A Little Help From My Parents

My parents visited Brian and me this past weekend.  I look forward to their visits, and not just because they bring me bagels from my favorite bagel place back home.  I am quite used to living away from my family as I have been doing it for more than a year now, but seeing them again, and parting once again, always threatens to undo me.

They came on Saturday morning, and I was in the unfortunate predicament of being tied up on the phone with Verizon for over an hour, trying to resolve my internet issue, that I couldn't do much more than wave to them when they arrived.  Not to worry, though; Brian took over for me.  Soon I untangled myself from the attempt to fix my internet and finally got off the phone with these people, only to have them call me back a few minutes later.  After getting off the phone once again, we took my parents out to a few of the local shops, because my mom had been wanting to purchase some apple butter.

On Sunday, my parents were determined to help us paint the baby's room.  By "help" I mean they did most of it.  In our defense, Brian and I did paint one wall the weekend prior.  For us it was a big deal.  We had never painted before on our own.  I had always assisted my parents, but had never done any of it alone.  I'm not sure if Brian ever helped his parents.  So doing the one wall was quite an accomplishment for us.

While Brian and I were at church, my parents were painting the trim in the room.  We came back, ready to help out, only to find we were very low on paint, and so Brian was sent out to get more. When he returned, the four of us finished the room rather quickly.  We had thought we were done.

Then on Monday morning, my parents began ripping up the tape and getting rid of newspapers, when I took a step back and looked at the walls.  There were noticeable spots that we missed!  We couldn't quite figure it out, because we knew we had painted those spots, yet there they were, glaring at us.  In all fairness, the paint that we chose was rather light, making it difficult to see missed spots, but I think we finally determined that two coats were needed.  Since we had already cleaned up, my dad offered to paint with the brush instead of bringing out the rollers.  I felt bad, because my dad insisted on getting the job done after I said I'd do the touch ups during the week.  I guess the thought of me doing it by my pregnant self bothered him, and he wouldn't hear of it.  So my mom and I scrutinized the entire room and pointed out to my dad where to paint. It was a rather significant amount that he painted with the brush.  He's a real trooper.

All in all, we did get it done, and if there are any more missed spots, I'm just not looking.  Easy solution, right?  In any case, it looks much better than it did before.

Here's my dad in action.  It turns out he worked as a teen one summer as a painter.  I tried to pick up a few tips from him, as well as book him for our next painting venture.

My poor mom.  She's definitely worn out a bit here.  I missed a shot of her in action, but in action she was.  Not only did she help out with painting, but she insisted on helping me around the house. She even did the things I don't think about, like dust the ceiling fans.  I am looking forward to her visit after the baby arrives, when she'll be staying for a week.

My family also gave this to us, one of the larger items from our baby registry:

Of course, this car seat is used when the baby is about a year old.  We still need to get the infant car seat, so we can bring our little one home from the hospital!  But it is nice to have this for when that time comes.

My mom also brought me a few baby outfits, including this one which stole my heart:

It was surreal, looking at this tiny outfit, and realizing my baby will be wearing it.  I haven't yet bought anything for the baby, because I figured I'd wait to see what I needed after my shower, but it stopped me in my tracks to see some of my baby's clothes.  It's becoming increasingly more real!  I can't wait to hold my sweet-smelling baby in my arms, in this very outfit.

When my parents left on Monday, Brian was at work because his school took back President's Day due to all the used snow days.  When I said goodbye to them, I entered my house, which suddenly seemed empty, and cried.  It broke my heart, all the hard work they did, especially the painting, simply because they love me.  It is always a heartache to me to have to come and go, come and go with them.  I most likely will never live close to them again, and like I said above, even though I am used to it, part of me will always be saddened by it.

I will see them again next month, when Brian and I head home during his spring break, where my family is graciously hosting my baby shower.  (It is also payback time, since I did this for my sister.) It was a great visit with my parents, and I know they are looking forward to the arrival of their sixth grandchild!

Valentine's Day

It is a little late to be posting about Valentine's Day, but blame it on my internet connection that decided to call it quits for a few days.  In fact, they had to send out a tech to fix it since Verizon couldn't help over the phone.  Not a big deal, but since we don't have t.v., I was sorely missing my weather reports that I get online.

Brian and I celebrated our second Valentine's Day together as a married couple.  While some people balk at the idea of one day to celebrate love and complain about the commercialism, I enjoy celebrating it.  For sure, it is too commercial, but if you buy into the idea that you have to purchase your loved one an iPad or iPhone, then that would be a problem.  Simple is fine, if you ask me.  I enjoy making an extra effort for one day, even though Brian knows I love and adore him all our days.

I woke up to these on my counter on Valentine's Day:

Brian got me good.  I am difficult to surprise.  I usually figure things out, not because I'm even trying, but I can tell when something is a little off.  Brian had these in his car late Wednesday night, and after I was settled in bed, he used the excuse that he had to go to his car to retrieve his lunch bag. Though his car was in the garage, I begged him to wait until morning; after all, our garage gets pretty cold.  He insisted on going, and for a split second, I thought maybe he was bringing up something for me for Valentine's Day.  I quickly forgot the thought as I was getting ready to fall asleep, and when I came out to the kitchen in the morning to get Brian's breakfast, there they were on the counter.  For a moment, I was stunned.

We celebrated Valentine's Day the day after since Brian had to work that night, but he had a few more treats for me.

The best gift, though, was the beautiful card he gave me and the words he wrote.  As someone who appreciates the written word, that was the most special gift he gave me.

I got Brian a sweater and a DVD that I knew he wanted.  We originally thought we'd go out this year, like we did last, to a Chinese buffet.  I am always somewhat of a germ-o-phobe, but this year, being pregnant has made me more so.  I have been prayerfully avoiding sick people and trying desperately not to catch the flu.  While we enjoyed the buffet last year, I kept picturing sick people sneezing and coughing on the food, and it just didn't seem appealing.  Instead, I picked up our Chinese food to go, and we had the benefit of it being much cheaper.  I made a cinnamon chocolate chip cake for dessert, and we enjoyed a quiet evening in our warm, cozy home, instead of going out.

Perhaps it sounds cheesy, but I thank God for Brian every day.  I am so grateful for him, and I truly think he is the best husband in the world.  He is a wonderful provider and he takes such good care of me and our little one soon-to-come.  When I look back at our courtship, I know it wasn't always easy for Brian.  I didn't play hard to get, because I would never play games with anyone, but I didn't exactly hand my heart over on a silver platter with a sign that said, "Here, come and get it."  I made him work for it.  This wasn't to be cruel, but I had been hurt before, and I needed to see the steady, careful pursuer for a change.  There were times, perhaps early on, that Brian didn't know if he was coming or going!  But I should say he got his reward, which is my fierce devotion and constant faithfulness, every day of our lives.

Perhaps the reason that I love Valentine's Day is because I love him.

I Can Only Imagine

I am due three months from tomorrow (when you look at the calendar), but I enter my third trimester in six days.  It is startling how quickly it goes.  When I was a mere seven weeks, this point seemed so far away.

More and more and I think about that day.  THAT day.  The day I have dreaded/anticipated/desired all my life.  The day that the mysteries of childbirth unfold into reality and I learn firsthand about the worst and best pain that exists in all the world.

I've been fearing it as long as I can remember.  I've never been physically strong, and things seem to hurt me more than the average person.  If I'm honest with myself, I am nervous.  In these past few months, I've been reading about childbirth and trying to change my own view of the pain- to not one of dread- but anticipation that the baby is indeed coming.  All of the intense pains will lead to my body opening the door to let my little one out.  This isn't a thing to be dreaded at all!

Still, there are so many unknowns in childbirth, and it is enough to make a woman scared.  It is at these times I turn to the Lord and put it all in His hands, and I feel peace.  Sure, things can go wrong, but He already knows, and it gives me great comfort.

I keep trying to picture that day at the hospital, with Brian at my side.  I can see myself laboring and Brian encouraging me.  A woman gives of herself entirely in labor.  She pours herself out and uses all of her strength to bring her little one into the world.  I can imagine the thousand feelings I will go through at that moment.  I'm sure I'll be exhausted, spent, and more tired than a thousand trips back and forth across the planet could make a person.  I imagine that I'll cry tears of joy:  tears for seeing my baby for the first time, tears of relief because it's all over, tears because I've waited all my life for this moment.  I imagine that when I see Brian hold our baby for the first time, I'll be crying then, too. I can't wait to see him as a daddy.

I may have always been on the weak side in terms of physical strength, but I'd like to think there exists within me a strength I have not seen yet, a strength that will emerge on that day I labor to bring my baby into the world.  A mother would do most anything for her child, and I feel no different. I don't want to take any pain medications, because the baby gets them, too.  I have spent my whole pregnancy avoiding eating/drinking anything that can harm baby; why would I want to abandon that at the last moment?  As for an epidural, don't even get me started about how I detest the mere thought of a needle in my spine and then having no feeling in my legs... not to mention that if the needle nicks the wrong spot, it can bring about a dreadful spinal headache that lasts for a couple of weeks.  (Side note:  my sister recently had a spinal headache from a procedure- not an epidural- and it was horrendous.  She couldn't do anything at all but lie down.)

Will my labor go as I hope?  Only God knows.  I can prepare all I want, but it is useless if I don't lean on Him and hold His hand through it all.  He is the one who made me and prepared me for this child. I may not trust my own strength, but I do trust Him- completely.  That gives me a greater comfort over any worries my mind can conjure.  Thank you, Lord, that I can cast all my anxieties on You.

Getting the Grand Tour

Brian and I attended our one and only childbirth class today at the hospital where we'll deliver.  On our own and with the help of my sister, we are studying the Bradley Method, but since the closest class is over an hour away from us and it meets twelve times, it just wasn't feasible to take the classes.  My sister followed the Bradley Method for all three of her births, including her two-for-one special (aka:  Nathan and Matthew).

In a perfect world, I'd have my sister in the delivery room with me.  (Yes, of course Brian will be there.)  Unfortunately, at two and a half hours away (just from our home; the hospital is even further), and with four kids of her own, it just isn't doable to drop everything and drive up here to help me deliver my child.  If we lived closer, I know her presence would bring me great peace of mind.  She knows a lot, and to be honest, I think she'd make a wonderful childbirth teacher.

As far as hospitals go, we don't have many options here.  Back home where I am from, there are quite a few hospitals to choose from that are within driving distance.  Here we have one local hospital (still about twenty-five to thirty minutes away), and the word on the street since I have moved here is that it is one of the worst hospitals known to man.  In fact, their maternity ward almost shut down. We ruled that hospital out quickly.

Every other hospital is about forty-five to fifty minutes away.  I knew I was interested in a having a midwife, and so began seeing one this past September, and since she serves one hospital fifty minutes to the west of us, that's where we decided to go.  (Although, there's no guarantee my midwife will be available to deliver, but I explained this in a previous post.)

So today we got the grand tour of the place where our little one will come into the world.  It's rather strange, because the hospital is tiny in comparison to the hospital where I was born.  Parking is rather uncomplicated, with there being only one small lot and a quick walk across the street.  The maternity ward has five birthing rooms.  It was calm, quiet, and the staff was friendly.  It didn't have the "hustle and bustle" that larger hospitals seem to have.

Even though I didn't really "choose" this hospital, I was pretty happy with what I saw, and I was pleased, for the most part, with what the childbirth instructor had to say about the place.

We got to see one tiny newborn in the nursery, and I looked a bit longingly at the cute little guy. Our instructor recommended that new mothers put their baby in the nursery at night so she can have some rest.  I don't think so.  I wouldn't rest UNLESS my baby was at my side.  As I told my mom, I wouldn't leave my purse in another room.  Why would I leave my baby?  I don't care how good the security is; things can and do happen.

In a nutshell, it was a good day, and somehow we feel further along in our baby journey after going to this class and receiving a hospital tour.  In two days, I'll be in my twenty-sixth week of pregnancy, creeping ever closer to the third trimester.

Meant To Be Together

I'd like to tell you a simple story about a sofa and love seat.

One year ago today exactly, I went to the furniture store to purchase a sofa for our apartment.  Brian and I had already seen it a few days prior.  Our shopping strategy was pretty straightforward.  We wanted a sofa for our apartment (the two of us trying to stretch out on Brian's old love seat was not cutting it), but ever true to ourselves, we didn't want to spend a lot of money.

We walked into the store and pretty much asked them to take us to their cheapest sofa.  They did. We liked it, thought about it for a couple of days, and decided to get it.

Then in August, we bought a house.  Our sofa, no doubt due to the much bigger space it was placed in, began to look a little lonesome.  When we've had guests over, seating has been awkward.  Who sits on the couch?  Guests have unnecessarily and graciously insisted the pregnant lady sit on the couch, but Brian and I began to think, "Gee, maybe we should get the matching love seat."

Ever the cheapskates that we are, we didn't WANT to spend the money, but we also realized the furniture set won't be around forever, and what if we want it in five years, and it is gone?  So we made a trip back to the furniture store, expecting the price to be cheaper than the sofa.  When we were told the price, which was in fact, higher, we nearly fell over.  After I questioned it and even made them pull up our previous order, they informed us that when we purchased the sofa, it was a doorbuster sale.  So that was why it was so cheap!  They had just made it sound like it was their everyday price.

Feeling defeated, Brian and I left the store, knowing full well we wouldn't spend more on the love seat than we did on the sofa.  But we are not quitters.  I went home, took to the web, and found the same love seat offered by some obscure store, for much cheaper.  I e-mailed the link with the price to the salesperson who had waited on us, and he agreed to price match it for us.  Hallelujah!

In the end, it cost a tiny bit more, but that was only because the delivery fee went up $20 during the course of time between our two purchases.  While that part was a rip-off, we did get a good deal, and today I got to enjoy the delivery of our love seat.

So this pair was meant to be together.  I believe they'll be happy.  I know Brian and I are.

A Rough Week and a Dose of Healthy Perspective

Last week was a rough week for me in terms of pregnancy and overall well-being.  I experienced several dizzy spells, giving new meaning to the old song that goes something like this, "I'm so dizzy my head is spinning...."  Funny that those are the only words I remember, but they are enough, and they summed up what I was feeling in a nutshell.

One episode occurred while getting out of bed, and that didn't make me too nervous.  Relatively normal, I'd say, when changing one's position after quite some time.  But after two more rather severe episodes, when the room began to move- violently- I began to take precautions.  I put myself on a driving ban last week, because even moving my head quickly made me feel rather unstable.  I knew that a dizzy spell behind the wheel could spell potential disaster- in the worst way.

Then, on Sunday morning, I almost passed out- twice.  (This was not the same as the dizziness, but I'll leave out the unpleasant details.)  I ended up at church some time later, looking for all the world like something the cat dragged in.  Well, perhaps my appearance wasn't THAT bad, but it was how I felt.

So I'm close to back to normal, I think.  There are still the occasional dizzy spells, but they are minor in comparison and much more manageable.

Times like these are hard, and they make me wish these next few months would hurry up.  Yet, I know this is but a brief snippet out of my life, and it is one to enjoy.  One of Brian's coworkers, whom I've never even met, told him that she wished she was going through it again (she has two kids).  I always seem to think Brian and I are behind everyone else and need to catch up.  It has given me pause to think and reflect when I do get antsy, that this time of pregnancy, no matter how difficult it can be, is a beautiful time nonetheless.  Only for nine months does this life grow inside of me and is a part of me.  Only for nine months does this life live because it depends on my very breath.  I've got to enjoy it, because this too shall pass, and one day I might miss these precious days.

~And so little one, though I long to see your face and hold you in my arms, I will try to be patient for that day. For now, I'll be content that you are snug and warm and safe, right inside of me.  Please know that your mommy and daddy love you already.~

Moving Right Along

The holidays are over, and now that we're in the new year, the calendar is staring us in the face, reminding us that we are to be parents in four months.  (Right now, I'm at 23 weeks.)  We're ready to be parents, I believe, but are we ready for labor?

We are doing our homework, that is for sure.  I have begun a pregnancy Pilates workout led by Lizbeth Garcia.  I absolutely love this workout.  It offers five ten-minute workouts that can be combined or done separately.  I like doing two at once.  (Don't judge my two pound weights.  The instructor only recommends going up to three pounds, and since this is all I have, these will have to do.)

I'm also doing a few exercises that the Bradley Method recommends.  One of them leaves Brian and I laughing quite a bit.  He's supposed to put resistance on my legs while I'm trying to open them, thus strengthening my muscles.  It's kind of hilarious, though, because he is still trying to find that balance between not overpowering me and allowing me to push his arms down.  Some times he wins; some times I win.  (I don't count the ones where he wins, though.  They are do-overs.)

Brian is slowing entering coaching mode.  Am I drinking enough water?  Am I tailor sitting?  This is only the beginning.  We have much to work on, including (for me) learning to relax, and (for Brian) learning to spot if I'm tense or relaxing.  All of these things will help us in labor.

For Brian, he has an especially challenging task.  We live fifty minutes from the hospital where we'll deliver.  While I'm sure he'll shave a couple of minutes off of that (no doubt he'll be flying), it is still a haul.  We don't want to go to the hospital too soon.  Nor do we want to go too late.  He's going to have to take great care to study me and how I'm laboring and where I'm at in labor before we head off.  While it certainly is my decision, too, it might be easier for him to make a better judgment call as he watches me.

I see a midwife, rather than an obstetrician, for my prenatal visits.  However, I am not guaranteed that a midwife will deliver my child, because there are two midwives and five doctors in the practice. I have made my voice known that I prefer a midwife, but my personal midwife will be traveling on the weekends in May, and I'm not sure of the availability of the other.  Why don't I prefer a doctor?  I believe that birth is a natural process, one in which the woman's body already knows what to do. Doctors are trained in medicine and in surgery, and many times, want to bring so-called conveniences (drugs, forceps, episiotomies, etc.) to the table that are not helpful but in fact, harmful. Many times, a doctor will perform a cesarean, not because it is necessary (though some are, but those are the minority), simply because the labor is taking too long and he wants to get it done. Believe me, I've done my research on this.  (Note:  I'm in no way saying this about all doctors as a blanket statement since doctors are different, but this is something I wouldn't have to worry about at all with a midwife.)

So for now, I can only trust in God for that day and what it holds for us.  In the meantime, I'll be doing my part in exercising, studying, and even practicing the stages of labor and what I'm supposed to do during each stage.  Since we live too far to take formal classes, Brian and I need to be diligent ourselves so that when that glorious day in May rolls around, we'll be prepared. We could certainly use your prayers!