Maverick's Birth Story

Maverick is here. My second precious baby boy arrived September 12th at 5:27am. I wrote the story of Paxton’s birth and I loved being able to go back and read it time and time again so I figured it was time to write the story of how Maverick came into this world.

I desperately wanted to go into labor before my due date. I just didn’t think there was any way possible I could carry my baby to my due date of September 20th. And besides that, I was fat, uncomfortable, and in pain every.single.day. Sleeping was uncomfortable and intermittent and the skin was stretched so tightly over my belly that I just didn’t know how it could accommodate a growing baby any more. The Sunday night before I went into labor (September 8th) I started to feel slightly painful contractions around 8pm. I felt a glimmer of hope and joy (ironically at the fact that I was in pain) and got out the trusty timer on my iPhone and began timing contractions. They were inconsistent at best and only slightly painful, like mild cramps. I went to bed determined to get up the next day and walk this baby out, just like I had with Paxton.

I got up the next morning with a few inconsistent and mildly painful contractions and emailed my boss to say that I wouldn’t be in that day because I was having contractions, with the clause that I wasn’t sure this was real labor but that I was going to stay home just in case. I got dressed in about the only t-shirt and shorts that still fit me, laced (loosely, since my feet were swollen) up my tennis shoes and headed to the bicentennial gardens to walk. Most of the gardens were shaded and it was a fairly mild morning, temperature wise. I began to walk, and walk, and walk. I walked 2 miles and took a break to rest and assess my condition. I was having some contractions but I knew they weren’t consistent yet so I hadn’t even bothered to time them yet. I walked another mile and then my mother-in-law, Joan, brought me some water and we walked one last mile. By this time, I was having painful contractions about 4 minutes apart. I was exhausted and sweaty, and getting really excited… and scared.

You see, I had done some research and decided I wanted to try and not get an epidural. Some of the research I read said that epidurals could delay your milk coming in and since I planned to breastfeed again, this was important to me. The research also said that epidurals could affect the recovery time from delivery and I knew I need to bounce back quickly, since I would have a toddler to keep up with, in addition to an infant. Plus, with my first birth, the epidural only worked from the waist up, so I felt like I could certainly do it again, since I basically did it the first time!

I had been mentally preparing myself to deal with the pain of contractions but I was still terrified. I was scared of the pain and scared I wouldn’t be able to do it without an epidural. I didn’t want to let myself down and I didn’t really want to tell anyone how scared I was because I knew that I would be encouraged to “just get the epidural.” My goal was to trick myself. I wanted to make it as long as I could without an epidural and then if I got to the point where I needed it, it would be too late to get one. Again, I just wasn’t sure I could make it to that point.

When I left the gardens, I knew I needed to head home to take a shower. Picture big, sweaty, pregnant woman, and by sweaty, I mean swollen sweatiness allll over the place. I had to pull over in a Wendy’s parking lot on the way home to wait out a contraction. I was elated, yet still scared silly. I was starting to get really hungry and I knew they wouldn’t let me eat at the hospital so I got a jr. bacon cheeseburger from Wendy’s and headed home. I finished about three quarters of the burger and when I got home, I was so exhausted I could barely get up the steps before collapsing in bed. I was still sweaty and hated to lay down in the bed but I was literally overcome with exhaustion. I timed contractions until I fell asleep. By the time I woke up, my contractions had subsided a good deal. I was bummed because I had a feeling I had stopped walking too soon. At that point, I knew I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning and that surely I had to have dilated a little more with all that walking through contractions.

The next morning my mom texted me to see how I was doing and ask if the baby was moving around a lot. I told her good morning and that yes, he was an active little fella and then began to get ready for my doctor’s appointment that was scheduled for 11:30 that morning. I got a shower and then began drying and straightening my hair. In the middle of straightening my hair, a cold sweat came over me because I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt the baby move and eerily I heard my mom’s text message ring over and over in my head. I poked my tummy, straightened another section of hair, and when I didn’t feel a kick back, calmly put the straightener down and went to the bedroom to lay down on the bed. Usually, when I lay down on my side the baby would go crazy town thinking this was his time to shine and I get pummeled with kicks and other acrobatics. Fifteen minutes later, nada. I was in a full blown panic at this point. I called Brandon and told him what was going on and that my last resort was to eat something sweet to see if the sugar would make the baby be active. I also told him I was not ok with waiting until my doctor’s appointment and that I was going to go early. I just knew that I could never live with myself if something was wrong with the baby and I waited until my scheduled doctor’s appointment time to have it checked out. I was only going to be about 50 minutes early so I grabbed a handful of candy corn, threw on my clothes and left the house, yes, with my hair half straightened!

I called the doctor’s office on the way (since it would take me about 25 minutes to get there) and the poor girl that answered the phone was so sweet, especially when I couldn’t even choke out my name through the sobs that overcame me. I finally was able to tell her my name and date of birth and she told me she would alert the doctor that I was on my way. She was kind and reassured me that I would be taken care of, probably since she knew I was sobbing while driving.

At the doctor’s office, Brandon and I waited nervously for what seemed like an eternity. It was almost my scheduled appointment time and I was starting to get mad. Every second counted and it seemed as though no one cared that those could have been precious seconds to save my son’s life. Thankfully I had felt 3 soft, very subdued kicks since the time I had realized I couldn’t remember when he had moved last. Finally I was called back and we were taken to a room to be given a fetal stress test. I was hooked up to this machine that was going to monitor his heart rate and when the machine was turned on and the nurse found his heartbeat, we all breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was the sweetest sound to hear after an agonizing 2 hours of not knowing if my baby was ok. I was given a button attached to a long cord and told to press the button every time I felt the baby move. All of a sudden it seemed as though he wouldn’t stop kicking! I even commented to Brandon that I felt like the doctor was going to think I was crying wolf! Then when the doctor came in, she said that it was likely that the candy corn I ate did have an effect on him, kicking in about the time we were hooked up to the machine! In the future, if you ever have this problem, drinking OJ is apparently the best way to get immediate results. Who knew!? Not me anyways.

The doctor confirmed that he was just fine and that right before labor babies tend to sleep for longer periods of time in a deep sleep phase and that likely explained the timeframe where I didn’t feel him kicking. She also measured me at 2 cm dilated and confirmed that he was still head down. She also stripped my membranes. It was just like I had felt it when I was pregnant with Paxton, uncomfortable and slightly painful but not too bad.

That night I started having more contractions, but just like the other night they were inconsistent and only slightly painful. Brittney called and asked if she should come in town from Asheville and I told her I just wasn’t sure that this was it yet. I didn’t want to tell her to come in case I wasn’t going to go into labor for another week! See, Corben has school and it was a Tuesday night and I hated for him to have to miss school, especially if I wasn’t going to have the baby! Brittney ended up talking with Joan and Joan told her to just go ahead and come home. She got there about 10:00 that night. Even though I hadn’t told her to come home, I felt guilty because I just wasn’t sure I was going to have the baby anytime soon. Even though I desperately wanted to have the baby early, I knew nothing anyone did would make him come when he wasn’t ready.

I went to bed and around 4:15am woke up to go to the bathroom and when I did, I noticed that I had lost my “mucous plug”. Yes, this sounds disgusting, and if you’re like my husband, this is one of those details you’d just rather not know. However, this was the turning point in both of my pregnancies, because I knew I was going into labor. I was ecstatic. I climbed back into bed, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t try to be quiet because I was so excited, and I wanted to tell Brandon. He sleepily asked if I was ok, and I blurted out “I just lost my mucous plug!” His reply: “Well all right then.” I told him to go back to sleep because I wasn’t having any contractions but I was so stinkin excited that I couldn’t go to sleep right away. I kept waiting and waiting to have a contraction and I guess I must have fallen asleep waiting because the next thing I knew, it was 7:00am and I was waking up from a contraction. My eyes immediately flew open because I remembered I had lost my mucous plug during the night and this was exactly how I woke up when I went into labor with Paxton – 7:00am with contractions! I was having mild contractions at this point but I started timing them then. Brittney came and got in the bed with me a little later while I was timing contractions and we were both so excited. We all finally decided it was time to start getting ready and get our bags packed.

At this point I was feeling so many different things at once. I was exhausted from not sleeping well, I was excited because I knew it was only a matter of time before I would meet my son, I was terrified of the pain, and I was curious to see if I could stick to my birth plan and not get an epidural. Going into labor the second time is a crazy thing. It’s crazy because you try to compare it to the first time, but it’s so hard to do that because it’s been so long ago, plus can you really compare instances of pain? That’s a hard thing to do.

Anyways, we started showering and packing bags and called Kellie, Brandon’s aunt, to meet us so she could watch the kids (Paxton, Collyn and Corben). As a side note, in preparation of being apart from my child for a few days, I typed up 4 pages of instructions to go in Paxton’s bag detailing pretty much anything you ever wanted to know about my kid. I was so worried about him being ok and felt proud of myself for having though ahead of time to do that. I guess we decided to meet at a place to have breakfast (I say I guess because at this point I wanted to focus on keeping those contractions going!) and the only place between Joan’s and Kellie’s house is a little breakfast joint hooked onto a gas station. Pretty much all they offered was biscuits and grease. I don’t think I ate much because I wasn’t that hungry having the contractions. I wanted to eat because I knew I needed the energy but when your stomach is cramping up every 6 minutes, you don’t really feel like it. Random thoughts about eating breakfast that I want to remember are that Kellie sat down with her coffee right near me and with my coffee aversion, I thought I was going to be sick. I think I moved tables to sit away from her and apologized, telling her it wasn’t her, it was just this crazy aversion.  I’m pretty sure Paxton wanted sausage. Just sausage. And he ended up eating Brandon’s and Joan’s.  We took our last chalkboard pregnancy picture outside this little gas station/breakfast joint and I said goodbye to my sweet 3 year old. Of course, Brittney and I took a picture here too, and put it on APFP’s facebook page.

After that, Brandon and I decided we needed a camera. We had been talking about getting a nicer one since Pax was playing soccer and to take pictures of the baby, and thought we would have that upcoming weekend to go buy one but since I went into labor early, to Best Buy we went! By the time we got to Best Buy, my contractions were a lot stronger and I was having to go around another aisle to lean over and have contractions. (Side note: A few weeks after having Maverick, I was in line at Moe’s getting lunch and a lady in front of me introduced herself and told the gentleman she was with “Oh this is the girl who was in labor when she came to buy a camera at work the other day”… embarrassing…) One memory I just have to include is that the employee helping Brandon and I get our camera deal all figured out (of course we were price matching to get the best deal) had his fly unzipped. Brittney and Joan noticed this right away and could not.stop.laughing. When I figured out what they were laughing about, the jokes started rolling inside my head! I was having a hard time keeping it together, what with the fly down jokes and the contractions and making sure we got the best deal!

After we purchased our big boy/girl camera (ha!), we left to “walk it out” literally. It was hot and I was hot, and I didn’t want to jack up my hair for pictures later, obvi. I just didn’t want to sweat. I had already exerted the effort to shower and get ready and I just wasn’t sure I had it in me to do all that all over again. We headed to the mall to walk. Yes, you heard me. We were mall-walkers. Very cool, very chic mall-walkers. I might have just given up some cool points with you, but alas, I need to walk without sweating and the quiet mall we have here was the perfect place. We walked, and I continued to have contractions, and then we decided to go get some lunch. I wasn’t that hungry, again, but everyone else was so we headed to Village Grill and I ate about half of a half of a chicken sandwich. I was trying to conduct myself in the restaurant like I wasn’t in labor and by the end of lunch I was ready.to.go.

We then decided to swing by the house to check and see if they had done anything. Funny, huh? Did you picture me having a quiet, restful labor before heading to the hospital? Yeah, I did too, but I’m busy people! I am an achiever, and there is much to be done, even while preparing to deliver a child. At this point, it was HOT outside, and my contractions were getting STRONGER. I could not sit still in the front seat while Brandon chatted it up with the plumber. I had to get out of the car, and because it was so hot (and remember, I was trying not to sweat so I would look good in pictures later with my newborn – HA!) I managed to figure out that I could hunch over the front seat, sway my hips back and forth while standing outside, but have the AC blasting on my face. Boom.

My mom and Deryl arrived and I knew it wasn’t time to head to the hospital yet because I was determined not to be sent home, so even though I knew I was going to have a baby today, I wanted to make sure I was good and dilated by the time I got there. We went back to the mall. I hadn’t packed tennis shoes because I had naively thought I would be laboring at home most of the day so thankfully mom had some with her that I wore because my rainbows were NOT cutting it. I developed a RAGING case of plantar fasciitis while I was pregnant and my left foot basically felt like it was breaking every time I stepped with it. The rainbows weren’t my smartest decision, but luckily mom came to the rescue.

After walking and contracting for awhile, I wanted to be in a room and comfortable. I wanted to be able to labor without having to worry about fellow mall-walkers staring at me, or trying to chat it up with me. At this point, I didn’t give a rip about anybody else’s labor or how big your baby was, or whether you had a c-section or not. Yep, that’s how I knew it was time to go to the hospital. I was in the “focused, don’t-give-a ri- bout-nothin-else zone.”

We drove the one half a minute drive to the hospital and I immediately became anxious when I saw what a construction zone the hospital parking lot was. Like, it was gonna be closed or something. Right. But, nonetheless, I felt a flutter of anxiety, and then again when Brandon had to let me out and a security guard said he would wheel me to the Emergency Room. Like Brandon wouldn’t be able to find me. Like we would never see each other again. Like I would birth the kid without him by my side. Hey, labor is another beast. I was in a crazy place, feeling crazy feelings.

I checked in, while sitting in the wheelchair, and the lady actually (I can’t make this stuff up) asked me why I was there. I told her as bluntly as I could without being all out rude “I’m having a baby right now”. She, again I can’t make this up, stood up from her seat, like she maybe didn’t believe me, and said “Oh, well I didn’t even see that you were pregnant!” Really?! My face is about as chubby-bunny-fat as it can get, I’m grimacing every 4.5 minutes, and was wheeled in holding the basketball stomach I was sporting, and you didn’t realize I was pregnant. I forgave her, chalked it up as a possible compliment, or maybe she was even trying to help me focus on something other than the contractions, and we moved on. I was whisked up to the labor and delivery unit fairly quickly, thankfully.

I was checked and was only dilated to a 4. The next 15 or so hours are a bit of a blur for me, because I was already getting very tired from the contractions and the pain blurred my sense of time. I had to be monitored for just a bit but I asked if I could get up and move around after that because I wanted to be able to labor freely. I found out very quickly that sitting in the bed laboring was verrrry painful. I could almost literally feel my hips trying to spread and the weight of me sitting down on them made the contractions twice as bad.

I got on the birthing ball and loved it. I was so glad I asked for it. I swayed my hips around, bounced, and sat on the birthing ball for hours. Brittney massaged my back during contractions and it took some figuring out what helped and made things feel better, and it actually changed throughout the labor. I got up and walked the halls some and by this time was having very strong contractions. I would have to stop and grab onto the railing on the wall to be able to cope with the pain. I remember focusing on the wallpaper right in front of my face during a contraction. I was moaning and groaning and didn’t care. All I was focused on was not asking for an epidural. I saw every contraction as a step closer to reaching my goal. While walking the halls, the nurse offered me an orange popsicle, and I don’t know if my mouth was super dry or what, but I remember thinking that it was the best orange popsicle I had ever eaten in my life. I devoured it. I also got mad at Brandon at one point because I thought he had eaten some of it during one of my contractions when he was holding it for me. How funny. I got mad over a hospital popsicle.

I also asked if I could have ginger ale while  I was laboring. I don’t drink soda. I can literally count on one hand how many times soda has touched my lips since 8th grade. I quit drinking it because my track coach said it was bad for me and I never liked it again. I’ve had it after surgery, you know, when they make you drink it to make sure you can keep it down. Or, I’ve had it when I was nauseous and was freaking out about the thought of throwing up. I don’t know if my body was needing the sugar for the energy to keep laboring, but for some reason I wanted it and ended up drinking 2 or 3 of those small half cans! Crazy!

One of our favorite shows is Big Brother and it was coming on that night so we turned on the tv and watched Big Brother! I was sitting on the birthing ball and would just watch in between contractions. At some point after Big Brother went off, the nurse came in to talk to me because I was getting very, very tired. Like, worn out tired. Like, it felt like I had had one of those days where I got up early and didn’t sit down all day because I was running around and then went to work out and then was up late. Yeah, it was that kind of tired.  The nurse knew that I didn’t want to get an epidural, and had had 3 natural births herself, so she was really supportive or that, but she asked if I wanted some pain medication. She said “Bethany, it isn’t cheating if you have something to help take the edge off the pain so you can rest for a few minutes.” I was so torn about this because she was so sweet and so understanding about my birth plan but I didn’t want to make a decision too quickly so I told her to come back and ask me the same thing in an hour.

The next hour, she asked me again, and once again I was so torn about “giving in” and having some pain medication, or going completely natural so I told her to come back and ask me in a little bit. I think I told her one more time to come back and then I finally agreed to have a tiny bit of pain medication. She said she was going to give me the smallest dosage she could, and that it would just take the edge off. She gave me the medication in my IV and I felt the contraction pains lessen right away. It was wonderful. I had to sit in the bed while I had the medication because they didn’t want it to make me loopy and for me to possibly fall. She gave me a little bit more once it wore off because the contractions came back even more intense than they had been and I was not ready for that pain yet.

Then shift change happened. The craziest thing happened. The nurse who was there during Paxton’s delivery walked through the door! I was elated! She had been a huge help to me during Paxton’s birth and I was relieved to know I was in good hands, even though my wonderful nurse was leaving. She was a little less “all around wonderful” than the last time, if I can say that. She was still great but she seemed a little more tired and a little less encouraging. Who knows, maybe it was me.

She ended up asking if I wanted more pain medication and I said yes, that this would be my last dose before I was going to give birth. She ended up giving me a much larger dose without me knowing it and it knocked me out. Like, I was literally sleeping through my contractions. Now, granted, it was after midnight at this point and I was seriously exhausted, but the dose was so much so that it stopped my contractions for a bit and stopped my labor. When I came to and they checked me and I realized that my labor had basically stopped, I was very frustrated and slightly angry. Part of it was the fact that I knew all my family was there, exhausted too, and waiting to help me give birth and I wanted to get this show on the road! I know I shouldn’t have been worried about that at the time but I couldn’t help it.

When I woke up and they checked me and said that labor had stopped I was feeling very anxious, like I had gone through all that pain for possibly nothing at this point. We discussed the options with the midwife, and she suggested breaking my water. I knew, from doing some research, that once my water was broken, the contractions would get extremely painful and it wouldn’t be long before I would deliver. I was terrified to make the call because I was so worried about being able to give birth without an epidural. I knew I was just delaying the inevitable though so we agreed to have the midwife break my water. Immediately, I mean within probably 2 minutes, I felt the worst contractions of my life. I was freaking out. The pain was ridiculous. I was panicking because I just didn’t think I could stand the pain and I sort of knew that it was too late for an epidural at this point.

I don’t know how to describe this part of labor. I was in transition, and it was painful. I was crying and trying not to hyperventilate. And I was a Chatty Cathy during this part of labor. I kept everyone abreast of what I was feeling and I couldn’t shut up. It felt like if I shut up and stopped talking, the pain might get worse and no one would know. It was like I kept thinking that if people knew how much pain I was in, I would be ok, I wouldn’t die. They wouldn’t let me die. I kept focusing on the monogrammed “D” on one of my overnight bags, and I remember fussing at people to move if they stood in front of it and I couldn’t see it. It was like that defaulted to be my focal point. I wanted that stupid “D” to rescue me. I wanted it to reach out and hold me and take the pain. How weird, right?

During this part of labor I had been sitting on the birthing ball and the pain started to get so bad that I was getting nauseous and feeling like I was going to throw up. If you know me at all, you know I do NOT do throwing up. I have a phobia of throwing up and seriously panic when I feel like I’m going to be sick. Of course Chatty Cathy told everyone that I was feeling nauseous and how freaked out I was (and having hot flashes because I was seriously panicking so badly over the thought of throwing up) and I went into MAJOR freak out mode when I saw them getting a barf bag out. Like, I remember seeing someone shake it out, like you would before you put a trash bag in the trash can, and I was just freaking out. I was swallowing hard and trying to breathe through these horrible contractions and I was NOT having fun.

I felt like very soon after my water had been broken, that I was getting the urge to push, but I wasn’t sure. It was freaking me out to not be sure if I was feeling the urge to push and I was absolutely terrified to push too early because I had read that if you push too soon, you can cause the area to swell and then its even harder to birth the baby.

Someone asked if I wanted to get in the bed to be checked to see if I was ready to push and I said yes. I was a little panicky getting off the birthing ball but I also didn’t want my little Maverick to be birthed on the floor or bounce off the birthing ball. At this point, I kept telling everyone I was ready, I couldn’t do it, I might die, etc. I had wanted to trick myself into waiting so long to get an epidural that I couldn’t have one and here we were. And I hated life. I was so riled up that I couldn’t shut up. I was crying and trying not to cry, and hyperventilating and trying not to, and all the while having the most serious pain happen in my life. I felt as though someone had taken a jagged knife and was cutting the inside of me out, like they were carving out a melon. Then I started thinking about the possibility of ripping again and I was freaking out over that. It was all around the craziest freak out session I’ve ever had. The word that comes to mind is desperate. I was desperate to have the pain gone. I was desperate to have people understand how I was feeling. I was desperately crying out for relief. I was desperately asking God to help me not throw up. I was desperate to meet my baby.

When it was finally time to push, I admit, I majorly held back the first 2-3 pushes. I wasn’t even worried about pooping, well, I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I wasn’t worried about it. I was strictly focused on the amount of pain and exhaustion I was experiencing. I was afraid that I was going to have a big baby so I was worried about the head making me rip again and when I finally started pushing, truly pushing, I naively thought that if I pushed harder, it would ease the pain. Um, no. That did not happen. But, for some reason, I kept thinking it so I kept pushing harder. I remember being so mad at everyone because no one was giving me an update on how I was progressing. I wanted to know if they could see the head, or if they knew what color hair he had, and I remember thinking I was just so upset with all these people in the room because no one thought enough to keep the birthing mother informed. I was later told that I was being given updates on the regular. Oh. Who knew!? I guess not the pain-crazed patient. I remember feeling one push feel a lot different, and the only way I can describe it is if you’ve ever had a stomachache that cramped your stomach so bad that you went to the bathroom and (excuse me for this analogy) pooped because your stomach was cramping and it was just happening, not because you were doing any work to make it happen. I’m really hoping that you know what I’m talking about right now. That’s how this one push felt, like I started pushing and then my stomach just took over and we were both pushing and apparently I birthed his head and then the midwife told me to push some more and she worked the shoulders out and he was here.

Maverick Banning Delk was born at 5:27am on September 12th, 2013 after 30 minutes of pushing, weighing 7lbs 13oz, 20.5 inches long. Part of my birth plan was that I wanted to have skin-on-skin time as soon as he was born so we ripped open my hospital gown and put him on my chest. They put my gown back up over top of him and we cuddled like this for over an hour. I didn’t cry like I cried when I gave birth to Paxton. I felt a lot more clarity after giving birth to Maverick. I had cried so much during the labor and delivery, maybe I had cried myself out… who knows. But I do know that my mascara was a seriousssss mess on my face and people were snapping pictures and I finally said “Um, can someone fix my face so I can get some decent pictures!?”

I also remember birthing the placenta was a little more difficult this time and I actually had to really push to get it out. After that, Brandon cut the cord and I was being prepped to stitch up. Yep, I ripped again. I was still in so much pain and with the midwife giving me shots to try and numb the area and not waiting for the shots to work, I was pretty irritated. I finally said “Um, I’ve done my part. I gave birth without an epidural and I am DONE being in pain. I need something for pain RIGHT NOW.” I wanted some kind of narcotic or something. I was seriously done with being in pain. I had been in pain for a whole day and was exhausted and wanted to enjoy my time with my new baby. According to Brandon, I was not nice. Oops. Hey, I'm nice most of the time and dang it, I had just given birth! The last thing I wanted was to feel that needle sewing me up! 

I got to nurse Maverick and it was beautiful. It was one of those moments where I didn't care that everyone had just seen all my lady parts and that my gown was down around my waist and there were 3 or 4 hands in there helping squeeze colostrum out of my boobs. It was like it was just me and Maverick, in the glow of the hospital lights, bonding and snuggling together, trying to remember the touch of each other's skin and how we fit together so perfectly. If you're a mom, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That moment where the edges get fuzzy because you're so in love and so in awe of the beautiful being that you created with someone you love so much. It's like the love makes everything feel like it will burst. Like it all has soft edges and smells sweet and new and warm. 

I cherish that time I got to be with Maverick right after he was born, and I remember being so curious about how much he weighed and how long he was but that I didn't want to hand him over to anyone else. After cuddling him so long in the womb, I wasn't ready to part with him yet. I wish I could describe the feelings in that moment, because none of this seems to do is justice. 

I know this was a crazy long (and slightly TMI in some areas) post, but I love being able to read Paxton's birth story and want to be able to remember the births of my babies for all time. I know I'll cry when I read this in the future and I hope you cry a little too, thinking about your own babies' birth stories. I'm so glad God gave us Maverick. We love you so, so much already little guy!

The Truth About Pregnancy

Pregnancy is this crazy miracle. Stop and think about it for a minute. One day a baby is formed from practically nothing and then grows inside of a woman until she gives birth. The baby is living and moving inside the woman's body for months before entering into the world. That, my friends, is crazy!

I'll never forget the moment a few weeks ago when Brandon looked at me and said "Did you know that in some places, abortion would still be legal for you? Isn't that insane?" I sat, shocked, because I had been feeling my baby move for weeks. Long before anyone else could feel him kick, I knew there was a sweet child inside me, kicking and squirming around. How could any woman abort (aka KILL) a baby inside her, knowing, feeling, her baby was alive?

I know some woman love to be pregnant. Like, they relish in every moment of pregnancy, and the whole 10 months is easy for them. They have no complaints and think of pregnancy like any other year in their life.

If I'm honest (and let's be real, this is my blog - that I don't think anyone really reads anyways - so I'm always honest), I have to say that I don't enjoy pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I love creating this life inside me and love the miracle that happens during pregnancy and am in awe of it still, even in my second go-round. But I don't feel good. I have moments where I feel ok, but I really never feel great during pregnancy. I go through the motions of life while I'm pregnant and I smile and carry on like everything is hunky dory but there's a good chance I'm grimacing inside. Not because I don't want to be pregnant. Because I do. But because I'm uncomfortable and lots of time in pain.

I'm short. Pretty short anyways, I stand at a whopping 5'2. I also have a short torso. This means there isn't a ton of space for a growing baby. And with both of my pregnancies, my ribs have expanded... a lot. And this is painful. My narrow hips also expand and this, too, causes me many nights of pain and sleeplessness. I also spend a lot of time being nauseous. When I was pregnant with Paxton, I was somewhat nauseous every.single.day. With this pregnancy, I was so intensely nauseous during the first 15 weeks that I wasn't sure I would survive. The morning sickness has subsided considerably, but if I get hungry at all, there's a good chance nausea is right around the corner. The task of feeding myself to stay ahead of the nausea is highly annoying. Especially because aside from the frozen lemonade craving and a few other random, isolated cravings, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WANT TO EAT. I wish it was simple, but I look in my pantry and fridge, night after night, and shut the doors in frustration because I just don't know what I want to eat. And I've tried walking the aisles at the grocery store. Same thing. Nada.

Chances are, if I complain out loud, there are 15 times I've complained in my head. I'm so cautious about complaining about aches and pains during pregnancy because I know there are so many women who would give anything to be pregnant, or who have lost a baby during pregnancy. I know there were months where I begged God to be pregnant and to expand out family and was devastated when I found out I wasn't. We didn't even tell people we were really "trying" because it was too devastating to me to find out over and over again that we weren't. The last thing I wanted was people checking in on our progress.

So I don't want to complain because I don't want people to think I'm not grateful. Because I am so grateful and so thrilled to be blessed with bringing another life into this world. BUT, being grateful doesn't negate the fact that I'm nauseous, I can't breathe, my hips hurt, I have nerve pain through my stomach, my ribs ache, I feel fat, I get winded when I move too fast, my fingers and ankles are swollen, my skin feels like its going to explode, I'm having annoying Braxton Hicks contractions several times every hour, I fight obnoxious amounts of phlegm and snot every day, my back is screaming at me, I'm constantly hungry, I'm tired, my feet hurt, I'm hot, I have to pee 3 times every night, coffee (one of my favorite things ever) makes me gag, my nose is on serious high alert and can pick up smells that will make me sick in a nanosecond, some foods that I usually love taste different, I can't reach my toes to paint them (and its summer!), its hard to shave my legs, I can't stand or sit too long before I'm miserable, I'm not comfortable... ever. ETC.

So, the truth about pregnancy for me is that while I don't enjoy feeling miserable the majority of a year, I relish in the fact that I'm growing a sweet miracle who I know is going to change my life and I am so incredibly grateful that God picked me to carry this baby until he comes into the world.

The truth is, I'll probably want to do this again in a few years, and unless something is drastically different, I'm probably spend 10 months silently complaining to myself about how badly I feel but knowing that I am wildly blessed. There's just nothing quite like looking at my baby boy and realizing that every ache and pain is erased because he is worth it a thousand times over.

The truth is, I'm incredibly grateful.

Things I Don't Want To Forget

I've often said throughout this little blog that I have a terrible memory. Its true. I can't remember so much that I wish I could. Honestly, I attribute it mainly to my own little version of PTSD. My family went through a traumatic shattering when I got home from my freshman year of college. By shattering, I mean just that. Picture a beautifully clear window, with no imperfections, fresh coat of paint around the edges. Now picture a sledgehammer swinging through the early summer breeze and creating tiny shards of splintered glass. I can almost hear the noise, almost feel sharp edges of barely visible pieces of glass pricking my arms.

We were never the same. Sure, we were versions of ourselves, but mainly masks over cut and bleeding selves for a long time. The psychology of the whole thing - a divorce - is mind-blowing, almost too much. I would argue that these events changed me - and Mom and Josh - literally. All three of us have battled terrible memories since these events. Now you might laugh at this, but I don't remember having a bad memory prior to this. But seriously!

I didn't even mean to write all of that, but now that its done, I think I'll leave it. Sorry to have started out such a fun post with such a depressing story. If it helps at all, we have all moved on and are happy. Simply, wonderfully, happy. And time will tell, but for now, we're ok. Thank you, Lord.

Anywho... on to the memories I just can't bear to forget.

I've had a few moments of pregnancy brain so far this pregnancy and they are just too humorous to forget. There was that one day a few weeks ago when I left my keys at Michaels and the cashier had to come running after me because I was oblivious. In my defense, I would have probably figured it out eventually :)

The next pregnancy brain moments is one of my favorites. I was picking Paxton up from the sitter's house and was busy writing her a check when she interrupted me. She looked at my quizzically and said "Made to the order of... Paxton??" I wrote a check to my 2-year-old. Hilarious!

The other day I had picked Paxton up after work and as we were driving down the road, I asked him how his day was, what he did, etc. Then I asked him what he had for lunch, and he answered. Then I asked if he had a snack and his response made me immediately burst with laughter. He said "Mom, I've already answered this question. Please do not ask me that again." This kid!

Another Paxton-ism while we were driving down the road the other day... I heard from the backseat soft singing (as I usually do when we're in the car, you know, Wheels on the Bus, The Farmer in the Dell, etc) then abruptly "Goodness gracious! We're gonna have to get some scissors and cut that!" I have no idea what he was referring to but my little toddler sounded so grown up!

Fear Versus Peace

This may be one of the longer posts I've written, so you've been warned!

Do you ever hear a still, small voice whispering things to you that you don't want to hear? I'm not talking about the voice telling you to eat that third cupcake, I'm talking about the voice that whispers serious change in your future. I'm talking about God preparing you for the road ahead.

I am 21 weeks pregnant.

I've heard that voice since the beginning of this pregnancy, whispering - almost inaudibly - that something will be wrong with this baby. I have chosen to ignore this voice for almost 20 weeks. I have not mentioned the whisperings to Brandon, nor spoken them aloud to anyone else, for fear that if I voiced them aloud, they would be true.

Two weeks ago, something that I can only think of as being divine happened. My stepfather called with   news that he suddenly had an extra ticket to the golf tournament in Charlotte and he wanted Brandon to go with him. I joked with my Mom and said I wanted to crash their guys weekend, take Paxton with us and go for a spontaneous weekend getaway. Well, we ended up doing just that. Deryl upgraded the hotel reservation, and we all piled in the car Saturday morning and set off for a fun weekend in Charlotte. Sunday morning Brandon and Deryl went to the golf tournament and here's where the divine happened.

Mom, Paxton and I attended Elevation Church Sunday morning. During the last worship song before Pastor Steven came on stage, to the words about God's glorious grace, I clearly heard a voice tell me that something would be wrong with my baby. The voice also told me that even though this was the case, not to worry because God already knew and was preparing Brandon and I to be able to handle this. Pastor Steven came out on stage during that song and talked about God's grace. How grace literally meant weight and God's grace wasn't a puny grace, it was a weighty grace that was enough. Enough.

The strangest thing happened.

I felt fear and peace battle each other all morning. I could not keep it together. Big, wet, elephant tears streamed down my face the entirety of the church service. The message was actually a Q&A about God's Will and e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g that was said, was said to me.

I cried because I did not know what was wrong with my baby. I cried because I didn't know if there was something I had done to harm my baby. I cried because I was afraid of what it could be. I cried because I wasn't sure I could be strong enough.

I cried because I was ashamed that I wasn't sure I trusted that voice telling me it would be ok.

Leaving that church I knew I was being prepared for some measure of uncertainty in the rest of this pregnancy. I was calm because, well, I don't know why. I was just calm. Afraid, but calm.

I was able to barely whisper my fears to Mom on the way home from Charlotte, only because I know what a prayer warrior she is and I knew I needed that.

I didn't get up the nerve to tell Brandon my fears until a few nights later. Our conversation went a little like this: "Babe, I have something to tell you." By the seriousness in my tone, Brandon slowly turned to pay full attention. "I think God is telling me that there is something wrong with the baby."

Brandon looked away and said "He's been telling me too."

And then I cried some more. I told him about the voice I'd heard since the beginning of the pregnancy and my experience at Elevation Church. I told him how afraid I was, but that I had been praying almost non-stop for clarity and peace and that I thought God was already preparing us to be the parents of this child. We shared an intimate moment talking about our fears and about how God was busy assuring us.

Two days later we had our ultrasound. While we were excited about finding out the sex of our baby, we were both very anxious about hearing the ultrasound technician tell us what was wrong with the baby.

As she looked at our baby, she reassured us things were looking great and if she didn't say so, we asked, and then she would tell us. I was feeling so much better. I saw a healthy brain, a beating heart, tiny ribs, and all 4 limbs.

And then we looked at the kidneys. "I'm seeing something with the kidneys, but you aren't hearing this from me," she said. And while the blood rushed to my ears and muted my hearing, I was able to hear her say "The doctor will tell you more about this and I don't want to alarm you, but he will want to talk to you about your baby's kidneys being filled with excess fluid."

I had to remind myself to breathe.

The scan continued and I tried to get excited about the fact that we were going to learn the gender soon. We had asked that the technician not tell us, but rather seal up the results so we could have a gender reveal party.

The wait after the scan until we got to see the doctor seemed like forever. We took pictures with our sealed envelope, checked our email, and talked nervously in spurts. And then I made the mistake of googling. Note to self: Don't google medical conditions when you're pregnant because it seriously just leads to major anxiety. When we finally got to talk with the doctor, the only thing on my mind was the baby's kidneys. The doctor confirmed that the baby's kidneys were swollen and filled with excess fluid. He also assured us that this was a fairly common occurrence and would likely clear up before our next ultrasound, which would be in four weeks.

I kept feeling that calm feeling again.

My experience the last 2 weeks I'm sure mirrors lots of other couples'. I heard God speaking to me gently at first and then He knew I needed to be prepared for our ultrasound so He spoke more loudly and grabbed my attention. I'm not sure I've ever felt anxiety and peace at war like I did over the last week. I'm not completely at peace, and won't be until our next ultrasound, but the worry isn't all consuming like one might think. I am resting in this fact: God has been preparing Brandon and I to be the parents of this child and we are being equipped in ways we aren't even aware of yet. God won't give us anything we can't handle, and we know we will love this child no matter what.

I am quite sure that my child is perfect. This baby is being perfectly shaped to fit into our lives and perfect for us. I am thrilled that we are being entrusted with another life and I can't wait to meet this baby.

If you're reading this, we would be honored if you would join with us in prayer for our baby.

Week 19 and 20 Pregnancy Comparison Pictures

I've been slacking on posting lately. Honestly I've been so busy with life (work, blogging at Penny Filled Pantry, family, working out, and planning an awesome party- stay tuned) that I haven't had time to post here.

Here is what I looked like at week 19:

Here's my comparison of what I looked like at 19 weeks during my 1st pregnancy versus what I looked like during 19 weeks this pregnancy:

Here is what week 20 looked like:

Here's what week 20 looked like during my first pregnancy versus pregnancy number 2:

Stay tuned for our gender reveal soon!

17 Weeks Pregnant With Baby #2

How far along? 17 weeks
Weight gain? Ummm... 13lbs already! I wanted to fall off the scale at the doctor's office. How is it possible to gain weight this quickly?! Morning sickness? MUCH much better. I've resigned myself to that yucky feeling every morning and practically run to the kitchen to get breakfast as soon as I wake up. I also have to chew minty gum every second I'm not eating. Weird but it helps keep that slight queasy feeling away.
Maternity clothes? Pants still, but I'm trying to rock non-maternity tops for as long as possible. Someone please feel free to prove me wrong, but for the most part, maternity shirts are NOT cute. I just don't have any desire to look like I'm wearing a flowery potato sack. 
Best moment this week? Getting to hear baby #2's heartbeat again at our doctor's appointment! Plus we got to schedule our anatomy scan ultrasound where we'll find out the sex of the baby! Eeeeee!!! SO excited! We will be having a gender reveal party so stay tuned for some (hopefully) "Pin-able" pictures and an update of what baby #2 is!
Movement? Kicks and flips! Baby has been kicking mostly on the right side but I noticed a funny feeling earlier this week and then kicks on the left side! Someone is swimming laps in there! ;) As far as MY movements (aka exercise) I wrote a post about running during the first trimester and will have an update soon on how exercising and running in the second trimester is going. 
Food cravings? Nothing really spectacular still. Totally bummed about this. I guess maybe I should be grateful because cravings could be anything...
Food aversions? Coffee for sure and sweets somewhat. I've actually eaten a few pieces of candy (first time in 4 months!!) and a few random bites of dessert here and there. Then during the middle of this past week, I started thinking non-stop about a blueberry cake donut from Dunkin Donuts and decided to do what my hubby has been telling me "follow your craving", so I did! I scarfed that donut down in about 35 seconds! :) I had to pop a piece of gum immediately afterwards so my tummy didn't get too queasy but it sure was delicious.  
What I’m looking forward to… Finding out the sex of this baby!!

Here is my comparison of pregnancy #1 and #2 in the same week... The picture on the left is me 17 weeks pregnant with baby #1 and the picture on the right is me pregnant now with baby #2! Am I carrying totally different this time or what!?

Hormones Justified... No, Really!

If you've ever been pregnant, known a pregnant woman, or been married to one, then you know about the craziness of pregnancy hormones. Let's liken it to monthly mood swings on crack. Ok, ok, so that analogy is a bit crude, but forgive me, I'm pregnant... and moody!

Pregnancy hormones can cause anger one minute and pure joy the next. Tears on, tears off. Insurmountable frustration and happy-go-lucky freedom.

This week, I was talking with someone who told me about 2 different couples whose marriages were suffering and they are separated. I know of another couple whose marriage is rocky right now.

I couldn't help myself. I cried, and cried, and cried.

Real conversation:

"But you don't even know these couples that well." More tears.

"I know," (between sobs), "but marriage is supposed to last forever!"

"They might be able to work things out."

"But, separation... that's so serious! That's the first serious step towards, towards... DIVORCE! Don't they know that when they got married, they took a vow before God and each other that they would be there for one another, through thick and thin, sickness and health, good times and bad times!? Don't they remember LOVING each other???"

And I sobbed some more. Because I remember my wedding day, and I remember my vows. I remember committing to Brandon that I would love him all the days of my life, through whatever was thrown our way, and that I would follow him as a loyal friend and partner, wherever God led him.

Then I cried some more, because I thought about our Father and how He has promised to love us, not just until we mess up, but through our mistakes. Wouldn't we be hurt and shocked if He just gave up on us? He is always there and won't ever give us more than we can bear.

I'm no marriage counselor, but here's my advice:

If your marriage is struggling, stop for a minute and remember. Remember what it was like in the days of "puppy love" with your spouse. Now bring yourself back to the present and look at what you have done and what your spouse has done. Have you done all you could humanly possible to show your spouse you cared? My guess is that the love notes in the car or on the counter stopped after the first year, the "just because I love you" gifts stopped shortly after that, and you might have even stopped kissing each other before bed, because it was just easier to go to sleep.

And here's a real zinger. When was the last time you prayed for your spouse?

Not prayers that they would stop being a jerk and screwing up your life, but praying for the man or woman that they are. Praying that God would protect their heart and eyes and mind each day. That he or she would take giant steps forward in the path that God has laid out for them each day. Prayers that he or she would stay healthy, kind, and become wise. Prayers that your relationship would grow in leaps and bounds because of the honest communication you share and because of the commitment you strive and choose to keep each day.

Your spouse is a gift. Personally, I can't imagine a day without mine. God uniquely paired Brandon and I together and designed us for one another. We are a team and even through difficult times, we are committed to one another. We make each other whole. There are times when I withdrawal from the relationship bank and Brandon has to keep on depositing, and there are other times that I am the one depositing, but through it all, we complete each other. I can truly say that one of the best parts about our marriage is our open and honest communication with one another. We have no secrets. We talk about things before they become issues and even if we disagree, we talk about it.

So, you see, my hormones were justified this week. I was broken over these marriages and rightly so.

What has God broken your heart about lately?

What do you specifically pray for your spouse about each day?

Take THAT Miss Piggle Wiggle

I’m pregnant. A lot of what I write when I’m pregnant is dictated by one of two things usually: Food and Hormones. Today’s post is sponsored by crazy pregnancy hormones.

Let me set the stage for you.

Growing up, I thought I could never fail. In fact, failure wasn’t even an option in my mind. My mom always told me “You can do whatever you put your mind to” and I believed her - seriously. I thought my mom knew everything and I just knew she was right about that too so I never thought that I wouldn’t succeed when I tried something.

I distinctly remember the very first time I ever* (*and by ever I mean the first big one, the one that counts in my mind) failed. I, on a whim and as my mom recounts the story “in the 5 minutes between school and cheerleading practice”, tried out for the jv soccer team. I didn’t make it. I guess I should have prefaced all of this with the fact that I’d never ever played soccer before, but, nonetheless…

I was devastated.

I cried and cried and cried because the heavy reality that I COULD fail weighed on my shoulders. In my naivety, honestly never considered it an option. It took me about a week to grieve the loss of my “un-failingness” (is this a word?) and then my resolve set in.

You guessed it. I worked my tail off the next year and made the soccer team. I turned failure on its head and created victory! Hooray! (Note: I was never “great” at soccer, but I played the rest of the time in high school and was great at running up and down the field and occasionally kicking the ball.)

Can you sense the next challenge? It wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows after making the soccer team.

My junior year in high school I took honors trigonometry. Throughout my high school career, I was a bit of a nerd and took the highest level in math you could take during that particular school year (another note: I am NOT that great at math either). About the middle of the year, we were sent home with a list of classes we needed to choose for the following year and in keeping with my track record, I chose AP Calculus. {Yes, we did all just shudder together.} I turned in my form and got my final class schedule a few weeks later.

To my shock and dismay, my schedule read “Honors Calculus” instead of “AP Calculus.” For some of you, you might be thinking “so what’s the big deal? Isn’t that better?!” And no, it wasn’t. Not for achieving, thought-she-could-not-fail-Bethany. I wanted a challenge. I didn’t want to pass Honors Calculus with all A’s because that would have left me wondering if I could have done AP just fine.

I went to my Trigonometry teacher, who - Lord forgive me - I cannot for the life of me remember her real name because I’ve always called her Miss  Piggle Wiggle (she really looks like her!), and asked why my schedule had been changed to Honors Calculus.

She said the one thing that a teacher should NEVER ever say to a student – “Oh Bethany, because you won’t succeed in AP Calculus.”

I’m gonna let that sink in for a minute.

…

No, I did not drop out of high school because I was so discouraged. No, I did not go home and cry because I wasn’t good enough. No, I did not report her.

Instead, I went to my guidance counselor’s office, got a little half sheet that said “Parent Override” and had my mom sign and say that I was to be put in AP Calculus my senior year. I went on to my senior year and successfully got a collection of A’s and B’s in my AP Calculus class. About 3 A’s on my report card deep, I marched down the hall to Miss Piggle Wiggle’s room and politely showed her my report card. “I just wanted to let you know that you were wrong. I, in fact, CAN succeed in AP Calculus.”

Take THAT Miss Piggle Wiggle!

Fast forward to today. Many failures and mistakes later, I stumbled across another blog and read a post about motherhood and how easy it is to think that you’re failing at the task while I was at lunch. It altered the course of my day. I cried (almost uncontrollably) throughout my lunch (yes, at a public restaurant) and all the way back to work. I gave myself a few minutes to recover in the parking lot and made my way back inside, bloodshot eyes and all.

I thought the rest of the day about Miss Piggle Wiggle and about my son. If you’re having trouble tying the two together in your mind, let me explain. Sometimes I feel as though I’m a failure to my son. I feel like I’ve let this precious 2-year-old down. Maybe it’s because I reacted to a situation to quickly and inappropriately, or because he won’t listen when I ask him to do something. Maybe it’s because I fed him a combination of Lucky Charms and sliced pepperoni for dinner one night, or because I don’t take him to the park often enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m a horrible parent, but I have my days when I really question whether I’m making all the best choices for my son. I end up comparing us to other families and get discouraged when we don’t match up in certain areas. There are little things that, as a mother, I know you can probably relate to. This little voice in my head says “Well good job, you breastfed your son for 17 months, but you bought all store-bought baby food and never made your own. What were you thinking?” Or “Congratulations, you work hard to help provide for your family, but someone else is raising your son.”

Let me stop right here and say bad decisions or even less favorable ones don’t outweigh the good ones. They don’t cancel out all your efforts to be a good mom. Just because your son put his feet on the table at the restaurant doesn’t mean you haven’t taught him a thousand times that we don’t do that. Don’t beat yourself up over things that the little voice in your head is telling you makes you a bad mom.

You’re not a bad mom. You’re just… a mom. One who is trying her hardest to parent her child or children day by day. Newsflash: no one’s child is perfect. That possibility was wiped out long ago when a certain couple ate the forbidden fruit. No one’s family is perfect. I guarantee you that the family that took their child to the zoo, the children’s museum, a birthday party, the library, and to make their own set of pottery in a week fed their kid popcorn and Oreos for lunch. Or they lost their kid at the mall. Or they snapped at their child when he/she dropped the piece of pizza into the tiger cage.  You get my point, right?

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm73:26

Thank you, Lord! I don’t HAVE to be perfect! Where I fail, God will pick me up and be my strength.

4Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.5Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. 6These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. 7Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. 8Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. 9Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:4-9

Boil it down to the basics of what you’ve got to do, and this is it. Teach your children lovingly and with good conviction and when they grow up, they won’t forget what you’ve taught them! Tell them that Jesus is Lord and He wants what is best for us.

Keep trying to be a good mom. Because you are. It doesn’t matter what others think of you, what matters is that you make every decision while parenting out of love. I oftentimes have to remind myself that even though we jokingly say in our house “Oh it must be so hard to be a toddler” (complete with an eye roll), I bet it is difficult sometimes to be a child. Most decisions are made for you and you have little control over things. So even when I’m having a pity party about not being a “good mom”, I remember that I’m the only mom my son has and he thinks I’m wonderful.

I think you’re wonderful, too.

So, Miss Piggle Wiggle, take THAT! I passed AP Calculus with flying colors and now I’m raising a handsome and sweet little boy, with another baby on the way and whether you think so or not, I am a good mom and will spend the rest of my days trying to be the best mom to my children I can possibly be.

Round Two

I have an announcement to make, right after I kick myself for not having kept up with this blog. Oh the memories that exist only in the pictures from my iPhone, on Facebook, and in the recesses of my poor memory. I almost feel like I need to mourn the loss of those precious memories, which will unfortunately fade. I am resolving to be better at documenting my memories. Someone, please, keep me accountable.

On to the good news. We're pregnant again! Paxton is going to be a big brother! We are absolutely thrilled and obviously this is what is spurring on my want to blog again. I captured the moments of my first pregnancy and have so enjoyed being able to go back and read through those memories and I want to do the same with this pregnancy. I don't want to forget a thing. Some of it might not be fun, it may be painful, and I might (scratch that, I WILL) complain, but I want to remember it. There's something so precious about reading through my thoughts years later. I get to relive it in a way and that is so so sweet.

So to catch you up on where we are now, here's a little history...

About a year ago we knew we wanted to start trying to have another baby. In fact, it was a little over a year ago and the funniest thing happened. Once Brandon and I agreed we were ready for Baby #2, Paxton got very very sick. So sick, we ended up in the Emergency Room on Christmas night. We didn't sleep for 3 days. We reevaluated and decided we weren't quite ready for that kind of a night plus a baby. We waited. A few weeks later we decided we were ready. Paxton got sick. Very sick. We didn't sleep for 3 days. We reevaluated and decided to wait. A few weeks later, we're ready. Repeat process of Paxton getting sick, us not sleeping, having terrified thoughts of crazed sleepless nights and a baby on top of all that. For literally 6 months this happened to us. Then we decided, ya know, maybe the timing just isn't right. Brandon is a little more keen to this than I am.

Then just a few weeks ago I went to the doctor and found out I was pregnant. It was very early on- only 4 weeks- and we were so excited to tell our families. BUT, we got the flu. Paxton got it first and even though I was determined not to get it - afterall I had gotten my flu shot this year AND I lysoled everything in my house (literally everything, including the shampoo in the shower and milk in the fridge. I wasn't messin' around) - I got it anyways. I started having a sore throat Tuesday night and by Wednesday morning I knew I had the flu. I went to the doctor and we decided not to do Tamiflu because they weren't sure of the effects on babies in utero. It was a painfully long and miserable week. Many many thanks to my husband, the hero, who cared for us, and for the families from church who made us homemade soup. I was so disappointed that we wouldn't be able to tell our families that weekend.

Then the following Friday, I woke up (6 weeks pregnant) with a not so lovely and all too familiar feeling- morning sickness- and despite the sleet and snow, we drove to Lynchburg to stay with my mom and Deryl for the weekend. They didn't ask why we made the trek through the dangerous weather to get there and once we arrived we had Paxton ask MawMaw to read him his new book, I'm a Big Brother. The look on my mom's face was priceless. It was frozen in shock and then overjoyed! It was totally worth waiting 2 whole weeks to tell her! Congratulations MawMaw! You'll have another grandbaby soon!

While we were there, Josh and Christa came over for dinner and to hang out and mom asked if anyone wanted coffee after dinner. I declined mainly because I didn't want even a cup of decaf to keep me up that night but she and Christa wanted some so she started to brew the coffee. I was sitting at the end of the dining room table and a few minutes into the brewing, the smell reached me and I clamped a hand over my mouth and nose and gagged. I was in shock. With my first pregnancy I had a major aversion to coffee and it made me so sick that I couldn't drink it, smell it or be around it without becoming super nauseous and sick. With Paxton the aversion came on slowly but this time it hit me like a freight train. I spent an hour and a half in the bathroom and bedroom trying to recover from the smell of the coffee. Poor mom ended up taking the Keurig into her bedroom and brewing her cup of coffee the next morning out of the open area where I couldn't smell it. She's so thoughtful!

When we got back home, we planned to have Brandon's family over for dinner Sunday night. Somewhat suspicious since we don't do that often, and only Brittney, her kids, and Joan were there at first. Brad and Jessica (and friends haha!) came soon afterwards, but we missed having Nana and Pop too. We had Paxton pray for dinner and with only a little prompting from Brandon, he prayed also for the baby in mommy's belly. Joan wasn't shocked. She said she had a feeling that's why we were having everyone over for dinner but Brittney was shocked! She had no idea! And I was shocked she was shocked! I felt like I had dropped so many clues and that I thought surely she knew!

Here's how I'm feeling right now:

How far along? 10 weeks 5 days

Weight gain? 5lbs already! I’ve slacked on the running lately because of all the morning sickness and exhaustion and have been famished!

Morning sickness? YES. Oh yes. But this is 24/7 all day all night sickness. Starting promptly when I was 6 weeks pregnant, I have been green around the edges day and night. I’ve left work in the middle of the day (leaving everything except my keys!), hugged the white throne, and practically thrown the laptop mid-deal-posting for fear of losing my breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Pray for me!

Maternity clothes? not yet. I pretty much refuse to wear any maternity clothes until I reach the second trimester. I did have to buy new pajama bottoms that were a little less tight around the waist but I’m totally not counting that 

Best moment this week? Seeing my baby during the ultrasound today. I cried, well, like a baby, actually. Pun fully intended.

Movement? Not yet. He/she is moving, we saw that in the ultrasound, but I can’t quite feel it yet.

Food cravings? Not really, unless you count that week where I only wanted BBQ bacon cheeseburgers and that morning I had fish sticks for breakfast. Other than that, no cravings except for wanting whatever will make me feel less nauseous right then.

Food aversions? Coffee, just like in my first pregnancy, and -gasp- SWEETS. There is something majorly wrong with me. I LOVE sweets. Let me repeat. I LOVE SWEETS. But I canNOT stomach even the THOUGHT of something sweet right now. All desserts, breakfast foods that are sweet, all fruit, and even any vegetables that are slightly sweet make me gag and my stomach turn in circles. Literally. I opened a yogurt for my son the other morning, didn’t think about it and licked my finger, and almost had to bolt for the bathroom. So sad. So, so sad. 

What I’m looking forward to… hearing the baby’s heartbeat in a few weeks.