Contradictions

It's been a month since Dean's second heart surgery and we have been home almost a month. I have contemplated what to write and argued with myself about writing. Mainly because there is always so much to do. As I sit here, with Dean and Ellie both snuggled up in their beds (Hallelujah they are starting to go to bed around the same time together!) I look around and there is a pile of dishes in my sink, three piles of folded clothes, the trash needs to go out, and the play room is a war zone. And Blair and I have not spent much time alone. It feels selfish to sit and write when I could be snuggled up next to him. Or taking care of my house. Or sleeping.

I've been hesitant to write whats on my heart. I'm not sure I can articulate this well enough for people to understand.

We get asked a lot "How's it going, Dean being home?" I pause when asked that. The long and short of the answer is that it is both good and bad. It is both wonderful and terrifying. Beautiful and painful. An amazing blessing and absolute chaos.

I love our son. He has gone through so much and come out beautifully. His smiles warm my heart and he responds to me in the most amazing ways. Yet he is very very different from his sister. He is all my baby. He does not like most other people, he can tolerate them for a short time, but at the end of that time he makes it known that he wants to be back with me. It's almost like no one knows how to hold him as well as I can hold him. The closest person who's been able to calmly talk to him when he gets fussy has been my Mom. Go figure. I'm a lot like her.

The few times that I've left Dean with Blair, I have come home to either to the craziness of Dean crying or Blair pacing back and forth with him, because if he sits down, Dean screams at him. His face gets red, and goes from red to blue and he has actual literal tears in his eyes until I sit with him or rock him.

I love that he is calmed by me. I am terrified about the prospect of not ever being able to be alone.

I think I had some expectations about what life would be like after we got home this last time, and the reality of what we can home to was much different than I thought it'd be. It's summer time and I will not be going to the Beach, I will probably not be going swimming. I will not be going for long walks, and I will not be sitting in the back yard with my kids, playing in the grass. Dean doesn't like being outside. And one of his medications cause him to be sun sensitive. Ellie likes to go go go, I'm afraid of trying to coral them both, keep him from crying and keep her from running into the road. Even going to the Library (which I miss terribly) seems like too big of a expedition.

Part of this is the very real struggle of going from one kid to two kids. Truly it is hard. Everything is divided and harder and more. Almost every day, at some point, I have to rock Dean, talk to Ellie and listen to Blair. And I must make it all happen. I am a champion multi-tasker. Most moms are. Most women are.

Add to this the realization of how unhealthy my relationship with food had become and what it was starting to do to me physically and emotionally and my mind has been racing racing racing these past few weeks.

I am simultaneously praising God for the blessing of my children and husband and life and mourning the things I have given up. Desperately wishing for an hour to sit by myself and pretend that I can dwaddle and not think about anyone.  I mourn the loss of another summer. I mourn the loss of being outside. I mourn the loss of Dean's baby hood. I mourn the loss of friends who don't come see us because they are sick (which I love that they think of Dean first, but it makes me so sad for Ellie). I mourn the loss of just packing up and going places to visit people.

If we go anywhere we have to think about how long we will be gone and when we will be coming back. We pack medications and feeds and I'm worried that at some point I will say Peace Out because my son can't handle it. Or perhaps I won't be able to handle it.

This feels so isolating. I've entered into this world of Special Needs Momhood and it's a rough place to be man. It's lonely. And I hesitate to talk about it because everyone wants to tell me how grateful I should be that he's here still. Do you think I forget that? Do you think I don't know how much his life cost? Listen the other night I remembered what it was like when he was intubated but off the paralytics and he would cry silently. I had to grab Blair's hand and breathe slowly to calm myself down. Swallowing back tears. I have to remember how much it hurts him when I give him his shots, or that when he cries for me, it's because for so long we were apart. I know.

It does not diminish the fact that our day to day life is still hard. That I am still struggling. In part because I think my son is just a colicky baby. He's particular. He's stubborn. I love these parts of him. I know they are part of the reason he was ok after two open heart surgeries. I know he is strong.

And I know that I am tired. I know that I am constantly on. I know that my attention is drawn every which way. I know that "me" time, though important, most days has to wait. I know that at any given point in my day I will need to drop what I am doing to go "save" him. Or to keep Ellie from accidentally stepping on his head. I know that this has been a strain, even more, on my relationship with my husband who does everything he can to help me. He's literally doing the dishes as I type this. He's done the dishes about fifty million times today. He will continue to do them because he knows that that is a tangible way to show me love. Do you know what I would give for an hour truly alone with him? We'd probably nap...we did today. The four of us all curled in our beds as a celebration of our Independence Day.

Friends, why must we tell mothers that they must be grateful when they are trying to bare their hearts with others? Why must we tell them what to do or how to do it? Don't you think they are trying? Don't you think they look at their children with such joy already?

Those things never make motherhood less hard.

Until you do it, you have no idea.

It is the daily living. The day in and day out. The constant diapers and crying and trying to get the baby to nap so you can shower that make some days feel like too much. Add to this that our son is still recovering and has a very particular personality and man...we just don't know what the hell we are doing.

So this is where we are now. Surviving each day. Doing what we can when we can. Working as a team. Praying that we get through this year. Reminding one another, this is not forever.

This is not forever.

And yes, we will miss the time that our babies are this small, yes, we will miss their tiny fingers and toes. But I will be honest, I look forward to the day when I can send them out to play and fold laundry by myself. I look forward to the day when they go to the bathroom on their own. I will celebrate the day that both go bed at the same time and I all I have to do is kiss them and tell them I love them. When I can drop them off at a game or play or after school program and read a book by myself in the car. When I can go back to work.

Maybe those things make me selfish. But they're true.

Until then, I will survive. They will survive. And I will do whatever I have to do to get through each day, hoping and praying that my kids know that I love them. Even when I lose patience. Even when I get frustrated. Even when I yell at them. Even when I have to lock myself in the bathroom and put my head between my knees. Even when people want to remind me how grateful I should be.

If there has one thing I have learned from the past year, it's that the most contradictory emotions can exist at the same time. Joy can live with fear. Love can live with frustration. Thankfulness can live with the desire and need to have five minutes without someone touching me.

I mean, c'mon guys, have you seen Inside Out?

This is pretty much an accurate representation of my year thus far. 

Part Two: Chapter One: "Shut Up and Take Your Blessing"

So much has happened. So much.

Saturday April 23rd we brought our son home for the first time. We didn't make it hugely public, didn't tell a lot of people. I was afraid it would change and I would be devastated. I was afraid that being too excited would ruin it.

It took forever on Saturday for them to discharge us. We had to wait for equipment and go over EVERYTHING that we had learned. We had to tell them what medicines Dean was on (Asprin, Prevacid, Lasix, Aldactone, Methadone, Flecanide) and what each one was for (blood thinner, acid reflux, get rid of fluid, get rid of fluid but not potassium, combat the wean off of the sedatives and paralytics, and his irregular heart rhythms). We had to know when to give them (6 AM, 2 PM, 6 PM, 10 PM) and how much of each. We had to to go over CPR again, who to call for what, when his next appointments were, and prove we knew how to use his feeding pump.

I understand why we had to do these things. I'm glad that they look out for my kid, but by the end of the day I wanted out of there so badly I couldn't sit still.

The time came. My son took his first car ride home with his Daddy and his Grandfather, three Dean's in a car together, me following, crying on and off. Overwhelmed and over joyed and nervous as hell.

We got back...there was so much to unpack so much to organize (I still don't feel organized)(And won't for a long time). Uncle John and Aunt Katharine came and held their godson, and they brought Ellie.

She met her brother.

Guys, she met her brother. 

They exist in the same space. Ellie loves him. She gives him his paci, she cries when he does, she wants to sit next to him, be near him. She's going to stomp him one day. Push him so hard in his swing that he tumbles out. Poor little guy...he's survived heart surgery now he has to survive his sister...

I had this moment on Sunday where I just took a deep breathe and thought "We are home."

And then I stepped back and thought "Crap. We're home."

My mind shifted into "whatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?!"

We went from constant monitoring to mediate monitoring. We went from bells and whistles and nurses to home and quiet and Ellie. We went from being away to being home. From big spaces to our tiny little house.

Would Ellie sleep through him crying? Would I be able to keeping up pumping? Would Blair be ok with the stress of it all? Would I be able to handle both kids by myself? What do I do if he de-sats? Would I be able to tell if he de-sated? What if  I missed a medication? What if I can't ever do the dishes or the laundry? What if Ellie makes me crazy and I yell at her too much? What if I break him? We just spent all this time working to keep him alive, what if I'm the mom who doesn't do it right and I break him? What if I don't do his feeds right?

It all boiled down to one thing: I am not an adequate Mother. I am not enough.

Lies.

Slowly but surely we are getting there. Slowly but surely I'm learning where I need to ask for help and when I can back off. Slowly but surely Ellie is learning how she can help, what's hers and what's Deedo's. Slowly but surely Blair is adjusting to waking up a lot at night.

I keep harping on this, but it needs to be very clear, we aren't done. We still have two more surgeries. I still feed Dean through a tube in his stomach. I still have to watch his breathing and his color (too pale or blue is bad). I still have to be cautious of those who are sick. I've asked people to wash their hands and I'm not ashamed of it. The time between the Norwood (the surgery he had at three days) and the Glenn (the surgery he will have sometime this summer) is critical. We monitor weight gain and blood saturation levels and watch his breathing. We live, but we live with caution.

We are home. But we are home with caution.

It has been amazing to see the community in which we live come out to help us. We have never had so much cereal in our lives. Or raisins. Or oatmeal. So many people have sent me offers of dinner and encouragement. Reminders that I am doing a good job, that I am enough, to give myself grace. People who offered to take Ellie for a night. Or an afternoon. Offers of time and love.

I am still figuring out where to ask for help and where to struggle. See, we are a family. And eventually, one day, we will be have to be us, without help. I am working on finding a balance of asking for help where I need, and realizing that these are my children and we are going to have to figure things out as a family. There is a fine line.

Don't get me wrong, Blair leaves for two weeks next month and the thought of this makes my heart beat a little faster and my fingers stop working so well. Scared comes to mind. Terrified might be a better word. (That might be a time I ask for a lot of help) (like...a lot).

Yes. This has been a lot. Some days it feels like too much. Like the weight of this might bury me and I won't know who I am or what in the world I'm doing or that my kids will somehow just break. All the sudden, they seem so fragile. Maybe that's why I fight so hard not to treat them like that.

It has been hard to just accept that where we are in life we need help. That yes, other families go from one kid to two, but their second doesn't always require quite so much attention. It's hard to accept, still, that Dean is different that his sister. Than other babies. I do let him cry, but I can hear it in his voice when he's hurting and that cry...I can't describe to you how it chills my bones.

I look at him and Ellie...my babies...they are still here with me and that's...that's so big. In the past two days there have been times when Ellie AND Dean need me and I can't get to them, and there are dishes to be done and a house to be organized and put back together and clothes to be washed and beds to be made and errands to be run...and I step back. And go to my kids.

And that's enough.

I am enough, in Christ, for them.

I know, when push comes to shove, if there are days when I'm falling asleep on my feet, when I am overwhelmed and scared, when it's all too much, that there are any number of people I can call who will step into my life and speak life and live love.

One day at a time. Slow slow slow. And lots of coffee.

I think we'll survive.

Chapter Eight: "Let There Be"

Imagine there is nothing. Just, nothing. No sun no light no dark nothing. No time.

But there's God.

He's there and He decides He wants to make stuff. Loads of stuff. Atoms and Giraffes and Bears (even Teddy Bears) and Hair and Sun and Air and Nitrogen and Balloons. He simply speaks and everything that we know to be, is. Because He says so.

When He did this, He saw everything.

He saw so far forward into the future that He saw a little tiny baby boy whose heart maybe needs a little bit of help. He saw how much that little baby would struggle, He knew that baby wouldn't survive without some help. So He started a Chain of Events.

First He made medicine and x-rays and hospitals where people with compassion decided they wanted to take care of other people. Then He made microscopes and gave people the talent and drive to figure out how to cut into people to help fix them. He knew that sin would be so crazy in this world that it would eventually affect our bodies and He wanted to help. So He sent people. Doctors and Surgeons and Nurses and Technicians and Janitors and Policemen.

Born to this world was a little girl, who grew up to be a woman, who went to school to be a doctor, who started to look at hearts, who started to look at little kids hearts, who meets moms and explains "This is what we found, this is what we can do."

Born to this world was a little boy, who grew up with younger siblings, who struggled to know who he was, who was lost for a little while, who met a girl who fell in love with him and he decided he wanted to be a man and they got married, and had a baby girl and then found out they were pregnant with a baby boy and that baby boy would have one ventricle in his heart.

God set it up. Boom boom boom, like a bowling ball, He set up the pins and set in motion what is happening right now.

He did this on the very first day that He created the world. He said "Let There Be" and there was.

There was light and dark and fish and birds and animals and grass and trees and science and math and time and day and night and there was Dean Blair Jaques V. Right from the very start of this world God was writing my little baby boys story.

How freaking cool is that? 

Pretty freaking cool.

Chapter Five: "Our God is In Control"

I hate that sometimes. I wrote the title and immediately was like "That's such a yuppie Christian thing to say. Ugh Madalynn."

Just because something is said a lot though, doesn't mean that it isn't true. This is truth.
God is in Control.

I remind myself of that a lot, I have to. We have so many ups and downs, I got sick, Ellie has a cold and will not be staying with us this weekend (and I will miss her something fierce), Blair finally admitted how useless he feels...how he was ok with me being sick because it meant he could take care of me.

We gave ourselves permission not to be at the hospital all night. We put our trust in our son's Doctors and Nurses and I told myself all afternoon, "God is in Control." I've heard it said that He's up all night so I don't have to be.

I find amazing comfort in that thought.

Some days, this just...this just sucks. Hard. A lot. More than I can describe unless you've gone through it. Not something similar, it. This. Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. Open heart surgery mere DAYS after being born. Do you know what newborns should do? Poop meconium, nurse at my breast, and make little sounds in the middle of the night that make me smile. They should be crying moving, wiggling, I should be changing his diapers.

My reality: I. Have. To. Wait. And pray and talk to him and rub his fuzzy little head and be away. And I can't plan a dag-on thing. I have NO idea when we get to come home. None. And even when I do find out, I won't trust it. Yesterday he was doing great, by this morning, they were doing an echo because they weren't seeing progress as he should. By this afternoon he was ok. Seriously, what the hell?

We don't go day by day. We go hour by hour.
And we wait. So much waiting.

Look though, there has been laughter. God knew that we would need laughter.

The day he had surgery his godparents came and sat with us. I love them. They crack me up and it was so good to laugh with them during that time of waiting.

Like the time my amazing mother in law and Blair's Mamaw came to bring Ellie to see us. They took us back to Front Royal to get things and boy was it an adventure. We made wrong turns. We got lost. I had to pump in the car, hysterical. I had them rolling. "Oh Hello DC, this is my boob, yup, it's happening, move alone."

Or the night I was just having a bad day. I have this weird thing right now that when I cry, I would just rather be alone. Most of the time, this happens in the shower. Blair knows. He lets me and I love that. I jump in thinking "I'll cry for a little and get it out and be done and move on." God knew that I needed laughter. Basically, with pumping, I had not been emptying myself well enough and had a knot. I worked it out in the shower and then just shot milk for a good two minutes and I laughed and laughed.

Yes. That was a story about me milking myself. You know what? I want my son to know that story some day. Because dude, it's FUNNY.

Wednesday night My amazing mother in law brought Ellie in to have dinner with us, and then she and Blair went to see Deano. When they got back I had given Ellie a bath and put her in her footie pj's. Her pj's don't have good traction. My girl LOVES LOVES LOVES the elevators, she dances in them, and tries to push the buttons. When we all got in to say good bye for the night, she ran and completely wiped out and fell on her bum and hit her head. And the three of us just laughed and laughed and laughed. (She laughed to, by the way)

Yesterday, Blair's voice randomly cracked while he was talking to one of  Deano's nurses. I thought I was going to pee my pants.

Here is why these things are so important: because God is in Control. He knew, he so so so knew that we would need to fill our time with laughter. He knew we would need to allow ourselves to laugh.

I've been thinking about that all day. I was sick and came back early and slept and prayed and talked to people. If I were in control I would have completely forgotten about Joy and Laughter.

My God is so good that He doesn't forget those things.

I've been told how strong people think I am. Suddenly, I feel it. Don't get me wrong, they did their echo today and I was terrified they would "find" something. Being strong doesn't mean you're not scared though. I think it just means that you cry when you gotta (in the shower or wherever) and then you wipe those tears and say ok. Next battle. Bring it.

There are so many people I wish I could thank. So many who have no idea what their kindnesses mean to me. My cousin was here to day, haven't seen that kid in forever, and what did I do? Fought tears and asked to drive me somewhere. Without hesitation he did. (His girlfriend is so lucky to have him...shout to Carter who has actually subscribed to my blog...you are winning, just so you know)(and so is he). My parents, Blair's parents, friends from church, my older sisters, my big brothers...strangers I've never met in person...God is using YOU all to remind me that this is not something we are fighting alone.

God is using YOU all to remind me of His unfailing wonderful Control in my life, in Blair's, in Ellie's, in my Son's.

Literally every time I start to feel discouraged SOMEONE texts me. Every. Single. Time.

I am blown away by God's control. I am blown away by His love.

I am hiding there. Sheltered in His wings. Crying and Laughing when I need to.

I am thankful. More than anyone will ever know for the way this is drawing me close to God and closer to those who love me and whom I love.

Still Here!

Just wanted to post real quick, I haven't forgotten my blog. I think about it often, and think, I should write something, and then I get sucked into baby snuggling...or feeding...or playing, so writing here has taken a small back seat. I go back to work soon though, and lunch breaks are a great time to write. :)

Ellie is wonderful. I love posting pictures of her, I love her smile, and I love her goofy giggle/cough thing that she does. I love seeing her with Blair and I love the joy she brings to so many others. She's two months old today, and finally wearing something other than newborn clothes. I love her. I love her a whole bunch. It's been a wild ride these past two months, harder and more rewarding than I could ever imagine. I look forward to telling the stories of this beautiful artwork that Blair and I created together. We sure did a good job with this baby making business. :)

Labor of Love: One Week Out

I’m thinking that it will take me a very long time to type out the story of Ellie’s birth. It’s really her story.  It’s a beautiful story. I love it, I love everything about it. You know why? Because at the end of it, there is a beautiful baby girl, one who is lying next to me in a pink blanket with little whales on it.

Ellie’s birth story starts on a Tuesday, June 17, the day I was supposed to go to my last day at work before leave. Instead, that morning I called and said that there was a chance I might be in labor and that it would probably be best if I didn’t go in that day. I made the right choice. I won’t go over all the details, because I’ve already talked about all that. As embarrassing as it was to have to send my midwife and birth team home not once but twice, I think this is where I mentally, took a turn for the worse.

Thursday and Friday I did everything and anything to take my mind off of the fact that this week I’d had those contractions and that it had all happened. I was trying to remind myself that labor takes a long time that it could still be weeks before I actually had my baby, that it was all good. I went for walks, I played in the pool, ate talked laughed, hung out with friends. I tried very hard to tell myself that she was not coming this week, that it would take a long time that I needed to be patient. I prayed. I hung out. I felt huge. I felt like I was on the edge of something that I couldn’t explain.

So. Saturday. I woke up a little while after Blair left for work and sat on the edge of the bed. I got up, used the bathroom, came back, and there was this wet mark on the bed. And I thought to myself “I’m pretty sure I didn’t wet the bed…” I knew that this could be my water, but was unsure. And I didn’t want to sound the alarm again without it being the real deal (this would be a common theme throughout the day, and I believe some part of the reason we ended up transferring, but we’ll get to that). I took a walk with my mother in law, found out my best friend in Va Beach who was ALSO VERY pregnant was being induced, and walked back home. Once we got back home, I started to pray for my friend, and tried desperately to ignore the contractions.

I couldn’t ignore them anymore. My wonderful mother in law helped me upstairs, made sure I was ok, I called Blair, and my mom and asked them to come. I did NOT want to call my midwife yet though. I did not want to call the fairy godmother. I felt like people had already been here so much that I didn’t want them to come unless, you know, my body was truly in labor.

When Blair came home, and my mom got here, they made the choice to call my midwife. She was on her way. We called the fairy godmother. We walked, and stood, and rocked, and the contractions got closer and stronger and more intense. By late that evening, I really truly felt like my body was ready to push. We began trying different positions that encouraged baby to head down. We worked at this for what seemed like a long time to me. I was getting so tired. And I was so ready to meet our girl.

But. Around nine (I think? I could be wrong, time stopped working for me after a while) we took a break and did a vaginal check to see where I was. What this check told us was very revealing.

I was still only 5 centimeters. I was not dilated enough for pushing to do much. And this is where my story goes from “home to hospital.”

We were given options. Go now just to make sure baby and I were alright or go to sleep and see what happens in the morning. Everyone left the room and I looked at Blair. I still wasn’t sure what we should do. We prayed together and decided to go to bed. Ameh left, the midwives left, and my mom went to sleep out on the couch (she said couldn’t leave). Before leaving, my midwife prayed with me and gave me some Benadryl to help me sleep.

I couldn’t sleep though. Normally that stuff knocks me out (ask Teri from camp…I had some once while we were out craft shopping…it was very special) but this time, it didn’t. I was up all the time because of contractions and they hurt. I would get up with them, pee, come back, try to sleep, I would try to be quiet through them, but would always whimper and wake Blair up. He tried to help, applied counter pressure in my back, but absolutely nothing helped.

At this point, mentally, I was a little out of it. I had called people there, sent them away, labored, bore down, changed positions, all of it. But as far as I knew, I was still only at five, and no one could explain why that was. So…sad to say, I kinda freaked out. That last time, I woke Blair up and said “We need to go, we need to go now.” He called the midwife to let her know, I started to pack things, realizing I had NO idea what you needed to bring to a hospital. I went out to ask my mom, and out there with her, I cried. I didn’t understand why my contractions weren’t doing anything, I didn’t understand what was taking so long, and I was convinced something was wrong with my baby.

I threw stuff in a bag and off we went. We followed behind my mom who, according to my husband, did not go the right way and drove to slow. While in the car, I had these intense contractions…I would roll down the window and try to remember to breathe. Blair was my rock. He told me that no matter what, all that mattered was Ellie and I were ok.

Once we were at the ER, I was wheeled back to labor and delivery. They had already been informed of my situation and they gave me a gown and asked to do a cervical check. When they checked me, I was at 7 cm. Every now and again I give Blair these “What in the world faces?” and I know at that point I gave him one. I did NOT think that anything had happened, in my panicked brain, nothing would have happened. So, they admitted me.

I have to say, the people at the hospital were amazing. They listened so well to everything that I wanted. I basically had the same kind of birth I would have had at home, the only difference was that they broke my water around four am, I believe.

Labor picked up hardcore for me after that. And even allowing them to break my water was a huge leap of Faith for me. I had always intended to let things happen naturally. When they asked if they could, I looked to my husband and my mom for their strength to make a choice, and they loaned it to me. I held their hands while it happened, asking Blair with my eyes if we were doing the right thing. I know it does not seem like much, to allow someone to break your water, but for me, as I said, leap of faith. He really comforted me, told me that we had done the right thing.

We had. After that, it was like my body kick started. Even though I was so so so tired, I knew that she was coming soon, this time for real. I could feel the contractions build, could feel myself getting ready. I knew that the work was just beginning. Right before a contraction I would get really cold and pull the covers up, but then I would get hot with the contractions and throw them off! I held Blair’s hands and my mom’s, if either of them left me, I called them back. In between, I let my body go limp and I would sleep for however long I could.

I’m not sure when things changed or how they changed, but they did. And I was ready. I would wake up and bellow through contractions. I’m not sure how much time the doctor had to actually get “Set up” I know I didn’t want to wait for her though. I did what my body was telling me to do, I pushed. It was intense.

I felt her. I felt her move through my body, I felt her crown, I felt her head pass through, and I felt her slide between my legs and the next thing I know there is this tiny human right on my chest in all her grossness. It was beautiful and wonderful and everything I ever wanted.

I don’t remember a lot of things, which is why I’m glad Ameh was there taking pictures. I remember feeling like there was no way I could make this happen. I remember being at home lying in bed begging God to help me. I remember looking at Blair and seeing strength there. And I remember this incredible sense of euphoria when she was there on my chest. This beautiful beautiful baby…our gift for just a little while.

God is good. I know I said that. I know I thanked him. I know I forgot that I still had to push to get my placenta out. Blair reminded me of that a few times. I vaguely saw my mom and Ameh hugging and crying. I kept looking at my baby and then at Blair.

Three years ago…I never would have thought I would be here. I never thought that I would be married, never thought that I would have a daughter (I HAVE A FOR REAL BABY, WHAT!?), I didn’t think that I deserved it. Let me rephrase this, I don’t deserve it. I am blessed. Terribly and wondrously blessed. I am so incredibly thankful for this gift.

Eleanor was 7 pounds 2.5 ounces, 19 ½ inches, she was born at 6:28 AM on June 22, 2014. She is beautiful. She is amazing. She is already incredibly goofy and makes some of the best faces I’ve ever seen.

In the past week I have fallen so deeply in love with her, that I’ve fallen in love with God all over again and with Blair. He comes home from work and we are the first people he has to see. He’s had to work so much…but each night he comes home, no matter how tired he is, he holds his baby. He talks to her, he asks for pictures while he’s away. He is wonderful. He was so strong for me…and even though people have told me I was strong, I didn’t feel that wat though.

It took me a hot minute to be ok with the fact that we transferred. At the time I wasn’t upset about it. Most days I’m not upset about it, the hospital did a great job of making me feel like I was in charge of my daughters birth story. However…I’m sad that Doran didn’t get to greet Ellie first thing, it was stressful thinking about how we are going to pay that bill, and it wasn’t what I wanted. But what I want and what I actually get are different things, and I got my precious baby girl. Transferring, this time, was the right thing for me. Mentally, I think it helped me let a lot. I would still want a home birth; it’s a dream that I am going to fulfill one day. I know this. In reality I don’t feel that I failed or did something wrong. I did what I thought I needed to do for me and my baby.

She’s here in my lap right now. Snoozing away. Being perfect. Being wonderful. Just being.

I’m amazed at what God has done in our lives. I’m amazed at this little girl. And in the past week, I have come to know what a mother’s fierce love is. And she’s beautiful. She’s just absolutely beautiful. 

36 Weeks, This is Important

At 36 weeks, my midwife came to our house for our home appointment. This just might be the most important blog post of my pregnant career, strap in folks. Things about to get real...

First of all, I wish I had time/energy/finances to make shirts for my birth team. They would be red with blue capes and would say "Birth Team Assemble!" Because one, I think that would be funny, and two, I seriously love the people who will be in the room to help me bring my daughter to this world. I won't be over that. Ever I don't think...

Second of all, 36 weeks. Which means in 4-6, there might be a new little human on this planet. Whoah. Big deal guys, this is a big deal. For the record, I say 4-6 weeks because I believe that gestation actually can go to 42 weeks, and I'm not going to induce labor, therefore, if she comes in July, she comes in July. I'll just camp out in the pool. It's nice out there...I like it.

Third of all, this is the most important blog post BECAUSE I am going to tell you all some things that I think are worth saying. For me, and for any momma approaching the end of her pregnancy.

I know people are excited, I am too. I'm nervous and excited and on edge and emotional and weird and huge and all the things. I am all the things right now, and I need support. Here is how you can support me:

• Pray for us. Pray for a healthy delivery that is in God's hands. Pray that my daughter arrives here alive and hearty, I don't care about ten fingers and toes, those are over rated, I just want her here and breathing. 
• Don't ask too much of me. I'm so tired. I'm so tired most all the time. I get home from work and most of the time I make it upstairs, sometimes, I don't though. I just pass out on the couch for a while. 
• Be patient. My emotions are volcanic, I go back and forth a lot. A lot a lot. Sometimes I'm angry about stupid things and the next day I'm not and then I cry because I was angry and then I feel bad for crying and well...you get the picture. 
• Please, for the love of all that is Holy DON'T SAY ANYTHING TO ME ABOUT THESE THINGS:

1. Have you had that baby yet? No. I have not. Trust me please when I tell you that when she comes you all will know. Like I said, I will want to tell people. 
2. She has an eviction notice! Because you can control my uterus? Because it's a room and you're the landlord? I don't understand, shut your face. 
3. You've been pregnant for a long time! Dude, I already know. I already know that I've been pregnant, I know how many DAYS I've been pregnant, I know how many weeks and months and I don't need you to remind me. 
4. Weren't you due like a week ago? I don't remember my due date like a weird-o. I believe she will come when it's time for her to come. If I have to wait, so do you. 
5. Are you sure you're not having twins!? I'm not. I'm really not. Babies just take up a whole lotta room and mine is no different. I already feel huge and cumbersome, please don't remind me. It's hard to move and walk. Turning from side to side in the middle of the night is hysterical. 
6. Still pregnant? I think if anyone asks me this one, I'm gonna tell them I swallowed a watermelon. Whole. As a dare. 
7. We just want to see the baby!! I. DO. TOO. Promise. I want to see her and hold her and love her on the outside and snuggle and be excited and cuddle with her and Blair. 

I'm a very sassy human. I just am, I come by it honestly, my mother is equally as sassy. She already told me she would spank my older brother Nate who has already asked me if I've "had that baby yet" (ha Nate! You're in trouble now!) I just want to finish my pregnancy in peace. I want to be able to focus on the task that is ahead of me. I don't want to get mad about stupid things that people say, without knowing. Hence this post, I'll just go ahead and ask you not to say these things. Talk about them among yourselves. Go for it. Just please, don't say them to me. That's all I ask. Don't post them on my Facebook wall. I will delete them. I will send you frownie faces.  I will rant about you to my husband. Can't we all just avoid that? :) 

Are there any other moms who got annoyed with people saying things like this? I feel like I see and hear it a lot. Maybe I'm making it up and no one will say these things to be...but just in case...here you go. 

We're really excited. Just this morning Blair said to me "My poor baby, she's gonna get suck a shock when I catch her, my hands are always cold!" It was adorable. 

As for now, I'm gonna take a nap. Because as I said, I get super sleepy now a days. And if I can nap, I will. :)

I might be in love with this picture....

Full

There are all these little things that are happening that just make me smile. Conversations that I've had, people who've stopped to see me, encouragement right at the right time.

I think about how my husband and I realized how incredibly selfish we are with and for one another. If we have spare time, we want to be where the other is. Three times Blair has come by the Library just to see/be near me. He showed up today and confused the heck out of me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I wanted to give you a kiss." He said. And then he did.

Our schedules have gotten much busier than we are used to. I work more now that I have been in MONTHS and I LOVE it. It just means that we don't get to spend our afternoons together the way we used to. It's all worth it though, because I love what I'm doing now. He sees this, knows it, and embraces it.

Today I saw a friend I haven't seen in a LONG time. She said "I love seeing how much you love Blair and Ellie." First of all, I love that she called them both by name, and second of all, I love that my actions speak that loudly. I want people to know who I love. I want people to know about my Faith and about these two people who mean so much to me. They are gifts, shouldn't we treasure our gifts? I've been thinking all day about that conversation. It kept me smiling.

Tonight my little brother took me to get frozen yogurt for cutting his hair. He looked at me and said "You're not the same Maddie as last year." All these things in just one day, my heart feels full.

We are officially in the third trimester. Ellie Girl feels huge, shoot, I feel huge. It freaks me out a little that she's not done growing and that I'm going to get even bigger. I can't imagine that it's true. I still get sick in the mornings, but I'm so tired of talking about throwing up, that I just ignore it when it happens. I've gotten to this divine acceptance that THIS is what pregnant looks like for me. I have two choices, complain, or accept it. While some days it's hard to accept, still, most days, I just take care of business and carry on. I like it better that way. Having two or three nose bleeds in a week tends to make me a little (read, a lot) fussy, but I'm really really trying to control that attitude. I know there are plenty of women who would love to have what I have sickness wise if it only meant that they were pregnant.

All the sudden I've got this voracious appetite. I want all the foods all the time, expect first thing in the morning. By ten though, man...it's like a food monster lives in me. At night, I feel like I get so hungry I could eat and eat and eat. I'm trying to remember all the things that are super good for us though. I may not have been able to eat well the first two trimesters, but hopefully I can now.

I've also been treated to a pedicure and a steak dinner in the last week. It amazes me the amount of wonderful people that surround us. I told Blair that we've got to start getting out more, if only because truly, people miss us. It goes back to that being selfish with one another. We're entirely too content laying next to eat other in bed reading or talking about books. However, I know that there might be a time when we really won't have all this time for one another, so be patient with us as we try to make the most of it now.

My heart feels full today. Almost like I was empty and needed some words of love without even knowing it. It's amazing to me how God works things together to fill us, even when we don't know we were running on empty.

Battling Irrationality

I am not to much of a coward to admit that I get scared.

I think that cowardly people are the ones that don't admit when they are scared. I think that by admitting you are scared you take power away from what it is that is making you scared, and you allow others into your mind where they can calm those fears.

I grew up around childbirth. I went to school and would come home to a baby. I looked through the Bradley Birthing Method book at a young age. When I was 19, I saw my best friend push out my God Daughter, since then, I've seen four other births. It's something that I've talked about, read about it, know about, am educated about.

However, I have never given birth myself. Not to a full term baby. So no, I don't know what contractions feel like, I don't know what it feels like to need to push, I don't know what it's like to get to a point in labor where you just think, "What the hell am I doing?" And yes, just like that. The sensations will be all new to me, something different that I've never experienced.

And I am not to much of a coward to not admit that the thought of giving birth at the end of June/maybe July, kinda scares me a little. I mean, ok, maybe I need to rephrase how I'm wording this. I just have an incredibly high respect for it, sometimes, though, that respect borders on irrational fears.

I am not scared of what my body can do. I am not scared of what God has created me to do. I am not scared of the pain, it is temporary, fleeting, and worth it to hold my daughter.

I am scared of what I don't know. I am scared of all the "what-ifs" and basically, the things that are out of my own control.

Here is how I am battling these fears: talking, listening, praying, trusting in those who know more than me. Trusting that my midwife has all the knowledge she needs to help me bring my daughter into this world. Trusting that my husband will be by my side, eager to help (where he can), knowing that he will encourage me. Talking about these fears with my Husband, asking him to listen to me, however much invalid or unlikely they are. Listening to those who have done this before, who tell me that it really truly is all worth, regardless of if your birth goes how you planned it or not. Praying that no matter what does happen, God is glorified through this experience, and that His ultimate goal for us is achieved. To bring into this world a life we've been blessed with.

In the past year I've been around and experienced a lot of those unknowns. Tragic things, hard things that cut you to the core. I've seen grieving mothers, grieved myself, and grown so much because of it. I have a very clear idea, in my head, how I want things to go to bring Ellie Girl into this world. Certain things I do know, like I just want to be home surrounded by my Husband, Mother, Best Friend, and a midwife who lets me labor, and is there as my just in case. I want to trust that my body can handle this. I know that I can do it, and I know in the throes of labor I'm going to try to convince my Mommy, my Husband, and my Best Friend, that I can't do it, that I won't do it, that I don't want to do it any more. I know in my heart, that each person in their own way will tell me that I can, that I will, and that I have to.

I'm finding out that the people who surround you before your labor and during it matter so much. That if I didn't have my Husband and Mother and Best Friend and amazing Midwife, I'm not sure I would be given leave to trust the way that I want to.

My crazy hormonal pregnant mind day dreams a lot about what could happen, what might happen. Each time I start to panic slightly about what I can't control, I remember something. God is in control. He's in control now, and He will be in control then. Regardless of what happens, or doesn't happen, He is still there. Why do we all seem to think in these moments of desperation that He just isn't there? I'm guilty of it. But I don't want to be.

I imagine myself in my bedroom at four in the morning, hanging onto my husband, crying because I can't, and I pray in those moments that I hear that still small voice who says "You know, you're right, you can't, I can, because I Am." THIS is what I want to remember to stop these irrational fears. THIS is what I want to remember while surrounded by the people I have gathered to be my birth team. THIS is what I want to remember IF we have to transfer. THIS is what I want to remember IF she is breech and the little sucker doesn't turn. THIS is what I want to remember IF nothing goes like how I want it go.

That I serve I Am, and in those moments, I'm surrounded by His Love. 

By the way, I love love LOVE this picture.

SCORE

You know, I'm pretty sure there comes a time in every young woman's newly married life where she thinks to herself "I married the very best man in the entire world". But, well, I really did. I mean, really. Blair is the best. In my head, he's better than you would ever know.

I mean, there are lots of reasons. There really are. I would like to title this post "Score". :)

• So as far as getting sick goes, it's gotten better. I've been really tired and there are still some things that trigger my stomach and make me vomit. One of these, is dishes. I don't know what it is, I think part of it is that our kitchen is so small and contained that if there are ANY food particles in the dishes it just makes me crazy. So SCORE one, Blair ALWAYS does the dishes for me. And if I look at him and say "They made me sick, if you do anything today, please do dishes." He does it. I feel bad sometimes, because he works hard and work has been iffy for me for a while. So on top of my husbands 40+ hours, he takes care of me. 
• SCORE two, we were talking about when Baby Ellie comes in June (possibly July) and I confessed something that I'm a little worried about. We like to sleep a lot. We go to bed early, Blair gets up early and we just really like the way we get to sleep a lot. So with a new baby...sleep kinda....well, it just doesn't happen. There is no set schedule. There is no bed time. There is no system. At least not a little while. When I told Blair that I was worried about this, this man...Oh this man, he says "Maddie, it's not a big deal. I'll stay home with you two as long as I can, and when I go back to work, we'll make it work. We'll nap when we can. If you have to wake up in the middle of the night with her, and you need me to be awake with you, tell me. If you don't, it's ok. Just don't tell me to go back to sleep and then wake me up because you found out you did need me. I'd rather just be awake with you."
  I'm not sure he knows how much that meant to me...
• SCORE three, he loves talking to Ellie. It's hysterical. We've gotten to that fun point where she moves and wriggles. I can tell you the exact times that she gets excited, and there are certain places that she gets excited about. The other day though, Blair put his face right down close to her and talked and she freaked out. Baby knows Daddy's voice. I consider that a huge SCORE.
• SCORE four, he massages my back. I got the best birth ball from a friend and I sit on that sucker like its my job. I had a moment yesterday when I got real nauseated and I knew I needed to take a medicine before things got out of hand. Sometimes, it's hard, because it tastes bad, and I have to be very careful when taking it. Blair sat in there with me and rubbed my back while I tried to swallow it down. Labor is gonna be a breeze with him there. 
• Now we come down to SCORE number Five, he let me order Chinese food last night. :) 

I'm part of these groups on the Facebook that talk about HG and how they deal with their sicknesses. Some of them talk about how they don't have super supportive husbands...and I don't know how they survive. Never once have I felt like Blair wasn't there for me, or that he doubted how I felt about my body. Never once has he made me feel bad for not being able to work as much, and never once did I doubt that he was excited about his daughter. Sometimes, now, he just looks at me and smiles. She's getting so very big and moving so so so much. Every little noise I make he wants to know why. 

It's just...we've learned a lot this pregnancy. We've learned a lot about each other, what we want, and don't want. I've learned a lot about myself and about how to let people love me. 

And Blair...man...someone give the man a cold beer. He's winning. 

This Comes Up A Lot...

We aren't even through one pregnancy and something keeps popping up, so I decided to just go ahead and set this to rest right now.

Here's what people seem to want to know: After getting so sick, will you and Blair have more kids?

Let's put this to rest right now: YES. 

We celebrated one year together yesterday on the 23, and it was hysterical. I got sick in the morning and he ended up in the bathroom with me putting a cool cloth on my head. THAT my friends, is what REAL love looks like. Everyone likes to ask Blair this question, and I get it a lot already too.

It's a fair question really, considering how sick I did get. It was really scary there for a few months. November and December and the beginning of January were not my favorite times. I can understand why people ask...though, I'm never sure why people are so interested in my or anyone else's uterus. Either people don't have enough and the uterus should be filled, or you have to many and should remain empty...everyone seems to have an opinion about it...no matter whose it is....but I digress...

After going through Hyperemesis, knowing there is a chance we (yes we, Blair and I go through this TOGETHER, it's not just me...) could we or do we want more babies?

Why in the world wouldn't we want more? We've both known we want the blessing of children, and after loosing our first, that thought solidified even more in our minds. Do I want to have babies back to back? No. Am I a little frightened on not living close to family who can help take care of us? Yes. Does this stop me trusting that God already knows what He's got in store for us? Heck no.

Even now our Ellie Girl is worth the wait, and worth the sickness. I look forward to seeing who she looks like, to be privileged enough to be her mother, to get to know her as a human, to talk to her about Jesus and how much she is loved by Him and by us. I look forward to poopy diapers, and nursing in the middle of night, I'm even excited for the first time I think "Oh crap, I can't do this" and I call my Mommy or best friends crying because she's crying and I don't know what to do. I look forward to tell people how big she is, what her name is, why she is named that, and I look forward to her being a big sister.

I understand that God has his plans, and if it's His plan that I only physically have her, that's enough, there are so many babies out there unloved who need families. We would be more than willing to have them, I know it. It makes me giggle a little that people think that because I got sick this time that I won't want more...silly people!

You know, the first time I tried sushi I didn't like it, but then I ate it some more and it was ok. I didn't like roller coasters at first and now I freaking love them. I had a bad experience once with friends who turned their backs, doesn't mean I love less now. There were a string of guys who hurt me deeply and badly, didn't stop me from finding and loving my husband.

This pregnancy has been hard and rough, but it will not stop me from loving our Daughter. And it will not stop me from Trusting that my Father in Heaven knows what He's doing, and if it means I get sick seven times with seven babies, then God help me through it. 

He doesn't just leave us when bad things happen. He equips us. He helps us. He sends us people. He has sent people to help me clean, to encourage me, and most importantly, He matched me up with a Man who when I puke, comes and sits with me in the bathroom. He has shown me great Love and great Mercy. And we got pregnant again, He would do it again. I would find out even MORE about this God who I love so so so much.

Being sick during a pregnancy doesn't stop God from being Holy. Of all things I've learned, through these past months, is that God is still God. It's not like He quits or something...

So yes, Blair and I, if the Lord allows, are still VERY willing to have more babies. Hyperemesis or no...:)

An Old Man, My Momma, and Pants.

Today was an interesting day. It didn't start off so well, but it ended up being pretty awesome.

I got sick yesterday and again this morning. I've been having a hard time convincing myself that bad days are just bad days, and that really, I will survive. I have a flair for the melodramatic so I get very "woe is me".

Yesterday, I made sure to get out of my bed. This is a big deal for me. When I feel that crummy, I don't want to move that much. I made it out to the mailbox, and when my Blair came home from work, I was on the couch not in our bed. I had a thought during the day "He would be so please, knowing I'm having a crummy day, if I was not in our bed." I was right. He was pleased. It was adorable.

This morning was one of those barely-make-it-to-the-bathroom type deals. So special. I'm laying bed thinking, Maybe today will be better, and my mouth fills with...well...it was very very special. I sat in our bathroom floor, cried for a second (throwing up usually makes that happen to me anyways) and then thought, How can today still be good? 

I'm tired of accepting defeat. I'm tired of having these days when I feel debilitated. So I got dressed. I picked up our bed room. I got a text from my Momma, asking me if I would like to go grocery shopping/baby carrier/stroller shopping with her. I went out on a limb and said yes, praising God the whole time that she was driving and I was not. When I drive on these days, I make it one  place and then head home, HG wears you out physically too people.

I folded a basket of clothes. Made the bed. Went out with my Mommy.

And it was ok. 

I got tired and had to sit sometimes. I had to be clear about how I felt and my limitations. I don't last long, and one or two things make me super tired. But there was some things that happened that made it so worth it.

For example, I met a man while I was resting who had been married 61 years. Told me that his wife was still the most beautiful and elegant lady that he'd ever seen. Told me where he was from, talked about Sight and Sound in Lancaster PA, and about his great-grandchild due in April. He explained that he hated shopping, but went with her because she liked it, and how hungry he was. He asked me how long I'd been married (a year this Sunday!!) and congratulated me on our Ellie Girl. We talked food, groceries, life, and the Bible. His wife called him over to help her get the groceries checked out, and on their way out, he shook my hand and said "God bless you, your husband, and your baby." His wife told me that if we didn't have a name picked out, that Rebekah was a great name (it was her name!). When I told them we did, and who and why she is named what she is named, they both big smiles, he said, "That's a beautiful tribute to what sounds like a great man and some great friends. That's a good name."

My mom checked out soon after, and told me she should have given me the keys to the car, but I'm so glad she didn't. That man made my day, and if he is the only reason I went out, then God knew what He was doing.

So often we see broken marriages, and hear the horror stories. This world can be harsh, cruel, subjecting us to some things that hurt our heart. Coming across a man, woman, human, that make our hearts burst with joy and love, that's something special.

I hope one day, when Blair and I are married for 61 years, Lord Willing, and out grocery shopping, he or I get the chance to sit next to a 22 week pregnant woman and encourage her like I felt today. A complete stranger...he has no idea how much that conversation stuck with me.

Most importantly today, I got to spend time with my Mommy. I covet this time with her. She knows that sometimes I can't do so much, and that I need breaks. She walked into my messy house and never said a word about it. Grace comes in all forms. I realize how special this time is, and how incredibly blessed I am to be near her. Granted, she knows and I know, we both have our own busy lives. We don't do EVERYTHING with one another, and she knows my time with Blair is very...special and we both covet the time we get to spend together. And I know she's still a Mommy to three younger siblings, those things are important.

As I am on the journey to holding my baby (I already am a mother...) I just think about what it was like for her, all those times she was pregnant, all those times she prepared her heart to bring into this world another beautiful Carrigan baby. When our Ellie Girl wriggles and moves (which feels like a lot right now!) I think, you know, once, my mom felt this way about me. The wonder and excitement never gets old, I pray that it doesn't even get old. Each movement, each flutter is a reminder that she truly is there, that she is ours for a while, that we are blessed.

She dropped me off this afternoon and I passed out for a while. :) I am not kidding when I tell you I get super tired. I'm feeling good, ok, and I'm excited, because this means I can go to work tomorrow, Lord Willing. Mornings in the past week or so, have become hard for me again. It's like November all over again. Each day is new though, and I've stopped trying to plan what will and won't happen. I can't do that. I don't know. I don't know if I will wake up tomorrow feeling awesome, or if I will want to crawl back into bed and pray that my stomach stops hurting, that I won't puke more.

God is Holy. And...the more I come back to Him, and focus on what He says instead of what I feel, I do better. It's hard. It's really hard sometimes. When I throw up, yet another time, it's hard to think He hears what I've been begging. But you know, at the beginning of this pregnancy all I ever did was pray and pray and pray that we would make it this far, I never even thought to ask Him to make the pregnancy easy.

So really, He's answered all my prayers, and I just keep praying that He would help me focus on Him. Because really, trust me, I'm a better human when I do. I really am. :)

On a different note, I finally bought myself a pair of maternity pants! I had to call my Blair to make it was ok, because it feels like a lot of money, but I do miss wearing jeans, and my regular ones really aren't very comfortable. But these suckers! Oh man! Why don't we wear pants like these all the time?! I'm not kidding...I'm gonna wear them after I'm pregnant, I know it. I really am. :) I also bought a size down from what I normally buy...one, because I couldn't find my "normal" size, and two, because these fit very well. It was....it's nice. It's not the WAY I wanted to lose weight (sometimes, I feel like I'm bulimic... to a point where I need to go the Dentist to make sure my teeth are ok..yipes!!!) but you know, it's kinda a blessing, and I will take those where I can get them.

The End Of The Week

So what started as a pretty poopy week ended up being pretty good. Ok it was more than good, it's been nice.

After this Monday and my one day of feeling pretty awful, things have been better. It was just a really bad day for me. Some days are. I don't feel the need to try to hide those days or act like they aren't happening. I would like to think that I can see the end, and don't sound TOO fussy, but still.

Best thing about this week is that Daddy got to feel our Ellie girl! I've been waiting for this ever since I've started to feel her move. I was so excited! And the look on his face...my goodness gracious. It was...it is one of the memories that I will hold onto.

I can't deny how hard things have been. I get really excited about how well I'm doing, so it makes those bad days even harder. I think to myself "I was better, I'm all better, I can do better now." It makes me sad. Those days like that. So when good things happen, I grab onto them with both fists and hold on with all my might.

I was determined that no one would be able to feel her until her Daddy felt her. His face lit up, he giggled like a little boy, and it was just beautiful. I would be lying if I told you I didn't cry. I did. We've...we've both had such a hard time with this pregnancy. To feel this little life inside of me move and wiggle and grow makes all the more real and all the more exciting. We love our girl. We love her so much. Fiercely and wonderfully and we are so thankful for this gift. I can't get over the fact that I am STILL pregnant. I am STILL carrying this life. I am STILL preparing to raise a little girl to love Jesus, love her family, love her friends, and love this beautiful life that she has been given. I can't help, even on my worst days, think how lucky I am, because there are still woman who are not afforded this blessing.

There was loads of snow here too, where we are. It's the kind of snow I like because people don't make fun of me for being a chicken, because NO ONE can go anywhere either. I kinda helped shovel snow. It was fun! Blair didn't let me do much, and a neighbor made fun of me when I told him that I was wearing four pairs of pants. When I told him that I was almost six months pregnant he laughed and said "Oh fine then." I sat in the snow and made a snow baby. We tried to get a picture but my card wasn't in my camera, so we had to try again. In between getting the card, I killed the snow baby. :) Let's hope we don't do that for real when Ellie makes an appearance.

After I smashed Snow Baby. 

It's been nice to get to spend so much time with my Husband. We really do enjoy one another's company, and getting to spend the day with him was awesome. We had plans to decorate more baby onsies (pictures will come eventually, I had a lot of fun with them!) but that didn't happen. However, I will share this adorable picture of my husband and I.

And these pictures of things I have crafted for the smallish human that I have cooking.

I also got to see my mother in law and little sister in laws yesterday, they also are planning Owl crafts for our Ellie girl, which I'm pretty excited about. It was so cute to sit with them and plan and talk and pick out colors for the different owls (there is going to be more than one you know!). It was also fun to talk with my mother in law, because at the end of April we are moving in with them. It's a big step for them and us, and we could use the prayers as we all adjust. But it will be nice to be around family who loves and supports us, as well as having the opportunity to save lots of dollars.

I've also been shopping with my Mommy/Doula! We get really excited over baby clothes, it's a problem. We're trying to figure out which stroller/car seat system I like the best, and I have to admit to being a little picky about it. She's also coming to our next Midwife appointment to hear Ellie's heartbeat! I'm super excited about that for Grammy/because she's my Mommy/she's also my Doula. We also started birthing classes which I'm super excited about (this weeks class was cancelled because of Stormageddon!) and Mommy is coming to that class too after our appointment!

See, for as many bad days I have (and as bad as bad gets) I have more good days, and the bigger my belly grows, the more excited I get!

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and we're not gonna do much (that I know of........>.>) because we normally don't. Our first V Day together, he had strep, so we ate Burger King and watched Tangled. Last year was so crazy with Wedding planning (almost at a year!!!!) but he made me a lovely dinner and got me Daisy's. This year, I would be content with snuggles and soda. Why soda? Because it makes Ellie Girl super hyper, and we can both lay in bed and feel her. :)

Difference Between What I Deserve and What I Am Blessed With

Alright people, after much consideration and coercion from a friend, I decided all the sudden I look pregnant. It's gotten so weird. In the past week it feels like a toaster, she just popped out! Here we are at 19, almost 20 weeks and I all the sudden feel pregnant. It's a real thing, don't judge. I DO want to take a FEW pictures so that when Ellie tries to convince us she was adopted, I can be like, "Um, no child, no. I was very much pregnant with you. Let me tell you stories!"

Here lately I had been feeling better. I got a lot done this week and was excited about how good I felt. Today however, there was a set back, which I have to admit, made me upset. I forget that sometimes, I don't have the answers, and no, I don't have this figured out. Bad days are just that. Bad days. Not months, and I have to and am trying to accept that.

I've been thinking a lot about the people who are so excited for us. People I haven't seen or talked to in years have suddenly found me and expressed how excited they are for us. I've gotten so many packages, and I'm so thankful. Truthfully, it helps. I have to keep reminding myself that she is real, and she is down there, and growing, and there is an end in sight. There is a baby, she is ours for a while, and we get to love her, for however long that might be.

One thing though that people keep saying to me that keeps ringing around in my ears though is this phrase, "No one deserves a baby more than you Maddie." Or "You and Blair deserve to have a baby." I know what they mean, and I accept what they are saying, but I'll be honest, I don't agree.

I don't think any one person deserves a child, or a baby. I think they're blessings. No matter how long you have them for, we all know how I feel about that. :) But let me make this clear, if we're talking about things I deserve, guarding and bringing a life into this world is not one of them. I'm unworthy of this honor, to be a Mother, to make a life with my Husband, to be pregnant at all. Why, you might ask. Well, I'm a terrible human. No no, you don't understand, I really am. Ask my younger siblings, they'll tell you JUST how mean I am. Ask my Husband, he can tell you my short comings (he won't, because he loves me, but he could!). Ask my own parents, ask the countless friends that I've let down.

I feel that I have been granted this incredible honor to be pregnant. It reminds me a lot of my Faith, and my Savior and the way He saved us. You don't have to agree, that's fine. I'm not pushing this on y'all people. I'm just saying, I have done nothing to deserve His love, grace, forgiveness, mercy, compassion. Nothing. And that's how I feel about this little girl who seems to enjoy sitting right on my bladder. 

I've done nothing worthwhile to deserve her. I've done nothing that makes me into a great or good person, as most, I'm mediocre. I really am. I'm so mean. And I can be, believe it or not, VERY pessimistic. Yet here I am, almost half way done with my pregnancy, supporting this tiny (but getting BIGGER) life that grows and grows.

Oh man it blows my mind some days. Even on days like to day where I did get sick again and couldn't move a lot, it was ok. You know why? I'm starting to feel her move. She kicked me. Little snot that she is, she kicked me. I was laying next to my husband who works 40 hours to support us, holding his hand and I just tightened my grip. He looked over and said, "What is it?" I just smiled and smiled. I can feel her now. So long as she's not punching my bladder, me and her can have fun with this.

Certain things in this world we don't ever deserve. No one person deserves a baby over someone else. I'm not more deserving than anyone else. I can think of so many people I would rather see pregnant right now than myself, I'll be honest. I can think of fellow moms who've longed for babies longer than me, who went through things I couldn't imagine, who deserve a baby more than I do. I can think of friends who have longed in their hearts, to have babies and for whatever reason they had to wait, who deserve a baby more than I do. I can think of people who deserve babies and they don't even know it!

So no, no I don't deserve our Ellie. I don't. Neither does my husband. But oh, oh oh oh, we are blessed with her. Every day she lives we are blessed with her. And that right there, no matter how I feel, is what I cling to.

Just like I have to cling to the cross when I don't feel I deserve His love. Because no, I don't deserve His love, but oh, oh oh oh, I am blessed with it.

A New Perspective; From The Husband

You hear a lot from me, so I asked the Husband to write something as well. Because he's seeing all the crazy stuff happen. I figure, maybe you'd like to hear from him. See we're very different, you'll see once you start reading his writing. I kinda write how I talk and don't go back, he is very logical and it takes him some time to figure out just how he wants to say things. I love him for it. :)

Ladies and Gentlemen without further ado I give you, Blair Jaques' perspective on Hyperemesis Gravidarum, me being sick, and how he felt about it all.

As most of you know, my wife was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I don't need to tell you about it, she's done that. She's told you what it's like. But she's only told you from her perspective.

Now I'll tell you mine.

It's horrible.

Now don't get me wrong. Where we are now? This place is a far better place than where we WERE at, earlier in her pregnancy, with no idea of what was going on and no idea of how to make it better. Now that we know what IT is, things are looking up. Actually, things are absolutely amazing. And I'll be honest, what you'll read in this post, all the negative...I can say with confidence that THAT, is all in the past. Yet the very fact we went through it at all is what forms the basis for my attitude today.

But let me start over.

I wake up in the middle of the night to hurried movement. My first thought is Ellie! and I sense more than see my wife running to the bathroom. To say that the sound of her vomiting is at first a relief shouldn't seem so strange to you. Ever since losing our first child, irrationally, instinctually(call it what you will) my first thoughts of any sort of distress run along the lines of "Oh God, is Ellie alright?". I couldn't bear to lose her too, and I still think this way. At every little alarming noise Maddie makes. Now, Maddie being sick is not a fun sound. I don't have much experience with the whole 'being-around-people-who-vomit' scene, but I know that it is not fun. It sounds like everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is in the process of being disgorged.

Unnecessary? You bet.

It is at these moments I am entirely helpless. There is no control. None, whatsoever. I can't grab a sword and behead the dragon like all the pretty fairytales. This story ends with the castle burning down, the Wicked Witch taking the throne and the dragon eating your Prince Charming.

What you read isn’t even scratching the surface of what I see every day. I see her at her worst, and I see her at her best. But it’s the worst times that drive me so high up the wall. And down as well. There were times of depression where it felt like we couldn’t do anything for days.

I am the man of the house.

This isn't supposed to happen.

I'm supposed to be able to take care of everything.

These are all ideas I have in my head because I was raised to be responsible, raised to be a protector, raised to be a father. And my parents didn't fail in that.  But it’s a humbling experience to see my wife crouched over a toilet, knowing I can do nothing to help. If I can’t physically take the pain for her, I can do things around the house to make her day easier. The less she has to do, the better off she’ll be. At the same time I try to encourage her to do whatever it is she CAN do, however small. Even if that means she picks up ten pieces of laundry, then she needs a nap. Or shopping on line for two hours for baby clothes, and then needing another nap.

What I’ve come to realize through all of this is that we must take each day as just that. So, day by day. That’s how we do this. And that’s what I tell myself, until I’m okay with it, and it’s bearable. But that isn’t how I think any more. I remind myself every day that I’m a Daddy, and my little girl is going to be in so much trouble for putting us through this mess…well, I’m sure that the first time I lay eyes on my Ellie I’ll forget all that.

Something Old, New, Borrowed, and Blue!

So this month got a little bit crazy. (No kidding you might say, considering I'm getting married NEXT WEEK!? WHAT!? WHO KNEW!?) But I'm still trying hard not to neglect this little blog of mine. I've been waiting for something that I really REALLY wanted to write about though. And you know what? Tonight I found it!

I'm still trying to write about this whole getting married process, still as a way to remember all the things that are going on right now and all the feels that I have. Yes, I said feels. You must deal with this. This month has been full of feels. Good ones and bad ones and angry ones and for the first week of the month, stressed ones. It's gotten better. This week I realized I'm getting married at the end of next week and got stupidly excited. There is no other way to say that. :)

As every good bride knows, there's a rhyme that one must adhere to. Some brides might not, but those silly traditions are things that I love. And I'm excited about all my things so I figured I'd tell you about each thing and the why of each thing. Let's start!

Something Old
My Mom's Mom, my Mawmaw won't be at my wedding. At first, because I am, as we all are, a selfish human being, upset about this. I wanted them so badly to make a way to get to my wedding. I love my Mawmaw and Pappaw. I love them very much and very deeply, and it feels like to long since I have seen them. So I decided tonight, that in honor of one of the most amazing woman I know, that I wear earrings that she gave to me. Opal earrings that will fit into the second holes in my ears. My something old. A tribute, however small, to someone who means so much to me.

Something New
My dress! Duh! Let me tell you something, when they tell you that the dress chooses the bride and that when you know, you know, it's the truth! My dress was the second one I tried on, and we all knew! We you might ask? My Momma, my two big sisters (sister-in-law really, but I love them to much for them to be in-laws) and a what, five day old baby? That's right! My five day old niece helped me pick out my wedding dress! I can't wait to tell baby Izzie that she was there when I found that dress! We found it in Tennessee when we were there to meet that new little girl.  My ring was still brand new, we hadn't set a date yet, and we had to send my Daddy a picture of me in my dress through a pic text. He was so wonderful. I think what really made that day so special was my Daddy's support, and the look on my Momma's face when he told her I could get it. Every girl deserves to feel like a Princess on her wedding day. I never thought I wanted that so much until that silly dress. Every time I see it, and wear it, or think about it, I think about my Daddy. How much he loves me. How much I'll miss him...even though I'll be down the street. That dress is more like a symbol of love form my Family, so it means so much more to me.

Something Borrowed
This one took a while. Tonight I sat at the kitchen table with my mom and little sisters, talking about wedding things. I had my computer upstairs and we were listening to songs for the Reception. My little sister Evie was doing my hair, because she IS doing my hair the day of my wedding. (Apparently I haven't been around to let her play and that was stressing her out! Poor girl!) After we finally figured it out, and I'm trying my dress on, and we're talking about this, I ask them if any of them have a simple cross necklace. Evie pips up and says, "I do!" So my something borrowed is from my little sister! I love it! I love that so many things in my wedding are from people that I love. And that little necklace looks like it was made just for me to wear. :)

Something Blue
Super excited about this one! My shoes are my something blue! While wandering around Target a few months ago I saw these wonderful slippers that looked like moccasins, they were warm and fuzzy and had sequins! I exclaimed, "Babe! Those are my wedding shoes!" So many women wear those simple white slippers on their wedding, so why shouldn't I wear my blue ones!? And if you know me, you know I don't even LIKE shoes, not really, and I have like three pair of slippers that I wear all over the place. I should really stop that...:)

Also, just so everyone can know and be proud, I haven't bitten my nails at all.this month. Not even ONCE. (I'm a nail biter, be PROUD!)

I'll try to pretend that I'll write more before my wedding, but I might not. And I probably won't be writing on my HONEYMOON, so if y'all don't hear from me until March, just know I'm not dead yet. :)

Three Weeks?! Holy Moly!

So my younger brother keeps telling me "Three Weeks Maddie, three weeks." I'd much rather say 25 days, it makes me feel like I have more time to get things done. And while I have most things done, and it's exciting, and I'm excited, there is still much to get done, as you can see from this list I made yesterday morning.

And in case you don't notice, I have crossed off a lot of things (and used a lot of different colors!). I'm slowly but surely getting things done, and it's truly an amazing thing. I even gathered a bag full of things to send to the woman who is arranging my fake flowers for all my bridesmaids. She needs those pins and that raffia for the boutineers and corsages!

I'm making head way. And feeling more and more the crunch of time to get things done. There are a few things that I've had done for months, like the head bands that I plan on giving my bridesmaids, flower girls, and my Beloved's younger sisters.

I love that those were done, when my Big Sisters surprised me at my Wedding Shower, I got to put my little niece Ada Bug in her head band. She loved it. She's very excited to be a flower girl, and I must say, I'm excited to have her in it. For the rest of her life I can show her pictures and say, "See, see how cure you were in Aunt Maddie Poo's wedding?" She might hate me for it, but it's still gonna happen.

Today was dedicated to painting my Sign In tree. Instead of going with the traditional book, I decided to make a tree, where people can put their thumb prints at and make leaves for our tree. If I can opt for artwork to make for my future house you'd better believe that I'm doing it! I did this tree once already, and hated it so much that I decided to do it again. This time, I started with the words I knew I wanted on it, and then worked around it. 

I've never been very good with calligraphy (shocking, I know) but I decided to give it a whirl for this project, and even though it took me almost an HOUR to just paint words, I powered through. And in the end, the Sign In Tree looks awesome, and I can't wait for people to add their thumbprints to fill our tree.

As I've been going through this wedding planning process, I've been trying to blog/write about it. Mainly because everyone keeps telling me that you don't really remember everything about your wedding, all the small details. My mom wants me to write about it more than I already do! (Don't tell her, but as much as I love her, she's more Bridezilla than me...and I decided that that's a good thing, because then, I get things done!) But here I have this wonderful blog to look back on read about the wedding planning (and a few things that happened in between) and how much I kinda really enjoyed it. My wedding is very much a reflection of who I am, and hopefully who my Beloved is. (Men really just don't care I'm finding out) I want people to feel the love that we have for one another, for our Lord, and for our families.

And really, this is the most amazing God Art of it all, that we can know love, that we can share love, that He loves us.

"So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three;
but the greatest of these is love."

-1 Corinthians 13:13