I should be sleeping, but....

instead I'm blogging. Here's a handful of pictures out of many. (For the grandmas.) 

We sure love our baby Danny.

Last night, on his one-week birthday.

Wednesday rain.

Yesterday, it rained all day, which meant inside, we were bored. So we brought your bike in and your new yellow truck and pretty soon, there was a mess in every room. 

Monday, I told daddy he needed to figure out what he was going to feed us for the next two weeks, because I was checking out. So far we've had hashbrowns and eggs two nights in a row, and tacos. And I'm not complaining. At least about that.

You've grown really tall the last little while, and there is nothing about your little body now that resembles baby anything. Except the faces you make when you are sleeping. The last little while, we've wanted you in bed with us so at 11:00pm or so, we'll scoop you up and snuggle with you, sometimes with the lamp on, so we can watch you and kiss you and feel that happy/sad sort of feeling realizing how fast time has gone and how quickly and strongly you've grown. Though I think you'll always be our baby.

Last night I was counting all the times I had lost my patience with you, which was far less than the day before, but more than I should have. And I realized all day, all you really wanted was me. (And that really isn't so bad, after all.) You kept pulling me back to your room so I could watch you play. And no matter how busy I think I am, one day you'll grow right on out of this phase, and the next, and the next, and I don't want to look back wishing I would have laid on the floor with you, or read to, or tickled you more. 

I think today, we'll make cookies. And count all your tiny cars and color pictures of our new baby. Because soon, he'll be here. And nervously, apprehensively, I know things will change. 

I love you.

Love mommy.    

  

 

Partner.

I like to think that I’m a lucky girl. Though luck really has no part in it. My life is blessed.

When I was six years younger than I am today, something stirred within me. A heavenly sort of stirring. And things that were very broken back then, were healed.

I had a best friend named Jared.

Fast forward three years, by my side was an angel in the form of a man. My husband. I remember his hands and his face and his eyes guiding me through each grueling moment as I labored with our firstborn son. Looking back, I really only remember him.

I remember lying by him night after night, as my belly grew. I remember us dreaming up how things would unfold and I remember setting out a plan of what we wanted for our birth.

I made him promise to hold me to things I knew I would change my mind about once pain overcame. (I was right.) When the time came, he lifted and touched and held. He set right by my side and believed in me. He winced and breathed with me. I listened to him when there was none else I could hear. When I forgot, he reminded me. And when Miracle finally arrived, his strong arms held him first, when mine could not.

When I hear people suggest to me a doula, I agree. I need one.

Lucky, blessed me, I have one. And I know he’ll be holding me the whole way through.

I believe in birth. I believe that it can be a sort of heavenly experience that can teach us to believe in ourselves and our holy capabilities as pro-creators; divine children of a Supreme being. I believe in pain and have felt the cleansing power of it, as I’ve looked back.

I think we’ve come to realize that what was hard back then, has become, in a way, sacred to us. While we were praying for things to be easier, Heavenly Father was sealing us closer, and making us strong.

I heard someone once describe giving birth as coming to the highest wall you’ve ever seen, and then scaling it.

I know I won't be climbing alone.

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Fact and Fact: After Morg was born, my mom told me all the L&D nurses told her they wanted to clone my husband. And two days later, my midwives called to ask if he would teach a class to other expectant fathers on labor coaching. (Brag I can, because I'm his wife.)

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Favorite birth story.
Favorite birth documentary  -- watch it on Netflix Instant Play
Favorite birth book -- buy it super cheap on Amazon - I recommend this for all expectant mommies!
Sweet (almost) VBAC birth story.

June one.

"I had that familiar conviction

that life was beginning over again

with the summer."

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (love!)

Dear Tiny "Baby Tummy" (as Morg calls you),

June is cause to celebrate, my dear. Summer, sun, and you.
This month you'll be born. And we cannot wait to hold and snuggle you.

Come out soon, won't you? Please?

Love (so much),

  Mommy.

JLK.

{May 2010}

Today the mister made us all breakfast before Morg and I even woke up. He emptied the dishwasher and did the dishes. He scrubbed the tub for me and put little dude to bed tonight, and also dedicated the day to crossing off lots on my nesting 'honey-do' list, which may or may not be a mile long.

In exchange, I kissed him and cut his hair.

I think he loves me. Like a lot.

Stretch.

These days are full of my entire self feeling anxious. And hesitant. And unsure. With Morgan, I learned the days and months before birth stretch your body. And the days and months after stretch your soul.

Soon we’ll be jumping off that ledge we’ve been peering down. And if I am to be honest, I will say I’m scared.

Mostly, because I remember. And I remember it being hard.

But I also remember looking back. And I remember realizing so intimately how Heavenly Father always perfectly blends sweetness with difficulty and challenge. What was hard then, was also sweet. What was hard was what changed us. And helped us grow.

It’s time to grow again.

Here’s to stretching. And to the pain that will certainly come, bringing with it a perfect glistening soul handed straight from the arms of my Heavenly Father. Handed to me.

I believe I’m growing a miracle. I’ve grown a sweet one once before.

Journaling last week.

With mom here all last week, I feel like we crossed one hundred and one things off a very long list. If ever a daughter needs her mother, I think its being eight months pregnant trying to keep tabs on an active toddler boy-child. My mom chased him and cooked for him and cleaned his little bum. She lifted him for me, bathed him, brushed his teeth for me, folded clothes, cleaned my kitchen, vacuumed, helped me switch closets around, shopped for me, weeded my yard for me, cut my hair, sewed for me, made oatmeal cookies for me, babysat, painted my toenails and put me to bed when I needed it.

Making Cookies

We dedicated Wednesday to getting things ready for baby. I was so emotional about pulling Morgan's old things out and was thankful to have someone there to tell me I wasn't being too silly over it all. I cried and cried all night and later, as we moved the crib mattress up to the highest setting, I found Jared just standing in the nursery. We had a sweet moment together as he expressed to me how excited he was to have a whole new person to love.

Jared watched Morgan while my mom and I stocked up on baby wash clothes, socks, sweet tiny diapers, baby lotion and my favorite infant gowns (I love Carter's brand!). It seems like not so long ago, I was shopping down those same isles with Morgan in my tummy. I swear I blinked and now we're a few years down the road. How our hearts have grown since then.

Thursday, we sewed.

Friday we went downtown and took pictures of Morgan. (I snapped the pictures while grandma instigated smiles and laughs!) I never did get around to it when he turned two, like I should have. He's 2 1/2 now and I say better late than never. I was so glad to cross this off the list!

Here's one of my favorites!

Saturday was super productive thanks to Papa and uncle Dude, and by the end of the day, Jared and I high-fived at how much we all got done. Of course we could hardly move by the time we went to bed, but no one cared.

Our washer and dryer hookups are in our garage and over the last month our washer has been on its last leg. It would overflow (wouldn't stop filling up). It would twist and shake all the clothes to one side so the washer was nearly shaking itself over (off balance) unless we went to even the batch out. Then it would keep going through all the different cycles - never stopping. Washing clothes over and over. And lastly, it shook so hard that it bent the washer lid so it wouldn't even shut. And sometimes, at random, it wouldn't turn on or work at all. Needless to say, Saturday was the day we said goodbye once and for all. I think I was most grateful for this. Jared joked it was my mother's day present.

It really was.

Here's a list of what went down Saturday:
Old washer and dryer gone!
New washer and dryer set up!
Made a trip to the land fill
Cleaned the shed
Cleaned the garage (even vacuumed it out!)
Started up the sprinkler system
Mowed the lawn
Fertilized the lawn
Pressure-washed the house
Weeded and pulled out grass in the backyard berm
and Built two wooden garden boxes
Whew.

Morg's new wagon

Sunday, we relaxed and cooked and celebrated mothers. Especially this one. We love her oh, so much!

We also discovered that if you leave a warm cake on the table with a little boy

and turn your back for five seconds, this will be your end result. Every time.

Dad and me (looking big as a house)

We had to say goodbye on Sunday afternoon, and as they packed up to leave, Morgan went and got his clothes and piled them by grandma's bags. We were so sad to see them leave and are looking forward to having them back in a few weeks when baby brother makes his arrival.

Counting down the days....

Celestial.

JLK,

Thanks for getting me drinks of water when I'm in bed, for letting me sleep in, and for washing burned scrambled eggs from the pan this morning while I had my head in the toilet.

You are my love.

Love your wife.

Family portrait.

on a sleepy sunday afternoon.



Facts

about the business of growing this baby.

Due date: June 17th, though we're measuring about one week early -- June 11th.
Doctors: My midwives Tracy and Nicole as doula, with Dr. Cox (hopefully) over a VBAC delivery.

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With this, my second pregnancy, I've been way more sick and way more tired.

If I don't get at least one nap a day, the 'pregnant troll' comes out, as Jared would say.

I laid on the couch for approximately three months last fall. Luckily, as it turns out, Morgan babsits himself quite well.

Morgan thinks it's funny when I throw up. He also thinks its a bonus to get to flush the toilet for me. Silverlinings, I suppose.

Sciatic nerve pain is for sissies.

Growing up, I always told my mom I would never have girls.

Last summer, I was addicted to Costa Vida. Ever since I've been pregnant, if I even drive by the dang place, I'm sick.

When Morgan says 'baby brova' it just about melts my heart.

Things I need a lot:
Homemade banana bread by the loaf, with Tillamook butter, please. McDonald's strawberry banana fruit smoothies. Grapefruit. Strawberry poptarts. Peanut Butter M&Ms. Taco Bell nachos. Wendy's cheeseburgers. Homemade chicken salad sandwiches. Spagetti. Frozen hashbrowns.  

Hopes for the next few months:
Helping Morg say goodbye to his beloved passey and getting him sleeping in his big-boy bed.
Staying on track to gain the same amount of weight I did with Morgan.
A successful VBAC delivery. (Fingers crossed!)

Leap.

Tonight, I rocked both of my babies to sleep. Morgan curved his little body around my growing stomach. I tried to breathe.

Baby brother taps us both. Quite often these days.

Today, Morgan patted and patted. Kissed and kissed. He notices more as I grow and will occassionally say 'Oooooh baby!'

Oh, baby. Morgan's baby.

The day I knew our family was ready to grow was a day in May. I was recognizing less and less of myself and all at once, remembered exactly when I had felt that way before.

Years ago, someone told me the way you know it's the right time to have a baby is when the thought is in your mind always.

One October, three years ago, I was restless and empty. Because I had never felt that way before, I had to delve to really see and understand what those feelings meant. Once I did, I followed. A few months of planning, and one try, and then we were three. Heart full.

Last summer, I planned. And I prayed. And because I was afraid, I held my breath. I took a leap.

One try, one September, one baby's heart came beating.

Last summer I poured myself out. I explained to Jared that in my heart there is this knowing. And if I focus on it, it leads me exactly where I need to go. And I taste happiness.

What I have come to realize is that my happiness is directly connected to my family. Both born, and still waiting. Together, we create miracle. I carry and birth. It's what I'm meant to do. And I think it is glorious.

It feels that way.

Love grows.

.

Happy twenty-three weeks, my sweet little boy. We love you so! 

Love daddy, mommy

and your anxious big brother.