The Little Details

Today is most likely the last day of the last full month that I’m a mother of one. It feels pretty surreal, especially considering how quickly these last nine months have gone by. I can’t help but think about all the things I wanted to get done that are not done:

Start on Baby Boy’s scrapbook. I haven’t even purchased his scrapbook. In fact I’m not even 100% finished with Hannah’s first-year scrapbook.

Stock the freezer full of meals. I was far too exhausted to do much of anything my first time around with a newborn, so this sounds like a great idea, in theory. Unfortunately, I enjoy having leftovers too much to ever actually freeze anything. I foresee a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup in our future. Good thing one of the easiest meals is also the hubby’s favorite!

Get the house impeccably clean and organized. Thankfully, nesting has somewhat kicked into gear, and I have found the energy to get some of this accomplished lately. It just never feels complete, but I suppose it never will.

Make the most of this last little bit of time with just my sweet little girl. Fatigue has made this a challenge, but I hope I’ve been able to do this as best as I can. No doubt Hannah will love being a big sister, but things are about to change in ways that we can’t even imagine. The past two years have been so precious… and so fast.

I know I’m more prepared than I think. Eventually I’ll get into a routine, and everything will fall into place. And none of this really matters anyway because all I’m going to want to do is love on my two babies. I’ll forget why the rest of it seemed so important.

So tonight I'm letting go of the little things and simply enjoying my evening with my loved ones.

Happy Halloween!

Letter to Hannah: The Day You Came True

Hearing a baby’s heartbeat for the first time can be one of the most exhilarating experiences of a parent’s life. It can also be one of the most overwhelming and life-changing.

I was so anxious at my 12-week appointment when I was pregnant with you. I’d had a miscarriage many months earlier, and so far this new pregnancy had not been without complications and concerns. I didn’t know what to expect, but I just tried not to think about the possibility of things going the way they had before.

Your daddy sat in a chair next to the door, and I hopped up on the exam table. We didn’t say much until the midwife entered, and then we spoke to her briefly about my medical history and health. She talked about prenatal care. Then she pulled out her little black handheld Doppler.

 “Let’s take a listen.”

Dear God, No matter what, I know it’s going to be okay. I can be okay, whatever the outcome. It’s okay.

She poured the gel and pressed the Doppler to my tummy. I laid in silence, clenching my fists and straining to hear that precious sound as my own heart raced. It will be okay. Last time we never made it to this point.

She slowly navigated the Doppler around my abdomen, pausing occasionally. Nothing. Just static.

God, just help me to be okay. I’m giving it up to you. I know you’re in control.

I felt numb as she continued the search. More static. Agonizing seconds of no recognizable sounds.

“Where are you, baby?” she murmured as she listened closely.

No matter what. I’ll be okay.

And then, finally –

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

“There!” she said.

I was already crying, my body shaking with emotion. I let go of every sob I had held in for weeks. The tears and anxiety poured out, and the relief and hope flooded in. I covered my face with my hands and just let myself weep with joy.

Daddy came to my side and rubbed my arm gently, his eyes full of understanding.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for this blessing. Thank you for this hope.

That’s the moment I let myself start dreaming of you, the moment you became real. It’s the moment I let go and held on all at once. It’s the moment my new life began.

Costume FAIL

One Halloween night many years ago, I dressed up as a vampire. Now my frugal mom was never one to spend much money on our costumes – understandably, since they only get worn once – so my sisters and I often had homemade touches to our attire. Mom decided that since I was the “undead”, it was vitally important that my face was white. Finding a household product for such a purpose proved to be a difficult task. We didn’t have any sort of powder…Flour?...No, that wouldn’t do the trick…Ah, yes, of course…Noxzema.

For those of you unfamiliar with Noxzema, it’s a deep cleansing facial product that, oddly enough, contains many of the same ingredients as my beloved VapoRub. However, I most certainly do not have the same nostalgic feelings toward Noxzema as I do VapoRub, especially after this particular night.

When she applied the greasy goop, the first thing I noticed was how badly it stung my face.

“It’ll go away,” my mom assured me.

Eager to get started on the trick-or-treating, I accepted this explanation and chose to ignore the stinging sensation. We set out into the neighborhood.

The stinging did not go away.

My eyes watered and my skin burned more with each step we took. But I was determined and was not going to let some minor inconvenience like my face melting off to get in the way of my candy-collecting fun. I persevered through the pain, even though the vapors made my eyes feel like they were peering into the vortex of a steam engine.

When we returned home, I quickly removed the toxic mess from my face and happily munched on some chocolate, minimally affected by the ordeal. On the plus side, I probably had a really clear complexion for several weeks afterward.

When I recently reminded my mom about this particular incident, she was ready with the phrase that all parents must keep handy when their kids bring up these types of memories:

“You lived.”

It's A Zebra! I Mean...A Boy!

I’m going to wait on announcing the baby’s name until he gets here, but I will say that for some reason, Hannah can’t say it. She apparently thinks I’m giving birth to a baby zebra because when we ask her to say her brother’s name, she says excitedly, “Beebra!” I can assure you that his name sounds nothing like zebra or ‘beebra’, but who can understand the mind of a toddler?

Hopefully Baby Beebra’s sister will get the hang of his real name soon because I am 34 weeks pregnant today. Hannah was born at 38 ½ weeks. It’s amazing that I could possibly only have a month to go – or less – before this new little one gets here.

I know that for the most part, raising a boy will be the same as raising a girl. All children need love, attention, guidance…the usual. But I keep hearing all these stories about wild acrobatics, broken bones, and extra trips to the emergency room. Are boys really that much more rowdy than girls?

Hannah may be a sweet, pleasant little girl, but don’t let that fool you. She’s always had a bit of a daredevil streak in her. She used to enjoy blindly running around with her skirt on her head, and she frequently attempted to play with mom-unapproved ‘toys’, such as the cheese grater.

But for some reason I have a feeling that her antics won’t even begin to compare with the stuff that the little boy comes up with. Perhaps I just know his daddy too well.

So tell me, moms with boys: Is Hannah’s assessment of her brother as a wild animal not so far off?

Should I be preparing for insanity?