will all be disappointed...and I will have to continue deciding which shade of pink will work in the nursery :)

Week 17 and Counting

Here we are.  Week 17.  My belly is starting to grow.  I'm starting to think that I will have a permanent indentation on my gut of that little hidden button that they put on the inside of dress pants.  So, God bless my cousin Ashley, who has offered me some maternity clothes until she's ready for her little blessing number two.

I wish our country instituted that pregnant women received a nickel for each question of "How are you feeling?" and "Do you know what you're having?"  I'm not wanting to sound ungrateful.  I really am happy with people asking these questions, and I appreciate that people seem to genuinely want to find out my status on all things baby in my life.  It just seems that in an effort to truly help out a waddling pregnant lady, we could get a little cash.  After all, in addition to our physical state which is quickly morphing into a blob, my mental state is constantly spinning with worries of our baby's health, how to teach him or her to deal with peer pressure, and acquiring a proper education (which, of course, includes college-and by the year 2040, I'm sure tuition will be approximately 14 bazillion dollars per year).  I digress...

On a more positive front, I've learned some very valuable items that I will pass along to everyone-mother or not.  While browsing websites full of information on pregnancy, I decided to do a little research on receiving an epidural while in labor.  I will not yet post my opinion on this matter, as I got distracted by some videos of women giving birth.  Note-I didn't even turn the sound on.  Here's what I learned:

1) Some women obviously have either no modesty or no idea that YouTube is viewable by anyone on the web.  Why you'd put a video of your naked (why always naked?!) body- hoo haa and all - on the internet for everyone's viewing (dis)pleasure is beyond me.  I don't want to discount the miracle of a new life entering the world, nor ignore a family's excitement at such an awesome event, but my Lord, have some freaking decency.

2) This is a bit graphic-but I was always under the impression that the nether region just kind of snapped back immediately after delivery like a rubber band.  Not according to the one video that I could stomach all the way through.  Umm...there's no polite way to say this.  How the heck can it get, and remain, that large?  

3) Lastly, and most importantly, it is absolutely imperative to try approximately 75 awkward positions to alleviate the pain of childbirth.  Why pregnant women decide to pursue a career of becoming a contortionist when they are most likely at the largest size their body has ever been has become another mystery to me...but, according to my research, it is just a necessary part of the process. 

So mothers-to-be: flaunt your stuff for the world to see in the most painful and unflattering scenario possible (and don't forget that clothes are strictly prohibited), limber up for more positions than what landed you here to begin with, and recognize that never again will tampons be your feminine needs product of choice-unless they start making them into the size of a small missile.

I'm so grateful that I have approximately 23 weeks to try and debunk these new findings.  And I'm glad I was too smart to look up this stuff prior to my present state, or adoption would have been Travis' only option.  My greatest relief at this point is that not only do women pursue all of this once, but many have gone on to have children two, three, four, etc.  Either we have a load of lunatic women in our society, or I'm making it sound much worse than it truly is.  My fingers are crossed that it's the latter.

Playing Catch Up

I've had some friends and family ask me if the posts I put up were actually written at the time that the dates indicate.  The answer is yes.  Which means that I recognized the importance of writing every single thing at the very beginning...and it also means that in the last seven weeks I have done absolutely nothing to remind myself of all of the miracles taking place.

So, I am reminded today of my pregnant condition.  It is the 4th of July.  I have spent the afternoon eating (and eating...followed by Tums...and more eating) with family around.  While I am very happy that I can now eat at a fairly normal rate compared to weeks 8-13 (in which I was either nauseous or gagging from the smell of dogs and then puking after gag number three), I am now kicking myself for the snacking that was followed with a large meal.  Shall I put it in perspective?  Pinterest and Facebook...my favorite ways to waste time...have led me to actually play catch up because there are too many food posts and pins.  If I see one more ounce of anything even pretending to be edible, I may lose it.  I'll stop talking about it now because in explaining my disgust it's making me think of it, and I'm turning green in the process.

Let's take a step back in time.  My grandmother noted that she was disappointed in my prior posts how I had left out the part where our family officially became aware of what was going on.  Two nights before the initial sonogram, I had sent out a mass text to family saying that we wanted to go out to Cleo's (a local ice cream stand) to grab a bite to eat the next night.  I didn't tell each one receiving the text, however, that it was a mass message.  When everyone showed up for ice cream, they slowly pieced together as in-laws, sister, cousin, grandparents, etc. showed up that something more than ice cream was going on.  Because a few of my texts were sent to a few wrong people, suspicion had already been raised. In the garage full of picnic tables behind the rural novelty, we told everyone that I was expecting.  We also asked everyone to pray and explained the scary news we had received after the blood tests.  Everyone was positive.  My mother's mother said she would be praying...that it was twins :). And this would help explain why everyone had been able to respond with positive messages of "woo hoo" and "congratulations" after that first ultrasound turned out to be okay.

Between week 7 and 13 everyone seemed to find out though we (eh...I) was selective in who found out.  My dear husband decided that every coworker and customer and acquaintance should know.  My father told a dear church member, and the news went through the church like wild fire (and I should add here that I am hopeful if the news was about something negative in my life it would be prayed over and kept confidential), and finally our family was having a tough time reigning it in as well.  By the next church gathering, I had several people congratulate me and ask how I was feeling.  It was never that I didn't want people to know because I was ashamed or anything like that...I had just so many stories of miscarriages or pregnancy gone wrong, and I didn't want these same questions about how I was feeling to have to be addressed with my tearful explanation of my loss.  On the news traveled, and we let it go as it would naturally, but I told only my coworkers who were directly affected by my doctor's appointments, deciding that after week 13, I would inform everyone else...facebook would be the official medium that would show I was ready to take it public.

Allow me to be human and emotional here-while we have decided to share with family, friends, and acquaintances all about our new discovery and joy, there is also that small nagging voice buried deep in my mind that reminds me we are not fully out of the woods.  We may still have to face that day of explaining tragedy and loss...so I ask for your prayers for health for all of us through this pregnancy and beyond. Thank you for your thoughts!!

  

Hearing it from Shawna's POV

I flipped it over and my mind started to whir.  It's a Friday; I have to go to work today...but the plus sign starts my day off on a very different note than expected.  May 3rd, 2013.  Positive pregnancy test.  I stalk down the stairs in zombie mode and tell him to look at it.  He tells me he doesn't know what it means.  After 8 years of marriage and 2 years of failed attempts, I would have thought he'd have this part down pat.  What he would say or do.  I tell him to look at the diagram at the left side of the stick.  Pregnancy tests for dummies...but trust me, my brain was never so mushy as it is at this moment.  He comments, "I think we're having a baby."  I'm 29 years old.  The last several years people have been telling me it's time, but I suppose this settles it.  It is our time, at last.  I immediately burst into a frenzied sentence.  "Oh my gosh, that means we have to pay off our debt, build a new house, and buy a minivan."  Nothing like remaining calm for the sake of our new baby who has been alive in my world for approximately 5 minutes.  My husband hugs me and simply says, "Your car will be fine for a car seat."  He's unbelievably calm.  He has been planning this moment.  I guess I was just at a point where I thought adoption would be our answer.  I never expected to see the little plus sign showing our efforts as fruitful.  My husband wanders away, already late for work.  I say, "Oh  my gosh, Travis, I'm going to have a baby coming out from between my legs in nine months."  

It's not like I'm a total moron.  I've known the mechanics of it since third grade when I stupidly asked my parents what sex was.  I got "the talk" while my mother took a bath.  She took out her anatomy and physiology book, from when she was acquiring her LPN certification, and showed me how a man "gets excited" by extending her index finger from a relaxed position.  Even now I get squeamish thinking of my 8 year old self enduring this too-in-depth explanation.  I get the picture by the end of her explanation.  I don't actually remember exactly what happened after that traumatic event, but I probably didn't look my mom in the eye for years after that.  As her first child, I understood that "the talk" didn't come with a how-to manual.  

Oh my gosh...I will now be responsible for giving my child "the talk".  Note to self-start planning now.

5/4/13

I went through the rest of my Friday with little thought bursts here and there of, "I'm pregnant."  It still hadn't sunk in.  Saturday was a day of previous obligations.  The ladies Bible study at 7:30 (that is, AM) followed by a meeting with some of the same women to discuss the upcoming women's retreat.  So, I'm an old 29 year old.  Most of my social circles are surrounded by women of at least 40 and older.  It's alright.  It's tough to be this age and childless, yet have the hobbies of women in their 80s.  I quilt on Monday nights too..just to make my case a bit stronger.  So, I'm the mentality of a 60 year old trapped in the body of someone not yet 30...and I'm pregnant.

I don't tell anyone...not yet.  The second pregnancy test I took this morning reconfirmed yesterday's discovery.  I just want to make sure everything is fine before I go out and blurt it to the world.  I'm cautious...conscientious....I want to look at this from every angle before I make a move.  

Lia Sophia party at 1 PM hosted by yours truly.  I cut up cheese and veggies.  Lay out everything.  I call my husband before anyone arrives.  "Travis, I think we should tell our parents.  Would you please call yours and invite them for dinner?"  I pull the hamburger out of the freezer.  I never cook hamburger, but tonight is a grill night.  It's gorgeous.

The party comes and goes.  Everyone leaves, and I ask my mom if she and my father will join us for dinner.  She doesn't think Dad will be interested, so I tell her to wait a minute.  I go upstairs and get the test, still with a droplet or two of urine dried on.  I should've wiped it off...but again, I'm not thinking 100% clearly these days.  She says, "Is that what I think it is?  Is this what I think it means?"  I tell her yes and she repeatedly asks, "Really?"  

Let me interject here.  For the first three or four years of our marriage, we told everyone that kids weren't for us.  We'd go home from other people's houses and talk about their wild, heathen children.  My uncle, with three girls of his own, would tell us, "Don't worry; you raise your children to act the way you want them to."  I responded with, "Well, then tell me why everyone else wants their children to be disrespectful and crazy?"

Time marches on, and Travis decides he's ready.  He's four years older than I am.  I don't know if he hears his little guys screaming about their inability to swim uphill, or if he's just matured to a point where he knows it's time.  Maybe he's sick of the calm quietness in our newly renovated two bedroom.  I savor my ability to come home and do what I want.  Relax, make dinner, watch a movie, take a walk.  So we decide puppies will fill the silence.  Boy, do they.  We are exhausted with semi-consistent poop piles, chewed furniture and molding, and just the responsibility of having two little creatures looking to you for entertainment, food, and the walk outside for the potty.  One night after having them for a couple of weeks, we both collapsed into bed.  I told Travis, "You know children will be more difficult, right?"  He obviously had been thinking about the same thing at the same moment (this happens frequently with us) and responds with a quick, "Yes."  The puppies are five months old at this point, born the day after Travis, November 26th.  They have calmed down...but I think back to the tears shed when they wouldn't stop wrestling or chewing or whining and my exhaustion point had hit its max.  I would joke, "That's why we got puppies.  We can put them in a kennel if they're being naughty."  WIth the implication, of course, that children should not be caged...at least, not according to the majority of our cultural standards.  I'm pretty sure someone somewhere remarked on the fact that they understood why crocodiles ate their young from time to time.  And this is what makes me just a little bit nervous when I think about what I've plunged myself into...

Travis' parents are informed later that evening about our new curve ball.  They seem moderately excited, but his family isn't over exuberant unless they are shouting insults at each other, so it's kind of expected.  I do wonder why, after years and years of being told that I was ruining their plans of being grandparents, they aren't a bit more expressive with their excitement, but I feel that their apprehension is similar to my own.  It's scary.  My mother-in-law experienced two still-born births when married to her first husband.  I'm sure pregnancy conjures up many images and feelings within her.  I can't even imagine.

5/5/13-

My cousin, Ashley, was hosting her son's second birthday.  It's always a bit awkward with the many divorces between her parents and her husband's parents.  Lots of in-laws and out-laws type stuff.  Ashley's stepmother hardly knows me, but makes it her mission each and every time she sees me to ask when I'm having children.  I thought I had ended that trend when I saw her at Colton's first birthday party with my response of, "I don't know that it will ever happen."  Her expression softened...and I realize that my answer held a cryptic element that could mean one of two things.  Either 'I don't want children...so stop asking' or 'I can't have children...so stop asking.'  I hadn't thought about the possibility of leading people on to think that there was a chance I couldn't get pregnant.  While in the back of my mind that thought was there, I didn't have to voice it to anyone but my husband who was starting to draw the same conclusions.  Most people knew that I had proclaimed for a long time that I just wasn't cut out for having kids...end of story.  Carol never took that as truth and was insistent.

The party was about half over, but Travis and I decided to sneak out to get home and let our five month old shepherd/lab adoptees out of their kennels.  I went in the house to throw away a freaking fork, of all things, to have Carol corner me.  "So, when are you going to have kids?"  I stalled a bit, trying to think of a quick-witted answer to get me out of the confession that only our parents knew.  She was a little too quick and responded, "Oh my God, you're pregnant."  Ashley's husband, who happened to be standing there eating his hot dog, looked at me as I turned bright red.   I said, "Yes, but no one else even knows, so you're not to tell anyone!"  I could immediate see that Josh was in a dilemma that was leading to panic.  "If Ashley finds out that I knew before her, she's going to kill me.  I have to tell her."  I just looked at Travis.  Ashley's coworker and best friend then enters the kitchen from the living room, asking how many pregnancy tests I had taken.  Where are these people coming from? I tell them I have a blood test coming this week...so to keep it under their hats until I get some confirmation.

I later get a text from my mother that Cheryl, my aunt and former wife of Carol's new beau, had been sitting at the picnic table after our departure when Carol came out and started taunting, "I know something you don't know."  

What is it about a pregnancy that people can't keep their mouths shut?  Parties, picnics, pregnancy, and nosy people are bound to cause a stir.

5/7/13-

I skip out on going into work at my normal 8 AM to instead head over to the medical center for the official test-getting my blood drawn.  I walk in, fill out the clipboard, and notice that the girl taking the paperwork is a long-lost acquaintance.  Now she's in the inner circle of people who know.  It's followed by the nurse, a longtime friend of my grandparents, asking for a urine sample before they proceed.  I'm so glad for the laws that protect my privacy-not because I care if people know eventually-but because I want to be the first one to tell them.  We do the whole pee in a cup thing.  (By the way, could anyone invent something for women so that the urine actually makes it in the cup and not all over your hand?)  They walk back into the room-yes, it's positive.  Thank goodness!  It's a big let-down to go from two positives to an "Oops, you screwed up."  Next step?  The blood test.  I walk the small corridor to the lab.  I wait in the waiting room.  They call me back quickly.  After I ask where to sit, commenting that I don't get blood drawn very often, the young girl laughingly tells me that I better get used to it if they're saying I'm pregnant.  She draws the small vial; I thank my lucky stars that I'm not ready to pass out.  She tells me that the results will be ready by the afternoon.  I thank her and leave.

Work is rather uneventful.  The last week of the semester.  My finals are planned, so I'm working on getting ready for the summer classes I'll be teaching and the other projects that come along with my tutoring job description.  I am a little nervous about what the blood tests will say-but hopeful that everything will again be confirmed. 

The number comes up on my cell.  Cool, now I don't have to figure out when and who to call.  Mary Barbara is at the other end, the Physician's Assistant who I've seen regularly over the past few years.  She tells me, "So, your levels are higher than expected (insert numbers here about 15,000 something).  We think you're 14 weeks.  When did you say you had your last period?"  I go through it again.  I know the family history.  My great-grandmother never stopped through her whole pregnancy.  The curse that is passed down...awesome.  Mary goes on.  "The other possibility is that it is twins, but it seems a bit low for that to be the case.  It's also a little low to be ectopic.  We need to get you in for an ultrasound as soon as possible.  I'll be calling the gynecologist you were looking into, and I'll let you know if I get anywhere."

Panic ensues...I text my husband and my mother.  I start googling ectopic pregnancies, which I was calling eptopic after getting off the phone.  I had an idea what it was about-but not fully.  I knew they weren't good.  I ask a coworker if I can speak with her.  She's busy, so I ask her to visit my cubicle when she finishes up.  She agrees.  I explain to her the news...because if I truly am 14 weeks, then we have some planning to do as far as my job goes.

5/10/13-

The morning comes where Travis and I are heading to Fulton to the St. Joe's Imaging center to find out what's truly going on.  We both have lost some sleep over the past few nights worrying about the news.  We show up right on time for the appointment after a little bit of an issue with the directions.  We show up to the small building, find the door to go into, and check in.  My insurance card has never gotten such a workout.  We sit and wait for the nurse to call.  She asks if my bladder is full, and I tell her I haven't been to the bathroom for a few hours.  I tell her why I'm there, and she gets started.  She asks me to pull down my pants a bit and tuck a towel into the top-most seam.  I apparently don't pull them down far enough and she forces them down a bit more, exposing a bit more of me than I had originally planned.  She runs the sonogram thing (the technical term) over my lower abdomen, pushing hard enough to leave a bit of a red mark on each pass.  She starts talking about "fetal pole" and other terminology that I would have to grab a medical dictionary to translate.  She stops moving the wand...and shows us the heartbeat...located in the uterus.  I ask her, "So does that mean everything is okay?"  She responds that everything looks fine.  That it's the egg sac and that there is only one that she is seeing.  My due date is New Year's Eve; I am 6 weeks along.   She does a transvaginal sonogram as well, to ensure that all is as she's said.  She prints out two pictures.  It's amazing to me how a black and white blob will someday become a living, breathing human being, but I know that everyone is going to ooh and aah over this little blob as well.

We get in the car, and I text all family and friends giving them the good news and thanking them for their prayers.  "Woo hoos" and "Congratulations" all around...Thank you, Lord, for your goodness.

Introduction

I have been wanting to start this blog for a while, so I guess today is going to be the day.  Maybe nobody will care what I have to say, but that's not why I am doing it.  You see, about 12 years ago I met my wife (Shawna).  I knew she would become my wife someday almost from the start.  Almost three years ago we decided we should grow our family, and we were just starting to wonder if there was something wrong with our baby-making process when it happened.  About seven weeks ago my wife called me and said that we should get a pregnancy test.  Usually we buy the multi-pack as it's less expensive that way.  When you are trying to get pregnant, you will use them anyway.  That next morning, Shawna came downstairs freaking out about buying a minivan, paying off debt, rambling on so much that it didn't sink in right away.  WE WERE PREGNANT!!!!  You wouldn't know it from my attitude (not over-exuberant), but I couldn't be happier or more excited for what is to come!  Shawna went and had a blood test done.  They said that she was either 14 weeks pregnant, pregnant with twins, or pregnant ectopically.  14 weeks?  How could we have not known?  Twins?  Holy crap!  I mean twins were something I had always prayed about, but are we ready for two babies?  Ec-top-ic?  What's that?  I opened Google and checked it out; it's not good.  It means the baby is outside the uterus.  How does that happen?  Does the baby just decide that it wants to vacation near the kidneys?  So, I did a little more research.  No, that's not what it means.  Usually it means the baby is implanted in the fallopian tube.  Of course, when you research these things, it scares the crap out of you.  Nearly all ectopic pregnancies end in the death of the baby, and some (if not caught) end in the death of the mother.  Great - the emotional roller coaster has started, and we have known we are pregnant for about five minutes....  A gut-wrenching four days later we had our first sonogram.  The technician was very nice.  She wondered why we were there and we told her.  It took her a little while to find the baby (we wouldn't find out until later that Shawna was only six weeks pregnant).  I teared up a little once she showed the baby on the screen with the slight flicker of a heart beat.  The baby was in the uterus.  There was only one baby, and now I have more to worry about.  The hormone levels were what caused the first nurse to think there was something wrong.  There is nothing wrong, just high hormone levels, which is never a good thing for a husband!  We got to take pictures home.  Of course, at six weeks the baby is about the size of a grain of sand.  So we had this cool picture, which you couldn't see anything on, but we were still super excited! 
       Days and weeks have passed, Shawna just passed the 13 week mark.  Hopefully the second trimester will be better on Shawna's stomach.  We have two puppies (adopted them in February, before we knew we would conceive in March)  and Shawna's super sensitive nose makes her brain think its a good time to get nauseated when she smells them.  She might be the only person in the county that can smell our dogs, but it still causes issues in the morning for her. Whether we have a mini van or have all of our debt paid off, in six months we will be parents (Lord willing) and the next adventure of our lives begins.