Wednesday, February 18, 2015

It Only Took 13 Weeks...

It only took 13 weeks for me to have the confidence to write your blog. Yes, I know how silly that sounds, particularly given that we announced your pregnancy really, really early. I just really never expected us to make it this far. At my 10-week appointment with our midwife she was asking me why I felt like something was wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it. And I still can't. I hope to goodness that this is just something that happens after one-too-many miscarriages. You just worry. But alas, here we are. Second trimester (not that my "morning" sickness has noticed.) We found out we were expecting you after your father repeatedly told me that I was pregnant. "No, I'm not" I'd reply. Then I broke my toes and needed an xray. Rather than risk it, I decided to take a test before I went to the doctor. I called your dad to come home from choir practice because I needed to go to the doctor. Then I cried. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I can't have an xray. I'm pregnant" and your dad just lit up like a Christmas tree. I have never seen a man receive news with such joy. (For the record, I did get the xray, with the blessing of our midwife.)

First and foremost, you should know that you are much loved and long-awaited. Your siblings started asking for a baby before Daddy and I could even really wrap our heads around the idea. They want a brother. Dear goodness, we hope for their sake that you are a brother. They are convinced you are a boy. Sarah Grace believes this to be true because she prayed for a boy with Solomon, a girl with Hannah, and for a boy with you. So, yeah, if you're a girl... I'm sorry. They'll get over it eventually, I'm sure. I have a great plan not to tell them your sex until they actually see your little face. I figure you'll be just so cute that boy or girl won't matter to them at that point. But at this point, it matters. Solomon keeps telling me he loves his little brother. Oof.

And why the name of your blog? If nothing else, my dear one, you have convinced me that this is my last pregnancy. I'm sure when I'm closing up your blog on your 1st birthday, I'll be briefly considering the sweetness of baby kicks and first coo's. But no, this is too hard. For one, we haven't won the lottery yet. And two, the last thirteen weeks have been some of the hardest of my life. By no fault of yours, I've just been really sick. I put "morning" sickness in quotes because it usually starts about lunchtime and I'm nauseous and or vomiting through bedtime. I've taken Zofran, Phenergan, every old wives' tale around and still, the sickness continues. I'm hoping that this is the last week of it. Which brings me to my next point:

Your father is a saint. Your dad has dutifully fulfilled cravings, made dinner, brought me my shots and supplies, cleaned the house and generally waited on me hand and foot for the last three months. I've taken care of your siblings through some really awful illnesses (Hannah went to the hospital for a few days, for example) and Daddy has done the rest. I can't count the number of nights he's made a yummy dinner and then cleaned the bucket as I've barfed it back up. If you're grossed out reading that as an adult, you can just imagine being the one to do it. We love you. If you've ever wanted a good example of Christ's love, take a look at your father. He serves me so well. I am so appreciative. I have promised to return to semi-human life soon.

Craving report: salty foods. Usually a sweets-lover, most of the time I can take them or leave them right now. Tonight I was craving a milkshake, which has been unusual. For the most part I want potato chips, vegetable sushi and the like. I craved those things with Sarah Grace. If you, the other bookend, are as strong-willed as her, you'll go far (and I'll go crazy.)

So we expect you to be born at the end of August or the beginning of September. Thanks for being our newest blessing. We can't wait to meet you.
Us at 7 weeks

How we told the world you are joining us

You at 10 weeks

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