Life at 29 weeks...

Okay, as much as I don't get those "Pregnant and didn't Know It" pregnancy shows, I also don't get those people who think the being pregnant thing is amazing. I love the IDEA of being pregnant, I love the outcome, I think it is amazing to watch my body change. I suck at being pregnant. 

Right now is a great example- Harper Grace is doing the cha-cha slide in my belly. THAT is amazing. At the same time, my bladder hurts from her river dancing. 

I'm at week 29. Depending on the source, HG weighs between 2-3 pounds. Basically she's like a crockpot on warm...developed but needs more time to perfect. People are telling me ill never make it 11 more weeks, lets hope I make it at least 7. 

Things that suck at 29 weeks:

- having to pee hourly

-waking up with a puke taste in your mouth from heartburn

-stupid comments from people like "this walking will do you good" or "the baby is making your face fat"

-the ongoing worry of leaking amniotic fluid...thankfully it's (ugh) discharge

-horrible hand and wrist pain at night

-the need to buy a powerlift chair to get my big butt from the couch

-exhaustion

-it's becoming impossible to shave my legs, I can't reach

-temper.

Things that rock at 29 weeks:

- feeling my baby kick regularly

- feeling my baby kick regularly; and

- feeling my baby kick regularly.

I'd be happy if I could wear gauchos and tank tops every single day. I'm in a size 11 flip flop (they're too long, but they fit the width). My fake wedding band is having "too small" days. Argh!

We (haha) have a painted nursery and have furniture ordered. We have yet to get our other big items...we have 11 weeks, right? :) We've taken our baby class. I've hardly packed my apartment. Seriously. Who has energy for that?

We have 3 baby showers scheduled- all strategically scheduled around football! One of my precious AEA members is hosting a member shower, Michael's family is having a Cullman brunch, and my closest friends are having the big she-bang! (PS- I put a call out for those who wanted to be invited to send me addresses...if you didn't and want- send it). 

My latest stress is being out on bed rest. I have exactly 14 weeks of possible paid leave, so every week I make it is another week I could spend with the baby after she's born. I must make it 6 more weeks to not have to borrow from the sick bank (a cool thing for education employees!) and have enough paid leave to heal from either a c-section or regular birth. Note: I'm not using the term natural- that means drug free. Sorry red ribbon week. 

So that's the biggest topic now. I was certain I wanted a c-section. Clearly I have no desires to wear a two piece. I love the idea of scheduling her birth (I'm a planner and it might be my last scheduled anything ;), I love the idea of not being ripped in half by a baby's shoulders. People. Have you met my husband? Then there's the diaper, sitting on ice and a spitz (?) bath. 

Now I'm freaking out about this uterus massage thing. I want what is best for HG. Oh and will they have scrubs big enough for Michael to come in the OR? For real, one time the hospital tried to send him home in trash bags because they didn't have anything to fit him. My husband must be with me for this!!!

Then there is the worry about will I be a good mom, will I be able to breastfeed, will I fall asleep when I'm supposed to be feeding her? That's the short list. 

Well, I have to attempt to get some sleep...since I have to get up before the sun tomorrow. It might be hard since the assholes upstairs are ready for football season and are walking like elephants. 

My wishes for you, baby girl.

I can't think of anything that consumes me more than my hopes and dreams for my little girl. I am so nervous about how we will do at parenting. Michael? Not so much. He just says, "If ___________ can do it, so can we." 

I want her to be beautiful (and not in a "I'm her mom so I have to think so" way). I want her to be smart, to be loved. I want her to be her own person, a leader and a positive influence on others. I want her to get her daddy's singing voice and some magical athletic ability. I want her to love to read. I want her to never worry about who loves her, family drama or feel pain because adults are assholes. 

I want us to have a balanced relationship- where she comes to me with life issues, but not where we go out and party together. I want to support her, make her feel good about herself and love her. I want her to have her dad's logic, reason and his ability to fix things with his hands. I want her to have my passion for causes and my work ethic (oh-and my sleep patterns!).

Most of all, I want her to have a daddy. I don't believe that there is a more important relationship, in the world, than a father/daughter relationship. A girl needs to see her daddy be a good man. She needs to see him respect her mom and his own mom. She needs to see him show love and affection. Don't get me wrong- single moms do an amazing job daily- but I want my little girl to have a daddy. 

I want her to melt his heart when she calls for him, to see him on the floor playing Barbies or teaching her to use her pink hammer. I want to walk in and see her asleep on his chest. I want her to know that she is his princess and nothing will change that. I want her to know that no boy better break her heart and when "the one" comes along-he goes to her daddy to ask for her hand. 

I can't get through Steven Curtis Chapman's song, Cinderella, right now without crying. That's what I want for my baby girl. 

As a child, I had "that" relationship with my dad for about 6 years. It was magical. I remember my pride when he helped to teach my PE class. I remember coming home and snuggling up in the big waterbed with him. I remember birthday cards with strawberry shortcake and his writing inside. I remember seeing tears in his eyes- tears for me- as we moved from California. I remember the trip just he and I took to help him move to join us in Indiana. I rode my first roller coaster on that trip, and rode on his shoulders when we ran out of gas. I left his wallet in a Wendy's and I don't remember that he yelled or screamed or anything. 

That's what I want for my baby girl. I want her to feel a love so precious that any man who comes into her life when she's grown- has to compete with that. 

Fathers be good to your daughters

Daughters will love like you do

Girls become lovers, that turn into mothers

So mothers be good to your daughters too.  

So I'm 6.5 months pregnant (or 24 weeks and 6 days, if you want to know the truth)

There are still nights when I am in bed and I cry. I am so excited about this baby growing inside if me. I have moments when I imagine holding her in my arms and it is beyond words. 

When one if my "kids", Jordan Lykes, found out I was pregnant, she was excited because she knew how bad I wanted this. I don't think many people realized just how important this was. I hid it. People would constantly ask about having kids, tell me how wonderful if a parent I would be, say they've always pictured me as a mom. I just didn't think it would happen. 

I am so blessed. I know it and I bet I thank God at least 25 times a day. However, pregnancy is NOT fun. Here's why:

1) I've only gained 12 pounds. My waist is still smaller than when I weighed 263.5. I feel like I've gained 100...and not in an "I'm so fat" sort of way. Nope. This is in an "I can't breathe" sort if way. 

2) I still check for blood after every restroom trip. Lets say I potty a minimum of 12 times a day. Think about that. Of course- this reminds me to Thank God! 

3) Speaking of restroom trips- they never cease. You go almost hourly while asleep. Interesting fact: the fluid from your extremities comes home at night- entering your bloodstream and making you pee. 

4) speaking of restroom trips: there is a reason new moms don't gag at their baby's crap. The reason is- they've been gagging at their own for 9 months. It's horrible. One day is likes delivering an elephant our if your ass and the next is diarrhea (cha cha cha). Ugh!

5) Google. Yep. I have no idea how pregnant women survived pre-Internet. I bet they didn't develop every possible issue though. I bet I google every feeling or pain I have. The good news is: so does everyone else. You never feel alone is your left leg numbness caused by heartburn with carpal tunnel at 24 w is the baby kicking. 

6) baby movement. EVERYONE asks, "Have you felt the baby move yet?" This question leads to more google searches. Fortunately, I now know I have an anterior placenta and my baby movement is different from others. 

7) You feel old. The amount of aches and pains I experience is apparently the same as my 80 year old Granma. Worse? I talk about it nearly as much as she does. 

8) This second trimester burst of energy promise is a LIE. Thanks, Pinnochio. I've got about 2 weeks left until the 3rd trimester and I've yet to find it. 

9) the moodiness is still here. If you don't believe me, ask my mom or my husband. I'm emotional, cranky and constantly worrisome. 

10) It's impossible to be comfortable. Remember #7? Yep- well this aches and pains that are from your shoulders down to your toes make everything uncomfortable: sleeping, sitting, standing, breathing, eating...

11) Guilt. I wonder if everything I do will hurt Harper Grace. I rarely will take ONE Tylenol. I won't eat lunch meat. I drink one and only one caffeinated drink a day. I don't read my scary mysteries or the good sex scene novels. I'm trying to quit cussing. 

12) Pee! This is no joke. You pee yourself regularly. No..you don't soak your drawers, but like teaching a kindergartener to glue "a little dab'll do"

13) Boob obsession. This is Michael's favorite part (yea right). I ask him weekly if my boobs are any bigger? What about my nipples? Have they changed colors? Is my linea nigre showing? Lately I've started an informal measurement of belly button depth.

Being pregnant is awesome. I love the idea of it. I'm blessed to have my baby girl. It just isn't fun. It's kind of like the Warrior Dash. I'm so proud to do it, but there are some bumps, bruises, hills and tears along the way. 

That's my update. I'm now going to bed so my retained fluid can return to its assigned location. 

Wedding Jitters

Let me be clear, I don't have a doubt in my mind about the man that will become my husband tomorrow. He's perfect. We laugh, poke fun, love, console and are best friends to each other. We've been through a tornado that could've taken his life, a blizzard that lasted about a week, death and turmoil. I know he's "the one" and he will be an amazing daddy to my little girl. 

It's not him that makes me nervous. It's marriage. The institution. The lifelong commitment. It's the 50% success rate. I don't know many people who are successful at marriage. It's not like becoming an engineer or a chemist. They don't have classes or textbooks or continuing education. 

My parents are divorced. Their parents are divorced. I have a handful of aunts and uncles who haven't been divorced. Friends divorce- it's so easy. I've been married once before and I was HORRIBLE at it.  

How do you guarantee success? How do we stay secure in our relationship so that we don't fail? How do we stay IN love and not just love each other? How do we handle being two (incredibly) independent people merging into one household. 

You see, that blizzard is the longest we've ever "lived" together. Yep- we've taken vacations, but never alone for that long. We stay together on the weekends, but we maintain two households. How do we handle finances without allowing them to come between us? How do we raise our daughter to be an amazing, loving little girl without screwing up? How do we avoid being "those parents" at a restaurant. You know, the ones that sit in silence with each other and only talk to their kid? How do we make important decisions about where to live, what to do for holidays or whether to allow our daughter to date? 

I honestly don't know. I wish I did. Truth is, I'm a horrible student- so even if they had the textbook and the class- it wouldn't help me. I sure hope that my own mistakes will teach me a lesson or two. I cross my fingers that we'll remember never to go to bed angry and talk stuff out. I pray that we provide an example for Harper Grace and show her what a loving relationship looks like. Heck, maybe we can show ourselves. 

Thanks everyone for the prayers and the well wishes- I hope they don't end tomorrow. Yep- that may be the easiest day of our journey together. 

An Angel is born.... Or at least moves home

I was so sad to see the news that Mike Marion passed away. I know many of you never met Mike, and maybe you're wondering just who he is. 

In Late January of 1999, we had a break-in. I was living with Jake and Drew at the time and some ass decided to bring three friends and crash into our apartment. We were all assaulted and this day, nearly 14 years later, I can see the face of the "guard" standing outside our door to stop us. Fortunately, the ass who instigated this was one of my middle school crushes- I'd have known him anywhere. We called the police, went to the hospital (mostly because Drew's Samson locks were covered in blood). 

The West Lafayette Police Department assigned a detective to our case. I won't lie- it scared me to death. I didn't want to leave home, go to class or be around anyone. Jake bought a gun...THE GUN. 

So this detective was an amazing woman. Her name is Cindy. Cindy Marion. We weren't the easiest victims to deal with. I was needy and the guys wanted to pretend it didn't happen. 

Cindy helped us through all of it. She helped us when I was driving one day and saw the "guard" guy sitting on a front porch. She helped us through the court case and testifying. More importantly, she got Jake and I through it. 

She invited us to church. Us to church. Back then, that was like inviting a chicken to Chic-Fil-A. I mean, she was a police detective- we HAD to go. Right? She then introduced us to her family...and Mike. 

Mike became like a father to us, they both became like parents. They kept us coming to church. They mentored us, encouraged us and helped us as a couple, as Christians and as people. 

We became Sunday School teachers for the teens. I was baptized. We stayed active in the church. Our relationship with the Marions grew. They were present when we got married and supported us as we tried to be successful. They were there for me when Jake used THE GUN to take his own life. 

I guess I cut many people in my life out when he died. It was my way of moving on...I haven't talked to our pastor from Lafayette. I didn't socialize with my hometown friends for almost 10 years. I was timid each time I went to the mall, because I might run into someone. 

Just a few months ago, Cindy sent me a friend request on Facebook. It was great to see an update on their lives, how the kids have grown and how Cindy and Mike haven't changed. It was so sad to learn that Mike was ill. 

I wish I had taken the opportunity to thank Mike for making a difference in my life. I never thanked him for being a role model, a father figure and a friend. 

There's no doubt that Mike is in Heaven. He might even have an extra special seat. The cool part for me is I know that he's seen Jake. 

Thank you, Mike. I'm not sure who I would be without the influence of you. Maybe I wouldn't have the same relationship with God, maybe Jake and I would've never married, maybe I wouldn't be a week and a half away from becoming a bride again, or months away from becoming a mother. 

I regret that I never said this to him...or Cindy. Do me a favor- tell someone who has made an impact in you "thanks". Don't wait until it is too late. 

It's a girl?!?

I'm not going to lie, I never thought it was a girl. It was hard for me to imagine myself as the mother of a girl. I always assumed it was a boy. I. Was. Wrong.

I was an incredibly difficult daughter. When my parents were still married, I knew I was a daddy's girl and how to work it...even if it caused problems for my parents. After my parents divorced, I was a terror to my mom. I was mean, mouthy and a brat. I was (am) strong-willed, independent and wanted my way. 

Around the time I became a teenager, my "grandpa" molested two girls. We often joked he never touched me because I would've hurt him. It changed how I felt about men, I became scared around all older men. 

My mom and stepdad were hard on me. I had to (gasp!) get a job by the age of 16. I was grounded constantly. I had to maintain good grades. 

I did stupid things: I had sex way too young, I got mad at my mom and drank facial astringent, I ran away. I was still mouthy- heck, I was mouthier.

I didn't learn to appreciate my mom until after my husband died. I then dated a guy with a daughter for about 7 years. She was a daddy's girl that could get anything with the word"daaaaaaeeeey". It was my lone shot at parenting, and I sucked. 

I was so hard on Christina. Argued with her over stuff that didn't need to be argued about, stood my ground when I didn't need to. Sometimes i didn't even giver her a chance to explain. 

I also had amazing experiences with her- she went to protest at the school board with me, she developed her own mind, we took road trips together, shopped for baggy jeans, went to the beach, and ate at the Waffle House in pj pants. 

I knew why my mom was "hard" on me. I knew what she hoped and dreamed for me, and who she wanted me to become. 

The good news is that I turned out pretty darn well. I'm independent, successful and smart. I've become my own future and managed to overcome the challenges in my life. My mom did a good job.

Christina is a pretty great kid. She's smart, independent and incredibly hardworking. 

I'm going to have a baby girl. I'm going to have a chance to do this start to finish. I know she will be a daddy's girl. There's no doubt in my mind. I just hope she will be a little bit of a momma's girl too. I hope I can teach her my passion for reading. I hope she, like me, will be involved at school, outspoken for what she believes in and a little independent. 

I also hope she will be a little bit girly. I sure wasn't! I wore boxer shorts and t-shirts all if the time, I borrowed my dad's jeans to wear. I still don't wear make-up. My Christina is a lot like me. She loved Aetnies skateboard shoes, baggy jeans, and tshirts. One of our bigger disagreements was because she was supposed to wear a dress to 5th grade graduation and she refused. 

I hope Harper Grace will be a little bit tomboy- love sports. I also hope she will want a pedicure every now and then. 

I'm not ready to think about boys, periods or broken hearts. What if she wants to ride a party bus to prom? Go tanning at a young age? What if she wants to ride to the beach with her friends? Wears booty shorts? Reads Danielle Steele at 13? 

Truth is-we will be blessed if she turns out like Christina, but she won't. She's going to turn out like Harper Grace Logan. I'll be blessed to have part in raising two girls. My challenge is to learn from my mistakes :) 

I am so excited to know I'm having a baby girl. God has blessed me in ways I couldn't have dreamed of. I just need to get this right, and I will. I have my mom to help. 

Well piss!

First off, I can't believe I'm telling this story. Frankly, it's too good to keep a secret. I better start with some background information. You see, I hate the word poop. It disgusts me. I once dated a guy with a toothless stepdad. Have you ever seen a toothless person say that word? I mean, just go stand in front of a mirror and say it. Your mouth, especially the toothless, looks like a butthole when you say it. We will not use that word with the baby and I sure don't use it now. I'd rather you use crap, shit, caca Sri Lanka, deuce, dump, or go Auburn. My siblings (especially Brandon) love to say it long and slow. EW! The only thing worse is someone else's crap. My poor niece used to hate for me to wipe her butt because I'd gag. She'd actually praise me when I didn't. 

So, having said that, remember I'm pregnant and have a much stronger gag reflex. Today we go to the Annual Michael Chicken Stew (that's Heaven in a bowl, by the way). After we leave we have a couple of errands to run- so I decide to potty before we leave. As I hit the bathroom door, I knew I'd be holding my breath during this pee break. Clearly someone had just (as my brother says) dropped the kids off in the pool. Oh but it's so much worse! They. Didn't. Flush. I'm trying to flush the toilet and with every gag, I pee myself just a little. The gagging got worse and so did the pee. Now I'm just trying to avoid pissing all over their floor. Well...after quickly peeing, I try to flush again. People- this was the cockroach of the crap world. That dang stuff is still floating and I'm still gagging. The bottom line: I both peed myself and puked over this load, but I flushed that biznitch! 

Frankly, it's the best pee story I have. It ranks above peeing myself while being spanked by my uncle, rolling in snow while walking home from school to hide my peed pants, or peeing on my cousin's porch because they didn't answer the door quick enough. 

Ill be in Depends before 40... And in the meantime, I'll carry some extra panties with me.