Sundays

Sunday can be a hard day. Making sure that lessons are done, kids are clean and dressed, and that we are ready seems to be simple in theory. In reality, this is the day that books will be misplaced, children will be uncooperative, and time will slip away. Tempers will fray, feelings will be hurt, and frustration will mount.
I love church. I love the music, the lessons, my primary class, and the way my heart feels when I am there. I think that we get especially tested on Sundays, because we know where we should be, and sometimes it is hard to get there.
Today was a day like that. A hard Sunday. The kids woke up too early, so they were over sensitive and contentious with each other. I had my lesson/ goodbye party/ birthday party to organize because so many of my class are moving away soon. And Mark was trying to help with all of it. Poor guy, stuck with crazy children and a crazy wife.
Once at church, things seemed to calm down. The spirit is an amazing gift. It put everything back in perspective.
Best moment of the day: when my son told me that his nursery teacher was his friend and that he was happy that he could see her today. We had a great deal of trouble getting Sam to go to nursery at first and be happy there. It brought tears to my eyes that he was excited to go and that he had a friend. Thanks Monet for being so wonderful to my child! Also, he also mentioned that his vacuum was his friend and that he wanted a baby sister like Lexi (Monet's daughter) just got. What a kid! I'm ok with the vacuum, and we'll have to wait a while on another sibling!

An apology and an explanation

I first started this blog as a way to get my thoughts out of my head for a while. I had just graduated from university, quit my job at the salon, and started a home business. And we were struggling with fertility. I called the blog "party of two, please" because I was scared that this was our lot in life; to be a couple desperately wanting children, but never able to maintain a pregnancy. Now, over 4 years later, and with 6 pregnancies and two beautiful sons, the title seemed like a misnomer. We were no longer a family of only two. I debated for months about changing the blog; coming up with a cute alliteration of our name, or a variation of a common phrase, but with a name like Kilistoff, not much can be done. I decided to leave it, and have it stand as a symbol of my husband and my commitment to each other and our unity. I feel like, after such a long absence, that I need to reintroduce myself and my family. Here are some, very honest, facts about me: 1) I am almost 30, and not dealing very well with it. 2) I am scared of large groups, especially of large groups of women,because I feel inadequate and unsure of myself. Consequently, I avoid these kind of get togethers if I can.but, I am working hard to change this. 3) I feel guilt constantly for working as much as I do, instead of being with my kids, but am selfishly pleased that I can support our family. 4) I will do or give anything for those I love. There is no request to big. 5) my mom is my hero. 6) My family is the center of my world. My brothers, parents, nieces, nephews, in-laws, are all individual and amazing. 7) my life started when Mark, my husband, came into it and made everything better. 8) I get sarcastic when I am nervous. 9) I love to learn. I get almost obsessive for awhile when I learn to do something new. 10) reading is both a passion and an escape for me. 11) I want to have my phD before I turn 40. Now my family: Mark is already 30 (haha!)He is quiet, supportive, loving, smart, funny, and every good thing. He loves games and movies, but struggles to stay awake while watching them. He is an amazing father. He is the favorite uncle and the best toy ever. The kids love to jump on him and drive cars over him. He has dreams for his future, and I want desperately for him to achieve them. He is my best friend. My sons are so cool. Sam is almost three. He loves to clean, fix things, and copy Mark. He is a auburn-haired bundle of energy. He loves his family and tells us every day. He can read The Hungry Caterpillar. He loves to share with Charlie, especially food. He will be eating his breakfast (his favorite is granola with yogurt) and for every bite he takes, he will feed one to Charlie. Charlie is almost a year and a half. He is happy and has a huge smile for everyone. He wants to do everything that Sam does. He loves to climb, often without thinking about how he will get down. He is chatty and still likes to cuddle. He is a momma's boy. His platinum hair is soft and straight. He is clumsy. That is us, in a nutshell. Hopefully, I will do a better job keeping it updated. Sorry for the absence.

My lil' pooper!

Warning: the post contains references of bodily functions, including, but not limited to, those of a " number 2" variety. Don't read if you still have the illusions that your own child will not perform similar activities.

Sam is two. He is curious, but I always bragged to my friends that he had never done anything gross like digging in his diaper, taking off his clothes, or even taking off the diaper itself. Oh how I wish that I could go back in time and be more supportive when my friends complained. Maybe then they wouldn't have laughed when I told them what he does now.

We have been encouraging Sam to be more independent, mainly to make our own lives easier. So when we would got to the pool, we would tell him to take his own swim trunks off, or before a bath, to start stripping down. This innocent instruction took a hideous turn when I went in to get him after a nap and he was standing there, one arm through the neck of his shirt, no socks, pants, or diaper, looking so pleased at his efforts.

I did a thorough search of his bedding and found that, while he was pantless, nothing else icky had occurred. I breathed a sigh of relief, gave a quick lecture on why mommy and daddy were the only ones who should take off diapers, and thought that was the end of it.

It wasn't. This was the beginning of several weeks of sporadick partial nakedness. Often, we weren't lucky enough to survive unscathed, and I would be washing bedding, pillows, and even the occasional stuffed animal that had been watered, shall we say! But still I was ok, because nothing " else" had happened.

Then it did. One Sunday morning (why is it always Sunday?!) Sam was being a pill, Charlie was being a pill, I'm sure that Mark and I were pills too. I had already washed Sam's bedding, and poor Charlie's stuffed cat, once that morning due to a semi naked child found upon waking that morning. When the bad behavior landed him back in bed for a nap, he took things into his own hands, quite literally! I was feeding Charlie when Mark went in there to tell Sam to lie down and sleep, when Mark frantically called for help. I put a startled and still hungry Charlie down and ran into the bedroom. There was my boy, arms outstretched, naked, hands full of poop.

Sigh, innocence lost, paradigms shifted, worlds collapsing.

Picture, if you will, Charlie screaming with hunger, Sam crying and saying ewww at the top of his lungs, Mark trying not to hurl, and me, stuck firmly in the middle of the chaos, wondering what to do first. We cleaned off  Sam's hands, then Mark took him to the shower to hose off, I stripped the bed, again! Then threw it in the laundry and remade his bed. I fed Charlie, put him to bed. Then I texted my friend and had her teach my Sunday school lesson.

We duct-taped Sam into his diaper and put him to bed.

I will admit to feeling slightly smug when we went in to collect him after his nap and his pants were off, but his diaper was still firmly attached. You know you needed a win, when you celebrate one upping your two year old.We did not make it to church that day. By this point it was time to change back into pajama pants and hibernate. I had had enough.

A Fresh Start

So, I can't really believe that it has been this long since I bothered to make a post. Sorry. I swear that I didn't fall off the face of the earth, I just took a hiatus that went on a lot longer than I anticipated.
A great deal has happened since my last post. Mr. Sam is two now. He is a smart, precocious bundle of energy. He gets into everything, especially if it is dangerous, if he is left alone for any amount of time. He has beautiful red hair and bright blue eyes and gorgeous dimples that come out when he smiles or is about to do something bad. I love him so much. I was so worried that I would spoil him rotten, simply because he was our first baby that we got to take home, and we totally do! Oh well, c'est la vie!

We have another addition, an eight month old bundle of happiness named Charlie. He is such a treasure. After months of colic, long hours of walking and rocking and contemplating his imminent sale (it was touch and go there for awhile), he woke up happy one day, and has never stopped. We love this smiley talkative little dude. He has been pretty much bald from a month old, but he is starting to get white blond fuzz all over his head and the same bright blue eyes as Sam. I like to think that with both of the boys having the same eye colour, that Eric would have had that colour eyes too.

Mark is still in school. He now has both a biochemistry degree and an education degree. His heart's desire is to be a dentist though, so I guess we will have to deal with a few more years of the student life.

I continue to work full time and support the family the best I can working from home. I've been so fortunate in being able to have my kids and still work. I get a great deal of help from Mark and my mom, for which I am endlessly grateful.

We continue to live life as best we can, being the best people that we know how to be. Some days we are successful, other days we are not.

I'm going to try to do better updating this time.

Under Pressure

Sam is almost 1 now, and there has been one little thing that I have been hanging on to. His hair! I love Sam's hair. It is a beautiful strawberry blond with just enough curl to be awesome. It was also really long. Like ridiculously long. But I loved it and couldn't bring myself to cut it. It was driving Mark crazy and he would bring it up all of the time to my clients, but they always took my side (who is going to disagree when there is a chick with scissors near their head).

And then, something horrible happened. My client agreed with Mark. His resulting happy dance was enough to prod me into action. So, with a heavy heart, I told Mark that I would cut Sam's hair.

Saturday began like any other day. Little did I know that one simple act would change everything. In between clients I strapped my poor, unsuspecting child into his high chair, sprayed down his hair and began what was an extremely traumatic experience, for ME.

It took only minutes, but I was changed forever. I was no longer the mother of a baby boy. I had somehow morphed into the parent of a grown child. His features looked completely different. Not so babyish. Possibly because you could finally see his face without all of the hair in the way.

Anyway, we somehow survived the first haircut. Sam was a champ; completely unfazed by the whole thing. I guess he has seen the whole process a few times by now! I didn't cry, much. Mark is extremely happy. A good time was had by some.

Before

During

After

What Goes in, Must Come Out! Right?!

Back in November, I decided to try out a new hair colour line. I always try them on myself first, just to make sure that nothing bad happens. Boy, was I ever glad that I did. I used, what the company termed, a chocolate brown. It was a level 4 (1 is black, 10 is blond), so we are looking at a medium dark brown with some reddish, golden undertones. That is what should have happened. It didn't. Instead I got a really, really dark (almost black) colour with PURPLE undertones. It wasn't so bad, because it was underneath. It has been several months now, and I am really grossed out by the colour that this has faded to. It is a nasty purpley/brown mess. So I went to my friend Tracy and we decided that we would try to lift some of it out with highlights (I also have a piece in my bangs). Well, my hair is probably the easiest in the world to highlight. With very little work, it goes to a great light blond. After 1 1/2 hours sitting with the lightener on my hair, I had a lovely shade of dark pink. The bang piece was even worse. It went to a pinky/red. I couldn't believe it! So today I tried again to lift out just the bang piece. I used the strongest stuff that I have and left it on for almost 2 hours. I now have a lovely pastel pink bang. Not Impressed. I have never come across a colour like this! I need to give my hair a little break just so that I don't end up with no hair from over processing. No laughing! It's not funny. OK, it is, but not today. Maybe tomorrow.

Before I forget...

Happy Birthday Mark! It was Mark's birthday on Sunday. He turned 28. We went to church, had a restful afternoon, and then went to his parent's house for birthday supper. Mark's parent's made a wonderful prime rib supper for the family and then I made him a lemon cake for dessert. It was all great. On Monday we celebrated as a family. I made Mark's favourite meal and then I made lemon meringue and pumpkin pie for dessert. I guess that I can't really call it a family meal; Sam was already in bed. We watched a movie together and then the old man went to bed. I love you baby, here's to an eternity more!

Holy Lunge Batman!

My friend Leanne and I have been working on our bods for the last while, working out a couple of times a week together and a few times a week on our own. Well, last night we did a lower body series, and it was eye opening. You start by doing a basic warm up, and then you proceed to do 36 front lunges, 36 back lunges, and then 36 bowler lunges. This hideous mix is followed by squats and many other horrendous exercises. I managed to get through the lower body, without too much trouble. Then we did the core exercises. This is the part that made me realize that all of my hard work was paying off. I could do it all. No problems at all. When I first started working with my trainer in November, there was so much that I couldn't do. I had no strength in my core (as the babe had destroyed it). So we started slow and built it up. What a great feeling it was to work hard, and feel my body respond to the demands. Now if I could get my sugar cravings under control, then I would really be impressed. ps- lots of lunges+ not enough post workout stretching=walking like an eighty year old

Teething (Or, why I'm going to sell my child on ebay)

Sam has a couple of teeth. He has had them for a few months now, and he does quite well with them. About a month after the first two bottom teeth came in, he started to work on those top two. He is still working on them! They refuse to come through, but they have no problem causing him trouble.

He is cranky, partly because he is in pain and partly because he isn't napping well during the day. The pain of the teething wakes him up. Consequently, I am having to deal with an overtired, clingy, pain ridden toddler, all while working, taking care of the house, finishing numerous blankets, and trying to see Mark for more than an hour a day. I feel so bad for Sam, but it gets worse because Mark is sick, over worked, and tired from dealing with Sam.

So, anyone want a slightly used husband and/or a cute, kinda whiny toddler? There are days lately that I would be willing to sell them cheap. But I think that I will hold on to them a little longer. Their value is sure to go up with time.

Been a While

So, October, huh. Sorry. Time got away from me.

Rather than a long post, catching everyone up, perhaps I will simply summarize with the following: Sam growing, Mark in school, Jess working. 'Nuff said.

Not much is new or different. We moved in January. This was a source of both stress as well as stress relief. No more stress about the old place (they were trying to sell) and new stress about trying to move in a week. We love our new place and all of the space. Sam watches a flock of birds by perching at the window. He gets excited and bangs on the glass when he sees them.

Sam is the focus of most of the activity in our home. We have been trying to get him to fold his arms when we pray together. We had been mostly unsuccessful until yesterday. We were hanging out, eating lunch when Mark and Lisa called me back into the room (I was putting groceries away). Sam had figured out how to bring his hands together and link the fingers. He claps his hands together and then whirls them around (similar in nature to the wicked witch of the west, picture" I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!") It is absolutely adorable. Now we are getting him to do it every time that there is a prayer. Success rate: approximately 50%.

I'll post some pictures later.

A letter to my child

Dear Sam,
You are nearly six months old now, and I can hardly believe how much you have changed. I love that look on your face as you figure out how to do something new. I love your smile; how it lights up your entire face; how you light up my day when you look at me and grin.
You are really starting to change. You move so much. You roll and sit up and gnaw on anything that you can get your hands on. Your favorite toys are your giraffe Sophie, your crinkly lion, and any blanket or cloth. You like to giggle and talk (such a surprise with me as your mother!)
Solid foods are a new thing you are trying, and loving. You get so excited whenever you see food coming towards you. You even start to dance a little in your chair.
Sam, we waited a long time for a child; for you. You were worth the wait. You make every day special.
Love Mama

A Letter to Myself

Dear Jess,
Read this letter when Sam is two, ten, thirteen, sixteen, and nineteen. Remember the joy you felt when you met this special spirit for the first time and realized that you got to keep this one. Remember that love you felt as your son was overjoyed with something as simple as a blanket or his own feet. Remember that pride you felt as Sam grew and discovered new things. Remember how he would sometimes stop eating because he was too busy smiling up at you. How he always had cold hand in the morning because he would sleep with them above his head, no matter how you tried to keep them under a blanket.
I tell you to remember these simple things because look how much he has changed in the 6 months and how much you have forgotten. Also, there are times when he will drive you crazy, and you need to remember that first love you felt for him. He is special.

Sam 1 day. Sam 1 month Sam 3 months (gnawing on a blanket!). I'll add newer ones later.

A Tale of Two Blowouts

Sam is three months old now and we have been really lucky in the diaper department.
If there have been "accidents," they have been of the watery, number 1 variety. And then yesterday our diaper innocence, if you will, was lost forever.

Picture this, Mark and I all ready for church, and getting packed up to be on time for Mark's meetings. Mark hands a sleeping Sam to me to put in the car seat.
I cuddle him in close for a little snuggle first.

Mark exclaims "Oh Yuck!"


I look over, mistakenly thinking that perhaps Sam had thrown up on him.
Oh, how I wish that it was puke.

All over Mark's white shirt sleeve, the couch pillow, myself (due to the cuddle), and my son's whole left side was a coating of my son's digestive product (ewww!).



But we thought, no big deal, he's three months old and this is the only time it has happened. Not too shabby.



and then it happened again.



Yet another picture for you. I come home this morning after a house call and both my men are in the bathroom. Sam is wrapped in a towel on the floor and Mark is in the shower (no need to picture this particular part). Sam is happy; smiling and cooing, kicking his legs and punching the air with his hands. Apparently, Sam had once again been busy and Mark had no choice but to shower both Sam and himself to get everything cleaned up. I go into the baby's room and it is like Hiroshima (poo style) has occur ed. "Stuff" covered stuff, like clothes and blankets, are scattered in smelly bunches. I go back into the bathroom to get Sam, and he is still really happy.



As I look down at him, I understand why he is so pleased with himself, as he proceeds to pee in a wide arc all over the floor, the towel, and himself.



It is at this point that I realize that laughter is the only real option. Because how can you get mad at a face like this:

So much stuff-No Time

Sorry for the lack of updates lately. New baby=no free time. As it is, I am writing this with one hand as I hold him in the other.

Sam is great. As of last week he is 11 pounds, 1 ounce, and healthy and strong. He has discovered his voice and will use it loudly when hungry. He and Mark are great buddies and I often find them with their heads together "telling secrets."

Mark is adjusting well to staying home with Sam. He was a little stir crazy at first, but now I think that he is enjoying it. I love that he is staying home with him. It is so nice not to have to worry about finding babysitting for Sam every day while I am working. Not that I consider it babysitting when Mark looks after him; he is parenting.

I continue to work hard on behalf of our family. We have been really blessed that I am able to work and still be a mother to Sam.

We are approaching the anniversary of Eric's birth again and I am hoping that it goes as well as last year. we are at a loss once more as to how to commemorate it. I'm sure that we will think of something.

To sum up the last two months: We are happy, busy, and healthy and looking forward to more months of the same.

Welcome to the World!

Sorry for the delay, but we've been busy!

Samuel Edward James Kilistoff was born Friday morning at 9:09 am, weighing 6lbs, 10oz, and 20 1/4 inches long. We are so excited to been trusted with this healthy, happy little guy. He has a full head of blond/coppery hair, a crease in his chin, and a dimple in each cheek. He is squeaky and grunty and we think he's great.

His arrival was kind of interesting, and very different from my last birth experience. I was booked for an induction Thursday morning, but the nurse called that morning and said that they were bumping me due to the fact that there were 6 other priority cases that needed dealt with that morning. We were pretty let down, but we decided that we needed to be positive about the whole thing. That afternoon we were called by the nurses and they said to come in right then because things were pretty calm. We got there at 4:15 and were admitted right away. The nurse that was assigned to me told we that it was going to take a while for things to get underway because there were 7 women who had simultaneously decided to give birth and all of the residents were busy.

At 7pm, they started my induction and stuff started to happen right away, it was really uncomfortable, especially because Mark decided that this was a good time to come down with stomach flu. At 10:30 they moved me into labour and delivery, even though I wasn't that far dilated, because they wanted to start running the antibiotics (Strep B positive). They stopped my induction because it was going too fast for me to get the full dose of antibiotics. At 3:30am they broke my water and started a different induction drug at 4am. This drug didn't go so well. Every time I had a contraction, the baby's heart rate did funny things, so they stopped it. Then on my own I dilated a little more. They decided a 5:30 to start the drug again. After only 2 contractions, we stopped it again, because the same thing happened again.

At this point they were pretty discouraged. At 6:30 am they checked me again, and again I had dilated another cm on my own, but my contractions were not consistent. I filled out pre-op papers and got myself mentally ready to have a c-section. I had one last frantic prayer that I wouldn't have to undergo a c-section if it were at all possible and felt that, regardless of what happened, that everything would be fine. Mark was the worst shade of gray and couldn't even stand upright.

After a nurse shift change, I was still waiting to know what was going to happen. At 8:30am the new nurse came in and she said she was going to check me, and confirm the course of action for delivery. In less than 2 hours I had dilated to 9 cm and was almost ready to go. No c-section!

My doctor didn't believe the nurse and checked me himself. Again, 9-9 1/2 cm was the prognosis. Dr. Schubert had another patient to check at a different hospital, and decided to go do that while I finished dilating and the room was set up for delivery. The nurse called him back 10 minutes later, because I needed to push. I breathed and waited for him to return as the nurse rushed around and got everything ready. Dr. Schubert rushed in at 9 am and after a very short time, Sam arrived and life changed forever.

We love our new little boy and are very happy that everything is fine. Mark and I can't believe that after so many years of waiting, we actually get to raise a little one here on earth.

Thanks for all of the prayers and well wishes over the last 9 months. They are always appreciated.

Update

So, much has happened since my last post.

To fill in any gaps, this is what my weekend entailed:
1)Friday-after a trip to Costco in the morning, I started having contractions that went from 15 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart. We went to the hospital later that night to see what (if anything) was going on. The nurses and doctor were great and after a lot of tests the doctor said that stuff was definitely happening but that they were really busy and she thought that I should try to get some sleep at home, but that she thought that she would see me before the morning.

2) Saturday-the contractions continue, but further apart. Walking makes everything speed up, but when I relaxed they would slow. We decide not to go back until something definite happens. We have a rough night, but take it in stride.

3) Sunday- Mark and I are so tired from the night before that we decide to stay home and try to sleep. I am still contracting. We go to Mark's parent's place for supper, and after a walk, the contractions speed way up again and become really uncomfortable. Mark and I go home and try to relax, but the contractions rage on, so at 9:30pm we decide to go back into the hospital. My own doctor was on call, so that was nice. He was very busy, and told us that if we delivered that night and the baby needed the NICU, that we would have to go to Calgary because the NICU here was closed. We were examined and tested again and he confirmed that things were progressing, but he was scared to do much of an examination because he really didn't want my water to break. He was hoping that things would slow back down because of how busy everything was. After several hours (we left at 1:30am), they decided to send us home with orders to take it easy with the hope that things would slow back down. He also threatened to move our induction if the NICU situation didn't resolve itself.

4)Monday-Tired, but feeling pretty good, I did a client's colour, and then got my own hair done. Mark's sister and her husband came over and we played games and then they stayed for supper and the hockey game.

5)Tuesday (today)- we had an early morning doctor's appointment. He was really happy that we have been able to make it this far along in the pregnancy (past-term), and he said that we were a go for Thursday. Relief all around! Still contracting, but with the end in sight, I am a much happier person. Sprout should arrive swiftly on Thursday as long as we don't get bumped.

ps-In regards to the NICU situation, we found out that the NICU was "closed" because they had so many really sick babies in there that they had no room for another baby. Hence, they were shipping the pre-term women to Calgary. Scary.

Messed Up Morning

So, at my doctor's appointment yesterday I was feeling a little stressed and consequently my blood pressure was a little elevated. My doctor said to me to keep checking it regularly and if it hadn't gone back to normal by this morning, then I should call him. Well, after a long, sleepless, contraction-filled night where my blood pressure remained high, I started to think that maybe I should do something. Mark agreed and we called my doctor's office, he immediately called back ad told us to go to the hospital and that we would probably have the induction today.

I am home. Obviously, we did not deliver today. After hours of tests, everything came back as fine. The blood pressure came back down as we waited to find out what was happening, and the baby was happy and healthy (and really didn't enjoy being monitored). I was super excited that everything was fine, but a little let down that we couldn't just stay and get things done.
I was (and continue to) contracting fairly regularly, so I guess we will wait and see.

And the Date is...

NOT SOON ENOUGH!!!! Just kidding, well, I'm a little kidding, a little serious.

I went to the doctor today, planning for a Friday or Monday induction. Much to my chagrin, my doctor would not get behind either of those dates anymore. He was thinking that we could wait another couple of weeks. Full-term. Gross. Who wants to go full term when their doctor was originally saying 34 weeks?! After a little explanation from him regarding his travel schedule over the next weeks, as well as a few tears from me regarding my stress and anxiety level, he made some calls and we agreed on the 6th (next Thursday). I am really happy that he was willing to change his plans to accommodate us and that he listened to us.

Now, what the heck am I going to do with almost a week off? Work is done on Thursday, and I have nothing to do after that. I vote jammie pants, Cheetos, and bad daytime television.

Let me know what you think.

Waiting

So, here I sit, still pregnant, getting fatter, waiting impatiently for my doctor to say that it is time to be induced. As I sit I catalogue all of the body parts that hurt, ache, or are swollen. Then I remind myself how lucky I am to a) be pregnant, b) not have to wait until 40 weeks to deliver, and c) be having such a great pregnancy that my doctor feels confident pushing the dates back. Sometimes it is hard to keep perspective.
We are down to the last week and a half and part of me is super excited and the other half is quietly going insane. I really want to have this child; I love it already and really want to meet it. On the other hand, I have no idea what I am going to do once it gets here. Add those feelings of inadequacy to my building anxiety (my last child was gone at this same week gestation), and you have the makings for a crazy person.
Thankfully, between my husband, prayer, work, and loving family members, we are keeping the crazy thoughts to a minimum, and focusing in on the happy, excited stuff.
On a lighter note, you should see me try to bend to pick things up. It is a riot! Add that to the waddling, and I am quite the sight most days.

The Fat Lady is Singing, and We All Know what that Means!

I AM DONE. Sick of multiple bathroom trips, constant heartburn, and my husband's chuckling as I waddle up and down stairs.

With only a few weeks left now I am trying to patient and grateful for the wonderful experience of pregnancy, but, I will admit to struggling a little. The physical discomfort is only one thing. As I get closer to when my last child was born, I am getting a little anxious and I have to keep reminding myself to relax and be faithful.

This pregnancy has been so different from my last and there is no reason to think that it will have anything but a happy ending. The baby is big, healthy, and extremely active. For this, I am very grateful. My health has also been great, so I can remember to be thankful for these blessings. It is only when I am alone during the day or during the middle of the night when doubt tries to seep in and ruin my happy thoughts. Oh well, as I said, only a few weeks left, then the real fun begins!

Thanks for listening to the whine, I promise to try to be better.

Ready for baby?

8 weeks left.
Dr. Schubert has decided that this baby is going to be delivered early, and I have 2 months to get my head ready. Physically, I am absolutely ready. I am almost impatient for this baby to come. I feel as though I have been pregnant for three years, and, if you include the time trying to get pregnant, the time being pregnant, and the short times in between pregnancies, it has been pretty close to that amount of time waiting for a baby.

Mentally, there are so many things racing through my head that I am concerned that the crazy is going to come bursting out through my ears! I nearly had a panic attack the other day because I couldn't remember what the book said about cleaning the new baby's belly button. Really, belly button angst. What a stupid thing to get stressed about! I am also driving Mark crazy with my "nesting." Most nights I am up until after 2 am reorganizing and throwing things out. I can't help it. Giant ball of crazy, remember.

Anyway, time will tell how the next weeks go.