On being a mother

Story #1

I don't even bother checking the time as I stumble, still mostly asleep, from my bed towards little Eli crying in his crib. All I know is that it is past midnight, since that is when I was up last, but since it is still pitch black outside I know the night is far from over. In some ways that is a relief. Maybe this is the last time I will get woken up tonight, and maybe I will get a few hours of undisturbed, blissful, much-needed sleep. Maybe. (Although I know in my heart that is only wishful thinking.)

When I pick him up I snuggle him close, kiss his warm, fuzzy head, and get comfortable on the bed in the nursery where I sit and nurse him during these night feedings. My eyes are heavy, and once he latches I can't keep them open any longer. I don't realize I've fallen asleep until my head jerks up when my chin bumps into my collarbone.

By this time, my little man-cub is peacefully snoozing on my lap after drinking himself back to sleep, so I gingerly move him to his crib. I can never resist kissing his silky-soft cheeks before I leave. When I bend down, I can smell his sweet baby skin, and even though I'm dead tired I can't help but pause for a minute to marvel at his perfect, tiny little self. Every day I'm filled with awe that he is mine.

I stumble back to bed, trying not to disturb my sleeping husband, and sink back into sleep.

Story #2:

I can hear laughter coming from the other room, so I peek around the corner to spy on Dallin and Eli, who are playing on the floor while I try to get some things done. Gleeful baby giggles (the best sound in the world, hands down) erupt every time Dallin pretends to eat him up, which makes Dallin laugh in return, and this sequence is repeated over again until Dallin picks Eli up, squeezes and kisses him, and says, "I love you so much, little guy. We're going to be best friends!" And then I swoon and melt into a puddle all at once because I just can't handle how much I love those two boys of mine.

Story #3:

After changing his diaper, I sit Eli on the floor while I grab a fresh outfit. He happily starts playing with one of his favorite toys – an empty water bottle that never made it to the trash – and I take advantage of his contentment to spend a few peaceful (and much needed!) minutes reading. A few minutes later I pause to look up at him. The goofball is cheerfully alternating between chewing on his water bottle and blowing very wet raspberries that dribble past his pursed lips, down his chin, and onto his round baby belly. I can't help but laugh at him, all covered in slobber, and just as happy as can be. He is so perfectly innocent. 

I can't help but remember the fact that this sweet naiveté is only temporary. One day his world will include so much more than just playing, eating, sleeping, and seeing how big of a mess he can make when my back is turned. One day he will have to learn about the ugly and hard things the world holds. And while I take comfort in knowing that there will also be so much beauty to discover, and that our home can be a safe haven, I worry daily about how I will be a good enough mother. Often I wonder if I have it in me, but it makes me feel a little better when I remember that I don't have to do it alone. 

------------

Ever since Eli was born I've had so many people ask me how it feels to be a mother. I usually opt for the short answer: "It's great, I love it!" And while that is true, it is so much more than that.

Motherhood is... gosh, how do I describe it? For me, it is a collection of extremes and paradoxes.

It is intense fatigue and equally intense joy.

It is difficult, and yet feels like second nature most of the time.

It is appreciating luxuries like undisturbed showers and solo bathroom trips more than I ever knew I would.

It is the hardest kind of work, both physically and mentally.

It is giving all I have and then realizing I still, miraculously, have more to give.

It is experiencing a kind of love I never knew existed.

It is beginning to understand how much Heavenly Father loves his children.

It is a thousand moments every day like the stories I mentioned above, a thousand heart-stretching moments of both struggle and bliss.

It's a wild ride, man. A ride I am thankful to experience.

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

The weather yesterday was too beautiful to stay inside, so we grabbed some Subway and headed to the park for a little picnic. I brought my camera along to practice on my two favorite subjects.

They are pretty cute, both of them, if I do say so myself.

Eli loves to be outside! If he is fussy, which luckily isn't too often, a quick walk to the mailbox and back will usually cheer him up. 

I'm usually on the other side of the camera, but I'm trying to remember to have someone take pictures of me too, especially with this sweet little man that is growing so fast. 

Dallin can't wait for Eli to be less of a blob and more of a buddy. Often I'll catch him hugging and kissing him and saying, "You're gonna like me someday! We're going to be best friends!" I guess it won't be long before Eli becomes daddy's boy... although I still have the advantage since Eli looooves his food and food = mama. Muahahaha.

Somewhere around the time Eli turned two months old something magical happened and I finally got out of survival mode. As much as I loved his newborn stages, it's nice to feel a little more human and to be sleeping longer than 2 hour stretches (most nights, at least!). It's a lot easier to enjoy all the happy moments (and tolerate the challenging ones) when I'm not in zombie mode, that's for sure. And I'm really thankful that zombie mode hasn't  been finding me as much during the day. Yippee!

Feliz Dia de las Madres and all that jazz

So... I started writing a grumpy post about how I felt this Mother's Day, but instead of posting it I think I'll just share the link to this article and focus on happiness instead.

Even though it's easy to feel inadequate and overwhelmed, at least I know I'm doing my best and that no one could love him more than I do. I'm so thankful to be this cute baby's mama, even with the rough days and long nights, and I know he is worth it. I love his little baby body that is gaining new rolls every day, his drooling smiles, and his belly button that reminds me of a cinnamon roll. I love seeing him passed out in a milk coma after I feed him, and hearing his quick little breaths in my ear when I burp him. I love that baby smell, his soft little red hairs, his wide eyes, and how much he reminds me of his daddy.

He is the sweetest little thing and I love him even more than cookies or pizza. That's saying something, folks. ;)

Real Life

Oh, the glamour of motherhood.

I'm typing this while frantically rocking Eli's bouncer with my foot in hopes that he will finally (FINALLY) take a nap longer than five minutes this morning. I don't think he appreciates it very much since he's giving me an exceedingly dirty look. Wait, let me get a picture of it...

Oh yeah. Check out that face. Somebody is just oozing sunshine and butterflies this morning, aren't they?

I know he must be exhausted. The dear child woke up more than a few times last night, probably to make up for sleeping so well this week. And yet he insists on fighting tooth gum and nail to stay awake. Silly, silly boy.

It's mornings like this when I'm torn between two strong emotions. On one hand, I think to myself, "There are so many things I would rather be doing right now than have a grumpy baby kicking me with his brace while he cries in my ear."

Yet, on the other hand, I can't help but know that there is nothing I could do that is more important than to comfort the sweet little babe I've been given. And when I hear his tiny sigh of relief once I successfully help him calm down, I know that this job, difficult as it might be, is more fulfilling and sweet than anything else in the world.

And even though I haven't been able to shower in longer than I'd care to admit, and my half-eaten bowl of cereal I was never able to finish is almost certainly sludge by now, and I'll have to re-wash the load of laundry I realized I never did dry last night (dang it!), and I'm beginning to feel like I haven't slept in years, I'm so thankful to be this tiny little man's mama. He is worth it, 100%, and I love him more than I can explain.

And look! He even slept long enough for me to write this.

If he stays asleep for a few minutes, maybe I'll go do something crazy like, I don't know... take a shower or something. I know, I know. What can I say? I'm a wild child.

Peace out.

Eli's Birth Story

Once upon a time, I had a baby.

Before I forget the details I wanted to write Eli's birth story down. I thought I'd post it here too. 

My goal for childbirth (besides the obvious #1 priority of getting my baby here safely) was to have a positive birth experience. I didn't want to remember giving birth as traumatic or scary... I wanted it to be a happy thing. Because of this, I chose to give birth naturally if at all possible, meaning without any drugs to either speed up labor or relieve pain. I've always been a little anxious about childbirth and I felt most comfortable with this approach. Call me a hippie if you like... you won't be the first or the last to do so. ;)

I woke up the morning of the 20th with a contraction. I'd been having them every evening for several days and this one wasn't much different than the ones I'd had already, except for the fact that it was in the morning. That was a little out of the ordinary, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I was a few days past my due date and really wanting to get labor started naturally before the induction I had scheduled for Tuesday morning. Going into labor on Thursday would be so perfectly timed in every way that I was sure it couldn't really be happening, so I just went back to sleep and tried not to think about it too much. After about an hour, however, they started to get stronger and were a little uncomfortable... something I had yet to experience with any of my previous contractions.

After an hour or so they had become quite a bit more uncomfortable, so I hopped in the shower in hopes that the hot water would help me relax. Oh, it felt so good. I stayed in there for a long, long time just soaking it up. At this point, I figured he would probably be born late that night or (more likely) sometime the next morning. My contractions were getting closer together and a little more uncomfortable, but if I lay on my side and breathed deeply I still felt pretty good.

Dallin came home for lunch (and brought me some delicious soup... bless that man) and we decided that he should go back to work and finish out the day. I still thought I had quite a bit of time before things would really start happening, and I didn't want to show up to the hospital until I needed to so I could labor at home for as long as possible. But after he left, things really started picking up. My contractions became quite a bit more intense and close together, and I had to really focus on breathing and relaxing during contractions. After an hour I texted Dallin and he ended up coming home soon after that.

Dallin gave me a priesthood blessing, and then we left for the hospital around 2:45, and about halfway there I started freaking out a bit. Wait a second, am I really ready to go to the hospital? Am I going too soon? Am I really having a baby?? I asked Dallin to pull into the church parking lot for a minute so I could make up my mind. Two intense contractions later my mind was quite firmly made up and we were zipping back to the hospital.

We headed into the hospital, rang the doorbell at the labor and delivery wing (Nurse: "Hi, can I help you?" Dallin: "Yes, we'd like to have a baby."), and headed in. They took me into a room, hooked me up to some monitors, checked my progress (4-5cm and 60% effaced) and then admitted me.

Things were really starting to pick up when I got to the delivery room. I had to sign a bunch of papers (quite the trick when you're contracting, lemme tell ya), and once that nonsense was over with one of the nurses suggested that I bounce on a birthing ball. I tried that for a minute but didn't stay there long. I was most comfortable laying on my side, eyes closed, with Dallin close by, and that is how I labored for... well, however long I was there. Time wasn't really on my mind at this point. Everything in me was focused on breathing deeply, relaxing every muscle, and allowing my body to do what it needed to do.

I'm amazed at how peaceful I felt during this time. My contractions were quite intense, but I always felt like I could manage the pain. Honestly, I'd describe labor as uncomfortable, intense, and exhausting more than painful. The name is fitting, I think. Labor is just that... labor. I'm not saying it didn't hurt, because it certainly did, but it was a different kind of pain than I've ever experienced. I suppose it's just something you have to feel yourself to understand. It was really something else to lay there, completely focused inward, feeling myself get closer and closer to meeting my baby with every contraction. The human body amazes me. 

After a little while, maybe an hour or hour and a half, my contractions started to feel different. You know that feeling in your gut when you're crying, like really crying, or when you sneeze? How your abs tighten up? That's how it felt. When I realized what was going on -- that I was feeling the urge to push -- I tried to explain how I was feeling to a nurse. She didn't really believe me at first, but one of the other nurses checked my progress just to be sure. Lo and behold, I was already 9+ centimeters dilated and 100% effaced. Everyone started running around getting things ready. I guess none of us were expecting to have a baby show up so soon, especially not me! It wasn't until now that I learned that they had not been able to reach my doctor. They tried calling her again (and finally got a hold of her this time, thank the heavens above) and told me not to push... as if that were possible. There was no stopping it at that point. Thankfully, my doctor wasn't very far away and got to the hospital pretty quickly, suited up, and within a couple minutes I was squatting at the end of the bed ready to begin pushing in earnest.

I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea that things were really happening, that my baby was really almost here, but once I started pushing everything became very real. My focus shifted from working through my contractions to working with them to push him out. I pushed really hard for what I think was 20 minutes or so, and little baby Eli James was born February 20 at 5:53pm, a little under 3 hours after we got to the hospital, and around 10.5 hours after I went into labor. He weighed 7lbs 12oz, measures 18 3/4 inches long, and scored a perfect 10 on the APGAR test. 

They put him on my chest right away and Dallin cut the cord. Holding Eli's warm little body close to me and looking at his perfect little face was the best feeling in the whole world. Nothing compares to the happiness, relief, and contentment I felt when they put him in my arms. 

These two boys have my heart. I love them more than I could ever say.

We were pretty tired. Can you tell? ;)

And isn't this wee man-child the cutest thing you've ever seen?

1 day old

5 days old

5 days old

I'm definitely not biased or anything, either.

Welcome to the world, baby Eli! We love you so much already. 

Also, if you were to decide to start sleeping a little more at night, we wouldn't object. Just saying. 

I'm in love.

This little human has me tightly wrapped around his (freakishly long) little fingers and I love it so much. And I love my sweet little Eli so much. And I love sleep so much too, but thankfully not as much as I love him since I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a half-awake (at best) zombie for the rest of my days. Fact.

We survived the first week together, and while it hasn't been the easiest week of my life it just might be the happiest. This little man-cub is the best, and I just can't squish or kiss or stare at him enough. I love being his mama. He makes the sleepless nights worth it, 100%.

Guess what?

I have someone for you to meet.

Sweet little baby Eli James arrived Thursday, February 20 at 5:53pm. He was 7lbs 12oz, 18 3/4 inches long, and is healthy as can be... and pretty adorable, if I do say so myself. Not that I'm biased or anything. ;) 

We're so in love with this handsome young man already. He's such a little sweetheart. Everything went so smoothly with the labor and delivery, for which I am very thankful. Baby and I are both doing really well and are happy to be home! More pictures and the birth story coming when I have a chance to type with two hands (and can bring myself to tear my eyes away from his cute little face). So... like never. Oh well.

Are we there yet?

I'm struggling today. There's a lot on my mind that is stressing me out and I'm having a hard time dealing with it right now. I'm exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and ready to not be pregnant anymore. This silly baby just doesn't seem quite ready to come yet, no matter how hard I try to convince him otherwise. I really thought he'd be here by now, and it's becoming more and more difficult to be patient, especially since now I'm at the point where I need to make some decisions before my doctor's appointment tomorrow. 

Here are the top 3 scenarios we're looking at right now:

Option 1: Go into labor naturally, ideally soon. Like... maybe today? ;)

This would be very, very nice. For realsies. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem likely that this will happen. Who knows, though? Maybe it will! I hope so.

Pros: Everything, but especially the fact that it's more likely I could stick to my birth plan/wishes if this happened, and that would mean a lot to me. (Although I know the most important thing is to get my baby here safely, and I'm willing to do what it takes to make that happen... no matter what.) 

Cons: None. Come on, baby... let's do this! 

Option 2: Get induced Thursday or Friday. 

I'd rather not get induced, but my doctor doesn't want me to go past 41 weeks.

Pros: I'd be done this week. Dallin could take off Friday and then be with me the rest of the weekend.

Cons: I'd like to give my body a chance to start things on its own and maybe it just needs a couple more days... Thursday/Friday is pretty soon and I'll only be 40 weeks and 4-5 days along. Do I really want to be induced so early? I'd also end up spending much more time in the hospital. Not a big fan of that idea.

Option 3: Get induced Monday.

I am pretty sure I could convince my doctor (she's really reasonable and nice) to let me do this, even though it means I'll be going a few days over 41 weeks.

Pros: I'd have a little more time to (hopefully) get things going naturally. It's longer than my impatient self would like to wait, but I know that if you don't have complications (and thankfully I don't) there's usually no reason to be concerned about going a little past 41 weeks. 

Cons: Dallin will have a really hard time leaving work for very long, particularly at the beginning of the week when things are craziest. He is the only pharmacist and nothing can happen when he is gone. I know I'll be much more comfortable, happy, and calm with him there. I'm not worried about him missing the actual birth – I know he will be there for that, no matter what – but I really want him there before and after too. 

I know that things will all work out the way they are supposed to, but it sure would be nice to know how and when, you know? I'm ready to meet this little babe! Hopefully he will be ready to meet us soon.   

Also, if I only had a dime for every time I've been asked, "Are you still pregnant?" Oy.

Okay. Grumpy post over. 

On a happier note, here's some things I've been thankful for this week:

Daffodils

Beautiful, warm weather

XL t-shirts

Symphony chocolate bars (the ones with toffee and almonds, of course)

Facetime

Almost all of my dishes are clean, thanks to Dallin. Is there anything better?

I've been sleeping well still. Hallelujah!

My Les Mis and Simon & Garfunkel stations on Pandora. The best.

Orange juice

Uplifting blogs (especially this post)

Prayer

Wanna do me a favor? Are there any hilarious videos, articles, or other miscellaneous awesomeness floating around the interwebz I should be aware of? If so, you should send me the link. :) 

40 Weeks

Well, today is the day. February 16 is here at last, the date I've been looking forward and counting down to since I found out I was pregnant. I'm 40 weeks pregnant today... and very much ready to have this baby. 

Unfortunately it seems that he isn't quite ready to make his grand appearance just yet. Little stinker.

I'm trying to be patient. I want him to come when he is good and ready. At the same time, I am becoming a little antsy. I hope he decides to come soon since I would really like to avoid being induced if possible. Pregnancy really has been much more enjoyable and easy than I was expecting, but after 40 weeks I think I'm ready to not be pregnant any more, you know what I mean? It's time this baby got evicted from his entirely-too-comfortable (for him) abode. At least I know he will for sure be here within a week since my doctor doesn't want me to go over 41 weeks. I'm also grateful I didn't get to the "enough-of-this-pregnancy-bizness-get-this-baby-outta-here" stage until this past week. Very grateful indeed.

It's weird to see these two pictures side-by-side... the beginning and the end. It seems like that first picture was taken ages ago. I can barely remember what it was like to not be pregnant. It's going to be weird to not have a little alien swimming around in my belly anymore. I'm going to miss it, I'm sure. 

See you soon, baby boy! 

Pregnancy Problems

Well, I'm still pregnant, very much so. Since I'm a little cranky today and starting to feel like I am going to be pregnant forever, I figured a little humor was in order. 

And so, without further ado, I present to you: Pregnancy Problems, gif style.

Whenever I have to go anywhere:

(...and a bra.)

As soon as I get home (after removing all unnecessary clothing, obviously):




What I want to do all day, erryday:




Whenever I go near anything with this big belly of mine:




Going to church when 9 months pregnant:

When I sneeze while walking and don't have to change my pants:



When strangers come up and touch my belly:




When the dishes are piling up in precariously balanced mountains all around the kitchen:



How I felt every morning when I was still teaching early morning seminary in my 3rd trimester:

(I really miss being a morning person.)

When someone tells me an old wive's tale and then I realize they believe in it:




When someone asks me if I know how little sleep I'll be getting in the future:

Wait, you mean I'm going to have to take care of
this human, even in the middle of the night? Gasp!

When someone feels the need to share a scary birth or pregnancy story about their cousin's roommate's sister's ex-step-aunt-in-law-once-removed:



And last of all.... When I think about the cute little babe I'm going to get to love on in (hopefully) just a few days:



Get here soon, baby boy!

I have a problem.

In case you've missed the somewhat obnoxious amount of pregnancy talk around this little old blog of mine (That's just all I think about nowadays... #sorrynotsorry), I'm having a baby. Like... any day now. I'm a baby making time bomb. 

Now. I've been pregnant for a long time. 38.5 weeks, to be precise. I've also known that I wanted to have children since... well, since as long as I can remember. Even though I can hardly believe that the time is (pretty much) already here, I can't say I haven't been looking forward to it for quite some time. I've been preparing in many ways over the past 20-something years to have this kiddo. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. My bag is packed, the nursery is ready, I've got some freezer meals ready to go, I'm stocked up on a few months worth of household supplies, I've read the birthing books I wanted to read, many prayers have been prayed, many deep breaths taken, and it's pretty much just a waiting game from here on out. 

Except for one thing: I still don't know what the heck we're going to name this child. 

I had no idea it would be such a task to pick out a name, but when you look at the criteria it needs to fit I guess it isn't a surprise. 

• We both have to like it (and apparently we're both pickier than we thought)
• It can't be too popular or trendy
• First name must be more than one syllable 
• Initials can't spell out anything weird (and there's a lot of three-letter words that end in D, by the way. Sad. Mad. Bad. Dad. Fad. Wad. Lid. Kid. God. Bed. You get the idea.)
• We can't have any negative associations with the name (Who knew there were so many people we didn't like? Just kidding... kind of.)
• No gender neutral names
• Nothing too difficult to pronounce or spell
• Something that won't sound ridiculous when he's a grown-up

I'm sure there's more, but those are the main requirements. Basically, we both want something that is a good, solid, dependable name... yet isn't overused. 

In other words, we'll probably end up just giving our kids numbers instead of names. Why not simplify things, right? 

Or maybe when we meet him one of the names we've been throwing around will just click. I hope so. 

Just in case... any suggestions? Any other good websites beside whatalovelyname.com and nameberry.com?

Also, it's a good thing our last name isn't "Knight" or else my husband might be tempted. 

38 weeks

"Any day now."

Every time I say those three words (which has been a lot lately, considering how often people have been asking me when this baby is a-comin'), it kind of blows my mind a bit. Am I really just a mere two weeks away from my due date? It is actually February already? Am I really going to have a baby, like within the next couple weeks? Whaaaat?

It's crazy... but the best kind of crazy. I'm so excited to finally meet the little stinker who has been kicking my ribs and punching my bladder for the past 9 months. 

Not much has changed since my last pregnancy update a month ago. I'm still feeling surprisingly well, for which I'm very, very thankful! I didn't sleep very well this week, but I think that had a lot more to do with a nasty sinus infection than pregnancy. I'm still not very swollen, at least not enough to keep me from wearing normal shoes or my wedding ring, and I don't have an outie belly button (although there's definitely time for that to change... haha!). 

People kept telling me about how terribly uncomfortable I would get the last trimester, so uncomfortable that I would be so ready to not be pregnant anymore, but I haven't gotten to that point yet. I'll be just fine if he decides to wait until his due date (or even a little longer) to make his grand appearance. 

On the other hand, it will be pretty nice to longer have this big 'ol baby squishing my innards. I'm also really looking forward to sleeping on my stomach and wearing normal clothes again. 

Oh yeah, and having a cute little babe to love on, of course. ;)

Now I just hope my delivery goes as smoothly as my pregnancy has. We shall see!

A safe place

I've experienced so many emotions since the day we found out I was pregnant. Happiness, excitement, anxiety, impatience, gratitude... the list goes on. It's a roller coaster. I'm sure that has nothing to do with the wonderful thing that is pregnancy hormones. (False!)

As my due date grows closer, I have a new emotion to add to that list... worry. 

I worry about my little baby since I know he won't be a baby for long. He is going to grow up into a boy, then a teenager, then a man -- all in what will feel like a blink of an eye. He is going to experience both the beautiful and repulsive elements of this world. He is going to face challenges, and my heart is going to burst with happiness when I see him overcome them. He is going to make mistakes, maybe some pretty big ones, and my heart will break to see him learn lessons the hard way. 

I worry about my little baby because I can see what an ugly place the world is becoming. I hope he will seek out all the goodness and beauty that is (thankfully) still all around. Just a few short years ago, when I was a teenager, things were much different. The challenges kids are up against nowadays are changing and intensifying so incredibly quickly. That's something that I was reminded of constantly when I was teaching seminary. What will it be like in 10, 15, 20 years from now? How much more difficult will it be to make righteous choices? 

This morning I woke up with all these worries in my mind. I stewed over them while laying in bed staring at the ceiling. When Dallin left for work I sat down with a bowl of cereal and stewed some more. I stewed so much that I really started to stress out about the idea of becoming a parent. Will I be a good mom? Will my kids make good decisions? Will they be happy?

Then I had the impression to pull up the talks from October's General Conference and find one to listen to. That's one of the ways I find answers and comfort when I need it. I began listening to Pres. Boyd K. Packer's talk titled "The Key to Spiritual Protection". It was just what I needed to hear.  

"Parents today wonder if there is a safe place to raise children. There is a safe place. It is in a gospel-centered home."

I can't control what goes on in the world, but I can make my home a sanctuary. I can teach my children right from wrong. I can give them the tools they need to be successful. 

"We live in perilous times; nevertheless, we can find hope and peace for ourselves and for our families. Those living in sorrow, despairing at the possibility of children being rescued from where the world has taken them, must never give up. 'Be not afraid, only believe.' Righteousness is more powerful than wickedness."

Even though the world is crazy, and getting worse daily, righteousness is more powerful and will win in the end. 

"The gospel teaches us to be happy, to have faith rather than fear, to find hope and overcome despair, to leave darkness and turn toward the light of the everlasting gospel."

It's through the gospel that my family and I can be happy, hopeful, and fearless. That's the key to the protection I so deeply want for my children. And oh, how thankful I am to have it in my life. 

(Written yesterday... I didn't get around to posting it until now.)

A small price to pay

Let me be perfectly honest: I underestimated pregnancy. I heard many tales of the adventures that accompany growing a human being, but I always thought they were a wee bit exaggerated. C'mon, being pregnant can't really affect you that much... right?

WRONG.

It began with nausea. I was lucky enough to only throw up a handful of times, but that didn't mean I didn't feel sick as a dog the rest of the time, because I absolutely did. 

Even just thinking about food made me feel like this:

 

I pretty much lived off of Honey Bunches of Oats for the first 16 weeks of my pregnancy since that grossed me out the least. 

Then, just as suddenly as the nausea came, it was replaced with these feelings:







People often ask me, "So, have you been craving anything?"

My answer? "Yes. All the food."

Seriously. I just want to eat everything in the house, all day, erryday. Thank the heavens above this includes a lot of healthy food (pomegranates and tomatoes and cuties, oh my!), but I've also grown weak when it comes to chocolate, ice cream, oreos, and pretty much everything on the Sonic menu. 

It's a problem. 

I resolve to cut it out, and I'm good for a few days, but then a craving hits me for [insert your unhealthy food of choice here, I've probably craved it at one point] and the Veruca Salt within me breaks loose. 

MUST HAVE [unhealthy food of choice] NOW.



A trip to the store with my patient husband (bless that man) usually follows immediately thereafter, and happiness is restored.



Sometimes the baby just needs ice cream, you know? NEEDS IT.

The aforementioned nausea was accompanied with intense pregnancy fatigue. It would hit me so unexpectedly that sometimes I felt like a narcoleptic. 



I spent a lot of time on the couch or in bed those first 16 weeks or so. A lot. 

One of the main things I thought must be exaggerated about pregnancy was the mood swings. Oh boy, was that was a rude awakening. I used to think of myself as a pretty emotionally stable woman. I am was generally capable of keeping myself together. 

Ah, those were the days, my friends. Those were the days. Now, I can go from euphoric happiness to a weepy mess at the drop of a hat.

Just in case you don't believe me (and because I have no shame), here are a few things that have made me cry during pregnancy:
-All the pans were dirty when I wanted mac and cheese.
-This Michael Jackson marching band video. Yes, really.
-My favorite sweats were in the washer when I wanted to wear them.
-And the worst, most perplexing one of all... absolutely nothing. 





But the biggest thing I underestimated about pregnancy was how fulfilling, mind-blowing, and exciting it would be to think about the miracle happening inside my stretching belly. I'm making a human being. That thought still leaves me in awe. 

I also didn't know how sweet it would be to sit quietly, feeling my wee babe kick my hand, imagining what he will be like and what adventures are waiting for us. 

I didn't know I would already love him as much as I do.

And I didn't know how happy I would be to experience all the discomforts of pregnancy. It's a small price to pay, and I feel so grateful to be able to experience it all.

Just a little less than a month (give or take) until I get to meet my squishy little man-cub. I can't wait.