Our Rainbow Baby

When I became pregnant with our baby boy, I decided that I would not allow myself to be fearful about my pregnancy or the possibility of loss. I told myself that I was going to be joyful and not hold back my excitement out of fear of another miscarriage.

In spite of this, I still had moments of anxiety and many fears crept in.

I first heard the term “Rainbow Baby,” when I joined a Facebook group for Catholic women who are pregnant after experiencing loss. I joined the group thinking it would help me in my efforts to defeat fear. I figured that being part of a group where people were posting about being pregnant after having had miscarriages would be a positive experience.

Instead, this group only sparked and fueled a great deal of anxiety. So much so that I hid the group from my newsfeed and never clicked on the items that frequently popped up in my “Notifications.” There were so many women in the group posting about their own fears and past experiences of losing babies at all different stages of pregnancy, and I just couldn’t hear those things. I felt kind of guilty about it, but I just couldn’t.

Unfortunately, this group and my own experiences with loss had increased my knowledge and awareness of all the potential things that could go wrong during 40 long weeks of pregnancy.

Anxious thoughts came to my mind in spite of my efforts to avoid them.

I was fearful of losing my baby in the first trimester.

I was afraid we would see something terrible during the 20-week ultrasound.

I was worried that any brief period of time during which I didn’t feel him moving meant something had happened to my baby (fortunately this was rare for him).

I was fearful of stillbirth, cord accident, some sort of trauma during delivery, etc., etc.

I repeated to myself over and over and over again my favorite prayer, “Jesus, I trust in you.” Every time an anxious thought would come to mind, I would immediately pray this. And it always helped. Always.

And so did the idea of a “Rainbow Baby.” I just loved thinking of my son this way.

To me, a rainbow is a sign of God’s promise and of His immense, merciful love. It is a reminder to have faith and to know that He is with me in all things.

Almost two years ago, right after leaving the ultrasound appointment in which I had learned of my second miscarriage, a detour forced my route home past a Catholic church. I saw the sign and immediately pulled over to go inside and pray. I made it to a kneeler where I wasn’t able to do much more than look at the tabernacle and sob. I couldn’t get my words to form a coherent prayer, but my heart was reaching out and Jesus heard me in my brokenness and He answered. In that church, before Jesus in the tabernacle, I received an answer to my unformulated prayer. It was, “Don’t give up.” I heard these words spoken to my heart as clear as a bell.

That was in July of 2014, and I have never forgotten that moment. I reflected back on it during many of my fearful times during my pregnancy. It seemed to me like something of a promise.

I remembered this promise on the day I went for my second OB appointment. In spite of having seen the baby on ultrasound at my first appointment, those fears had crept in, and I was very nervous that something might have happened and there would be no heartbeat when I went to my second appointment (the month between appointments in the early weeks of pregnancy always seems so long!).

When I arrived at my appointment on that day, anxious and eager to hear my baby’s heartbeat again, I pulled into the parking lot at the hospital, and I saw this:


I instantly felt less afraid. I knew it was a reminder for me to have faith. I went into my appointment, and rather than just hearing his heartbeat, I got to see my little guy again on the hand-held ultrasound. Such relief.

Last Wednesday, our Rainbow Baby arrived, happy, healthy, and perfect.


The day after we brought him home from the hospital, this picture was taken from behind our house:


When she saw it, my five-year-old said, “Mom, that’s just like the rainbow God showed Noah!”

God’s promise.


Our little Rainbow Baby is here. He is a miracle. A precious gift from God.

I literally sit and stare at him for long stretches of time and marvel at his very existence. I realize that, on that day almost two years ago, when I was experiencing such deep grief and despair, God knew that this little boy was to be our baby that we would get to hold on earth. I didn’t know it, but He did.

Our son is a reminder for me that God can do anything. That His plan is always for good.

That fear is no match for faith.


Baby Boy is due to arrive in seven days. If he doesn’t, he is due to be evicted in eight days.

That means I have no more than eight days left to be pregnant.

Since I feel like I’m ninety months pregnant, rather than nine, and I’m so eager to meet my little boy, I’m naturally very excited to know that he will be born soon. But, I’m also feeling a little bit like I want to freeze time (only a little bit!!), because I know this is very likely the last time I will ever get to experience pregnancy.

At this point, I’m enormous, and my back hurts, and I can’t get more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep because hip pain wakes me, and going up the stairs feels like climbing Mt. Everest, and my feet and ankles and legs are ridiculously swollen.


But I’m still trying to savor these last days, and I’m trying hard to smile and laugh about these things instead of being grumpy about them or bursting into tears (because yeah, I’m that tired and emotional and pregnant!!). I mean, check out that picture of my feet! I do look kind of funny:


And on a more serious note, I remember very vividly the many months that I prayed for this very cross, this beautiful cross that I’m currently so blessed to carry. So every time I’m tempted to be upset about these discomforts, I try to think about those months and those prayers and realize what a true and amazing blessing these small aches and pains are. That’s not to say I don’t have moments of self-pity or complaining. I do! But I try (really hard) to remember to offer them up for my friends who are suffering the pain of miscarriage and/or infertility, or those who are struggling with even more difficult pregnancy symptoms and sickness. They are never far from my mind.

In these last few days I’m trying to prepare for labor too.

My bag is packed and double checked. I got a pedicure. I have written out babysitter instructions and done tons of crazy grocery shopping for all the things we might need while I’m at the hospital for a few days. I’m reviewing and revising my old labor playlist. My Kindle is charged.


And I’m also preparing for an experience that is different in many ways than my other labors, because this time I recognize the hand of God in the creation of this little life and the beautiful process that is labor and delivery. I’m creating a list of prayer intentions and thinking a lot about redemptive suffering.

Before my conversion, I never thought of suffering as anything but suffering. I always just thought it pretty much sucked, period. Though of course I’ve always recognized that the suffering that happens during the labor and delivery of a baby is different from other situations, in that you know the whole time that it is for an awesome purpose. But still, always before it was just something to get through to get to the real prize.

Now I understand that the suffering in itself can be beautiful and purposeful. Both in that it leads to the obvious and most amazing outcome of holding a sweet little miracle at the end, but also that the suffering itself can be a way of growing closer to Jesus, if I look at it that way and offer it to Him. I love knowing now that I can embrace and offer this suffering, uniting it with the Passion of Christ, for the good of others.

This is both still a little bit confusing and something that makes perfect sense to me.

So, as I’m trying to prepare for labor and meeting my son, I’m praying a lot (this often just takes the form of a frequently repeated “Jesus, I trust in you”), and I’m trying to picture what it will be like this time. I honestly don’t know. I suspect there will be plenty of prayer, and also that it will be much less elegant than what I have in my mind now. I imagine there will be plenty of cursing and yelling just like before, even if I like to think I’ll be peacefully thanking God for each contraction (insert laughter here). I don’t really know.

What I am sure of is that I will feel God’s presence as I bring His newest little miracle into the world.

It won’t be long now!

A Little Secret…

Well, now it’s officially out there – my little secret that hasn’t really been much of a secret because I’ve only halfheartedly been keeping it one. Anyone who has seen me in person in the past two months is well aware of it, but I made it “Facebook official” this morning, so I’m happy and excited to finally write about it here as well.


^^ This was me at approximately 4 weeks pregnant, so clearly this “secret” hasn’t really been very secret.

Baby #4 is due to arrive sometime in late May or early June. My actual due date is May 31st, but none of my girls paid any attention to that and were always late, so I’m anticipating a June birthday for this little one.


^^ 13 weeks ^^

I feel really at a loss for how to adequately express the joy and gratitude I feel about this baby. Of course, I’ve been overjoyed each time I’ve been pregnant with one of my girls. Obviously. But this time it’s just sort of different.

This time it’s a little more intense, because it took so long to get here. After two and a half years of doctor’s appointments, and injections, and procedures, and many negative pregnancy tests, and two miscarriages… this feels a little miraculous.

Add to that the fact that I now have an understanding of and appreciation for the hand of God in creating this new life (which I didn’t have with my girls since I had all of them before my conversion), and it’s all just really amazing, and I don’t know how to explain the overwhelming emotions I have about all of it very well.

Here’s one way to illustrate it a bit:

We told the girls about their sibling about a month ago, after I had my first doctor’s appointment and ultrasound. The ultrasound tech happened to print out three pictures of the baby that all looked just about the same, so we gave each of the girls one of the printouts and asked them if they knew what it was. They made a few random guesses, and then one of them said, “Is that me in Momma’s tummy?” “Nooo,” I said. “That’s someone in my tummy, but not you.”

The dawning realization that was flickering across Miss’s face as she began to understand, and then the pure joy on all of their faces when we confirmed for them that they were holding pictures of their sibling was absolutely priceless.


They’re pretty excited.

They tell everyone we see, from their gym teachers, to the pastoral associate at our parish, to the grocery store checkout lady. They are constantly hugging and talking to my belly. Miss has checked out books from the library about how babies develop in utero. It’s all quite adorable, and I’m soaking it up.

I’m trying to savor all of it, even the exhaustion, lower back pain (already!), weird cravings (anything with eggs, especially sandwiches with eggs over easy and sausage/egg/cheese biscuits, McDonald’s french fries, and Indian food, all different from the cravings I had with the girls if you’re wondering), and other pregnancy symptoms.

Joyous. Amazing. Miraculous.

I think that sums it up.


P.S. Thank you all so much for the wonderful outpouring of love and support we have received with this new blessing. I appreciate every hug, smile, and kind word from each one of you.

Edel – A Different View

I wrote on Monday about how wonderful last weekend at the Edel Gathering was. And it was. It really was.

But what I didn’t write about was the parts of it that were hard. I mean, I wrote about how it was kind of hard to talk to other people because of being an introvert. But that was just uncomfortable hard. There were a few other parts that were more like painful hard.

I didn’t write about those parts because: 1) I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer about something that was so great. And 2) because I was trying to keep my painful stuff private. And 3) because I didn’t quite even know how the story I had to tell was going to end yet.

Then I realized, through reading this post and the comments after it, that 1) lots of other women had similar experiences of Edel: GREAT, but kind of painful, and that some women even decided against attending Edel in order to avoid the painful part, so maybe it would be good to write about it. And 2) I thought about how keeping painful stuff private can be fine, but it never really seems to help me in any way to do so. And sometimes keeping painful stuff private just contributes to the idea that those things should be unseen and never talked about and taboo, which makes them harder in some ways. And then 3) Wednesday, I learned how this story would end, at least for now. So I decided I wanted to write about this other part of my experience at Edel.

I realize that most readers have no idea what I’m rambling about here, so I’ll back up. If you’ve read much here you know that for about a year and a half we have been struggling with secondary infertility (you can read about it here if you’re so inclined). In early June, I learned that finally, I was pregnant again, with a due date in late February. Naturally, I was ecstatic.

I was nervous because of my first miscarriage, but I was hopeful and absolutely thrilled. I couldn’t wait to see my baby (or possibly babies since I took fertility medications) on ultrasound. Each night when my kids prayed for “Mama to have another baby,” my husband and I secretly smiled together, eagerly anticipating the day when we could tell them our news.

I’m sure you can guess that the pregnancy didn’t turn out as we had hoped. About three weeks ago I had my first ultrasound, and the doctor said the pregnancy wasn’t viable. I won’t get into all the details, but for various reasons my husband and I were still hopeful that maybe there was a mistake, maybe everything would be okay, maybe we would experience a miracle. I had another ultrasound a week before Edel, and my final ultrasound was Wednesday. We now know definitively that the pregnancy is not viable. There’s actually no baby, just a “blighted ovum.”

In the midst of this process of waiting and ultrasounds, I went to Edel. It was a lovely break. In some ways it helped to take my mind off my concerns. But in some ways it kept my problems front and center in my mind. There were babies and pregnant ladies everywhere. Which was just awesome. But it was also hard. It was hard to be, at times, assumed to be one of the pregnant ladies.

I still have high enough levels of pregnancy hormones that I feel pregnant. And I look pregnant. And so lots of people seem to assume that I am pregnant. A few people have asked me directly. Many have just made comments suggestive of their assumption. I can’t blame them. Here’s what I looked like at the big Edel party last Saturday night (what I still look like): IMG951826 That’s me in the white shirt, in case you’re not sure. Super Friend (in the purple) actually is pregnant, and obviously so (to my knowledge, Jennifer Fulwiler is not pregnant, nor does she appear to be). Super Friend and I got quite a few pregnancy-related comments and questions directed at both of us. It was kind of fortunate actually that she was with me, because then she could just answer the question, and I’d look away or down or something and avoid answering myself. I heard a few comments about “is this space just for pregnant ladies?” when standing in a group of other women who were pregnant. A homeless man even catcalled at us regarding our bellies when we were walking to Starbucks, “Congratulations ladies!!! Pregnant women are so beautiful!”

It was such a strange situation to be in. Technically I was (and am) pregnant, but not in the most important sense of the word. I’m not going to be holding a baby in eight months.

It’s hard to admit, because I feel selfish to do it, but it was painful in many ways to be around so many pregnant women during the weekend. To repeatedly answer the question, “How many kids do you have?” To hear about so many other big wonderful families with five or six or eight or even 10 kids! These were all practicing Catholic ladies, after all. It was hard to feel like I’ll probably never be part of that big-family club. It was so bittersweet to hear Haley describe the moment when she first took a pregnancy test, and how she suddenly realized that, more than anything, she wanted it to be positive. She was talking about an unexpected pregnancy in a totally different type of situation than mine. But still. I know that feeling. Every month for a year and a half, I know that feeling.

Don’t get me wrong. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the Edel Conference. The conference was perfect. It was me that was not quite right. My heart is just hyper-sensitive to pregnancy talk and pregnant people and tiny babies and feeling pregnant when I’m actually not.

I think the reason I’m writing this is that, after reading Cari’s post and the comments in the Combox, I couldn’t help but feel that so many people are struggling with infertility, or sub fertility and/or miscarriage without ever talking about it. It’s a big taboo. I know that I didn’t talk to anyone about it at Edel, except for Super Friend. I don’t talk to my friends here about it. I don’t talk to most of my family about it, except my Mom a little bit and of course my husband. And by not talking about it, I feel alone in it. I read Cari’s post and the comments and I thought, “I wish I had met these ladies over the weekend. I wish I could have talked to them and given them hugs.” I think it would have been so refreshing to share these types of feelings and experiences with others going through similar struggles.

Because other people might look at you like you’re a big jerk if you say, “Geez, it’s kind of hard to be around all these pregnant ladies sometimes.” Or even if they don’t, I’d feel like a jerk if I said something like that. And in that room, so much of the talk was centered around due dates and how many children a mom has and it just got to feel overwhelming at times. I was worrying about when the direct question was going to come without Super Friend there to deflect it. I felt a little bit of jarring sadness every time someone addressed me inclusively with the pregnant crowd. “I wish.”

To be clear, not one time did I experience a single woman at Edel being mean or catty or gossipy. No one said anything hurtful to me. No one said, “Oh, only three kids?? When are you going to get going on the next one??” or anything insensitive like that. It wasn’t that kind of group. Everyone was so kind and supportive and accepting. It was just me, and no one had any idea. No one else had any reason to know that I felt like there was a big pink elephant in the room and it was my ambiguously pregnant belly with no baby in it. And even when I don’t have the belly, it still feels like there’s this huge part of my life that I’m not allowed to talk about. It’s a little bit like I’m walking around as an open wound, but no one can see it.

So that’s why I wanted to write this. So maybe the next time I’m in a group of moms, whether it’s the next Edel or something on a smaller scale, if a mom is struggling with infertility or sub fertility or miscarriage or whatever else, she will feel like she can talk about it if she wants to. Maybe writing about it will allow me to feel like I can talk about it sometimes if I want to, too.

A Boa and a Bike Helmet

We’re still waiting.

This is the longest I have been pregnant without being in labor.

My labor with Miss started on the third day after my due date at about 9 or 10 in the morning.  She was born at 5:11 PM that day.  My labor with Lass started on the third day after my due date at about 5:30 in the evening.  She was born the next afternoon at 1:38.

It’s now 9:40 pm on the third day after my due date.  I’m not stressing out about still being pregnant.

But I am getting a bit anxious.  Just wondering and waiting.

As I type this, I’m having contractions, but they aren’t very strong and not at all regular.  Nothing to get excited about.

I know she has to come soon though, so I’m trying to be as ready as I can.  I’m obsessively giving more instructions than necessary to my Mom for taking care of the girls while I’m in the hospital.  I’m checking and rechecking the contents of my hospital bag.  I’m making lists.  I’m doing laundry and taking out recycling.  I’m also sleeping in and taking naps, thanks to my parents and my husband.

And of course, I’m waiting. Maybe I ought to be walking on my treadmill instead?  I’ll try that tomorrow, if I make it that far.

Here Again

A due date.  Yesterday.  Passed me by.  Having given birth to both of my older girls past their due dates, I really did not expect Baby Sis to come before her due date.  In fact, I made lots of plans in the past few days, like coffee with a friend on Wednesday, book club on Thursday, and a play date yesterday morning.  Now though, I’m taking it easy.  No plans for a while, as I feel like we’re really in waiting mode now.
My husband and I have traditionally gone out for a date night on my due date.  We went to a nice restaurant on Miss’s due date, February 15, 2009.  She was born on the 18th.
On Lass’s due date, August 20, 2010, we went to a more casual restaurant.  She arrived on the 24th.

Last night we stayed home and got Jimmy Johns.

I had planned for a babysitter so we could go out this time too, but then plans changed.  In a great way. The reinforcements arrived.  My parents.  My girls are in Grandma Heaven.  I am too, for that matter.

So this weekend, we’re just taking it easy.

We’re enjoying some rain, but looking forward to sunny days coming soon.

Very soon, our Baby Sis will arrive.  We are all eager to meet her.  Happy weekend.

Happy St. Patty’s Day

We have had amazing weather this week.  We’ve been busy soaking it up.

Swinging and running and climbing.  It’s been wonderful.  Lass wakes up in the morning and one of the first things she says is “‘side?  ‘side?” asking to go out and play.  My girls definitely love to be outside.

I don’t think I really even need to describe how much fun we’ve had in our yard the past few days.  The photos say it better than I could anyway.  But I will say that one of the great things about being outside is that I can often sit in the grass and watch as they get exercise and have a blast running around.  Sitting is my friend right now.  I’m at 39 weeks and large.

We have taken some walks too, as I’m trying to get the ball rolling here, but sitting and blowing bubbles or just watching my girls chase each other, or show off how fast they can run, or play with sticks or whatever. . . Well, it’s nice.  I want to be very lazy right now.  Don’t judge.

We got decked out in green for St. Patty’s day and played outside a lot more today.  It ended up being 80 degrees here.  In mid-March.  Beautiful.

We played with shamrock stickers and ate a special shamrock treat after dinner and took a walk by the lake.

I had purchased a really cute Good Luck Bear Care Bears T shirt for Miss to wear today.  It says, “Hug Me, I’m Irish” and has shamrocks and of course a Care Bear with a shamrock belly badge. I thought she would love it.  She flat out refused to wear it today and instead picked out her own green outfit.

Miss wanted to share a shamrock sticker with her Daddy.

Oh well.  At least the shirt was only $5 from Walmart.  Maybe next year.  And the outfit she picked out almost matched.

We had a fun day.  Nice and lazy and loaded with good family time.  Whether you’re Irish or not (I’m not, but my kids are), I hope you had a great St. Patty’s Day too.

I’m Just a Mom

I had an ultrasound and doctor’s appointment today.  Baby Sis is still breech.  At 36 weeks.  This is not news to me.  Or to you, I suspect, since I have mentioned it recently.

If you’ve read here much you’re aware how much I dread the idea of having another c-section.  C-sections suck.  You can read a little bit about my thoughts on and experience with one here if you’re so inclined.  I know not everyone shares my feelings on c-sections.  Some people think they’re no big deal, and that’s fine.  It’s just that a c-section is a big deal to me.  When people here that Sis is breech and that I’m distressed about this and really worried about having another c-section, sometimes they say things like, “Well, just remember that having a healthy baby is the most important thing.”  I think this is a well-meaning comment, but you know what I really want to say when someone says this to me?  “Duh.”

Really.  I don’t need to be reminded that having a healthy baby is the most important thing.  I have thought about that every moment for the last 30-ish weeks, since I knew of little Sis’s existence.  I am very well aware of how lucky I am to have had two beautiful and perfect babies so far.  I know some people are not so fortunate.  I am a Mom. I put my children’s health and wellbeing above my own all the time.  I’m not complaining about this, and I’m not suggesting in any way that this makes me special.  It just makes me a Mom.  Every decision I make, every day, all day, takes into consideration the health and wellbeing of my kids.  That’s just what Moms do.  So yes, I know that having a healthy baby is the most important thing.  Please don’t feel that you need to tell me that.

However, if you say to me (which some people have), “Having a healthy baby is the only thing that really matters, right?”  I will say, definitively, “No.”  As I just said above, having a healthy baby is the very most important thing.  Yes.  But it is not the only thing that matters.  As a Mom, pretty much by definition I put my children before myself in almost all things.  Of course I’m not perfect.  I’m also not a martyr.  I’m just a Mom.  But I’m still an individual being.  I’m a person with feelings and wishes and fears, and I try not to feel guilty about my individual-ness.  I generally don’t feel guilty about the fact that I get a babysitter sometimes and get pedicures or have coffee with a friend and that I love dates with my husband and my book clubs.  I try not to feel guilty about the fact that I sometimes even check my email or surf other websites a little bit when I should probably be playing with my girls.  I try not to feel guilty about this, but you’ll notice I just typed “should.”  Mom-guilt is a powerful thing.  I don’t like it, and I try to stay away from it, but it does creep in from time to time.  And when someone says to me, “Of course having a healthy baby is the only thing that matters, right?,” I feel that Mom-guilt surfacing.  Like what I’m really being told is, “how dare you think about your own desires when going through the majorly huge event of birthing a child?  What kind of mother are you?”

Then I take a deep breath and stop myself from going there.  Some people might judge me because I feel so strongly about not wanting to have another c-section.  I have certainly felt judged at times with respect to this issue both now and when I was in the same situation with Lass and when I chose to have a VBAC with her.  People judge, and that’s okay.  Some people might just make comments like those above for lack of knowing what else to say.  That’s okay too.  At the end of the day, I have carried and nurtured this precious baby girl for eight months so far.  I think it’s natural for me to have a desire to be involved in her emergence into the world, rather than strapped to a table and relegated to the role of observer, which is what a c-section felt like to me.  So if I’m sometimes worried or distressed about Sis’s continued breech-ness, that’s okay.  Please try to refrain from telling me that I shouldn’t think about my own wishes and instead should only think about the health of my baby.  I think about the health of this baby and my two older girls every minute of every day.  Keeping the welfare of my children at the forefront of my mind and having my own feelings, thoughts, desires, opinions, and wishes are not mutually exclusive things.  I’m not less of a Mom for wanting things to work out the way my heart desires.  I’m just a Mom.

And for the record, if it turns out that this baby girl doesn’t flip and I do have to have another c-section, I will not be any less joyful about her birth.  I will cherish her and marvel over her and welcome her into our family with the happiest heart.  And, I will still be sad to have a c-section.  And that’s okay. It will not take away one bit of the celebration of a new, wonderful baby.

And oh, we are very much looking forward to her arrival.  Over the past weekend at one point Miss began handing me all of the baby toys she could find and asking if I thought “Baby Sissy” would like each of them.  She talked about how she would play with her Baby Sissy and how much Baby Sissy would love her and what she would like about each of the toys.  Today, we used face paint crayons to draw a picture for Baby Sissy.

I pointed out to Miss a place on  my belly where you could see Sis moving, and she was amazed.  I told her “Baby Sissy is saying, ‘who’s out there poking me?'” and she got a big kick out of that.  She kept asking, “What else is Baby Sissy saying?”

She colored very intently right where she had seen her sister move.

Notice the concentration of blue just above and to the right of my (kind of disturbingly huge, sorry) belly button.  That’s where Miss could see Sis moving.  It’s also right where her head is.

Happily preparing to welcome home this little one soon.

“Do You Have a Baby in Your Butt?”

Yesterday I volunteered to help at Miss’s school because one of her teachers had to be out for a funeral.  It was a really fun experience.  I loved getting to watch her in her space and get to know some of the kids she goes to school with.  I was quite a novelty to many of the kids, who got a kick out of my big belly and kept asking about the baby, poking my belly, etc.  One little girl was especially sweet.  She sat next to me every time the class sat down to listen to a story, sing songs, or do other learning activities all together (weather, calendar, etc.).  She hugged me.  She said she loved me.  She was that super sweet and lovey little girl that every preschool class probably has at least one of.  Then it happened.  After looking at and asking me several questions about my belly, she asked a different question.  “Do you have a baby in your butt?”  Um.  No.  But thanks so much Sweet Little Girl.  Thanks a million times for asking me that.  Man.  Kids say the darnedest things.  

I really wanted to take some photos of Miss at school, but I was afraid my big camera would be disruptive and wasn’t really even sure about sneaking some with my phone.  I was supposed to be helping after all.  So, these photos aren’t from school, but I still love them.  It amazes me how quickly my big girl’s (and my little girl’s, for that matter) skills are increasing.  Miss is getting very good at coloring in the lines and can draw a wicked smiley face now.

It was wonderful to have a special day with her at her school yesterday.

Some Random Thoughts and a Tea Party

Sleep has been somewhat elusive the past few nights.  I think I’m starting to get a little bit freaked out about how close the arrival of little Sis is.  Example – Two nights ago, I woke up at 12:53 to go to the bathroom.  Then I realized I was hungry, so I came downstairs to get a snack.  I decided to check my email and look around online a bit while I ate my snack.  I wasn’t down here for more than 10 minutes, but when I went back to bed I was wide awake and sleep was nowhere to be found.  I tossed and turned, but I just could not quiet my mind.  My thoughts bounced back and forth between worrying about the fact that Sis is still breech, just like her big sister Lass was at this point in my pregnancy with her, and stressing out about all the things I have to do before Sis arrives.
I am already trying everything I can to get Sis to flip.  Most of it is the same as what I tried with Lass, I’m just starting earlier.  My idea was that maybe Lass didn’t flip until the last minute because she was so big, so I started earlier while Sis is hopefully small enough that something – contortions, music, moxibustion, chiropractor, whatever – will work before I get to the point of needing to try to have my doctor turn her, like she did Lass.   My crazy, middle-of-the-night thoughts consisted of lots and lots of worrying that it would be pretty hard to be so lucky as to have a version work twice.  There’s no real scientific basis for this fear, I guess, but there it is.  And it was magnified almost to the point of insanity at 2am.  Everyone seems so amazed that the version worked so well with Lass, since it’s not really a high percentage procedure (so maybe there is some basis for my fear…), that I can’t help but worry that I won’t have the same luck a second time, if it comes to that point.  Obviously it doesn’t help to worry about it, but I do anyway.
And then there’s the fact that I have a nursery for Sis that is emptied of guest room furniture and freshly painted, and that’s it.  So after ruminating about my fears of having another c-section for a while, I started thinking, “Crap, I have so much to do to get Sis’s furniture out of Miss’s room and put Miss’s new stuff in her room and get all the new decor done in all three girls’ rooms.  And oh geez, I still need to sew Sis’s crib sheets, but I can’t get to my sewing machine because the old guest room mattress is leaning against it, since we couldn’t fit the box spring down the stairs, and what the heck are we going to do with a queen sized mattress and box spring that won’t fit into our guest room, which now has to be in the basement because we have nowhere else to have it?”  And so on and so on, for a half hour or so, then back to the breech-c-section issue, repeat.  The last time I looked at my clock (after getting up again for a second snack at around 3:00) it was about 3:30.  I suspect I finally fell back to sleep at around 4.
Anyway…  I know there’s not much I can do about Sis being breech (other than what I’m already doing obsessively), so I am trying not to worry about that for now.  I’m not very successful in these attempts to not worry, but I’m trying nonetheless.  And to address my other source of stress, well I just need to get off my rear and start getting some things done.  I have started working on some craft projects I have for all the girls’ rooms (I’ll do some posts soon to show what I’m doing).  I’ve made a good list for myself of things to get done and a Honey-do list for my hubby.  He actually requested this after learning that I’m am losing sleep because of stressing out about this stuff.  He’s awesome.  And he has a week off coming up, during which we will not be traveling.  So, we’ll get it done.  That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
And never fear.  In between all the worrying, the contorting, and the crafting, we’re having lots of fun.  We went to a birthday party this past weekend at Monkey Joe’s.  Miss was scared of the big bouncy things, but she had fun running around and playing with Lass in this small one.  

It was so great to have my hubby along to help.  On the way home I thanked him for coming to the party with us, and he said, “What, you mean that was optional?”

After a bit Miss got a bit braver and was willing to try some of the slightly bigger slides.

And Lass is just fearless.

They loved these glasses they got in their goody bags.

It was a fun party, but I have to say I’m not a fan of Monkey Joe’s.  Not because there’s anything wrong with that place in particular, I just don’t enjoy trying to keep track of my girls at their current ages in a place where line of sight is so limited.  I much prefer taking them to someplace like the YMCA or open gym at the Gymnastics Center where they both take classes to let them run around and burn some energy.  Speaking of gymnastics, I love that I can now take Lass with me when Miss goes to her gymnastics class and don’t have to get a sitter for her anymore.  She loves watching her “Sissy” too.

And finally, I came down from putting Lass to bed last night to find Miss having a tea party with her Daddy.  She was so excited to have her tea set out and to serve us tea, including adding cream and sugar according to our requests.  It was so cute.


Time with my girls is the best possible cure for my stress about the above issues.  But I still really want Sis to flip ASAP.