A Friend Indeed.

I am counting down the days until I deliver my third child.

This is not my first rodeo, or first time around the block, or whatever cliche you’d like to attribute to the experience.  I have done all of this before.  But this time, I want something a little different.

I have decided to hire a birth photographer.  If you’ve been to my blog once or twice, you’ve noticed how much time and energy I like to put into photography.  Even if it’s only my iPhone pictures… they matter.  I want things documented.  I have exactly one picture of me in labor with Ronan, and around seven photos of Ruby’s birth.  I consider all of the pictures pricless, and I’m thankful for what I have.

I want more.

I have had several people recommend a local birth photographer to me.  Her name is Lora Denton, and her pictures are so good, they will give you chills.  On a whim, I sent her an email to see if she had any spots open in November – she only does 2 births a month, so it felt like a long shot!  I was lucky, and she had space, so we set up a meeting.  Since I’m having a homebirth, I invited her over to my house.  She wanted to get to see the space we would be birthing in, and that sounded like a great idea.  She also asked if it was okay for her to bring her 3.5 year old, and seeing as I’ve got one too, I said absolutely!

We decided to meet Friday at 11.  She showed up perfectly on time, and we both chuckled as our sons were wearing matching Superman t-shirts.  I invited her in, showed her around my house, and we became best friends.

You think I’m joking.  I’m not joking.

Seriously, Lora stayed and chatted with me for nearly 3 hours.  We found out that we have SO MUCH in common.  And she was such an amazing pleasure to talk to.  Not only do I love her photography, but I’m seriously thrilled that she’s going to be at my birth – it really means something to be surrounded by special women.

Ronan and her little boy played for 3 hours straight.  They had a BLAST.  They were a perfect match for each other.  And you’d think, both of us loving photography the way we do, one of us would have snapped a picture.  HA!  Not so.  There WILL be play-dates in our future.

Anyways.  There are 10 weeks left until my official due date.  And I am so excited for it.  I actually feel ready for it.  And I can’t wait to share this experience with all of you.

It’s going to be really, really great.  You’ll see.

First Trimester.

I am a few short days away from the end of the first trimester of my third pregnancy.

I have found every moment of this pregnancy unusual.  From the moment I had a positive test and wasn’t sure if I was excited or upset, to the lack of nausea, to the pretty typical energy level I’ve had – nothing has felt like my first two pregnancies.

I haven’t complained.  I’ve considered myself pretty lucky.  Besides hormones making me cry like a baby every few days minutes, and feeling more short-tempered than normal, I haven’t had anything TO complain about.

And yet, suddenly, I feel like the last several weeks are catching up to me all at once.  Today, so nauseated that I couldn’t stand the idea of food.  Today, so exhausted that the idea of arguing with my 3 year old over whether or not we were going to go on a car ride reduced me to tears.  Today, so sure all I want to do is be in bed.

Maybe I’m going to have a terrible second trimester to pay back for this fantastic first one.  Maybe it’ll get me in my third.  All I know is, today I want to be in bed.  Until tomorrow.

Ronan is 3 years old, Ruby is 15 months old, and I am 12 weeks pregnant.

We Are Still Here

I didn’t really think we’d get this far.

If you’d asked me two months ago, I would have said I’d be glad to make it to 37 weeks. Now, as the due date looms closer and closer, we are still waiting.

Baby girl is as comfy as can be, and I’m not doing too bad myself. Sleep is getting a little tougher (as evidenced by my 4am post) but otherwise I feel great.

She still doesn’t have a name, and that upsets everyone except us. We are not planning on naming her before she’s born! And it’s okay! The world will not end if my child comes into the world without her name pre-assigned. No, we don’t have one picked out and are just keeping it secret. Yes, we have a few that we like – and she may end up not being any of them. All of these things are okay.

Things are no more and no less ‘done’ around here. I am not sweating it. I think that my magical “burst of energy” that I keep waiting on just keeps getting sucked dry by working 12 hour shifts. She is going to come whether or not her room is painted, the carpets are cleaned, or my house is perfectly tidied. It will all get done eventually.

I have been dreaming more and more about my delivery. I think all of my positive visualization has done wonders, because in my dreams, having this child is always perfect. I am so excited… not just for her to be here, but bringing her here as well. I can’t wait to see her face, and hold her. I can’t wait to see her in my mother’s arms. I can’t wait to know her.

It could be any day now. It could be a few more weeks – but either way, there is a finite amount of time left. She WILL be here. We aren’t really ready… but we really are too.

Getting Done.

Things are getting done around here.

It’s slow, and not very organized, but it’s still getting done.

We’ve been cleaning and sorting and putting away.  Ronan has been in his “new” bedroom since Monday, and hasn’t had trouble adjusting at all.  Quite the contrary, (*knock on wood*) he’s been sleeping better since we moved him.  We’ve moved the lion’s share of his toys from the living room into his bedroom, and he’s incredibly excited to be in there, playing, and loves to have us go in and play WITH him.  We’ve left the queen size bed that was in there on the floor (no frame) so that he can crawl in and out of it, on it and around it.  He seems to really enjoy it, and it’s more exposure to a ‘real’ bed for the eventual switch.

I feel a little guilty that we haven’t actually done anything to his room as far as painting or decorations go, but I know he doesn’t care.

In tiny little increments, I’ve gotten the baby girl’s room started.  First it was washing the walls, then it was purchasing painting supplies.  Took me three days to tape off the areas that I want to paint, and I FINALLY got around to painting today.  The first coat of primer.  It took me less than an hour, and I can’t wait to lay the color over it.  I’ll do one more coat of primer tonight, and then start working on color tomorrow.  I haven’t been taking a whole lot of pictures along the way, but I’ll be taking pictures when I’m finished.

I’ve gone through all of Ronan’s clothes, and weeded out everything that is too small.  Those clothes are slowly making their way into boxes, and those boxes are being labelled and put into his closet.  We aren’t ready to let them go yet, as we’re not entirely sure we’re finished having children yet!

Next on the list is to get BG’s clothes washed and hung/folded where they will be used.  Then, we need a final CLEAN of our house.  My only “MUST HAVE DONE” before the baby comes that is left is to have the carpets cleaned, and I can call and schedule that at any time.

So… things are really getting done!  It’s about time too, because I’m 37 weeks tomorrow.  She could  conceivably come at ANY TIME, so the sooner we finish this stuff up, the better.

Also?  It has been nice to have this surge of energy to get things done, but when I’m finished with any given task that I set my mind to – I’m EXHAUSTED.  That being said, I’m going for a nap.


I know.

Three days after Christmas, and I still haven’t posted a Christmas post.

No pictures, no stories, no nothing.

Color me a shitty blogger.

Here’s the thing.  I’ve been talking for weeks, months even, about how much I’ve enjoyed being pregnant.  I have reveled in this gestation, and tried to live each moment to the fullest.  I have been so thankful for this baby in my belly, and everything to do with her.  I have taken the bad summarily with the good, and been thankful for the crappiness as well.

Until this weekend.

This weekend, I hit a shit-brick wall.  I got sick with a cold.  I have had NON-STOP heartburn.  The only thing I can take that actually cures the heartburn gives me diarrhea.  Also?  The hemorrhoids I have been dealing with for nearly two years now have reached newly epic proportions, and the diarrhea doesn’t help.  My cold?  I cough.  And cough.  And cough.  I have coughed to the point where I feel like I’m going to bust open.  My ribs hurt.  My abs (what there is of them) hurt.  My throat hurts so bad I can’t swallow; I can hardly speak.  I cough myself awake, and I can’t fall back asleep.  I wake Brock up, so I get up.  I haven’t slept more than a handful of hours, and I’m exhausted.

In a matter of three days, I have gone from complete serenity to utter misery.  I hope I can get past this and enjoy the rest of my pregnancy with the grace I knew earlier.  I don’t want to take any moments for granted.  I don’t want to wish this away.

But right now, I don’t want to be sick or pregnant any more.  I don’t want to write about Christmas.  I want to whine.

So there.


I am 33 weeks and 4 days pregnant, with 6 weeks and 3 days to go.

A Whole Lot Of Random.

It’s been quite a few days since I’ve written, and that leaves me where it usually does… a whole lot of stuff to say, and no idea what to actually SAY.

I got 9.5 hours of sleep last night, and I feel like a million bucks.

I had some contractions…okay, lots of contractions the last couple of days that started behaving a little scary.  I tried not to get into my head about it, but I couldn’t get them to calm down.  Hot baths, epsom salts, lots of water and a ton of rest seemed to be the trick – chasing after a busy 20 month old proved to be a little too much this week.

I had a wonderful/amazing visit with Laura, the sweet friend that keeps Ronan for me while I’m working.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget how nice it is to have simple adult conversation with another human being, even when our kids are in the room being rowdy.

We appear to FINALLY be on the mend.  Ronan had a sinus infection, and he’s been on antibiotics for 5 days now.  YESTERDAY was the first day that we started to see some improvement.  Less coughing, no more green snot, and a little bit of an improvement in attitude.  I’m not gonna lie to ya, I’ve loved the last few days of sitting on the couch, snuggled together, watching movies… but I’m ready to get out of this place and DO STUFF.  Visit friends, play at the park before the good weather is gone, anything to get us out of this house!

Things are so up in the air right now, I don’t know for sure when they are going to settle down.  Next week is Thanksgiving(!) already, and I feel like I have a ton of time to get stuff done.  But really, I don’t.  I want to take a Christmas picture and send out cards, so I’m giving myself until December 1st to get that done.  We’ll see how it turns out.

In other news, I’m getting huge… and I’m okay with it.  I have to be honest with myself when I look in the mirror – 130lbs looks a whole lot better on me than 103.  I feel like I look younger, prettier, and less haggard.  I’m trying not to be too worried about how much weight I gain this time around (trying being the operative word there) because I know how much weight I lost nursing Ronan.  I don’t want to get that low again.

I am 27 weeks pregnant.  More than 2/3rds of the way to a new baby girl.  I’m excited.  I talk to her every day.  I have been doing a lot of visualization and mental planning for the labor/delivery, and I’m excited for that too.  Sometimes I feel like things are trying to wear me down, like I’m being drowned in the day to day… but life is good.

I am 27 weeks pregnant, and Ronan is in his final week of 20 months old.

Something To Look At.

I have been terrible about leaving pictures on my camera lately.

This is just a small sampling of the pictures I have taken in the last few weeks.

Ronan playing with his airplane.

I love this picture.  The perspective, the bokeh, the TOES.  It just gets me.


Just a few repairs.

My heart.

And for those interested:  I got to go out for a girl’s night Friday night.

I got dolled up for the first time in AGES, and I decided to take some pictures to prove it happened.

That was 25 weeks and 5 days pregnant!

Just You Wait.

If you think I’m terrible at blogging now, just wait a few months.

The most terrible part of it all is how desperately badly I want to write.  How I sit here with an open editor, and have to set it aside again and again to put out fires and calm tantrums.

Sometimes I tweet my best material, and then wonder why I didn’t save it for a blog.

I think I’m going to steal borrow an idea from one of the fabulous blogs I read.  Jill at BabyRabies always puts how old her current son is as well as how far along she is at the bottom of her posts.  I love it.  Especially when going back and reading what was going on with her at certain times.  There really is no better way to know or figure out the timeline of events.  There are times, even now, when I go back and read my own posts and wonder “How old was Ronan when that happened?”

So far, I find it hard to believe I’m already 15 weeks pregnant.  I feel like just yesterday I had a positive test.  I have been feeling sweet little kicks for a while now, and Brock felt a few last night.  I know, early right?  Remember, I’m freakishly skinny.  As of now, I have put on half a pound this pregnancy.  My next midwife appointment is a week from today.  I’m sort of excited for it.  The whole midwife experience has been great for me so far, and I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

I have been having second and third thoughts about whether or not I want to take another birthing course.  I’m learning (the more that I read) that the hospital-provided birthing classes are hardly adequate to prepare a woman for true labor.  With no option of medicine or intervention, I feel like it would be beneficial to have a little more education under my belt.  At the same time, I’m hesitant about the cost and time commitment.  Is that silly?  I should probably just go for it.  I would love Brock to come with me too, as he is going to be my labor partner.  He did an AMAZING job at Ronan’s birth, but I have a feeling this experience will be a whole different monster.  I’m afraid he’ll think it’s a waste of time.

Haha.  Ronan is sitting next to me on the couch, and he just put his foot on my arm.  Just because.  Silly kid.

I was sure I had something more to say, but it has slipped from my mind.  So I’ll end this here.

Ronan is 18 months old, and I am 15 weeks pregnant.