Dear Little Guy.

Dear Little Guy,

Your dad and I spent a nice Christmas vacation at Newport Beach in Oregon. We took Austin with us, and he was so excited to run and be chased by all those waves. On Christmas morning, your dad fixed me a cup of tea while we were getting showered and ready for the day. As soon as I took my first sip, I immediately started getting sick. I had been a little weak most of the weekend, but we didn't think much of it til then. Dad said he knew exactly what was wrong, and on our way home he bought a box of pregnancy tests. Sure enough, there they were: two pink lines.

We were scared. Too scared to be excited. You see, you have a big sister and a big brother, but they are both in Heaven. We were scared that you might leave us too, and we knew our hearts couldn't handle any more pain.

One day, around 12 weeks, I found a pair of shoes that I knew would look great on you. And you would match your dad! I was afraid if I bought them, I would jinx you and you would never get to wear them. So I started crying, right there in the middle of the store. But then I realized that it didn't matter if you lived another day or another year or an entire century. You were still mine. I promised right then and there that I would love you with everything I have in me and I would make the absolute best of this pregnancy, no matter how long or short it might be and no matter how hard things got. And boy, did things ever get hard.

I was sick the entire first 6 months of pregnancy. I lost 15 pounds from being so sick. You didn't seem to like anything I ate. When we did find something, it would only last for about a week or so, and then it would make me sick too. If it wasn't for popsicles and Gatorade, I don't know how I would have survived. Eventually pancakes started staying down. And sometimes watermelon. And then scrambled eggs and toast. (Your dad and I have breakfast at the bowling alley at least once a week, and those ladies think all I eat is scrambled eggs and toast.)

Even after I started feeling better and gaining some weight, I would have lots of nightmares. Most nights when I would wake up, I would feel you wiggle around in my belly, and I'd start to feel better and fall back asleep. You're really good at doing that at just the right time. Like when Dad forgot about my birthday. I was so mad that I cried, and then I got mad that I cried. And then you wiggled and, well, it felt like you were petting me, reminding me that you were still there. That was all I needed for my birthday.

In April we found out that you were a boy. You were so proud of those boy parts that you wouldn't let the radiologist see anything else. You didn't let us see much of your face, but from what little we did see, we think you look a lot like your brother.

Every morning at work, I would have some juice and a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast. I only worked for a couple hours because Chief wanted to make sure you stayed safe and healthy. On the way home, if I turned the radio up a little bit, you would start wiggling and dancing. You really like music. I got you some Belly Buds, like special speakers just for you while you're in my belly, so that you could listen to music with me while I was laying down. George Strait and Radney Foster are some of your favorites. So is your Uncle Andy. I'm sad that you won't get to meet him, but I'm so happy that his voice makes you happy.

The last couple months I've been on bed rest, and it's been rough. I never knew doing nothing could be so tiring! Other than being boring and exhausting, it's actually really nice to just relax and lay around the house. Most days Dad is at school, so I just nap on the couch while you stretch around in my belly. Austin really enjoys our nap time. He usually ends up passed out right next to me, with his head on my belly. He's been very protective lately, especially when Dad gets out the vacuum cleaner. I think he's excited about you. You two will be great friends.

It's the end of August, and I can't believe it's almost that time. You should be making an appearance any day now. If you're not here before Wednesday, Doc is evicting you. That's five days! It's starting to sink in, and I'm getting scared. This parenting thing is really new for your dad and me, and it's gonna be hard. It's even harder knowing that you won't ever get to be the little brother that you really are. I know there are going to be days that we don't get things right. And I'm sure there are going to be days that I miss your brother and sister really bad and I just want to sit in the floor and cry. But I think our good days will far outweigh our bad days. So please be patient with us as we figure this out.

There are so many people that have been praying for you and waiting for your arrival. You haven't even made it out of my belly yet, and you are already so very loved by so many.

Five more days. I can't wait to meet you!

Venting and an update.

I haven't been here in a while.

I'm nursing a 3 day headache from hell, so I apologize in advance if nothing I write today makes sense.

Yesterday, at 38 weeks.

All this time on bed rest has made me realize how much I miss human interaction....and how much I absolutely hate people.


I've noticed lately that a lot of women like to compare and make a sort of competition out of pregnancy and childbirth. I don't understand it. I listened to a lot of it when I was still working, but I sorta expected that there. But having complete strangers spewing pregnancy horrors at me because it's not fair that I don't have stretch marks? Or someone telling me that it's not fair that I get more appointments because I'm a high risk pregnancy? Seriously?

I've had my share of hard times and horrors. But I don't hold them against anyone. I don't compare them to anyone else. Most of the time I don't even bring them up unless I am specifically asked about them. In the first trimester, I told myself that I would love this baby with everything I have in me and that I would make the best out of this pregnancy, no matter how hard/long/short it might be. That might not sound like much, but after two losses, that's actually pretty damn hard. And it doesn't leave much room or time for comparing what I've been blessed with to what someone else has. I just wish other people could see things like that.


I've also noticed that it's much better to not talk about my pregnancy publicly. I don't have the patience for dealing with people. If I post a REAL update, we get hysterical phone calls, even though nothing is actually wrong. If I mention getting to go somewhere, I get lectured for being out of bed, even though I was cleared of strict bed rest a few weeks ago. I know there are always risks. I'm more than aware of that. But is it really that bad for me to go get a milkshake a mile from my house?! If I mention appointments or decisions, I get lectured again about how it's all bad/wrong and we should be doing more to make a better start for our child. If you don't know anything about my medical history, how do you know what is best for me or my baby? (On that note, I just want to point out that rude, hateful lectures are definitely not the way to win over a miserable pregnant woman. Just so you know.)


The thing that really gets me is the people that have recently made attacks and ugly comments about our doctor and medical decisions that have been made. We finally got a doctor that actually takes her time with us, listening to us and answering questions. She is actually taking our issues very seriously, as well as trying to prepare us for any of the complications that could arise. We really like and trust her, and that's a really big deal for me. I came into this pregnancy with a handful of issues and complications, on top of having previous losses, so I never expected this to be an easy ride. I never expected things to go smoothly. I definitely never expected it to become such a big deal to so many people that, in the big picture, really don't matter, or that don't even know us. I shouldn't have to explain myself or our decisions to these people, or to anyone else. I know my body and its issues, and I trust my doctor....and that's all that matters.



With all that being said, I want to point out that none of it was directed toward any of you. Well, not any of you that I know personally or have talked to. Yall have been wonderful through all this. Sometimes I just need to vent.

And because you sat through all that, a real update....

I was dilated to 3 cm and started having bloody show and lost pretty much all my mucous on Friday the 10th. (I feel yucky saying that stuff to yall. haha) I've been having contractions for the last few months, but they picked up. Regular contractions about every 20 minutes. We thought this was actually happening, and I felt that neurotic oh-my-god-this-is-real panic set in. So I made Bryan drive to Walmart at 10 PM because we didn't have any baby socks. (Yes. I'm serious.) I made myself calm down and try to sleep, and the contractions stopped for a while. I've been having them every day since, but we haven't made much progress. As of our last ultrasound, Little Guy looks like he has stopped growing. He was about two weeks ahead through most of the pregnancy, and then he hit 5 pounds and stopped. I know the ultrasounds aren't always accurate, especially this late in pregnancy, but 3 of them have shown him with the same measurements. His movement and heart are still showing up perfectly though. Doc wants to induce us next week if he doesn't show up on his own over the weekend. I guess it's not our ideal birth situation, but as long as my baby is ok, I'll take it. I have structural issues with my uterus and my kidneys, my cervix is pretty much non-existent, my baby stopped growing, and there's a really great chance that I will hemorrhage during birth. I'm pretty sure at this point, there are far worse things than an induction if it gets my baby here safely.


Hopefully this time next week, I'll have some great news to share with you. And then my parents and my sister will be in town for a few weeks, so I'll be missing for a while again. :-)

Sunrise.

Terry's funeral was Thursday of last week.

It still hasn't quite hit me that I won't see my friend again when I go home this fall.


I've been sleeping on the couch for the past few weeks. I don't sleep much, but when I do, it's easier to get comfortable there than in my bed. (I thought it ironic that I threw such a huge fit for that new bed set, only to stop sleeping in the bed a few days later.) 

Early this morning, I was in and out of a dream where I was talking to Andy and Terry again. I don't remember where we were or even what we talked about. As I started waking up, I knew I'd been talking to them. Even though it was a dream, I could feel them...like they had just been in the room.

As I opened my eyes, I could see that the sun was starting to rise. Just enough to throw some pretty colors above the mountains while everything else was still dark. And my eyes were immediately drawn to a bright spot at the bottom right of the big tree in the yard. It looked like a giant smiley face, and the light shining through was glowing so much brighter than anything around it.

I've never seen that face until this morning. And I've never felt a presence that strong.

It was amazing.