Of Our Penguin's First Year

Joey completed his first year of life at 7:59 this morning.  As of 8am we have a one-year-old in this house again.

A fact that makes me smile is that, for a brief time in the middle of this celebratory day, it was snowing, much like it did the day he was born - and if you know Oklahoma winters (particularly these past two), you'll know having snow on the exact same day two years in a row (especially when they represent only half of the occasions it has snowed in our area over the entirety these two years), you'll know it's a downright miracle.  I like to think it's due to the nickname his sister gave him before he was born.  Because a Penguin needs his snow.

At this point in his life, he is already a talker - his most common words are "ball" (definitely his favorite toy), "thank you," and "bye-bye" (though some of us swear we heard him say, "Hi, Aunt Dayla" just the other day).  He doesn't walk yet, but he sure can cruise along any object, toddle while holding a hand and take his own steps while pushing an object.  The only thing standing between him and full-out running is a lack of confidence in his ability to balance himself.

He loves to climb.  Of all our children, he is the climbing-est.  He can tackle a full set of stairs with no reservations (despite the cries of his parents who are slightly more aware of his inability to successfully descend those same steps).  He regularly climbs the step-stool in front of the toy kitchen to tinker in the plastic sink.  He has taken his fair share of tumbles from this same stool, resulting, already, in many bruises and one teeth-cut lip, but he is determined and tough - one spill (or two or three) will not keep him from doing what he loves.  Likewise with discipline.  A swatted hand is a small price to pay for playing with those buttons (whether on the phone or any remote he can get in his hands), a cost he most willingly pays over and over again.  Persistence and perseverance are his defining attributes.

Cooking for Momma

While typically rather serious and slow to show anything other than a blank stare to someone new, he can be such a little ham - he loves the camera.  Most children stop what they're doing when the camera is pulled out, and so does this guy, but only to grin as wide as he can, showing off his only four teeth, declaring, "Eeee!"

Cheesing for the camera while riding Horsey Gram

He is most happy when he is involved with others.  He enjoys being around his brother and sister most - they bring the giggles (and, yes, the tears) out of this otherwise-rather-stoic little man - and he regularly chases them from room to room just to be with them (he also clambers onto Sissy's bed quite eagerly whenever possible - but this might have more to do with his love of climbing).

Sharing the giant cardboard box with Emmett

He is also quite helpful, putting things away when asked (well, about half the time) and even helped Mommy with the laundry for the first time yesterday (well, other than just scattering previously-folded clothing) - first taking things from the dryer to put them in the basket and then hugging the small items of clothing she gave him to toss into the dryer.  He was quite happy to help.

All of these developments in just one year - we can only imagine what his vast future holds.

1,000 Gifts:
1093. A year full of life
1094. Fluffy white flakes falling to the earth
1095. Offering a listening ear
1096. A weekend with the grandparents

Of Our Homebirth: An Epic Tale

WARNING: The post you are about to read is extremely long and kind of detail-laden, proceed only if truly interested.


There was a baby born in this house today.

The short length of the whole affair (being that I first awoke with contractions at 4:40am and there was another baby boy in our family by 8) makes it still seem surreal that I am here, blogging, while Philip plays his video game, much like any other night, except that there is a cooing bundle of baby in his arms as he clicks the controllers.  The mere fact that the entirety of my son's birth occurred before I would normally even be out of bed makes this day feel a dream.

I went to bed last night slightly saddened by the fact that I would be another day in church, facing the loving and pitying friends who were all weathering this wait alongside me.  Another day of explaining, "Any day now."

Yet, when I awoke in the pre-dawn hours with contractions I did not hold much hope - after all, I'd had quite the amount of false ones in the preceding weeks.  I didn't hold much hope, that is, until I realized they were quite frequent.  Less than ten minutes later, I was walking around the darkness of the living room, cell phone in hand, contraction timer open, testing to see if these were something more interesting than what we'd been experiencing previously.  False labor disappears with a change of position.  This did not.

I woke Philip at 5am to tell him I'd been having contractions but the timing wasn't exactly consistent.  Here we were in a quandary: we had been told to call when they were eight minutes apart (being that the midwives all live an hour, or more, away), but while the vast majority of the "surges" I'd been feeling were definitely less than seven minutes from each other, some were as close as three minutes while others were as far as nearly nine minutes.  So, we delayed further while I ate a protein bar and drank a full mug of water to further test the reality of the situation.  But with the extreme intensity I was feeling (clinching my toes and not being able to talk during a contraction are sure signs) I knew this baby was coming today.

It was 6:20 when Philip notified the midwife on-call of our situation.  By this time, I was nauseated and shaking - signs, I remembered from my previous two births, of sure labor - something was going to happen and I was in denial of how soon.  For our other two, these symptoms occurred very closely to "push time," but I had only been having contractions for an hour and a half - and they were still 3-4 minutes apart!  This was definitely not going how I had imagined this process going.

After making the necessary phone calls - to the midwife (who was sending her assistant ahead to get things going and be sure this was the real thing), his sister (the photographer and transportation for our kids to a sitter whenever they woke up) and our good friend, Holly (who plans to train to be a doula someday and whom we had asked to be on-call as added assistance and support) - Philip got a quick shower while I started a bath to ease the extreme discomfort these contractions were causing - EXTREME.

It was only after about two contractions in the bath that I announced to Philip, "I want to push!" - and when I say "announced", I kind of mean "screamed like a crazy woman while enduring yet another 'surge.'"  I really did not want to have this baby with just Philip and I, but I also knew I was in a lot of pain and my body was certain that shoving this thing out would go a long way to ending that pain.

Let me assure you, I was doing the best I could to remember all I read - I was relaxing muscles as I noticed them tighten (like those clenched toes), I was breathing slowly when it occurred to me, and we had my CD of instrumental music/nature sounds playing in the background (this CD actually played for seven hours solid this morning - totally worth the $1 I paid for it back in college) -  but there was significant pain - not anything different or more intense than what I'd felt before in giving birth, but I'd always told myself that was because of the Pitocin - turns out, no, that's just what contractions feel like.  Good to know.

I didn't see Philip's face when I made my aforementioned "announcement" of needing to push, but I'm sure if I had it would have been a reflection of sheer terror; he immediately offered to call the midwife once more.  And, though I could not see her, either, I definitely heard the controlled, yet panicked, tone of the midwife's voice as she instructed him to have me kneel on the floor, leaning forward, so as to discourage the urge until help could arrive - and she was, most assuredly, now on her way.

I was sad to leave the comfort of the warm water, but, as an over-achiever, I like to do as I'm told, so Philip helped me from the tub and I headed to kneel on the carpet outside our bathroom door.  At this point, staring right at the white-ish color beneath me, I declared in a panic, "Not on the carpet!"  I realized, then, that we had no idea how to prepare this room for the reality of giving birth.  Sure, we had all the supplies on-hand, neatly packed in their boxes along the wall, but what we needed to do with them?  Not a clue.  I had always assumed the midwives would arrive, in a calm, assured manner, as labor was just beginning and I was still in a smiley, though possibly weary, state, prepared for hours of laboring.  They would then go about their business preparing the space, laying out the waterproof pads where necessary, and all would be in order.

This vision was clearly not going to be happening, but that knowledge made me no more interested in overcoming my own discomfort to do anything about it.  I simply crawled back to the tile of the bathroom and instructed Philip to lay out on the carpet of our bedroom, in the small space between the bathroom and our bed, the waterproof mattress cover we'd purchased.  Anything else could be dealt with later.

It was at this point we received the phone call to notify us the birth assistant would be arriving within 15 minutes - unfortunately, the call came during yet another contraction, during which I was leaning forward and screeching in frustration, while pounding the tile floor, "FIFTEEN MINUTES?!"  I did not want to endure one more second of resisting the urge to get this baby out, let alone a quarter of an hour.

Fortunately, it was only about five minutes or so before Holly arrived.  Though I still could not push, she immediately walked in and asked, "Where's the birth kit?  I'll start setting it up."  Oh sweet relief - someone who knew what we were doing!  I probably would have expressed more graciousness about her arrival and willingness to be put straight to work, but I was so far in the process by this point, I could do little more than stare at the floor and offer short grunts in responses to questions.

During contractions, as Philip calmly stroked my back, assuring me I could do this, it's what my body was made to do, I was leaning forward, my face buried in a towel, whispering in my own head, "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me" [Philippians 4:13].  The reality is, focusing on the truth of this Scripture truly did ease the pain - it was not eliminated by any means, but knowing I had the strength of Christ in me would cause my toes to unfurl and my breathing to slow.  Blessed assurance!  At some point in this process, Philip also whispered a sweet prayer of relief in my ear.  What a wonderful man I have.

It was 7:45 when the birth assistant arrived, rushed into the room and announced I could let my body dictate what needed to be done, even if that meant pushing.  Glory, Hallelujah!

Only one or two contractions into the pushing process, she called Philip over to be prepared to "catch" the baby and he watched, encouraging me all the while, as first my water broke and then out poked our little baby's head.  And, then, the entire body.  I'm not going to lie, it was excruciating, but it was a couple of minutes of excruciating to end a couple of hours of nearly-unbearable, I could take that.  Also, I'm pretty sure the intensity of it was probably heard down the street, as I was urged to "grunt" during this process and I took the suggestion seriously - which somehow turned into primeval she-woman screams during those last moments - my throat is still kind of sore.  Sorry to all those in the room.

And then they were handing me my baby.  I still had not been told what we had - in the excitement of catching his off-spring, Philip had not even thought to look.  So, as the baby was passed to me, I did a quick check and it took a moment in the dim light for me to finally focus and announce, "It's a boy!"  A sweet boy. With whom I fell in love immediately.

He was born at 8am - 3 hours and 20 minutes after I had first woken up.  And the midwife wasn't even there yet.  She arrived within five minutes or so, just in time to see me holding my baby boy for the first time.

Then came the wonderful part of a homebirth - I was helped into bed, my own bed, and allowed to settle in with my son for a good two hours as every indication that a birth had just take place outside my bathroom door was whisked away by people other than myself and I was left with our room in pretty much the same condition it was when we started.

Not long after moving to the bed, we heard a small knock from inside the bedroom across the hall.  The kids had finally woken up and they heard voices - the guttural screams of their birthing mama?  No.  Just voices.  As they entered the room to meet their baby brother, Micaiah was asking if "Baby Sister Penguin" was coming, too, and Emmett was just not sure what was going on - he had just woken up after all, and was now in Mommy and Daddy's bedroom, filled with people, some strangers, some not, while Mom held a strange little baby.  He was not having it.  After breakfast, though, he was at least willing to sit on the bed and look at the "be-be."  By the time the two arrived home from church (thank you, Holly, for taking them!), he was actually pretty excited to see his new baby brother and show him his new McDonald's toy.  Such a great big brother already.

Before the midwife and her assistant headed home, they finally examined baby boy, pronouncing him 9lb 8oz (Philip actually got to hold him up as they weighed him in their sling-like scale), and 20 1/4 inches long - all his vitals were perfect.  I was stitched up (from my very small tear) and then the two headed on their way, leaving Philip and I to snuggle in bed - our own bed! - with our new baby boy (who would later be dubbed Joseph Peter - Joey).

And it wasn't even noon, yet.

And that was our epic morning.  Kudos to you if you made it through the whole thing.  I'll be back tomorrow with maybe a few more thoughts on the experience (you didn't think there could be more, did you?).  As for now, good night!

Of Repetition

It seems to me every day, of late, is the same.

I wake up with the realization, though not the expectation, that Baby could arrive today.  For some reason it always feels, though, if it hasn't started by then, it won't happen until evening, at which point the baby will, realistically, most likely, arrive the next day.  Perhaps this is why the expectation is not real.

I piddle through the day, delaying activities until "after the baby comes," trying to keep the kids busy and the house clean, "just in case."  I realize I don't know what we're having for dinner.  I'm out of grocery money because, frankly, I thought by now we'd be living off the food I've been hoarding in the freezer for the past month and a half.  Thus, it's a rummage in the pantry for anything we have not yet devoured and then a creative search through the recipe box in my head, and then allrecipes.com if nothing has yet come to mind.  All the while, I eye, with lust, the frozen bags of soups and chilis, casseroles and meatloaves, wishing we could just break into them because I'm so tired of cooking right now.

Sometime in the late evening, I begin to have odd feelings in my abdomen.  Not usually contractions, though those are typically sprinkled in, but just feelings that something may be happening.  Baby starts pulling it's ninja moves it must have inherited from Daddy, as though it's trying to find some alternate exit besides the one it is so clearly avoiding.

I go to bed thinking, surely these pains, this increased movement, these different feelings must mean something - something will surely be happening tonight.  But for now, I must rest - I need to save up my strength.

And then, the next morning, like a pregnant version of "Groundhog Day," I awake - realizing, I've still "got you, Babe" and my body back to feeling normal - or, at least, it's new normal, since the day the baby dropped and I feel like I'm the penguin - the awkwardly uncomfortable penguin.

So, here we are.

Another day, another contraction, and a whole lot of nothin'.

PS I shall return later with my Photo of the Day, stay posted.


PPS As promised . . . Our evening activities included this:

Stressing over baby names is also a part of the daily routine - it's more of a background theme.  Don't worry, Philip vetoed all those listed above.

Of Cuteness in Chaos

It's the one thing every parent knows they shouldn't do - encouraging their kids in their misbehavior.  But sometimes you just have to be glad that you're in the kitchen, facing away when your daughter responds to your husband's insistence that she eat her dinner with the response, "Ugh [with the disdain of a teenager, truly], why you keep telling me that?!"  In this way, when you begin to burst out in silent laughter, she can't see the permanent grin on your face.

Other times, it's a little harder to hide.  Like when your son, who was just seen streaking through the living room with an uncapped marker in hand, gets called back in the room by, once again, your husband, and the little guy sheepishly waddles back in, shoulders hunched, face with devilish grin and marker gripped by fists held close to his face, elbows clinched to his sides, in a definite, "I'm so naughty, but I'm too darn cute to ignore" stance.  Moments like these you try to hide the giggles with a hand over your mouth and poker eyes, but I'm pretty sure the distinct bouncing of laughter is still determinable by a nineteen-month-old.

Like I've told Philip before: Cute kids - that's going to be our downfall as parents.

Photo of the Day: Aunt Dayla came to spend a little time in the evening (a rare treat from that busy lady!).  Emmett turned to her to read the Elmo book when Mommy got tired of it - because it's not so much a story-book as a book of Christmas carols - that he insists be sung over and over again.

 "What are you doing, Mommy?"

PS We received GREAT news today - while this Little Penguin is still hanging out on the side of my belly thanks to that pesky placenta, it is no longer considered posterior!  Glory Hallelujah!

Of Taking it Easy

I feel I may have, unintentionally, misled a few folks.  By talking of this baby arriving "any day now" for over a week now, I meant to be more understanding of the fact that a "due date" is really a guesstimate and the baby could, realistically, arrive at any point two weeks before or after (well, clearly, earlier or later is possible, as well, but as far as the general world of birthing babies is concerned, a two week buffer is pretty typical).

However, I have apparently given others the impression that this baby should have come out at least a week ago and by now I'm clearly just running late and need to be doing marathon power-walking sessions, booking pedicures and employing every known labor-inducing trick in the book (and most of those not in the books).

So let me clear a few things up.

Today was the date our ultrasound showed, at Week 20, as a projected "ready" date for this little one.  However, our "official" date remains (since day one) February 6th.  So, as of right now, I'm not even considered overdue - I am 39 and a half weeks along.  Our midwives will allow me to gestate until my 42nd week, at which point I will be sent to the hospital for some "encouragement" of medical means.

This means, I have, in theory, until February 20th for Penguin to enter the world at his or her own pace.  Thus, while, in theory, he/she could arrive "any day now" - it would not be pushing it if this little one stayed tucked inside for another nineteen days.

And, quite frankly, the fact that they draw the line so close to my due date actually makes me a little sad because it would make me downright giddy inside to have a Leap Day baby.  Yes, I recognize that would be four more weeks of waddling - but for a Leap Day baby, I would so do it.  Though, knowing my stubborn and independent children, I would endure the physical discomfort those extra weeks only to have this Penguin pop out on February 27th.  But none of that conjecturing even matters, because the midwives won't let it happen.  Sadly.

All this to say, yes Baby is still inside.  Yes, I am contracting at a ridiculous (though very unsteady) rate.  No, there are no further signs anything is going to happen soon.  And until there are, I'm going to keep going about my life.  After two days of "waiting" - as though I were good for nothing other than sitting on the couch and willing this baby to come out - I'm done.  This baby can come when he or she is ready, but I'm not going to stop life in its tracks until it happens.

And that's that.

Photo of the Day: When I entered their room after nap-time, Micaiah and Emmett were settled next to each other on her bed, where she was reading them The Berenstain Bears.  When I attempted to address them, I was told, "I'm reading the bears, Mommy."  Neither of them were at all interested in me and neither gave any indication of moving.  So, I let them be and continued with dinner prep.  It was pretty adorable.

Also, Emmett was alternating between, "Teese!" and watching Sissy intently.  And every time I put the camera down he would do the sign for "More" and beg, "More teese!"  I love it!

Of Being Ready

I've been saying for weeks now that I am really in no hurry for this little one to enter the world.  I've been addressing the reluctance to enter the realm of late-night feedings and an extra body to clothe before running out the door.  What I did not realize, though I knew I was anxious to attend this weekend's retreat, was this event was truly the one thing holding me back.  Now that my weekend with the girls has passed, I find myself actually ready.

My arms are eager to hold a tiny wrinkled body.

I am eager to see my daughter kiss a tiny head.

I'm nervous about not having a name for this little one, but it's not enough to wish the arrival would wait.

I am looking forward to the first rhythmic contractions - not the ones that will disappear with a change of position or a sip of water.

I am looking forward to putting my breathing practice to work.

I am looking forward to not remembering life before this newest one joined us.

So, little one, we're ready to meet you any time you're ready!

Of Sisters and Animals

Every morning for breakfast, my children enjoy milk, cereal, eggs (usually) and a banana.  Despite the routine, Micaiah still insists on asking every morning, "What are we having for breakfast?" as if it's a huge surprise.  And if I leave something off of the list, she'll confirm we're not deviating, "And milk?  I want milk."  "Yes, baby, and milk."

And every morning, without fail, after her breakfast is placed in front of her and prayed over, she reaches first for her banana, left cracked open but unpeeled as she insists on doing that part herself, and announces, "I'm a sister monkey!"


Every morning.

It's actually a pretty cute part of the routine.  Sometimes she'll go on to explain that Emmett is the brother monkey.  But I don't get to be a monkey because I don't have a banana (it's enough to have to buy 14 bananas a week, let alone extras for me - I get those if I splurge).  Although, she once told me I was a bear, because apparently that's the kind of animal that eats oatmeal.  Good to know.

My little "sister monkey" in banana-eating action.

On the topic, though, of sister animals, Micaiah is still very insistent that this baby is a girl.  In fact, she's even transitioned from announcing she's having a sister and Emmett's having a brother to sticking with the idea that they are both having sisters.  When we dare to suggest this might be a brother, we are emphatically rebuffed, "No, it's a girl!"

I'm almost really wishing she's right because I'm not sure I'll be able to handle her devastation otherwise.  But I'm sure she'll recover - she does seem to love her Emmett.

Of Our Dancer

I sit here taking a survey for our local Christian Radio station, wherein I listen to a variety of songs and give my opinion.  Well, Penguin certainly has an opinion.  This typical late-night mover is definitely a fan of all kinds of music as it wiggles and grooves to each tune as it begins to play through my laptop speakers.  The movement slows between songs but kicks back up with each new tune.  I love it.

Should have figured we'd have another dancer on the way - this one will get along great with its siblings.  I foresee many living room dance parties in our future.

PS I will also have to admit, my opinions on this music survey are definitely being swayed by this little person, as well, as my joy in this baby's enthusiasm is giving me a heightened sense of enjoyment from each song.  Sorry, House listeners, every song is my favorite today.

Of Bookends

It may have begun a little too early with a little boy covered in sickness, requiring a bath and being returned to Mommy and Daddy's bed to snuggle for awhile more - though Mommy kicked herself out when she feared her own coughing would keep the men awake - but any day that ends with that same little boy chasing his sister around the living room, both giggling like mad as she screams with delight about the monster coming (while Littlest Bit seemed jealous as he/she began kicking like crazy upon hearing the squeals of his/her siblings), is a great day in my book.

Of Assumptions

It's time for another "Let's Awkwardly Stare at the Growing Belly" photo, so here you are:

In related news: This week, on the way to our Midwife appointment, Philip and I were briefly discussing names (again. We got nothin'.) and Philip casually mentioned he forgets to ponder the girl side because he just keeps assuming it's a boy - which I found surprising, actually, because I keep automatically assuming it's a girl, and figured we were all on the same page.  Apparently not.

Meanwhile, Micaiah maintains her "Sister Penguin" stance, so I guess we'll have to wait and see how this all pans out . . .

Of a Little Bit of This

Micaiah felt "Baby Sister" move for the first time today (no we still don't know the gender, but Micaiah is insistent).  The joy on her face with each tiny bump was contagious.

Also, I forgot to mention, Saturday was the first time a stranger recognized my pregnant state.  I always feel this is a big milestone.  It means the world at large can see I am with child and not necessarily overeager at the local buffet.

Unrelated to Baby, tonight's meal on my weekly menu listed "Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes" and just as I was about to dig out my old recipe I remembered this recipe* I had pulled out of my Woman's Day magazine last month and decided, why not be festive?  So it's what we (and by "we" I mean "I") did.  And it made me happy.

*I used cut-up green beans for the eyes as I didn't want to open a can of peas.  I also used 1lb of turkey rather than the called-for meats.

Of All Three of Them

All of my precious babies have updates today - what a day!

Micaiah: We're on three days in a row where our little girl has consistently not only used the potty, but did so after telling us she needed to!  And we've only had one wet pull-up in about four days (not counting sleep times)!  Rejoice!

Emmett: As I tinkered on my laptop this evening, I noticed him watching me out of the corner of his eye and saw the most proud smile on his face, as if to say, "Are you seeing this?"  And that's when I realized, seeing my son standing up with a toy in his hands - not touching anything else - is not a normal sight!  I quickly applauded him and he finally gave his legs a rest by leaning forward on the ottoman.  But he spent the rest of the evening standing for a second or two before dropping again and starting over.  Yay!

Baby Penguin: Apparently he/she has experienced a growth spurt in the last month, according to the midwives, as they measured the size of my expanding mid-section.  Meanwhile, this growth spurt has apparently not affected me negatively as I've actually dropped a pound in the same amount of time.  That'll teach those midwives to ask me with a wary eye what I've been eating.  (Please note, despite the smug nature of my previous statement, I am, in fact, eating, very much, just not more than I need and not tons of things I shouldn't be.  Please don't be concerned for my health.)

Oh, and we'll end with proof of this growing baby:

Of Anticipation

I don't know if it was a result of posting about my baby struggles or not, but this morning I woke up and realized it was the first time this entire pregnancy I was actually looking forward to the arrival of Baby Penguin. Not to say it was the first time I was happy about our third little blessing, but the first time I remember feeling anticipatory.  As though I couldn't wait for February to come and for little one to make his or her entrance into the world.

I'm looking forward to the contractions - yes, I like contractions (and if you dare to remind me of this statement as I am in the throes of labor, you will be risking your own life - be warned).  I like the feeling that my body is doing exactly what it should and that it can handle this process.  And I almost can't wait for the day.  Woohoo!

Of course, I know the dangers of wishing away time, so I will not do so.  I know there are many wonderful memories to be made among the four of us while we wait for the newest member of our budding family and I do not wish those moments to hurry.  But neither am I wishing time would slow down too much.

Hi, there, Little One kicking my belly, I'm your Mommy and I can't wait to meet you!

Of Tiny Movements

I don't know if it was just the reality of seeing our little one on those flatscreen televisions at the ultrasound office, but it seems it was that very night I started feeling this penguin waddle around for real.  Of course, the movements are still small.  At first they were only felt when I had my belly compressed for some reason, either sleeping at night (I'm a belly sleeper, always - who kind of has to re-adjust as this particular belly gets larger) or just sitting with my knees up on the couch.

But I guess when you consider our baby now weighs 12oz, only slightly larger than a soup can, it's no wonder its presence is starting to be made known.

And I love it.

For one thing it seems to be the only person on this earth who appreciates my singing (though it could be because it is muffled to its tiny ears), as this afternoon, I sang a few bars of a familiar song and immediately felt a little kick when I stopped - I imagine that to mean, "Keep going!" rather than "Thanks for stopping, Mom" - it's my imagination, let it wander as it may.

And currently, I think he/she knows we're talking about it, because it is moving like crazy as I type.

The only downside: it seems, also, to have found my bladder.  Sigh.  I was hoping it would take a little longer for those tiny arms and legs to meet its favorite punching bag, but such is life as a pregnant mom.

Of Surprises

We had our 20-week ultrasound today - which any seasoned parent will tell you is the much-anticipated gender revealer.  Let me just post the spoiler here and now - it's a Surprise!  That's right.  For now, no one but our ultrasound tech knows if this thing is coming out boy or girl.

She did, however, print out a (presumably) lovely photo depicting our little one's secret and sealed it in an envelope for us so we could decide later if we want to spoil the surprise or wait until Christmas morning - figuratively speaking.  In this case, Christmas morning would most likely be sometime during the first week of February.  I only use the analogy because it's the same one I used in convincing Philip it would be more fun to wait.

In the past, the ultrasound date itself has felt like Christmas morning - receiving the gift of the knowledge of what I am carrying inside me.  The anticipation was so great I cried the morning of Emmett's ultrasound when they had to re-schedule (though that was also because I had planned to hop on a plane that same afternoon and give my family the news in person - something we never get to do, and those hopes were dashed with that phone call - sad, sad day).  But with Baby #3, I honestly haven't felt the same way.  I think it's due mostly in part to the fact that I am truly ambivalent to whether this baby is male or female.  I am so happy with either option, the not knowing isn't really killing me.

Thus, I feel like finding out now would be like sneaking into Mommy and Daddy's closet to see what they bought me four months before I actually get to unwrap it and play: thrilling at the moment, but kind of disappointing when it's time to take off the bow (though this is where the analogy breaks down, because I can't really imagine being disappointed, ever, at the birth of a child, but maybe you know what I mean).

So, yes, for now, Baby Penguin has its own little secret and it's not telling - yet.

P.S. I also feel it's important to add because, in reality, it is much more important than the big, "What is it?!" - Baby Penguin is first, and foremost, healthy and whole.  Everything looked great and he/she is still on the right growth track.  Yay!

Of Expansion

I've really been meaning to actually take semi-regular belly shots, but, what can I say?  This is our third child. Being a third, myself, it hurts to say that - but, really, you've seen a belly grow once or twice it kind of loses its flare.  My belly will always be my belly.  But, when this baby comes out, it will definitely be its own person and the excitement should rev up from there - no worries, third child!

But, back to business, so, here I am, nine weeks late with the first belly picture (well, nine weeks late taking it, posting it even a week later), begging your apologies.

Penguin is definitely beginning to make his/her presence known (though, keep in mind, this belly was also slightly inflated with the likes of Red Lobster's Butter Shrimp with Crab Sauce - yum)!