Snow.

I love snow. Several years ago I came to the conclusion that snow was God's way of showing me that he loved me. Like His personal gift to me.

You see, in the winter, the world gets so ugly...the leaves all fall off the trees, the grass dies, everything turns brown, and the landscape looks completely barren. Then, to make matters worse, the sky darkens, and you just know that it's going to be gloomy all day long. Then something miraculous happens: the heavens open, and beautiful crystalline flakes begin to drift down from the sky and cover everything in a sparkling blanket of white. Everything that was so terrible to look at suddenly becomes the most beautiful scene anyone has ever beheld. It didn't have to be that way. All the precipitation could come when it's warm enough to be rain, but that's not the case. God loves me so much that He lets it snow.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a particularly difficult day. Christopher finally convinced me to get out of the house for a little bit. We walked out the door to head towards the grocery store and discovered the most incredible sight. The parking lot was full of cars, every spot full, and even though there had been a light dusting of snow, none of them had snow on them except mine. Tears sprang to my eyes as I pointed out to Christopher that I knew everything would be okay because I was loved.

When I was a little girl, my mom died. I don't have very many pictures of myself with her, and on top of all that, there aren't any pictures that have any particularly special meaning. Because of that, I asked Chris to take some pictures of me with James the first real snow we had. It's important to me that my beautiful little boy knows that I wanted to share something that's special to me with him. That way, someday, when I can't be there to show him what he means to me, he'll have at least a little something to remind him.

I love my little James.

And my incredible husband.

And I love snow.

Welcome to the world, baby James!

October 18, 2010

I woke up at 7:30 AM to a contraction, but convinced myself that it was just a dream, and that my body was just waking me up because it felt like it. I laid in bed resting for most of the morning, and noticed before long that my contractions were regular. Exactly 30 minutes apart. I figured it was early labor, but that it would go on all day long.

At 11:30, I decided to take a nap. I woke up to contractions 4 times, and when I finally got up and looked at the clock it was 12:30. My contractions that had been 30 minutes apart were now 15 minutes apart. I didn't have any other sign that things were progressing, except that everything HURT, and BAD.

I called Christopher and told him I needed him to come home around 1:15. He didn't realize how serious I was! Meanwhile, I called the hospital told them I couldn't quite tell how far apart my contractions were. I was having CONSTANT pelvic pain, and was positive something was wrong. I wasn't feeling anything let up between contractions, and eventually couldn't tell I was having contractions at all. It just hurt ALL THE TIME. While I was waiting, I attempted to get myself all ready. I took a shower, and then never even got the chance to brush my hair.

We left for the hospital at 2:20, and when we got there around 2:40, I couldn't walk. They brought me a wheelchair, took me straight to triage, and checked me in while they were doing all my other checks. Usually they check you in before they put you in a room, but the guy at the desk seemed alarmed when we got there. Apparently I was already 5 cm and 90% effaced by the time they checked me the first time, and my contractions (according to the monitor) were 1.5-2 minutes apart. From 12:30 to 2:45, I NEVER had regular contractions, they just kept getting closer and closer and closer together. I think I skipped over the "5 minutes apart for 2 hours before you go to the hospital" phase all together. Thank goodness I trusted my instincts and left for the hospital anyway!

I was basically screaming for an epidural from the second I got in the door, and I think they finally put it in around 3:30 pm. While they were doing the epidural, I my water broke. At that point, I realized we were about to have a baby.

After the epidural, I felt great. I wanted to chat and hang out and have a great time, but in reality, wish I'd taken a nap.

My epidural wore off, and the head anesthesiologist had to come give me some more. I think the guy who gave me the first one was in trouble! (His supervisor came and did the second one, and really really wanted the name of the first doctor.) Anyway, they got that going way before I had to push, so I was okay, but it was definitely not comfortable.

I sent Christopher to get the nurse around 8:00pm and to tell her that I couldn't not push. I think it was against the doctor's wishes, but she said we could go ahead and get started. Apparently I pushed like a champ, and my [big] little guy was out in 45 minutes! It didn't really hurt all that much with the epidural , just a lot of pressure. It was DEFINITELY hard work. Christopher was right there by my side the whole time. He held my hand, coached me through the pushing, and kept reminding me that I was doing a good job.

Right as he was born, they cut the cord REALLY quick, didn't give Christopher a chance to do it. Put him up on my belly, but only for a second. I could tell something was wrong. Apparently he breathed in some fluid as he was coming out, so they had to make sure he was okay. I was really upset because I hadn't seen my little guy's face, but I was glad they were taking such good care of him. It only took a little while, and they brought him to me so I could hold him for the first time, but it definitely was a while before they let anyone else hold him. When the family first came in to see, he had to stay laying on his belly under the heat lamp. Eventually he got all the fluid out on his own. What a great little guy!

Our first few days at the hospital were nice. We had lots of visitors, and got to introduce James to so many of his family members!

We've been home now for almost 6 weeks. It's a much bigger adjustment than we ever imagined! We're all getting used to our roles in our new little family, and sometimes it's very difficult. We've learned a lot about communication and patience, but there will be much more about that later. This is just the birth story that I wrote down the night he was born, and I wanted to post it while I had a chance. (James is sleeping hands-free, and that almost never happens. In fact, now he's waking up.)

The Greater Your Capacity to Create.

In August, 2009, I asked a doctor what I needed to do to get my body ready to have children. Not because we planned on having a baby right away, but because I wanted to be prepared when we decided the time was right. Given my medical history and the medical conditions I had, she said two words that I feared would haunt me forever:

"Fertility Specialist."

I was 22. I hadn't been married for a year yet. How could someone say those words to me? I cried. For days. I felt like a failure as a woman, I felt like my life had ended, and like there was no reason to get out of bed in the morning. So I chose the easiest path for me, and I ignored it. I pretended it wasn't happening. I decided to not make any appointments with a fertility specialist, because I wasn't ready to admit that I might need help.

Months went by.

Then in January, I watched this video:

"You might say, 'I am not the creative type,' if that is how you feel, think again, and remember that you are spirit daughters of the most creative being in the universe. Isn't it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and compassionate God?"

The day I saw that video, I decided it was time to call the specialist. Not because I was ready to have the baby that minute, but because I knew that there was hope. Even if I couldn't do it naturally or traditionally, I could create a family. I could be a mother.

I scheduled the appointment.

And 5 days before my scheduled appointment, I got this:

A surprise, absolutely. A wonderful, beautiful, remarkable surprise. A blessing. But this is what has stuck with me the most:

"The more you trust and rely upon the spirit, the greater your capacity to create."

Unrequited?

Alli has been bugging me for some time to update the blog. Truth is, I feel like I don't have anything interesting to say about the present, so I'd like to take you back in time ten years.

This is from 2002, but it'll have to do because I can't find any older pictures right now.

It's August of the year 2000. I've just gone to band camp, and found myself nursing my very first high school crush. (We'll call it high school. I'm aware that Freshmen have their own

school at Fairfield, the very one I attended.) Now high school crushes are something special, when compared to the middle school days of, "We're going out," actually meaning nothing, and the college days when "boyfriend" could at any time be transformed into "husband." High school gives you something more.

There are different versions of the high school crush. There's the "OMGsoHOT" high school crush (though we weren't likely to use "OMG" in real conversation back then, it was still in its' infancy), and there's the "I can envision attending every high school dance with you" type of crush. This was the latter. Don't be fooled, I had plenty of the OMG crushes, but this was something different. I noticed him. I trusted him. I was friends with him.

I know. Friends. The magical word that will dash all hopes of a high school relationship. FRIENDS?! What was I thinking? You don't make FRIENDS with the guys you're interested in! I just didn't understand that.

So I passed him a note.

I told him I liked him.

I asked him if he liked me.

He said...

"No."

WHAT?! No?! How could he not? He talks to me all the time! He's my friend! Can't he see that there should be something more?

...oh. What's that? Guys don't date their friends? Crap.

A few months later, he got a girlfriend. She was one of my good friends, so I let it be. He and I were friends anyway, the kind of friends who have inside jokes and make fun of people behind their backs... (Don't worry! Only teachers!) I figured their relationship would end like the other relationships do, so I waited it out.

and I waited.

and waited.

and waited.

What? Senior year of high school, and they're STILL together? (This doesn't mean that I didn't have other guys in my mind that I was interested in, but if he'd ever come around, I would have been THRILLED, dropped all other prospects and lived happily ever after with the man of my Freshman dreams.)

So I went to college.

I got a boyfriend.

I sent him on a mission.

And I kept in touch with all my high school friends on Facebook.

Nearly seven years after I first noticed him, I changed my profile picture on Facebook.

He noticed.

NBD.

Now he's my husband.

It's a BOY!

He's due October 29. :) The ultrasound looked good (at least to us!) and he seems to be a pretty big dude, weighing in at 12 oz at 19 weeks 5 days!

Updates!

I say "Updates!" like it's something exciting that I'm going to tell you all about, but let's be honest here, people...I don't have anything interesting to say! So...another brief rundown of our lives:

Christopher graduates next month, and believe me, this is a time we never thought we'd see coming! It's a lot of fun to see the progress on his big capstone project, and I can't wait to show all of you the finished product, with the help of a wonderful voiceover talent, Rob Williams, and his daughter Kandi. There have been a lot of late nights here lately, and I'm so proud of him for all of his hard work, especially because it's definitely not easy to sit inside and work on the computer with the beautiful weather outside!

Things with the photography business are...slow. Hopefully I can get a few high school models so I can have some senior-type portraits to post as the summer hits. I'd like to do some advertising at Village green as the concert season kicks up! [This is the part where if you're a high school student, or the parent of one, you can get an AWESOME deal on pictures...as in ONLY pay for prints, and even that at a VERY reduced rate!]

Besides that, nothing else interesting going on here. If you ever need maternity clothes, go to the GAP outlet in Hebron, Ky...almost everything was in perfect condition! I was amazed! (And pleasantly surprised! It's nice to have some clothes that don't push on my belly. It may just look like fat, but I promise it's not because I'm eating too many doughnuts! In fact...I don't even really like those!)

We're switching to a new doctor, so hopefully I'll have details before too long about when we'll know the gender of this little nugget. Any guesses?

This is getting ridiculous!

Could someone please tell me why the second someone finds out you're pregnant, they're the top authority on your life? I get that you've been there before, that you "Know exactly how I'm feeling," but would you just shut up unless I ask you for your input? I do have examples of this:

Example number one: Fetal Demise

Well Meaning Woman (WMW): How far along are you now?

Me: 11 weeks

WMW: Oh. That's about how far I was when I had a miscarriage.

WHAT?! Why would you tell a hormonal woman in her first trimester about your miscarriage? Yes, it happens. Yes, if I have a miscarriage, I would love to know that you've been there, but right now, I don't need the solid assurance that every woman miscarries in her first trimester! Seriously!

Example number two: Pregnancy Safety

Me: I'm going to dye my hair.

WMW: You need to make sure you talk to your doctor before you do that. Hair dye is bad for you in pregnancy, it can hurt the baby.

Guess what? It's really not. And there's NO evidence to suggest that it can affect the baby. None whatsoever.

Example number three: Morning Sickness

WMW: How are you feeling?

Me: I'm okay.

WMW: Still sick?

Me: Yeah.

WMW: Shouldn't you be about over that by now?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Guess what? I'm not. Isn't that enough? It's not like I can say, "Ok, fetus, it's been a few weeks now, it's time to be over this!" Apparently my body will stop being sick if and when it's ready to stop being sick. Don't tell me that I should be over it by now. Really. It won't go well.

Example number four: Still Morning Sickness

WMW: I know EXACTLY how you feel. I was sick until 17 weeks. I even threw up once. It was horrible.

This I didn't even gratify with a response. You threw up ONCE?! I would have given up my right arm to only throw up once! I throw up once a day...at least. Usually twice, and there were days that the number reached 4, 5, even 6 times. So no. You don't know exactly how I feel. I know that you were sick for all those weeks, and I would never want to make you feel like your sickness wasn't as bad as mine, because I'm sure it was horrible. But...don't you dare try to console me by telling me you threw up once during the first trimester. That's not the same as throwing up multiple times a day, really, it's not.

I say this, because as we speak, my sickness seems to be decreasing, at least a little bit. My multiple times a day is down to about 1 a day, and that's a lot more doable for me...but the constant nausea still hasn't lifted. I feel better when you tell me that you were sick too, and that you sympathize with my pain. It's okay to leave it at that. Really.

In other news, I'm looking for a new doctor who accepts medicaid. Anyone have recommendations?