Baby W 2.0 Is A…

August 23, 2018

In case you missed it, I am pregnant, and in case you really missed it, I shared this post yesterday testing out popular Old Wives Tales that are used to predict the gender.

I remember when I was pregnant with Lo I swore she was a boy. It was just my intuition, and then every darn one of these Old Wives Tales pointed me to a majority report that she was also a boy. So when we hosted our family at our home for a gender reveal in which we learned the sex of our baby alongside our family, I was shocked when pink balloons came out of the box we opened.

Well, the verdict is in for baby number two and by the verdict, I mean the sonogram tech who asked us, “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” To which we responded, “YES!”

Drumroll please…

It is a Boy!

Yes, we learned this week that we will be having a son. It was a super emotional moment that we shared as a family, including Logan. This time we opted to find out with the tech actually verbalizing the sex versus last time when the tech wrote the sex on a piece of paper for our reveal party. When I was pregnant with Lo, the tech wrote, “It looks like a girl” on our printed sonogram. Not, it is a girl. So this set me into a panic for the next few months as I obsessed over the word, “looks.”

Lo has so far taken the idea of a brother well even though she was certain and excited for a sister.

The news also goes against most of the tested Old Wives Tales I shared, as a majority pointed to a girl.

We are super blessed for this life God has given us and grateful for the next journey.

Baby Reveal!

August 22, 2018

If you missed our little family’s BIG news, no worries, that is what direct links are for. See here, or, just read along.

Clearly based on this post we are having another baby and super excited to grow our family.

The first trimester brought a lot of toilet hugging, food aversions, crankiness, and tiredness, while the second trimester has brought my appetite back, creative dressing (as the belly is growing much quicker than with first), charlie horses at night, and night waking. One other addition the second trimester has provided, another glimpse at baby number two and the sex identity.

And, while we plan to announce soon, I thought I would have some fun with Old Wive’s Tales that are typically used for gender prediction. I thought it would be fun to see how these obsessed over predictions truly stack up to the ultrasound tech’s version of Baby W 2.0 (that is what I am calling it.)

So, let’s have some fun!

Carrying the Baby: Low is a Boy | High is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Heartbeat: Lower than 140 is a Boy | Higher than 140 is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Cravings: Salty is a Boy | Sweet is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Skin: Clear skin is a Boy | Acne breakouts is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Morning Sickness: Not a lot is a Boy | A lot is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Moodiness: Smiles and happy is a Boy | Moody is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Side You Sleep On: Prefers the left side is a Boy | Prefers the right side is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Protein: Craves meat and cheese is a Boy | Doesn’t crave meat and cheese is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Headaches: Yes is a Boy | No is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Heartburn: No is a Boy | Yes is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Swollen Ankles: Yes is a Boy | No is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Dad’s Weight: Stays the same is a Boy | Gains is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Chinese Calendar: Winner: Girl
Mayan Gender Prediction Test: Winner: Boy

Total Tally: 8 for Girl and 6 for Boy.

Only time and a sonogram will tell. Stay tuned… announcement coming soon.

PS – The Coffee Is Cold

August 12, 2018

The last two weekend mornings I have rolled quietly out of bed in the early hours, adjusted the curtains so no sign of approaching sunrise sunshine can peek in and reveal the call of the morning, tippy-toed out of the room, and pulled the bedroom door closed. Why? Because for some time our three-year-old has been failing the “sleep in your own bed” nightly quiz and finding her way to our bed sometime between the welcoming hours of oh say – 2 or 3 am, each night.

This results in me tossing and turning and bracing myself for impact as I cuddle against the edge of our queen sized bed. I am not sleeping. And, with my growing pregnant belly, I am forced to get creative in how I find comfort.

So when 6 am rolls around, I have had it. I am spent. And my only saving grace is the thought of a hot cup of coffee, and some quiet alone time while Logan and Nathan sleep.

People, so far this weekend I am 0 for 2. I swear my toddler has a built-in magnet that connects her to my body or some weird internal radar that alerts her when I have exited the bed, specifically on Saturdays and Sundays. Yes, on those days the radar is particularly so strong. What I want to know is who the heck turns it on during weekends, because weekdays, she could give two cares less if her peaceful sleep is interrupting my need to get out the door and to work on time.

Both attempts this weekend for some alone time have included a successful cup of coffee being brewed. I have indeed cozied into the couch and took advantage of On Demand, to catch up on any TV show that does not include the words Mickey Mouse, Doc McStuffins, PJ Masks, or Fancy Nancy, but just as I settle in, I hear footsteps and the door open and the whine begin.

Usually, her first words are “get me some milk” or “turn on a girl’s show.” Good morning to you too, precious one. And from there the demands continue and pile up.

This morning within 30 minutes and all before 7 am, I had already canceled my On Demand, found a “girl” TV show, made her a cup of milk, put in a movie since the TV show was not quite jiving. There was a baby doll that needed dressed, a baby’s hair that needed to be combed, I got yelled at for tossing the baby on the couch and being miserable (I was). We cried because she wanted me to stop drinking my coffee to make “Daddy one” (even though Daddy was still sleeping). Bitter? Maybe. We needed a blanket. We cried for a popsicle. We settled for blueberries. We asked what our plans were. We spilled the blueberries all over the couch.

No wonder we feel depleted some days before the sun.

I love this little girl with my whole heart and soul. She brings me joy and fulfillment and every ounce of happiness one could, but for the love of all things magical, this tired Momma could use a Mommy timeout or break, or just an hour alone in the grocery store today. Anyone else picking up what I am putting down? Empathy please.

Cue the sappy violin music.

PS – Coffee turned cold.

And Now You Are 16

July 31, 2018

The day you were born, I was 9 days shy of turning 16 myself. And today, as a mother, I look back and think, “How in the world did our Mom and Dad do it?”

Their oldest was worrying about what new jeans she would get from American Eagle for back-to-school attire, her impending Meet The Squad cheerleading performance, if and when she would be getting a car to go alongside her soon to be issued license, and how she was going to convince her tired (scratch that – exhausted) parents that even though a new baby was brought home, she really needed to go out with her friends for the weekend.

Meanwhile, there was this sweet new baby, fresh life, at home sleeping through the day and requiring feedings through the night.

I swear they had to look at me, then at you, back to me, back to you, and think, “Here we go again.” Or, maybe it was a “Dear Lord of all things mighty, what did we do!” I doubt it was the last one.

But you were the caboose. The last baby. The missing puzzle piece to our family. My first, and well-wished for sister. The plural to Mom and Dad being able to say they have daughters.

And now you are 16.

I swear I don’t know how it happened. (The whole you turning 16 part.) If I close my eyes really hard I swear I can catch glimpses of you through the years of your youth.

The happy, bashful baby who would bury her head in my shoulder when excited after bouncing on my knees. The cuddly toddler who would by nightfall, nuzzle into my arms, finding her spot, to sleep. The little girl who inherited my box full of Barbies and giddily played in the middle of the living room floor bringing a new life to old toys. The shy middle schooler who earned her right of passage by battling the awkward phases, while keeping a lot to herself as she gauged her way through the halls and her world.

And now you are 16 and a beautiful young lady who stands before me.

Time moves fast. It can be so unforgiving and so unkind. Especially when you turn around one day and realize what just passed before your very eyes. Time brings mommas and daddies to their knees to cry. Become a mother one day and you too will realize this precious gift called time, which leaves you longing for a day to end yet begging for it to be given back. And, leave it to big sisters too, for time makes us a little weepy eyed as well.

Watching you grow up seemed like we had forever and yet now you are 16.

In fact, I swore we had forever, promise me we still have forever. I swore you would never grow up, promise me you won’t grow up. I swore you would always be my baby, promise me you will always be my baby.

And now that you are 16 know how much you bring to my life, to our lives. Know that you are a blessing to this world. Know that you have this same world before you and can do anything you set yourself up to do. Know that you can believe in yourself more than others believe in you. Know that you have a team of people who love you and are cheering you on. Know that just because you are now 16, we need you as much today as the day you were born.

Happy Birthday, Livvy Lou, I still cannot believe it, but happy sweet 16.

We Have An Announcement…

July 19, 2018

If I am being competely honest, 2018 has been a really tough year. Actually the last nine months have proved to be full of trials and tribulations. Moments marked by fear, sadness, heartache, and unnerving anxiety.

Last October, Nathan suffered an unexpected accident which impacted his sight in one eye and left us on a journey of unknown. Trips to a specialist an hour and a half away. The first week consisted of daily appointments which became multiple a week for weeks, dwindling to multiple a month, and then slowly spreading out over the course of months. We saw multiple doctors. We were introduced to the lead doctors at the eye institute as a mere, “must see,” given the rarity of his case. We tried a second opinion three hours away. Slowly this became a new stressful norm, and sure enough time has been our biggest ally. It eventually brought answers, peace, healing, and adaption.

New Year’s Eve weekend I miscarried. It was a heartbreaking experience followed by surges of hormones, emotions, and lots of what if’s and self blame. Being seven weeks along I felt afraid to feel or express the loss, yet I clearly dealt with the sadness associated with losing something. I quietly processed my emotions with very few knowing the reason for my sudden emotional change, because very few knew I was pregnant to begin with. Considering how many women experience a miscarriage, which is 1 in 4, it was a lesson and harsh reality in how uncomfortable the topic still is for people to talk about. Sharing this today took a deep breath in and giant exhale out.

The Saturday before Easter, life suddenly stopped. I woke up with a missed call and a very early morning text from my mother asking if I was awake. Looking at the time the text came through I knew something was wrong. My grandmother suffered a sudden respiratory illness which left her unconscious and on a ventilator four hours away from us, as she was visiting family for the Easter holiday. A week and a half later they removed her from the ventilator and moved her out of ICU. We were relieved by the idea of her progress, so I drove with my Mom for what we thought was going to be a trip to discuss moving her by ambulance to a rehab or hospital near home. Instead, we were blindsided by a prognosis that her lungs and heart were failing. I held her hand, and was able to exchange an “I love you,” before slowly watching her fade mentally and physically from us in a matter of hours. The absolute pain of seeing a woman I admired my whole life, a woman who was so strong, and unbreakable during hard times, lay helpless before me was one of the hardest, if not the hardest moment of my life. I could barely handle the breathtaking pain of realizing the magnitude of the news, so I excused myself from her room multiple times in hopes that helpless wandering through the hospital halls would help me find my breath. If you are ever faced with knowing that you are in a moment that is your last with someone you love so much, let me express that the walk away will be the hardest steps you take in this life. April 14, 2018, she died in the same room I kissed her goodbye in.

A few weeks later I sat in my doctor’s office. After the previous miscarriage and nearly two years of being unable to successfully grow our family, I learned my struggle was not without reasoning and was referred to a fertility specialist for some further discussion.

So, you can imagine my surprise when well before my upcoming appointment I learned we were pregnant.

Clearly, Logan is excited. I mean she has only been asking for the last year, with puppy dog eyes, why she doesn’t have a brother or sister.

Now you may be wondering why I led this announcement with such a backstory?

Well, first this is why I have been so quiet here. My mind has been swirling the last few months, and then the first trimester reared its ugly, “I am going to make you feel less human head,” and I just did not have the mental capability to write.

Secondly, I never want this space to be about a perfect life. Gosh, we all know there are enough blogs and influencers out there with picture perfect portrayals which has never been my thing. I want to connect, and hopefully relate. I also want to reiterate that I am not looking for pity. This is a story, my story, and leads me to my next point.

Third, life has a way of dealing us a deck of cards with winning and losing hands. If these turbulent nine months have taught me anything it is patience and surrender.

I have prayed, pleaded, bargained, screamed, and cried to God. I have started my prayers with, “I know this is about me again,” far too many times. I have questioned Him with “why?” And, yet, through all the sadness, heartache, pain, and tears, here we are nine months later rejoicing in His goodness, and this exciting blessing.

It is amazing how much can change in such a short period of time. God does not promise a life of happiness, absent from heartache, and He doesn’t deliver us our sorrows. What He does deliver is the promise to trust in Him through the highs and lows of life. To surrender to His timing, and to have patience in the journey.

While I give Him all the glory of this exciting new chapter and life, I can’t help but smile thinking my Meema had a good sit down with him in Heaven about this new little blessing.

We are excited to share this new story with you and clearly I have some great new content for this space and my social channels. Have I told you how much I love you? Thank you for being a follower and reading along.

Someone Is Missing

April 21, 2018

The day of her funeral I found myself feeling an immense sense of emptiness, sadness, and exhaustion. If you have lost someone exceptionally close to you, I imagine you can relate. The feeling is numb, with pangs of sorrow that stab your gut out of nowhere.

After the service had ended, after following the hearse, after a brief, intimidate family moment at the cemetery, my husband and I were en route to pick up our daughter from his mother’s house. The only way I know how to describe what my body and mind was going through is to relate it to a plug hidden somewhere on my body that had been released. You know, the plastic plugs that are placed on inflatable balloon toys? Someone must have pulled it from me. But, BAM out of no where, as if someone decided to blow hot air into the deflated balloon, bringing it back to life, I would be hit with the deepest sadness and reminder of her being gone. Sobs would overcome me and I ached in a need that I knew nothing could fulfill.

Family and friends gathered after the service for food and togetherness. I still find it odd that we as American’s observe the conclusion of death services with a lunch/dinner service. Usually eating is the last thing on most of our minds, yet we gather and try to carry on some sort of conversation with those around us.

As I walked into the room, holding my three-year-old’s hand, searching for a seat, I found myself subconsciously scouring the room. “Who is missing?” I recall thinking, my eyes gazing up and down the rows of tables and chairs, seeing face after face. “Someone is missing.” I felt anxious, identifying my siblings in the room, to make sure they all had made it back from the cemetery. There was my mom and dad, paternal grandparents, and cousins. As I made eye contact again with my mom, the words were on the tip of my tongue, “Who is missing?” But quickly before the breath turned into a voice, a heavy weight hit me, it was her. She was missing.

It is a moment, a feeling, and a reality I will always remember when I think back to her services. She was missing. She will always be missing.

And, that is the part that lingers with someone’s family after death. A feeling I have never experienced fully until she left us.

When someone suffers with grief – noticed I said with, not through, because we never get through the grief, often friends and family with best intentions will say things such as, “It will get better,” or “Every day it gets easier.” The sentiments are meant well, but being so fresh off of her death, it feels too soon to imagine those days. The reality is there is now a point in our lives that we will always refer to as with her in it and with her gone. Living now in the “with her gone” phase is a mix of guilt and sadness.

I find myself wishing for more time to make every day count. I should have visited her more. I should have called more often. I could have taken Logan to see her more and made more time. More, more, more – everything is about the more I wish I could have done.

Then there is the sadness part. Realizing every major milestone that now lies ahead of us, she won’t physically be here for. She is missing. A giant void is now in her place.

I am a Christian. I believe in God and I know she is living eternity in Heaven. I rejoice in knowing she watches me and her bright spirit is around us. We breathe her in. She walks beside us. She lives through us, she lives through me. But, I am here on Earth and she is not, and right now that does not feel like enough. That is where the sorrow begins and doesn’t end.

I read a quote shortly after my grandmother died, “Grief is love with no place to go.” Oh, how true. I have nowhere to send all this love since she is not physically here to receive it. Instead it sits inside my heart spinning round and round, and I sit here missing her.

– – –

Today you can honor her or someone you are missing by sharing kindness. I encourage you to spread love and a random act of kindness in their name.

Have Courage and Be Kind

April 15, 2018

Yesterday we lost my grandmother. A woman whose life I could never rightfully honor in one blog post, through one story/message, or in the character counts allotted by social media accounts.

Too soon to write? No. My Meema loved words. She was an avid reader. In fact, she could read a book in one day/night. It often amazed me, as I would typically gift her a book for her birthday or Christmas, and laughed when she would call me the following day to tell me how good it was. “Seriously? You read that already?” I would ask every time.

She loved my Blog. Often I would send a transcript of a piece, usually the really personal ones, and she would review them through Facebook messenger before I posted to go live. It is in these somber moments that I am so glad I picked up my laptop many years ago and decided to share my life with you. As writing is therapy for me, it has fruitfully provided me with a digital collection of moments between her and I that I can keep forever.

Every morning my husband provides a subconscious love language gesture. He brings me my coffee in bed. Every morning. He could be running late for work – coffee. He could really dislike me for words the evening before or a martial spat – coffee. It is a steady routine that I note and don’t take for granted. This morning was the same.

Although, on this morning I laid in bed, staring out the window as the morning sun arose, the windows open from this unseasonably warm weather, listening to the birds chirping as a new day began, and feeling the deepest of sadness, questioning whether to get up or just continue to lay there in silence.

“Have courage and be kind.”

Of all the mugs that I own, which are stacked on top of each other, and shoved into the kitchen cabinet, this one made its way to me. “Have courage and be kind.” I smiled and thought of her.

I have always said that the most beautiful thing in this life is that on our darkest of days, the moments we find ourselves in the Valley, the sun still rises. God willing, our eyes open and gift us another day on this Earth the most powerful thing each of us will do every day is to sit up, place our feet on the ground and RISE. We rise up. We stand. We pick ourselves up and live. When we feel like giving up, when we want to wallow in sadness, when we can’t go on, when we question every single thing swirling around us, we wake up and we rise. This simple act that we overlook every day is our resilience in this life. It is our courage to go on.

So I rose.

She was the kindest soul I have ever known. She was selfless, and throughout her years she gave and she sacrificed. Oh, the stories of her acts of kindness could write a novel. Something we talked about. Knowing my love for writing and hers for reading, she would always share her sentiments behind a story of her life. Whenever someone did her wrong, her way of handling the situation was to love a little bit stronger. I see my mother in her, and I see how much every one of us could honor her by being kinder to others and ourselves.

Today hurts. Tomorrow will hurt. Forever without her is going to hurt.

But I can honor her today by having the courage and being kind.

We Are All in Good Hands

March 18, 2018

As I sit here sipping my coffee, enjoying the last few days of winter sunshine that beams through the double glass doors and across my dining room table, I can’t help but hum a little tune and summon visions from decades ago from the depths of my memory. Flashbacks of Karen leading the Sunday school class in song, her wide-brimmed glasses raising every so slightly as they ride with her big smile against the top of her rosy cheeks.

“He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands.”

The tune like an earworm on my mind.

Do you watch ‘This Is Us’? If you do and did not catch the season finale last Tuesday, fear not, I am not about to ruin anything for you. And, if you find yourself reading my blog right now, with no clue what ‘This Is Us’ even is, then please find a TV with On Demand RIGHT NOW. Just kidding. No judgment (okay slight judgment) here.

In the finale, Randall is giving a speech at his sister Kate’s wedding. “It’s taken me 37 years to accept the fact that there is absolutely zero point in trying to control the future,” Randall says. “Cause nobody knows where we’ll be. Not even a year from now.”

And, that is the absolute truth. Next year, next month, even tomorrow is not a given, and yet with that knowledge, it still hits us by surprise when devastating news shatters our lives knocking the wind out of our sails or our feet out beneath us.

I was talking to someone who was given a bit of a health scare recently. Finding a lump in her breast, she said before her mammogram, “I dread tomorrow, for I fear my life will change forever in that instant.” That fear is what drives us crazy and many times drives those to their knees to pray.

My family too is no stranger to life’s unexpected turns and the darkness and despair one feels when your world changes in an instance. In the fall, my husband suffered an eye injury. A story I shared here on the blog. While, we are grateful, faithful, and blessed, the news of his sudden partial sight loss was traumatic and the fear of what life looked like for us in the days, and months ahead were raw and new during each doctor’s appointment as more was revealed. I prayed for God to hold us in his hands. To wrap us up and scoop us in and carry us through.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10

While those days felt dark, there also was so much light and hope. Small signs from above allowed me to breathe in the madness, and constant season of holding our breath. Like the time, we traveled in the thick heavy fog to one of Nathan’s daily appointments and with the radio down low, I prayed for a sign that we would be okay. Within moments, through the thick fog, a cross appeared in the distance along the right-side of the highway. I was mesmerized, eyes locked at this single cross that seemed so clear in the fog, all while I struggled to sometimes even see the highway lines. As we got closer, I realized it was the back structure of a sign addressing the opposite lane. The two pieces of wood, one a signpost and the other, a structure to hold the sign itself, formed a cross. I chuckled as we drove by and then realized, it was my sign. The cross was God, showering me with a sense of peace. While the fog was real and dense in the air outside our car, it too was the greatest foggy season our lives had ever endured, yet He was constantly there holding us.

Sometimes it takes heartache and sadness for us to look up with open hearts and mind, needing Him to hold our hands and guide our way. But the truth is we are all in good hands, each and every day. When I think back to our season last fall, I tend to think of the moments I felt more spiritually connected to God than any other time in my life, and it usually is because of moments like the story I shared above when I felt His love and guidance through signs from above. The reality is if we look even harder, God is holding us in his hands, even when we don’t ask him to. He is holding us through the happiest moments, regretful decisions, joyous occasions, sorrow, times of ultimate need, and even on times we may have ignored Him.

He’s got the whole world in his hands, including your whole world. As Isaiah 41:10 reads – “Fear not, for I am with you.” Cast your worries today away, for we all can take a deep breath and release in knowing, we are all, always in good hands.

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Easter Snack Mix

February 27, 2018

If there is one thing I know with certainty it is that our home is a house full of sweet tooths. No wonder my dentist loves me.

Between Nathan and I, Logan’s poor genes don’t stand a chance with our instant cravings. I was born with an ice cream spoon in my hand, growing up with a grandmother and great-grandfather who could eat ice cream for every meal. I did not stray far, and my husband, well, I landed the sweet tooth jackpot as his family owns an ice cream shop in our hometown. Have you ever heard of a Boston Shake? It is a hot fudge sundae inside a chocolate milkshake. I mean just typing that I feel like I added 250 calories into my body.

Nathan is a mean sweets sleepwalker. Yes. You did indeed read that right. The man sleepwalks and eats sweets. As I type this I giggle but it is so true. I have woke in the middle of the night to what sounds like a flurry of mice nibbling in our kitchen to find my husband in a half asleep / half awake state, leaning against the counter, nibbling on a Reese’s Cup outside the junk cabinet, and I cannot do this superpower of his justice without mentioning the many times we find a cup with milk residue sitting on the coffee table after a night of sleep, only to giggle and say, “Well, I guess you found the Oreo’s last night?”

Clearly, someone is going to private message me this is a problem! 🙂

For me, it is a problem when we do not have sweets (because my gosh what will we eat?!) and it is a problem when we do because they are gone within 1- 2 days, and some sleepwalking nights. 🙂

Easter Snack Mix

5 Cups of Honey Cheerios
5 Cups of Chex Mix Cereal
2 1/2 Cups of Pretzel Sticks
1 Bag of Peanut M&M’s
1 1/2 Cups of White Chocolate Chips

Directions: Mix the first three ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Melt the white chocolate chips in the microwave. Once the chocolate is melted into a smooth consistency, pour over the mixed ingredients and stir. Add the peanut M&Ms to the mixture and mix. Pour the mixture out across a table on wax paper and let it set. Once it has set, break apart and serve.

Looking for additional recipes? Here are some similar options.

Easter Bunny Popcorn Dessert
Banana Bread Cake with Caramel Frosting
Puppy Chow