A Bean Is Born

The birthing room was fairly comfortable. It definitely was not like the room we saw during our tour, but it was still quite nice. I think we got the room with the land of the misfit chairs. There was one rocking recliner for two tired people, and your dad said it felt like sitting on a toilet bowl--a little support on the outsides with a hole in the middle. They put a couple chairs together and managed to make another decent napping space. The foot of my bed was lower than the head of my bed, which I think is normal, but I felt like I was going to slowly slide down. And, of course, I was hooked up to all sorts of contraptions, but I think we were all settled in by 9:30 p.m.

Then the nurse came in to check me out down south and decided to stretch things out a bit. It was pretty uncomfortable, but I knew it was just the beginning of the pain I was going to feel. They started filling me with fluids and realized it might have been a bit much to go through almost an entire bag in a few minutes. The Merryman Curse at work again--it's not usually anything major, just those little annoyances that pick at you. It kept me running to the bathroom every 20 minutes for a couple hours. Right around 10:00 p.m., they hooked me up with a low dose of Pitocin to get things rolling. The nurse talked about increasing the Pitocin, breaking the membranes, and a catheter, but we didn't end up needing that. You must have finally decided that you might like to meet us and took over.

I felt my water break around midnight. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I told your dad and Grama Schulz that I felt a pop. It felt like a water balloon popped inside me, but nothing came out, so I wasn't sure what it was. A little while later, I stood up to go to the bathroom and started dripping. Then I knew. It wasn't like the movies, though, where a flood rushes out from under the dress. One of my biggest fears, along with throwing up in front of people at work, was my water breaking in some inappropriate place--at work, in a restaurant, in someone's car. Here I was, in the most appropriate place ever, and I was still embarrassed and felt like I needed to clean up the trail I left from the bed to the bathroom. I did clean up the bathroom floor as much as I could. While I was in there, I think your dad called for help, and they cleaned up the room.

After the trips to the bathroom slowed down, I was able to rest a little bit. Your dad got some music playing and kept us laughing with his great sense of humor. I don't remember being too stressed out or really worried about anything. I kept my mind on what was happening in the moment, rather than fretting about what would happen later. I've always struggled to do that in life, but I managed to live in the moment for your birth. I don't think I really started to feel the contractions until around midnight. Your dad was watching them on the monitor and after a while started commenting on the big ones.

When he decided to step out (for the first time that night) to get a drink (and probably go to the restroom), that's when I decided it was time for the epidural. I couldn't get myself to breathe through the contractions anymore. Instead, I was starting to hold my breath and the bedrail. Good thing it was a sturdy bedrail or I may have pulled it off. Giving birth is expensive enough without having to pay for a new bed, and I’m not sure insurance would pay for my destructive attempt at getting through contractions. For whatever reason (one escapes me at the moment), I wanted to wait for your dad to get back before I asked for the epidural. When he returned, I told him I was ready for it. Your dad said my contractions were at 75 (100 being the end of the scale).

They cleared the room for this procedure, after I waited for your dad to come back. Of course. They had me sit Indian-style on the bed, with my back hunched over and my shoulders down, and I could not hold still while they poked that needle in my spine. Epidural lady had to try at least twice before she found the spot she needed. My nurse put her arms around my shoulders, got in my face, and kept reminding me to breathe, hold still, keep my shoulders down, and arch my back. It didn't seem possible to do these things on my own. She kept me focused, and she got me through it.

Side note, but an important one: My nurse was wonderful! She was everything we needed her to be. She was not offended by our sometimes crude sense of humor, she was kind and considerate, she gave clear instructions and good advice, and she took control in a way that was comforting. I needed to have confidence in her, and I did. I don't know a lot about a lot of things, but I am capable of following directions. I did what that nurse told me, and I'm convinced she was largely responsible for my nice and easy labor. She is an angel working as a nurse at St. Anne's in Columbus, OH.

Back to epidurals... they make things nice again. The timing of events, at this point, is a blur. Everything happened so fast. People don't usually say that about an 8 1/2 hour block of time with pain involved, but I landed on the favorable side of the average length of labor. I remember the pressure waking me up. I couldn't sleep any more because every time I would have a contraction, I felt like I was going to wet myself (or worse). Your dad was sleeping, and your grama was snoring... loudly! I was trying to wake up your dad without waking up Grama, but I ended up having to get loud about it. I felt bad waking your grama up, but the feeling didn't last. I decided that if the pregnant chick couldn't sleep, no one should. I asked for a magazine and your baby book. I found the page in your baby book for your hand and footprints and asked your dad to set it out for the nurse. A little bit later the nurse said I was 8 centimeters dilated, and your dad rushed to call Grama Peggy, Aunt Nikki and Uncle Paul, and Aunt Kandace. I think we decided to make calls at 6 centimeters, but you skipped right over a bunch of numbers. The last one I remember is 3. Grama Peggy made it to the birthing room just in time.

We ran through a practice push, and then we got serious about it. I don't remember feeling like I had to push (like the nurse said), but I learned when I should. Your dad was on my left side, and he held up that leg and my head through almost every contraction. However, he missed one answering a text from your Uncle Paul that read something like, "Whatcha doin'? Wanna go get some coffee?" So we even managed to laugh during hard-core labor. I didn't feel any pain, but I did feel like my eyes were going to pop out when I pushed. I actually put my hands over my eyes a couple times, at first. But then I started watching the action in the mirror on the ceiling and had to put my glasses on to see. I'm sure I pushed for a few hours, but you came fast. I guess you didn't see the point in taking it slow; which is good, because I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that we are all about instant gratification, and we had already waited nine months.

The nurse called the doctor to tell her it was time. We let a few contractions go by without pushing. Then the nurse called the doctor again to make sure she wasn't thinking about taking a shower first. We resumed pushing, and the doctor came just in time to catch you. Our Bean was born! You were born at 6:21 a.m. on May 12, 2010, a tiny 6 pounds and 15 ounces, 17 inches long. You were healthy, had all your fingers and toes, and had a little stork's kiss on your forehead and under your right eyebrow.

Everyone started taking pictures. Your dad cut the cord, and one of those pictures turned out to be a little too revealing. They put a towel on my chest, laid you on it, and we started to clean you off. Then they took you away to fix you up and check you out, and everyone went with you to take pictures. Your dad was kind enough to remember I was in the room and came back just in time. The doctor was finishing up down there, and I could still see it all in the mirror. He found the remote and turned the mirror so I couldn't see the rest. Probably a good move on his part. With the miracle of birth being over with, it was just gross.

I don't remember exactly what I thought. I don't remember exactly how I felt. For the most part, I don't remember what I said or what anyone else said. I don't remember when everyone came in the room. I do remember shaking. I shook like it was 20 below and they just pulled me out of a river. I know I had "a moment" with your dad and with Grama Schulz, but I can't remember anything specific. I know we talked about how beautiful you were, and I remember each person holding you. I'm pretty sure there were conversations about when Aunt Kandace got to town and when Uncle Paul and Aunt Nikki got to the hospital. But the one thing that really stands out is your Uncle Paul walking up to the bed. He hugged me and said, "Thank you." I'm not certain just what he was thanking me for. I can guess, but the exact reason doesn't matter. I know that he meant it with all his heart, and I know that because I felt it. I wish I could remember specific moments with your dad. I wonder if nothing really stands out because he was a rock the entire time, because there was a constant flood of love and support from him. You'll see what I mean. Everything is just better when he's around. And now we have you to love and support. Welcome to our world, Little Bean. Welcome to your life.

The Last Sophie-less Day

I woke up on May 10 and started feeling those pre-labor symptoms again. It was especially inconvenient because I had to pick up your Grama Schulz from the airport that afternoon. I managed to grab her and get her home, but we were pretty pathetic. Grama woke up with aching arms from her rheumatoid arthritis, so she wasn't feeling her best either. We both claimed a couch in the living room and tried our best to get comfortable. Grama passed out and started snoring... loudly!! And I laid there feeling slightly less miserable than I felt sitting up.

Your dad came home from work, made us dinner, served us dinner, picked up after us, commented on what a riot we both were (sarcastically, of course), visited a little, watched some TV, and finally gave up on us and went to bed. Grama ate, watched some TV, and slept off and on. I had two bites of food and took over the big couch because that's where I'd been sleeping for weeks.

Grama, tiny little thing that she is, took up half a cushion on the end of my "bed." I thought she was staying up to watch a movie, but then she leaned over on my butt and started to snore again... loudly! I was so exhausted, I was actually getting five or ten minutes of sleep here and there. So when the snoring reached an all-time high, I asked her if she wanted me to record the movie so she wouldn't miss it. She said she wasn't watching it, so I asked her why she didn't go to bed. She said she thought she would stay with me since I didn't feel good, so I had to tell her to take her sweet, snoring self up to bed or I'd never get any sleep, if any more sleep was even possible. We laughed at her, and she went upstairs to bed.

The next morning I still wasn't feeling the greatest, so when the nurse at the doctor's office called and told me there was a cancellation, I was so excited not to have to wait two more days to see the doc. It was not possible for me to make it there in 35 minutes for the canceled appointment, so I told her what I'd been experiencing and she made time for me later in the afternoon.

So there we are in the tiny room, me half naked sitting on the table and your dad in the corner threatening to fart. (A threat he made at every appointment since our first trip to St. Anne's for a sonogram. I think he really had to fart that first time, and we got giggling like children because he kept coming close to me, saying he was going to blame the stink on me. After that, we just kept the joke going because we're juvenile like that.) The doc finally comes in, checks things out, and there had been no progress. After three episodes of this pre-labor stuff, my body hadn't been doing a very good job at getting ready for anything. I was so upset!! However, because of those symptoms and my high blood pressure (which had never been high before), she had me take a stress test and said we would decide what to do after that. I was hoping she would decide to get things rolling since you and I weren't getting anywhere fast.

As always, you were quite the wiggle worm, and your dad had a hard time keeping up with you and your heartbeat during the stress test. It took FOREVER! We met again with the doc. She said everything seemed OK, and I was fighting a battle in my head. Of course I wanted everything to be OK, but I also wanted to get you out of there and you didn't seem to be in any hurry. I got the impression that she was not the kind of doctor to schedule a c-section if I decided I wanted you to be born on a certain day, so I knew that if things were OK, then I was about to be sent home with a "see ya next week" and a "hang in there, sweet pea." Then the doc suggested inducing, and I started to cry. The tears were rolling down my cheeks instantly--there was no controlling them. I was so relieved! She was concerned about my high blood pressure and protein in my urine and said that preeclampsia could get bad fast. You were full-term and she had no reason to believe there would be any complications from inducing. We waited while she called the hospital, and when she came back she said the oddest thing. She told us to be at the hospital at 8:00 p.m. Eight o'clock THAT night. That's when my relief turned to panic. I really didn't think it would be scheduled THAT night.

We had hours to wait. The doc told me to eat before I came because I wouldn't eat again until after you were born. So we ate and finished putting the last few items in The Bag. The bag that I had only started packing after I found out I was going to see the doc. Your dad thought I should pack it just in case they sent me right to the hospital. I didn't thing that would happen. I almost didn't do it. But I'm glad I listened to your dad, because I was so distracted that I'm not sure what would've ended up in that bag if I had waited.

We arrived at the check-in counter at 8:00 p.m. And in true Merryman Curse style, all the rooms at the inn were full. So we waited... and we halfheartedly watched American Idol... and we went back and forth between the waiting area and the check-in counter, giving information as needed... and then they called our name, and we were on our way. May 11, 2010, was our last Sophie-less day.

If This is PRE-labor...

I finally lost my sense of humor about the aches, pains, and general discomfort you'd been causing me at about 5:00 p.m. on April 28. I could not find a comfortable position to sit, stand, or lay because of the pain in the front of my big ole belly. I'm not convinced they were contractions, and I can't even describe how it hurt. My sides ached--kind of towards my back, not my belly. I was nauseous, freezing (which I didn't think was possible for a pregnant woman), and couldn't eat or sleep. The least painful position I found was laying on my left side, and after 12 hours of trying to lay that way, that whole side of my body was sore. I had a headache that started in the middle of my forehead, stabbed me in the left eye, and traveled down that side of my neck, shoulder and upper back.

Since I didn't think I was having contractions, my water hadn't broken, and I wasn't bleeding or anything, I didn't feel like I had any real reason to worry. I just kept reminding myself that I was nine months pregnant and was bound to feel some pain from time to time. But I'm sure the nagging fear that something might be wrong made everything even worse.

By 6:00 a.m., it was like it never happened, but I was exhausted. I felt horrible, but I stayed home from work even though I was starting my maternity leave in two days. I called my doctor's office as soon as they opened, and the nurse said it sounded like pre-labor. (I'm guessing pre-labor is any symptom during the eighth or ninth month that doesn't fall in the Braxton Hicks category, but I'm still not sure. Maybe it's the same thing.) She said it was just my body getting ready to give birth, and she told me to take it easy.

Now, I hadn't been REALLY scared about giving birth until that moment. And I remember thinking to myself... If this is pre-labor, I'd really like to reconsider this situation I'm in. I don't think I can handle the real thing.

Please understand that your mom hadn't had any surgery to speak of or broken bones, never spent the night in a hospital, and the only serious pain she'd ever had were from migraines. Now, migraines are no joke, but I couldn't take a couple pills and a nap and make this pre-labor stuff go away. Let's just say I was a few big jumps beyond concerned!

We made it a little over a week before this happened again--another 12 hours of it. And a few days later, on May 10, it lasted 24 hours. And I was done with it...

Shopping For Sophie

Your dad and I had been planning a shopping spree to get whatever we thought we still needed after receiving all those baby shower gifts--silly things like formula and newborn diapers (the boring but necessary stuff). Your due date was coming up soon, and we were starting to feel like there was still a lot to do, clean, and buy before you arrived, so we were going to get busy shopping.

On Wednesday, April 14, the day after the last baby shower, I took half a day off work and met your dad at the Westerville Fire Department to have your car seat inspected. I'm glad we did, because we did not have the base installed correctly. It needed to be tilted back more to ensure your little head (with not so little cheeks, we would come to find out) would not flop forward every time we took off from a stop light/sign. I was also concentrating so hard on all the things that needed to be tightened and snapped into place that I forgot to make sure that the straps were over the doll's shoulders and that its arms were through the straps. Lesson learned, the embarrassing way.

After the inspection, we left your dad's car in a nearby parking lot and met your Grama Peggy at Target and began to spend not quite an obscene amount of money. We actually spent less than what we expected. After Target, we went to Olive Garden for dinner. And we finally ended up at Babies 'R Us.

We got formula, more bottles and nipples, more diapers and onesies and sleepers specifically for newborns, towels and washcloths, a swing (which was our not-necessary splurge), a pack 'n play (which Grama actually bought for you) and a quilted pad for it, a mobile, 2 more bases for your car seat, sun blockers for both cars, infant medications, a little contraption that holds bottle parts and pieces in the dishwasher (which we got two more of later--greatest invention ever), a set of storage drawers, and more. I had to talk your dad into the storage drawers, insisting it was necessary for our convenience and that you would have no problem filling it with girl stuff after we were done using it. Oh, and as long as we were busy spending, we also got some Pyrex dishes so we could get rid of most of our plastic, cancer-causing storage bowls, since your dad couldn't remember not to microwave them.

Sometime during this long afternoon/evening, my feet started to swell. I noticed it and knew it was from all the walking we were doing. But by the end of the night, my feet were bigger than I'd ever seen them, which I did not notice until it was too late. I had Fred Flintstone feet (giant toes and no ankles) and it was a shocking reminder that my body was not my own and that it could not do all that it used to be able to do before you started taking up space. I had been feeling fine, except for the swollen feet, but it was time to call it a night. On the way home, I hit a brick wall of exhaustion. When we pulled into the neighborhood, I was never so happy to be there, and then we realized... we forgot your dad's car in the parking lot by the fire department. Such an awful ending to such a fun day.

Baby Shower 2.0

On Tuesday, April 13, Jackie Brown, Therese Gaulke, Emilie Greenwald, and Kati Greenhill hosted a baby shower at Kati's house. So after work that day, I went to Kati and Kip's house, and for once I didn't have to worry about finding my way there. Your dad had just recently bought me a GPS, which I call Jack In The Box. The voices have names, and you can choose between a male and female voice (Jack or Jill). Your dad thought the GPS would be helpful for us (and by "us" I mean you and me). You see, your mom is directionally challenged, and he knew that I would have to find my way to all sorts of new places after you came along. I didn't really want one because I was getting along fine using MapQuest, but your dad insisted, and I'm so glad he did. I love my Jack In The Box! It is so much less stressful driving to or in unknown territories. I hope you are better than me and better than your dad thinks he is at navigating Columbus and surrounding areas.

So I found my way there, and so did the following people: Judy Hite and Emma (Judy's granddaughter), Lorri Kuczynski, Lynn Pendergast, Jackie Brown, Dawn Kirkbride, Kati Greenhill (of course), JoAnn Bigham, Laura Brennan, Therese Gaulke, Julie Hartfelder, Melissa Hasebrook, Melissa Thien, Paula Combs, and Judy Meyer.

Even though Emilie couldn't make it to the shower, she dropped off the cake she made, which was delicious, before work that day. The next day, people were still talking about how yummy that cake was. Tammie Weaston-Fisher, Jane Schmidt, and Cheryl Fackelman also could not attend but were kind enough to drop off gifts for you before the shower. Debbie Crockett wasn't feeling well and didn't come to the shower, but she pitched in with Judy Meyer and Melissa Thien to get you a shelf with plastic bins to hold all (or more likely, some of) the toys you will eventually have.

Instead of playing games, Jackie asked everyone to give me some much needed advice. I wish I could remember every tidbit and who told me what. Unfortunately, I haven't had a dependable memory since about month four of our pregnancy. You stole it, and you still haven't given it back. But I remember the following comments and advice (and I'm paraphrasing at this point):

• Enjoy every minute. They grow up so fast.
• Try to appreciate the middle-of-the-night feedings. It's so quiet and peaceful and the best time to bond with your little one because there are less distractions.
• At night, don't turn on lights or talk a lot during feedings. It will help keep her from mixing up her nights and days, and it will help her go back to sleep. Just be quiet and comforting.
• Don't be afraid to ask for help. That's what friends and family are for.
• Teach her to be independent. Don't hang on too tight.
• (Possibly the best advice, given by little Emma...) If you have another baby, they will fight a lot. Also, when the baby gets older, you won't have to change poopie diapers.
• (Another piece of advice competing for first place, given by Melissa Hasebrook...) If your child does something embarrassing in public, look at her and say, "Just wait until I tell your mother what you did!" and walk away.

The advice agreed upon by many:

• Sleep when the baby sleeps.
• Epidural!!!

We received lots of great and helpful gifts--clothes, blankets, toys, an infant tub, stuffed animals, hair accessories, a growth chart, bottles, pacifiers, a shower cake (made of diapers, with bath items, toys, little shiny, purple shoes, receiving blankets, and more), first aid items, a step stool, books, a piggy bank, bubbles, an entertainment mat, a rubber ducky, baby lotions and potions, and the list goes on and on. Melissa Hasebrook made you a little bathrobe. It's green with pink on the outside and has little monkeys and multi-colored polka dots on the inside. I can't wait to see you in it! Kip, Kati, and Emilie gave us gobs of diapers. I know it's not very exciting for you, but we were thrilled. It's darn expensive to keep your little butt clean and covered (and it's such a cute little butt). Lorri gave us a bottle warmer, which I didn't even know we registered for. But your dad was looking out for us and must have scanned or registered for it without me knowing it. It really does make life easier!! She also crocheted a beautiful multi-colored afghan for you and gave it to us later, a week or so before you were born. Jackie Brown had a year-'round theme. She gave you an outfit for each season, including the cutest little pink and brown faux fur winter coat that I am so jealous of.

JoAnn Bigham gave me an odd item that deserves mentioning and explaining. A couple years ago, JoAnn gave me a Frithel for Christmas. She thinks it's funny that I make up words from time to time (or at least I used to when I was younger). When we started working together in the Main Office, I began teaching her some of those "vocabulary words," so she thought she'd make up one of her own. And so a Frithel was born--a hula coconut doll she bought at a party store. The next year, she gave me a pregnant Frithel, a hula coconut doll wearing a t-shirt with a well-placed bump. And at the shower, she gave me a baby Frithel, among other things. Baby Frithel--a monkey coconut bank--was sporting a little Winnie-the Pooh hat. Thanks to JoAnn, we have a complete Frithel family. Add them to the list of weird, funny, and/or inappropriate things we have around the house. So when you ask me about them 5 or 10 years from now, I may not remember why we have them, but at least it is documented here.

After we were full of food and cake and discussing baby stuff, Jackie cracked a whip and had everyone load up all those presents in my truck. When I got home, your dad brought them all in the house, and they filled the living room. There was a trail in front of the couch and to the front door. Bags and boxes and storage containers took up the rest of the space. Your dad and I looked at all the presents together; we oohed and aahed over all the little outfits, imagining what you'd look like in them; we talked about where this and that would go in your room; we ate cake (yes, I had another piece--you needed it), and we went to bed. What a great evening, thanks to my friends and co-workers from Upper Arlington High School!!

Baby Shower 1.0

On Sunday, March 21, your aunt Nikki hosted a baby shower to celebrate you and help us get ready for your arrival. I was worried about it. I'm never comfortable being center of attention, especially at an event where everyone brings you gifts and you have nothing to give but your sincere gratitude and appreciation. As anxious as I was, I had such a great time. Your Aunt Nikki and Great Aunt Kathy came up with the cutest decorations, the yummiest munchies, and I would say the funnest games, except I didn't win any of them.

They had a three-tier "cake" made out of rolled up diapers and decorated with ribbon, little butterflies, and mini plastic bottles, pacifiers, and pins. It is so cute, I haven't had the heart to take it apart yet. They also had a bouquet of "roses" made out of little baby socks. This is sitting on your dresser right now because I can't take it apart either. Everything looked so nice, right down to the teeny tiny little bottles they had spread out on the table with the cake and on the counter with the food.

We played some games, which the competitor in me loved. For one of the games, you had to guess what the poo was in the diaper. Most were candy bars--Twix, Three Musketeers, Tootsie Roll, etc. It was fun watching people peer into and sniff diapers. I don't know why, but no one would taste the poo to determine what it was. When we arrived, everyone received a little clothespin to clip on. Later we were told that during the shower, if someone caught us saying the word "baby," they could take our clothespin(s). The person with the most at the end would receive a prize. Your second cousin, Christy McKinley, tricked me by asking me what was in the little jars for the next game. I responded (thinking to myself, baby food, duh), "looks like baby food," and she took my clothespin. Sure, I'm an idiot for falling for it, but how rude is she for tricking the pregnant chick out of her clothespin?! I definitely underestimated her sneakiness. Keep that in mind, Sophie. Look out for that Christy McKinley. So they had taken the labels off the baby food, and we had to guess what kind of food it was for the next game. I only got three of them right, and I only got the third one because your Great Aunt Peggy whispered it to me. Finally, we had to guess how many strawberry whoppers were in a baby bottle bank. I was way off, almost doubling the number. So I'm easily tricked, have no idea what kinds of things babies eat, am bad at math, and couldn't even win the candy game (if you can believe that). But I still love those silly games!

Getting ready for you is a costly endeavor, to say the least, and everyone who attended the shower was so generous. The guest list included (almost everyone was from your dad's side of the family): Grandma Peggy, Great Grandma June, your adopted Grandma Laura (Aunt Nikki's mom), Aunt Kandace (along with Uncle Keith and your cousins made the trip from Indiana), Great Aunt Peggy and her daughter Mary, Great Aunt Elta, your second cousins Christy and Stacie, and Jennifer Cox (a friend of ours--your dad used to work with her, and she adopted our kitty, PJ, and gave him a home for many years). As I've mentioned, your Great Aunt Kathy was there too, but she really co-hosted the party.

Your adopted Grandma Laura crocheted a blanket and personalized it with your name, and Great Aunt Kathy made you a rag quilt and a Moses basket. Your Grandma Peggy also made you a Winnie The Pooh quilt but gave it to us before the shower. All beautiful keepsakes. We received three neat little gadgets I never knew existed: 1) a thermometer we can just run over your forehead to take your temperature, instead of probing your little bum; 2) a rinse cup that is flat on one side with a little rubber piece that gets placed above your eyes and conforms to your noggin so when we pour the water, you don't get any water and/or soap in your eyes; and 3) feeder bottles made for the transition to cereal, so you don't have to get used to cereal and spoons all at once. Who knew? Well, apparently the great moms in the room knew, and now yours does too. Your closet is filling up, thanks to all the cute outfits many people gave. Christy and Stacie made you "Sophie's Closet." It had little doors that opened, and a bunch of little onesies hung up inside. Christy had some of them embroidered with your name, and your Aunt Nikki's favorite is one that has "I (heart) Aunt Nikki" on it. Stacie painted your name and little birds and flowers on the closet. So creative! We also received a high chair, Boppy pillow, bibs, burp cloths, sleepers, pacifiers, a gift certificate, and more. We're well on our way to actually being prepared for you.

Your dad, Uncle Paul, Uncle Keith, and cousins Kyle and Kaleb all went to see the movie "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" while the shower was in progress. They got back just as the last guests were leaving. We certainly didn't want the menfolk there during our all-girl party. But we did get to visit with them afterward. Your Aunt Kandace was in rare form. She kept me laughing all afternoon. I would go into detail, but most of it is wildly inappropriate for little ears (or teenage ears), especially since it involves your nearly perfect aunt and mom. Let's just say it was mostly girl stuff.

After such a great day, thanks to all who came--with a special thanks to a lovely hostess, Sister Nik, and her partner in crime, Great Aunt Kathy--I'm really looking forward to the next one. On April 13, we will celebrate you again at a baby shower at my boss's house, hosted by a few friend from work. One of the best things about being at a baby shower is that it is totally appropriate to go on and on about you, without feeling like I'm overdoing it with baby talk. We all know that any time someone dominates a conversation month after month with the same subject, it can get boring for the listener(s). But everyone expects me to talk about you at baby showers. So I can't wait, because you are my favorite subject.

What Do We Do With You?

March has been the month of classes. We decided against birthing classes. Lots of people told us it wasn't worth it. My doctor's opinion was that some women feel empowered having the information and some women are just overwhelmed by it. I believe I fall within the latter. I've decided that when I get to the hospital, they're going to tell me what to do and a really long time after that, you will arrive no matter what I learned or didn't learn from those classes. However, I did start to feel like I couldn't go into this totally blind, so your dad and I started reading the Labor and Delivery chapter from "What To Expect When You're Expecting." We had to stop last night after reading the An Episiotomy section. It had me screaming and covering my ears and your dad closing his eyes and wiping his forehead. Now I'm back to thinking I should just go into this blind. What I don't know won't make me scream before I have to.

The first class we took was Going Home: The First 90 Days. This one was important to us. We wanted to know what to do with you when we weren't in the hospital with a bunch of experts. A lot of it was common sense, but it's funny how sometimes you don't really think about something until someone says it out loud. We learned about bathing you before and after the icky part of your belly button falls off. We practiced making a baby Bean burrito (swaddling) which your dad is better at than me. I, however, was better at the diapering. Not sure I should be admitting that though. In his defense, the diaper was a little small for the doll we were working with. The teacher went over safety issues, breast feeding, bottle feeding, bathing, and more. She made us aware of just how much you will poop, what it should look like, and how much time we'll spend just feeding and changing you. But the best thing I learned--and I had no idea that there were products being sold just for this purpose--was about Tummy Time. Tummy Time will be my favorite!! This time is for you to practice moving your little noggin and strengthening your neck, but more importantly... it is time to get your back side naked to give it a little air. It is the time I will spend grabbing, patting, and tickling your little bum. I can't wait, because there is nothing cuter than a baby butt, and now I find out that there is actually an excuse to set aside time to get it!

We also took an infant CPR class so we know how to help you if you stop breathing and what to do if you start choking, besides freak out. I think your dad and I both felt like we learned everything from the book they sent us. However, we also both agreed that reading about how deep you push into the chest for CPR and how hard you hit for choking is much different than actually doing it. We were glad we got to practice on the CPR mannequin. I'm hoping that having this knowledge is like bringing an umbrella when there is a chance of rain, that I'll never have to use it.

I do feel better after taking these classes, but I'm convinced that there aren't enough classes or books to really prepare us for what we're getting into, for the overwhelming responsibility of taking care of you, of raising you. I think we'll get most of it right, hopefully the really important things, but some of it we just won't. To help make up for our inevitable mistakes, we plan to teach you all about tolerance and forgiveness. It should help when you think we're driving you crazy.

Welcome to the Third Trimester

The following came from one of the websites I've referred to since the beginning of my pregnancy. It gives weekly updates on your growth and my body's changes, and this is what they had to offer this week--week 28.

"Welcome to the third trimester - the period of leg cramps, hemorrhoids, varicose veins, itchy skin, aches and pains, swelling, heartburn, indigestion and . . . your baby's arrival!"

Now, except for the "your baby's arrival" part, could they be any more discouraging is what I want to know! After further thought and depending on the answer, maybe I don't want to know. But here's what I want to tell you before the future they've outlined for us comes true: I've loved almost every minute so far. It's not that I haven't complained about aches and pains and nausea, but I think I've managed to keep my sense of humor about most of it, with your dad's help.

However, this is definitely a new trimester...

I've noticed these last couple weeks that you've grown stronger. I think you might grow up to be an ultimate fighting champ. You used to find one spot and bump me a little, but these days you'll kick and punch and bump me in three different places all at once, and hard! You don't joke around about it anymore, and it makes me wonder if you're unhappy with your living arrangements. But I still love it every time!! I've not grown tired of feeling and seeing you in there.

For about a month now, I've started grunting when I bend over, squat, try to get in a comfy position to sleep, maneuver my way off of the couch, and try to use my abs in any way to support myself. My abs, not that they were ever very strong, feel like they're trying to work in mud.

This last weekend, I discovered that shoes with laces are not my friends. As I struggled to lace and tie my boots, not only did I grunt when bending over, but it was an effort to reach and I couldn't breathe. I actually had to take a break after finishing up with the first boot. It was quite an ordeal! It's difficult realizing that things aren't as easy to do as they were just a month ago, that your body can't do what you want it to. I imagine, on a very small scale, that it's like someone taking your car keys away when you've been driving for 60 years of your life. Suddenly you just can't? It doesn't seem right.

Last week, I noticed that I was starting to waddle a little after I'd been sitting a while. I strongly believe that it was because of the shoes I was wearing and that it's way too soon to start that. So I'm going to make a conscious effort to put that waddling business off for a couple more months. Of course, I thought that about the grunting when it started, but I don't seem to be able to not grunt when completing what used to be simple acts of movement.

Three weeks ago, I did get a leg cramp at night that had me limping for two days, and it was definitely not something I could laugh about. I'm hoping that was an extreme and rare event, and that the leg cramps they talk about during the third trimester are not all like that. I've had others that were unpleasant but manageable, and I hope those are the norm.

So these are my big "complaints" so far. Here's hoping that my third trimester is as mild as the first and second and that I'm able to keep my sense of humor, even though this pregnancy has clearly kicked up a notch.

Lime Ambition

Thanks to your dad, we finally have a good start on your nursery. In an effort to not go overboard with pink (for your dad's sake), I agreed to a light lime green nursery--the color of the leaves on your bedding. About a month ago, your dad stayed up until 3:00 a.m. to get the first coat of paint on the walls, and he finished up the next day. It turned out to be the perfect color. Whenever I look in your room and see that pretty green, it brings me joy. I hope you feel the same.

Now it's on... We're ready to fill up that room. Your dad found lots of accessories (night light, light switch cover, sheets, blankets, curtain rod, etc.) that match your bedding and ordered it for you. I wanted frilly, shiny butterflies to hang on your walls and from the ceiling, so your dad found some bendable cloth ones that have sequins and beads and they're waiting to be hung. Your dad fell in love with a doll house bookshelf for your room, so we registered for that. In a couple weeks, we'll be able to get your crib and a dresser, but we still haven't decided on white or a natural finish. I think your dad is a little nervous about putting those together. However, he managed to put your stroller together without much effort. There were no missing pieces when he was done, it looks like it's supposed to, and it seems to be in working order. But I think by the time we're done, your room is going to look like someone threw up "girly-girl" in it, so none of that tomboy business. Although, I was down with trucks, tree climbing, and dirt bikes when I was little. So if that's really the case, we will adjust and so will your room.

So the nursery is coming along at a fast pace; we've registered for all the things that will keep you alive, safe, clean, dry, clothed and entertained (for a while, anyway); we're looking forward to taking some classes in March that will teach us what to do with you when we bring you home; we're meeting a pediatrician this week; and things just seem to be falling into place. For the next three months, we'll be waiting around for you to grow big and strong (but not too big, please). We are so excited to meet you; however, we'll wait patiently until May. We finally stopped procrastinating, but you take your time, little Sophie Bean.

3D Pictures

Since you're such a wiggle worm Weezy, we had to go back to St. Anne's on January 8 because they didn't get good pictures of your spine and heart when we were there on Christmas Eve.

Weezy = That's right, another nickname. It comes from your middle name--Louise... Weezy, and it has become a fast favorite, especially with your Uncle Paul and Aunt Nikki. They did promise to stop calling you that before you start hating it, but your dad and I made no such promise. Keep that in mind when you decide to be sassy when your friends are around.

Since we received good results after the first round of measurements/pictures, this time around was a much better experience. We knew we'd get to just sit back and watch you on the flat screen for a good 15-20 minutes. In true wiggle worm fashion, and not to disappoint us by cooperating in any way, you would not allow them to get the very bottom of your spine. However, the doc was satisfied enough and said if all continued to go well that he wouldn't need us to come back.

While we were watching you fuss on the screen, the ultrasound tech switched over to 3-D, and at first I didn't even understand what I was looking at. I got so used to making out the white, gray, and black splotches that I didn't recognize the more detailed you--my little girl in color, with "skin." You are amazing! Most people said beautiful, but your dad and I agree that you're quite a bit on the scrawny side at approximately 1 lb. 3 oz., and we're gonna need you to go ahead and get a little bigger and chubbier. We're holding out for wrist chub and bulging, double knees.

Introducing Sophia Louise

We were not supposed to find out if you were a boy or a girl until January 4, but thanks (or maybe no thanks) to a blood test that was considered abnormal, we were given one of the best Christmas presents ever.

It started with a phone call from the doc Monday, December 21. I remember her saying that the latest round of blood tests showed an increased chance of Down Syndrome. She rattled off numbers and said they were still good for my age, but she wanted us to get more testing done right away. I knew I was too upset to remember the details for your dad when he got home, so the doc was kind enough to call him on his cell.

Tuesday, I spent the day spontaneously bursting into tears and cursing myself for waiting until I was so old that the chance of my child having Downs was increased simply because of my age. Now, I've had my fears about motherhood. Some of them I've not even said out loud to anyone, but this had me wondering if I could truly handle the helplessness of it. By the end of the day, I decided that the only thing scarier than not being able to stop bad things from happening to you was not getting to be your mother at all.

Wednesday, they called to schedule us for testing on Thursday, so Christmas Eve morning we were anxiously waiting in an office at St. Anne's to see you on the monitor again. The ultrasound technician checked all the possible indicators, including the number of bones in your pinkie fingers, the length of your arms and legs, and something about the bridge of your little nose. She said everything looked good.

Before she started the ultrasound, we asked her to write down your gender in a card I brought, and she was more than willing to play the game with us. She checked your parts while your Dad and I looked away. She said she printed a picture for us and put it in the card. Then she sealed the card and your picture in an envelope for us to enjoy later. She also printed this picture for us, and we couldn't believe it was such a good view of your perfect little face.



The doctor confirmed all the good news the tech told us, and we left the hospital feeling much better. To say it was a huge relief doesn't really touch it. But after all the worry, we had this exciting bit of news. Now, all we had to do was wait for the right moment to open the card.

That right moment was Christmas morning. Presents were opened, your dad had coffee, I had chai latte, the puppies had treats, and all that was left to do was open that card. I tried to peek first, but your dad was having none of that. I opened the card and we saw the picture she put in there first. I was busy looking at the arrow pointing at your parts, and your dad said, "We're having a little girl." in the softest, sweetest voice. I was just about to ask how he knew that when I saw the words, "It's a girl!" in the upper left corner of the picture. Sophia Louise. For the rest of the morning we took turns reminding each other that we were going to have a girl. It never got old.

Then your dad made his traditional Christmas morning omelets (which turned out to be scrambled eggs this year--sometimes the eggs don't cooperate). We ate breakfast and very impatiently waited for it to be late enough to start calling people to tell them the good news. We called both of your gramas, your aunt Nikki and uncle Paul, and your aunt Kandace and uncle Keith. Then we both spent time texting other friends and family. Such a good Christmas!!

Cutest Bum Ever

It's been a while, but on October 29, your dad and I went to see a doc who did testing for Down Syndrome and Trisomy 13. They had to measure the fluid sack at the back of your neck, and you had to be positioned just so. You were 13 weeks new and already frustrating an adult. That's impressive, little Merryman! She warned us that it would take a while, but I don't think she anticipated it taking quite as long as it did. It was chilly in there, I had to pee, and she pushed at you and poked you and shoved that mechanical device in my lower belly trying to get you in the right spot for a good 20-30 minutes. What was great, though, is that your dad and I got to watch you on a monitor all that time.

I couldn't believe how different you looked from the nine-week picture. You looked like a baby instead of a bean-shaped splotch, and we could see your little hands and feet. I did not get emotional the first time I saw you, and my first reaction again this time was to laugh. But when I laughed, my belly shook and she couldn't take measurements with me shaking things up. Since I couldn't laugh, I had no choice but to lay there and let the tears leak out while you waved your little hands in front of your face and turned around to show us your bum.