4 months

Three Months

This post was supposed to be published in November.  I'm one day shy of that.  It may have happened on time, but, frankly, I had parenting to deal with.

Last night Abishai finally laid down to sleep in his bassinet at FOUR AM.  See what I did with the caps there? That's me crying in caps. I used to tell people that my son was a comfort nurser.  I would even use the phrase "if he could nurse 24 hours a day, he would".  I think he's been listening the whole time and laughing on the inside as he was preparing his surprise assault on my would-be full night of sleep.  As he was listening, he tactically devised this plan to initiate sleep-destruction mode on the one day that his mother was going to attempt to have a full day of activities.

Mom's plan: Out with the girlfriends at an arts and design show in the morning and then taking him along with me to meet my high school girlfriends at a baby shower in the afternoon.  Back to back activities for a first time mom who has spent the last 3 months dreading leaving the house.

Abishai's plan: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Mission Zombie Mom!

SURPRISE! You're not sleeping tonight!

When I finally placed him in his bassinet at FOUR AM (I hope you're reading this with inflection), he didn't go down without a fight.  He usually nurses at 10pm and goes down after some rocking and more comfort nursing by 11.  Last night, with a few intermissions with dad making attempts to soothe him, he nursed from 10pm to 4am.  Sounds extreme, right? Like I should have woken up in the midst of a bloody, chapped mess on my chest.  Thankfully that wasn't the case.  He'd fall asleep for a few minutes or so and I'd carefully try to pull away.  Some attempts, he'd even let me lay him down, but only for seconds till he'd stir and start screaming, eyes wide open. To my surprise, he was actually actively sucking the majority of the time.

I finally pulled away around 2am as he jolted Matt awake with his screams.  "I'm just going to let him cry it out," I say to him, "whatever." Confused, Matt suggests we just let him do it in his crib to which I then reply, "Meh.  If we leave him in his crib he's all by himself.  It's abandonment. At least here he'll see that we're both right next to him when he cries.  That's just negligence. It's not as bad."

I'm pretty sure Matt just rolled over and magically tried to shut out the cries while ignoring my blatant argument against all logic.  Yes, I'm aware that negligence and abandonment are pretty much the same.  In fact, it might have even been worse to let him cry next to us.  Letting him know that we clearly see he is upset, but we just. don't. care.  Whereas, we could have made the argument that we didn't hear him while he was in his crib.

Bah.  I pulled him tightly against my tired chest and shushed him a few times in his ear while he screamed it out.  I don't know exactly how long it took till he fell asleep, but my drowsiness made it bearable.

During my pregnancy and in the last three months of Abe's life, I have tried carefully not to pidgeon hole myself into a certain parenting method.  I tend to skew towards Attachment Parenting, but not fully in some areas.  I told myself I'd never use the cry-it-out method, and yet, my desperation drove me there last night.

I worked so hard to have the ability to breastfeed.  Through many moments of ugly-crying sessions, being attached to a pump multiple-times throughout the day, and smelling like maple syrup because of Fenugreek supplements, I'm not about to give all this up for one night of crazy.  One day, this closeness will be gone and our mother-son bond will be different.  The moments where he's full and he turns to face me and smile as if he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but in my lap smiling are few in the grand scheme of things.

Originally, this post was going to be about thankfulness.  Thankfulness for being blessed with Abishai's life, a supportive husband, and encouraging family and friends.  This morning, as I sit here wide-awake in the aftermath, nursing him again for his first feed of the day (technically not the first, but we'll pretend) he is peaceful and I am thankful for that.  I'm not quite sure how the rest of the day will go or if he even recognizes what happened last night, but I refuse to be anything but hopeful. 

It's been three months and my boy is teaching me new things every day.  I laugh as I glance at his 3 month recap photo above and see the irony in sharing that he sleeps through the night.  Sometimes.  Sometimes is okay.  I'll take those sometimes and work towards the every time. 

And since it's now December and not November (my original post deadline), I leave you with this. 

The day after Thanksgiving marks the official start to everything Christmas.  So in getting into the Christmas spirit, I started singing Abishai Christmas songs while in the bath.  Something jolly, I thought-- why not that song about Santa being on the roof.  Completely in tune and on melody, the following line escaped my lips...

"Up on the rooftop reindeer claws..."

I paused and gave Matt a quizzical look knowing full well that I had just began transforming the Christmas classic into a horror film theme song.  With a tilted head and look of concern, Matt looked at me and said, "Claws? Reindeer claws, honey?"  I am now laughing hysterically realizing that I now had the makings of a Christmas song where Santa probably snatches children out of beds too.

I ended up singing the rest of the song... with the correct lyrics.  Abishai sat in his bath completely unimpressed. 

ABISHAI IS NOT IMPRESSED

The sick world we live in

Last week a cold started brewing in my system.  I refused to be kept down, so I packed my body full of Vitamin C and started chugging down broths and fruits to send this sickness on its way.  But as a nursing mother, there's only so much you can do to protect your poor, helpless babe from inevitably contracting your gunk.  Sure enough, a few days later, the snot invaded his nose and his smiles transformed into a quivering bottom lip with the saddest, meekest cough.

Since Abishai is only 2 months old, I was hesitant to give him any medication so I took to my most trusted source of information--- Facebook moms.  Within seconds of posting that I had a sick baby, I had two moms already telling me their fail-proof remedies including hot steamy bathrooms, inclined bassinets, and a trusty humidifier.  Yet, there was one recommendation that stood out above all the others... the NoseFrida.

I immediately googled "NoseFrida" and watched a video on the website demonstrating its purpose.  I gasped.

It's a very simple contraption-- one long tube attached to a plastic cylinder that houses a filter.  The tip of the cylinder is angled for easy nasal passage placement, while the opposite end of the tubing can be placed in another individuals mouth.  The illustration on the box says it all. 

One after the other, my Facebook mom friends started raving about their success rate.  Nose aspirators were a thing of the past and an inefficient method of relieving baby mucus at that.  NoseFrida is the revolutionary new method and every mom is buying into it.

The next day, Matt headed to Whole Foods to buy this miracle mucus tool. Yet, I was still somewhat skeptical and, frankly, the thought made me sick to my stomach.  I kept at my little baby aspirator bulb for a few more days.  It didn't last long till the sadness and obvious congestion in Abe's nostrils kept him from even wanting to eat properly.  There it was.  Sitting on his dresser waiting to be used.  Waiting for someone to be brave enough to suck his snot.

Alas, with my own congestion to deal with, I couldn't properly suck and breathe at the same time.  Daddy to the rescue.  Matt had adamantly opposed being the NoseFrida sucker (pun intended), but when I couldn't do it he took one look at our ailing son, heard his sad whimper as he snorted snot to try and breathe, looked at the NoseFrida and sighed with a "Okay, hand him to me".

The process took less than a minute and Abishai was immediately relieved.  Not the tiniest sound of snot in his nose and he smiled before turning to nurse again.  Hip Hip Hooray!

I can't say I didn't gag and turn my head while Matt did the first nostril.  Sure, I could get mustard yellow, corn soup-like poop all over me without flinching, but snot sucking was obviously not in my repertoire of skills.  Matt, on the other hand, approached it with such valor- as if it was his duty. 

Needless to say, I'm now a believer in the NoseFrida.  Yes it's gross, but you'll go to any efforts to help your kid breathe.  Even if that means doing the sucking yourself.  Which brings me to my next story...

I told my mom of our NoseFrida experience this morning thinking I was going to enlighten her with the wonders of this fancy new baby product.  Her response: "Oh, your daddy did that to you when you were a baby".  She proceeded to tell me that back in the day (because it was sooo long ago since I was an infant- haha) before there were special tubes to suck baby snot, my dad placed his mouth onto my tiny baby nostrils and literally sucked my snot out of my nose. *I just gagged again*

"I couldn't do it and nothing else would work," my mom said, "so your daddy just sucked the snot and spit it out.  It worked.  Must be a daddy thing".  Must be.

I asked my dad about his experience and he acted like it was just another thing you do when you have a baby-- like changing a diaper.  "That's what you do," he said, as he was holding Abishai.  He said it with such confidence that I wouldn't doubt he'd do the same with his grandson. 

There are many traits that make up an awesome dad, but rarely do you ever hear that snot sucker is one of them.  It should be.  You can't argue that having the wherewithal to suck your baby's snot makes you a bit of a hero parent.  Abishai is blessed to have a pretty awesome dad and a fun grandpa as well.

My dad just celebrated his 74th birthday on Thursday and here he is happily holding his sick grandson.  Abishai is truly happy to be hanging with him.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Me? Sick? Nah!

Boo!

Put your scary face on!  I did!

2 Months

As perfect evidence that parenthood is busy, this post is 2 days late.   Did I attempt to start this post prior to the 28th so that I could have it ready in time? Of course!  Did I ever finish it so that I could post it? Of course not!  It's surprisingly hard to type when there's a baby between you and the keyboard.  

Our little Abe is 2 months old.  In the last month we've slowly watched his personality emerge and have tried to keep track of all the fun(ny) and not so funny moments we've been having.  Here are a few from the last month:
 

Cry me a river
Why certain methods for getting a baby to stop crying work some times and not others is beyond me.  We swaddle, swing, shush, put him on his side/stomach, sing, and many combinations of so many other things only to find that he suddenly stops a crying fit once you're standing on one foot while reaching an itch on your shoulder or some other pretzel like stance which you no longer want to move from because supposedly "he likes this".  (excuse the run on).  When there's sudden silence, Matt and I flash each other the "Don't. Move." look.

Bloody Lullabies
Then there's Grandma Teofy.  Boy does he love his grandma.  He could be screaming and the moment he's wrapped up in Grandma Teofy's arms he calms down.  She rocks and swings him for a good five minutes while singing some old hymn and he's out cold.  Out of all the hymns you could choose, without fail, my mom chooses the ones that focus on the crucifixion of Christ.  Without fail, I've overheard my mom rocking him to sleep to "Old Rugged Cross" or "Rock of Ages".  We're not sure if he's comforted by the warmth and coziness of grandma's arms or that songs about Christ's sacrifice on Calvary give him the reassurance he needs to drift into a drowsy sleep.  Every now and then she throws in a "Kumbahya" but it surprisingly takes him longer to calm down.  Signs of early appreciation and reverence for the Gospel story, maybe?  All we know is that his lullabies are so far removed from "Rock a Bye Baby".

Lock me up... I'm crazy
One of the first tasks that a first time parent learns is how to swaddle-- aka baby blanket origami-- and if you don't get it exactly right or just tight enough, then your folding efforts are worthless.  When the swaddle is perfect, it's shocking how quickly Abe calms, but, if you read my last post, you'd see that our sneaky little Abe is an escape master.  I've come to really love the swaddle sleep sacks that do all the work for you and keep him bundled up with the genius use of some velcro straps.  The best part about those (other than the fact that he can't escape out of them overnight) is when I finally release him for his diaper changes.  Not only does he already look like a prisoner in a straight jacket, but when that velcro comes undone, he stretches out like he's finally being let out of his jail cell for yard time.  He sighs, stretches out as far as he can, then gives me the "yeah, I know I only have a few minutes of freedom" look. 

Number Twos
You'll come to learn that some of my favorite stories to tell have to do with bodily functions.  C'mon, let's be honest... farts and poops are funny.  In the last month, Abe's farts have transformed into big-human farts.  The ones where when you're holding him, they erupt with such resonance that you look at him and think "That was you, right? Right?".   (For the record, he always looks back at me with the "who me?" look.)

The other day, Matt was holding him and our friend thought Matt let one rip and Matt stood there trying to defend himself while Abe innocently stared off into the distance as if he was too busy contemplating the meaning of life to so disruptively pass gas. 

After a consistent series of those rumbles, they're almost always followed by the sound of pipes gushing.  A more recent addition is his pausing to strain.  One time, I was feeding him, and he stopped to make the straining sound for almost a whole minute.  Silence. Gush.

Hide & Seek
When I finally get him to go to sleep, I try my best to get things accomplished-- like eat or shower.  In the world of motherhood, finding that time is akin to a unicorn sighting.  On the rare occasion that I can shower (aka "rinse") in the middle of the day because he is in such a deep trance, I try to go as quickly as possible.  Yet, often, my shower is disrupted by his feeble cries of loneliness.  I had to run out of the shower, dripping wet and naked, drag his bassinette into the bathroom and convince him that although he can't see me, I'm still there.  It's like a bad game of hide & seek.  Between shampooing and soaping, I've probably opened the shower curtain 4 times, waving at him, and saying "I'm here! I'm here!". 

Nothing is Clean

In the last 6 years of marriage, Matt and I had never washed our couch cushions.  I know, gross, but they got an occasional vacuuming. Finally, we unzipped the covers of the cushions and threw them in the wash.  As if Abe already has a developed sense of malicious humor-- minutes after placing the cleaned covers onto the couch cushions, Abe has the spit-up moment of a lifetime all over them.  Sigh.


Paparazzi!!!
I've had a handful of people tell me that I don't post enough photos of Abishai.  As. You. Wish....

Ninja

Being half-asian, I would assume that Abe would inherit typical asian (specifically Filipino) qualities-- big flat nose, dark brown skin, the love of noodles and rice, and, eventually, poor driving skills (hopefully the caucasian in him overrides that last quality).  Well, he got the flat nose (although time will tell if a bridge actually comes in), not sure yet if he'll like noodles/rice, but, so far, he has pretty light skin. 

I did not, however, know that he would inherit some pretty Japanese qualities... mainly the fact that he's a ninja.  In more ways than one.

Swaddle Ninja
No matter how tightly you wrap him in his swaddle- and sometimes I think it's so tight the kid can't even breathe- he'll wake up, every now and then, with one arm out.  During the latter half of my pregnancy I had many ultrasounds, but we were never able to see his face because he always had one arm over it.  We know he doesn't like the feeling of his arms flailing around, so we swaddle him.  But then he's upset that he can't put his arm over his face.  Pick your battles, kid.

Pajama Ninja
Footie pajamas are awesome! They keep your entire body, including all extremities warm.  Plus they're super comfortable... unless you're Abe.  This hasn't happened too many times, but somehow he's managed to ninja his legs up and out of the leg slots.  And, with the frog feet that he has, it's a challenge to get him to stay in the "foot" part of the pajama.  But once he's in-- he's golden.

Last, but not least, and my favorite part to tell...

Poop Ninja
(Is it obvious that I built this entire post mainly so I can write about this?)
As a first time parent, the learning is constant and sometimes comes in the most interesting packages.  On top of learning how to nurse, bathe a baby, and prepare a bottle -- changing a diaper was a fascinating new arena of knowledge.

Placing a diaper on Abe is like trying to put underwear on an attacking ninja.  Imagine trying to make nice with a kicking assassin whose throwing stars are poop and nun chucks spray urine.  Sounds like bad anime, right?  Our little poop ninja's greatest defense, however, is the infamous geyser poop. 

geyser poop (n.)  a bowel movement released in such a violent manner that a column of excrement is sprayed into the air--similar to the forces of a boiling geyser.

He's cunning too.  He lays on the changing table with such calm over his face, waits till you've almost completely cleaned him (usually it's just pee), and as you go in for the last wipe.... WHOOSH... a geyser of poop!  Sometimes it's even multiple gushes.  Essentially, he blitzes you with his bowels and, without fail, laughs and smiles in victory.  He wins every time and with the culminating joy and laughter on his face you can't help but laugh and smile with him.  What a pooper.

Guilty as charged... here's our little pooper caught after one of his feces felonies.

First Month Frenzy

We survived.  All three of us.  I can't believe that Abishai is already a month old.  Surprisingly, it went by so fast.  I looked at a friend last week, and with dismay in my voice said "Wait... what do you mean September is almost over.  We just finished August!"  Boy does time fly when you're caring for a newborn constantly.

Parenthood is the hardest thing I have ever done. Seriously-- running a marathon is easier.  Although, I guess you could argue that parenting a newborn is somewhat maranthon-esque.  Feed, burp, change diaper, swing, rock, put down to sleep... repeat with no breaks or sleep.  That's a marathon!

As tiring as parenting can be, it's extremely fulfilling at the same time.  There's a weird balance.  It's amazing how much energy you can muster up to get you through a day on maybe 2 hours of sleep.  I thought I was a rockstar at surviving all-nighters in college, but man, this is like the Olympics of all-nighters.  In one 24 hour period I will have nursed Abe 10-12 times, been pooped or peed on at least once, and maybe had one full meal-- yet, 10 seconds of a smile or giggle makes all of it worth while.

Our first month was one roller coaster ride of frenzy.  Our first week home, I ended up with an infection and a high fever, causing Matt to rush me to the hospital for CT scans and blood tests.  On that same day, we learned that I hadn't been producing any milk at all so our poor little guy went an entire week with little to no nourishment.  Here we were, first time parents, thinking we had the best baby on the planet.  He was sleeping for 5 hour stretches his first week.  We later learned that he was just lethargic and dehydrated from not having any nourishment and, as a result, was losing weight instead of gaining.  

Soonafter, I was doing everything known to man to increase my milk supply-- herbal supplements, natural galactagogues, and prescription medications.  Several more days passed and I woke up one morning with milk!  Thank the Lord! Now, we have a full supply and little Abe eats like crazy.  At one point, he was eating at the top of every hour.  Finally, by his third week Abe made it back to birth weight and we are happy to announce that he is now past that and gaining steadily. 

How people survive this alone is beyond me.  My parents came and stayed with us for the first 2 weeks, feeding us, helping with tasks around the house, and eventually getting up in the early morning hours to help me change diapers.  My mom would stay up on the weeknights tapping my arm every time I'd fall asleep while nursing and graciously taking Abe so that I could go to the bathroom or take a shower.  I would not have survived those first few weeks without her. 

In addition to my parents help, our friends participated in a meal train and brought us dinner every other day during his first month.  We had some pretty awesome meals, too.  Not having to worry about dinner those first few weeks was a life saver.

I have a true appreciation for mothers now.  After my first few all-nighters, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head.  Sitting in his room nursing at 2am, tired and in pain from recovering from surgery, I realized the sacrifice that a mother makes for a child.  You put aside all of your own personal needs (hunger, hygiene, and sleep) and your pride to make sure that your child is provided for.  It's only been a month and I can't remember the last time I actually showered before noon or took the time to brush my hair.  It's all about survival mode and if you're in nothing but a nursing bra and pajama bottoms at 8pm, but your child has a clean diaper and hasn't missed any feedings-- you've done your job and it's been a good day.

We're only one month in and I've still got so much to learn and experience and definitely more stories to share.  The adventures of Abe are just beginning...

Twilight (minus the vampires)

I have approached the twilight of this pregnancy and I am now counting down the hours till I begin the arduous undertaking that is labor.  As I sit here, alone in Abishai's room, it strikes me that this will be the last evening that Matt and I will have that is just our own in our home.  I am overwhelmed by a combination of emotions -- nervousness, excitement, fear, joy, and gratefulness.  In a day or so, we will be meeting our son for the first time and our lives will change, albeit for the better, forever.

It has been such a long journey that started long before we ever got that positive pregnancy test.  In the last 2.5 years, God has pushed, prodded, stretched, and formed me into something new and the growth I've experienced emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and (let's not forget) physically has been challenging, but amazing.  This was not an easy road, but I've learned and seen some astounding things because I traveled it.

One thing that stands out to me the most as I reminisce is that I am truly blessed.  Totally undeserving in so many ways and yet God continues to bless me.  First and foremost, He blessed me with Matt-- a true partner and best friend that has shown me patience, love, compassion, and understanding beyond reason.  I have seen God's grace through Matt and words will never encompass the gratitude I have for his partnership in this marriage and our impending parenthood.

Then, God revealed to me His benevolence.  We are surrounded by friends and family that have gone above and beyond in their generosity towards Matt and I as we prepare for Abishai's arrival.  Multiple showers of love and gifts, providing us with every little knick knack an infant would need.  But the generosity went further than material things.  Friends surrounded us with prayers and thoughts and enveloped us with their love through meals, fellowship, help with housework, and many other ways.  I am blown away by the hospitality and kindness that has been given to us.

For those of you that know me well, you know that I like my lists and I live by planning.  Waiting for Abishai to arrive has been an agonizing test.  I could only plan for it to an extent.  At the end of the day, the date and time of his arrival would always be a surprise.  Today I am officially 41 weeks along which calculates to being pregnant for a total of 10 months and 1 week.  I have watched as the pregnant family and friends I have who were all within my due date have, one by one, given birth to their bundles of joy.  It's been frustrating, to say the least, and I've really had to learn to be patient especially through the physical discomfort I've been experiencing.  "Man proposes, God disposes" were the wise words that my mother shared with me and I've had to remind myself that none of this is in my timing.  As I prepare for our induction tomorrow evening, I am trying to strip away the anxiety and nervous tension that I have about the unknowns.  In the end, I know we will see a glimpse of God's glory through this new life. 


So, here we go.  At 8pm, Matt and I will be admitted into the hospital and begin the trip down labor road.  Please keep us both (or shall I say, all three of us) in your thoughts and prayers.  Thank you in advance for all of the support, encouragement, and love.  We're excited and can't wait for you to meet Abishai (who will have an official middle name as well). 

Here's one of my favorite Third Day songs... let's hope this helps calm me (or motivate me) through those last few pushes.

Walking from 3rd to Home

Today is my official (original) due date.  As I start this blog entry, it is 9:43pm.  I think it's safe to assume that Abishai will not be making an appearance today.  Unless, of course, I happen to go into labor in the next few minutes and have an amazingly quick delivery (highly doubtful, though greatly desired).

Instead, I will take this time to update you on my very last month of pregnancy.  What a month.  I've had a relatively easy pregnancy.  The first trimester was tough (as expected), second trimester was breezy, and for the most part, my third trimester was not so bad... until my ninth (or is it tenth) and final month.  I hit my 37th week and boy did I feel a difference.   All of sudden my toes turned into little sausages, my back ached more than usual, and a watermelon shaped bulge formed on my stomach that made getting up and out of any seated position quite a challenge.

I won't lie.  I'm so uncomfortable.  The desperation I have at this very moment to get my child out of my womb has burned a very pathetic expression on my face.  Halfway through my second trimester, my doctors convinced me that Abishai would come early.  "He's huge," they said, "There's no way he'll stay in their long-- you're running out of room".  We had our hospital bag packed and ready to go by my 36th week.  Everything has been ready for his arrival since the first of August.  Yet, here I am, on the exact day of my 40th week with a baby in my belly and no sign of delivery.

Mind you, Matt and I have attempted a plethora of natural induction methods.  In fact, I even stacked up a number of them on consecutive days, only to wake up the next morning wondering why I hadn't gone into labor.  I actually began listing out what we've tried, but decided against it.  I know what you're thinking... you have some tried and true method that you want to share and tell us to give a shot.  Trust me, we've tried it.  Trust me... it didn't work.  Trust me.   For the most part, I just end up with the same result--- chubby, swollen feet and high blood pressure.  Some methods are definitely more enjoyable than others, but they still didn't get my kid out of my womb.  Just sayin'.

Some of you have asked for more belly photos.  I forgot to take one for 39 weeks and didn't take one today for 40, so I leave you with this little diddy.  I'll take a 40 week photo some time this week.

I will officially be induced on August 27th.  I hope it doesn't come to that, although, I've already started preparing myself.  In the meantime, I'm eating every meal as if it's my last because labor is literally just around the corner.

Nursery Before & After

While I've been busy baking Abishai for the last 10 months, Matt has been just as busy for the last 4 finishing his room.  Matt put in an enormous amount of blood & sweat into all of the little details and took the task as his own.

Originally the room was a buttercream color and we had decided that a light gray/silver would look good instead.  With the help of some friends, he had the room painted and ready to go in a just a few days.  Our parents bought us our crib and glider which we then added to the room.

Paint job, crib, and first pieces of furniture

We found a wooden four piece dresser set on Craig's List for only $275.  Matt refinished all of the furniture on his own bit by bit over the next few weeks. 

Dressers before & after

I found our decal set on Etsy and we customized the colors of the birds and leaves.  It was a lot easier than I had expected to put the decals up and I had a lot of fun getting all crafty since this would be one of my only contributions to Abe's bedroom.

Decals Up

Here are some final detail shots of his room with all the finishing touches.  

Um... I need you to look at something for me

I'm now 32 weeks along (2 months left) and I'm trying to milk as much out of this pregnancy as possible.  I've hit the crest of my bell curve, but I'm trying my best to enjoy it as much as possible till the inevitable angry, uncomfortable, irritable beast of a woman inside me emerges in my last few weeks. 

Now let me preface this with the fact that I'm uber thankful that I didn't have to deal with never-ending nausea or extreme weight gain.  For the most part, I've been having a pretty easy pregnancy and I'm thankful that my body hasn't become so disfigured that I look like the Michelin Man version of my pre-pregnancy self.

As to be expected, my tiny frame is being stretched, pulled, and pushed in all different directions and I have a basketball sized belly weighing down on all the organs below my waist.  I can’t see anything below the top of my belly curve-- which makes for investigating aches, pains, and "discomforts" quite difficult.  I like to call these discomforts “silent predators”… you can’t seem them, but boy do you feel them.

Which brings me to my story....

Warning: The following tale is not for the faint of heart. I am documenting it for my own purposes-- mainly so that in the future, when I think I'm having a bad day, I can come back and read this and think "yeah your day is not THAT bad".  You know what I mean.  Glad we're on the same page.

Thankfully, I am blessed with a husband that has quite the sense of humor.  Well, that and he's not the squeamish type-- unless you're a baby and you barf in his mouth or your dog sneezes in his face (just throwing out random scenarios that would be an exception).  

So it had been a few days and I had been feeling an interesting "discomfort" in an area that was not easily reachable and definitely unseen (especially by me).  This unpleasantness then manifested itself into an insatiable itch.  I'm talking about an itch so bad you plead for death.   Being the classy woman that I am, I obviously rubbed that area raw... to the point that I'm sure it will never look the same again.  

This is where Matt comes in.  Poor Matt.  I'd been awake all night-- going to town on eliminating the itch, so I was wide awake by the time his 5am alarm went off.  He turns off his alarm and a voice from the darkness says this:

"Um... I need you to look at something for me".  That's never a good sign. 

Matt dutifully examines me and responds so matter-of-factly with

"Well, it looks like…(thoughtful pause as he waits for the right description to grace his lips)… the rudder of a ship".

I'm no expert here, but I have no use for a rudder.  The image that comes to mind is that of kneading bread dough and after a while it doubles in size.  Except, I never intended to bake loaves with my butt.

You should have seen the face on the Target cashier that watched me unload my "ship-rudder elminating" purchases onto the conveyer belt.  I threw some gum and snacks on there as well just to "lighten the mood".  I can't be the first person who has ever bought Prep-H and Chex mix together. At least now I know how to build the perfect relief package for any other pregnant woman that's experiencing these foes.

Rudder Elimination Kit

To top it all off, I ended up also breaking out into a full body food allergy rash from something I ate on Father's Day.  After being sent to 2 different doctors and a perinatologist they concluded that I can't eat shrimp, strawberries, or sesame seeds for the rest of the pregnancy.  It's too bad, I was planning a shrimp and sesame seed oil stir fry, garnished with strawberries. OR... it could just be heat rash.  We're currently testing out theories.

Expanding Appetites & Inedible Donuts

The second trimester of pregnancy is all about expansion.  Expanding my meal choices since I no longer barf at the smell of ham, expanding my wardrobe to include a multitude of stretchy pieces, and the wonderful adventures of an expanding pelvis.

Don't get me wrong, my second trimester was magnitudes more comfortable than my first.  I not only was excited, but ravenously-crazy about getting my hands on my first Dodger dog of the season.  Don't worry, I convinced myself that it was nitrate free and I washed down any lingering bacteria with an order of nachos and some garlic fries.  The Dodger dog was for me-- the garlic fries and nachos were for Abe (he begged!).  Matt acted shocked when I promptly requested ice cream after the game.  There's always room for ice cream!

That smile is less for the game win and more for the Dodger Dog, nachos, & garlic fries.

Needless to say, my appetite is pretty impressive.  I've also done a great job with keeping a very healthy diet.  Here's some photographic evidence of my nutritional discretion:

Hot Dog on a Stick, Sprinkles Chocolate Marshmallow Cupcake, & a taco in honor of Cinco de Mayo.  Ole!

I've also recently discovered that Torrance has a Rubios, so the Original Rubios fish taco with 4 limes has been added to my weekly rotation.  The Rubios guy already knows me by name and I just hand him my card.  He also knows I've been pilfering the "decorative" un-cut limes, so he now gives me a separate bag just for limes and flashes me that look of "just take the limes that are already prepared, please".  I'm sure they've given me a nickname by now-- "Prego Lime Lady" or something like that.

Despite my insanely large sugar intake, I passed my glucose test with flying colors. I sucked down that fizzy orange concoction like a champ! I actually have video of me chugging it down, but I thought the hacking noises that I make in between sips sounded too much like a cat trying to release an enormous hairball that it would be off-putting.

Chug, chug, chug!!!!

Thankfully, regardless of my nutritious diet, I've only put on 13 pounds... for now.  I have to keep telling myself that last part because I'm certain that the inevitable will happen and I'll wake up one day in my eighth month and have put on an additional twenty.  It'll catch up to me I'm sure.  In fact, I've unconsciously eyed clothing in Target's plus-size section, taken the item off the rack, and proceeded to the fitting room before realizing that the "x" after the number was not for "xs".  I've done that three times already!  One of those occasions Matt giggled his way around the store without telling me.  He thinks he's so funny.

All in all, my second trimester was definitely in the up & up purely because of my eating habits.  Then there's the downside.  As I approached the end of trimester two, I started to discover that my body was starting to feel a bit... achy.  So, although I've been able to add things like hot dogs and calzones to my edible list, I've had to add a not-so-edible donut to the list as well.

Tailbone and lower back pain is no bueno.  I've held off for about 3 weeks now from hitting the "purchase" button on Amazon for a foam butt donut.  I'll most likely Amazon prime that tomorrow.  Sitting for long periods is just unbearable and in the last 2 weeks I've been on 6 planes for a total of 18+ hours.  I'm sure my seat neighbors found it strange that my neck pillow slowly disappeared its way below my rear end.  Yeah... that happened.

I hear my third trimester is the beginning of the end and it's all downhill from here.  Well, I'm going to take it a day at a time and try to enjoy it as much as possible... despite the donut that I'll be towing around with me.  Cheers to second trimesters and fun meals and Bon Chance as I make my way through my third tri.  Home stretch, baby-- let's just have a couple more Dodger Dogs to usher this kid into the world. :)

Book Worms

Matt and I are avid readers.  Okay... Matt is an avid reader and I'm a so-so reader whenever there's a New York Times bestselling book series (insert: Hunger Games, Dragon Tattoo, and Twilight).  One thing that I'm really excited about is building Abishai's library.  Over our 5 years of marriage, Matt and I have amassed quite the book collection.  In fact, when we were moving in, there were more boxes dedicated to just books than there were anything else.  What can we say, we love the feeling of turning pages and we'll probably never convert to the digital book realm.  Sorry, Kindle.

I've already started building a mental list of all the books I want to read to Abe.  I was browsing through some blogs and stumbled upon a very intriguing children's book called The Story of the Little Mole Who Went in Search of Whodunit.  Originally written & published in Germany, the story follows the journey of Little Mole who wakes up one morning to be greeted by a stinky surprise as he pokes his head out of his hole.  Poor Little Mole begins investigating the neighborhood to solve the mystery of "whodunit". Now isn't that a precious addition to any child's library?  I can see it now, sitting on the shelf in between Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs and Goodnight, Moon. 

My amusement doesn't stop there.  I was pleased to learn that this particular book is "frequently bought together" with Walter the Farting Dog on Amazon.com.  Although I'm sure Abe will learn enough on his own about flatulence and bowel movements, I'm comforted by the fact that he can be entertained and educated about those topics through literature.  They may not be Caldecott Medal winners, but I'm sure they're just as memorable.

In other news, Christopher Walken may be the first person to read Where the Wild Things Are to our little boy because, well, there's just no way we could do it justice.  Listen for yourselves...

March Madness: Big Hearts and Big Kicks

We've had some crazy few weeks in the Stanbery household.  March was a big month for us- both up and down.

In our last post you learned that BabyBery is a baby BOY and we are thrilled with the news.  Matt's super excited because I think he may have shut down our gender party if it happened to be a girl.  Now that baby boy Stanbery is on his way into this world in the next few months, Matt's mentioned that having a girl next wouldn't be so bad.  He needs an accomplice, he says... for all the boys that would come by to try and date his future daughter.

We've decided on a name (one that's been decided for quite some time) and we are naming our son, Abishai-- meaning "Gift from the Father".  Abishai was one of King David's mighty men-- a determined warrior and one known in the Bible for slaying 300 men in one battle with his sword to protect King David.  Think the Greek king Leonidus.  Abishai was fierce!  We're hoping for the same strength and might in our son, but hopefully with less of a temper.  :)

The end of March was a hectic time for us.  My dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and after 12+ hours of surgery, his very skilled doctors were able to remove all of the cancer from his pancreas.  He is now left with only 25% of his pancreas and he no longer has a spleen, but we thank God every day that he is alive.  God has plans for my dad and we're pretty certain that one of those plans is meeting his grandson this August.   My dad is doing well now, learning each day to deal with diabetes, but recovering quite quickly-- much to the surprise of his doctors.  We all have something to be thankful for and it makes us remember how precious each day of life is.

Although my dad's days in the hospital were not comfortable or fun for any of us, I was very excited to greet my dad on the day of his discharge with the first few kicks from our little boy.  Seeing my dad's smile and hearing him laugh for the first time in a long time as he held his palm to my belly was such a blessing.  Almost like Abishai knew Grandpa Lalo needed a pick-me-up.

Since then, Abishai has been kicking up a storm.  It's so strange to feel him.  I've likened the feeling to him doing the spider-pig on my belly.  I've been told it will only get stronger and possibly uncomfortable.  I'm preparing myself for his soccer player kicks if he's going to follow in his father's footsteps.

Then there's this.  I'm only posting this because I vowed to keep track of my pregnancy brain moments-- this will probably be the closest to comic relief you'll find on the blog.  Enjoy!



Pregnancy Brain Moment (another to add to the list): So as I was lying there during our 20 week ultrasound, watching our tech click through all of the boxes to confirm that our baby boy has all of his organs and limbs.  Legs - check,  arms - check, liver - check, kidneys - check.... 4 chambered heart - check!  It was a great appointment and Matt and I were so excited to hear that the baby was doing well.  We get in the car and this conversation ensues:

Me: Our son has a 4 chambered heart!!
Matt: Yup
Me: Now he only has to grow one more chamber...
Matt: (confused look on face) Uh... no.  He just gets 4.  Are you serious?
Me: (also with a confused look on my face)  Oh.  Really?  Just 4?  I could've sworn there were 5.
Matt: Nope, honey.  He only has 4. You also only have 4.  We only have four. 
Me: Oh...

To make me feel better, Matt has now said that I must've thought there were five chambers and that Jesus goes in the 5th chamber.  Gotta make room for Jesus, right?

Gender Reveal

When we first found out we were pregnant, Matt surprised me with his knowledge of something called a "Gender Reveal Party".  Instead of having the ultrasound tech tell us what gender our baby was, we would ask her to write the gender down on a piece of paper and seal the answer in an envelope.  Then we give the envelope to a baker who would die the cake either pink or blue depending on the sex of the baby and then cover it in white frosting.

So...with the help of some very awesome girlfriends, mine and Matt's vision was brought to life.  Hours of gluey mess later we had my dream decor-- handmade yarn balls-- which will later decorate BabyBery's bedroom.  I created a photobooth area that helped our guests cast their "vote" on the baby's gender by snapping a photo with a mustache or lips.  Then there was the food, we had an awesome spread of goodies and even pink and blue drinks to match the theme.

In the end we found out that BabyBery is a BOY!  Here are some photos of the party and a video recap. :)

Tons of thanks to Shayna, the Lipscomb Ladies, Shannon, Natalie, & Courtney for all the hardwork they put in to making this party perfect!