Bright Spots

My sweet porch after my niece improved it (with the pre-approval of my boy)

I smile every time I look outside now.

Babies Change Everything

They say a baby changes everything. I’ve never been able to figure out who “they” are, but I’m discovering they’re right.

They say there will be sleepless nights. Showerless days. Caffeinated lows.

They are right.

They say there will be unplucked eyebrows. Unmade faces. Unkempt hair.

They are right.

They say there will be colicky bellies. Late night crying. (And they’re talking about the parents.)

They are right.

But what “they” don’t say is…

In the midst of all this change is one tiny dream of a person. One person who, one day, will be a doctor, artist, scientist, writer, compassionate human being…

Who knows what difference this tiny human will make in this broken world?

Indeed, this baby could change everything.


***

Zoey changes everything except her Mama's love for writing -- which her mam has discovered she can do while bouncing baby with one hand and typing with the other, or watching her sweet thing sleep next to the keyboard...

First Library Trip

Zoey checked out this scintillating novel.

Clearly she's excited.

Our Tiny Human

It's hard to believe it was four weeks ago today when all I could do was thank God I wasn't standing in Wal-Mart when it happened.

'Cause it would have been really awkward to ask the blue-vested employee to clean up my bodily fluids while I raced to the hospital to greet this little one.

 

Not to sound too sentimental, but she has already changed so much {the baby, not the blue-vested employee}. And the tiny human got to meet Great-Gram this week!

{Zoey loved chilling with the coolest Gram ever, taking a bottle from her, and generally burping baby-gut in her face.}

 {Hannah, I think Z's a fan of the hat. See that laugh?}

Yup, this little girl has some serious self-confidence.

And who wouldn't? That's what it's like to have the coolest parents in the world.

Announcing Zoey Bree

Zoey Bree

September 12, 2011

5:55 p.m.

6 lbs. 9 oz.

19.5 inches long

Thanking God for miracles

(and epidurals)

Zoey the Mobster

Dear Mom and Dad,

In about 27 days you’ll get to see my cute little face. I just wanted to let you know that it will be red, and it will be wrinkled, and it will probably resemble that of a miniature mob-boss.

Which for the next oh… three years or so… I plan to use to my advantage.

So here’s how it’s gonna be: Everything’s on my schedule. You’ll ignore my demands like Cousin Vinny ignores the threat of sleeping with the fish. And speaking of sleep, there will be none of it.

Same goes for food. Mom, I think you got plenty of it during the past nine months by the looks of things. And besides, that whole eating thing – it takes your attention from the orders I’m trying to give.

I think that’s about it for now. We can establish Family priorities more when I get there. While you’re waiting for the blessed day, why don’t you take a nice vacation to the beach and relax while I pulverize your ribs a few more times.

Much Love,

Zoey the Mobster

Dear Baby Girl...

Dear Baby Girl,

They say babies sense a lot from the womb, so I’m going to go ahead and ‘fess up: Mommy said a naughty word the night she found out about you.

She didn’t mean to say that word.

It’s just that she was sure after two years and about two thousand dollars of stock in a company called Clear Blue (something we’ll talk about when you’re 25), Mommy thought she’d found her first defective piece of very expensive plastic.

And to be honest… as a hopeful woman, Mommy -- err, I -- wasn’t sure I could handle one more ache of sadness.

Within a couple of weeks there was no doubt, though: You were shooting off hormones faster than jet missiles, and I was hurling at the same pace. We bonded while watching reruns of Bachelorette and sitting half-naked under a ceiling fan in a 60 degree house.

The hot flashes and morning sickness began to fade and I began to worry. We’d already thought we’d lost you once, only to have the ultrasound flicker: your tiny heartbeat.

Even so I worried again…

My concerns ended a few days later when Pastor Kevin said something exciting and you went all Pentecostal during the Baptist service. It was then that I knew: You and I were going to get along just fine.

You haven’t stopped moving since.

We’ve done everything together. Swam marathon distances, come home, lain on the couch and cried from exhaustion.

That’s when we took up walking… to the fridge and back.

You’ve been to every single music lesson I’ve taught. And you’ve definitely shared your opinions (via your feet and my ribs) about which students knew which notes to play when.

We’ve been to the beach, eaten too many doughnuts, slept late, stayed up all night. We’ve snuggled with daddy on the couch, watched too much TV, and killed a few houseplants.

Oh, and written a book. {Almost.}

I admit things are about to change.

In about 42 days you’ll move from dancing in my ribs to dancing through much less comfortable cavities in my body.

You’ll move from showing your opinions through your feet to shouting them in my ear.

You’ll move from late-night doughnuts to early-morning explosions of mustard-colored poop running down my hairline.

But I’m good with change. Because with that change comes a little girl I asked God for three years ago. With it comes a little girl who needs all the love her parents can give. With it comes the little girl I want to feel as treasured as her father makes me feel.

We can’t wait to meet you, Zoey Bree.

{Neither can the rest of your ginormous, loud, wonderful family.}

...

God has big plans for you. Go ahead. It’s okay to get excited about that.

Just do me one favor… don’t follow Mommy’s example and use any four-letter words to express your excitement.

Four Years...

They say “that feeling” wears off after a few years of marriage, but I still get it every time you walk in the door. Looking into your eyes, I know you’ve come home to me. Not just with your body, but also with your heart.

There’s no vacant stare. No sitting down to the evening news. No mindlessly surfing the Internet. {We save that for later.}

You sit down to know me… to ask what’s going on in my heart. Your day has been long, but the last thing you think of is yourself.

You listen but you do not try to fix.

After five years of seeking my heart, it seems you’d have learned all you want to know. It isn’t entirely pretty. There are things I wish I didn’t have to tell you. Fears and dreams so out-of-this-world that anyone else would think I was insane.

There are also hard times. Times of sobbing because the pregnancy test once again only showed one line. Times of hand-holding as we said goodbye to someone we loved. Times of gray-hair-sprouting because the decimal point on the bank account landed in the wrong place.

Through it all… you pursue.

My prayer for you is that you feel as treasured and pursued as you make me feel. That every day you see that expectancy in my eyes – the emotion that says I want to know you. -- however you are. My prayer is that you will feel how you’ve made me feel every day of the past five years – accepted, utterly safe, and free to be me.

I love you, and I want you to know… it takes my breath away.

A Few Shower Photos

Not all of them will load at the moment, but here are a few shower photos from last week. I felt so blessed to have so many people sharing our joy about Zoey Bree.

Sorry this post is missing many important people, including the lovely hostess of the shower. More to come when the photos cooperate!

Let Them Eat Cake

 

My friend, Nancy, brought this awesome diaper cake by the other day (she made it herself).

It turns out this is the only kind of cake I can enjoy for the remaining eight or nine weeks. 

A few months ago I told the doc I felt super-crappy, hoping she'd do some blood work. She took one look at me and told me to get off the couch. 

OK, I thought. Maybe I am just lazy. (As if my olympic-length swims didn't mean anything... can you tell I'm feeling a little bitter?)

Turns out, two months later, there was a little something causing my vomiting, headaches, and general malaise... gestational diabetes. 

Since adjusting a few things I am feeling MUCH better and MUCH relieved that this baby is not going to be 16 pounds!

At least... I hope not...

My SIL, nephew, me, and giant belly last week

So whether Zoey comes out via the knife blade, or whether she comes via other means (this is a co-ed blog after all), we will be overjoyed to meet this little... err... giant girl.

In the meantime, it's nesting, nesting, nesting (photos to come). That should burn some serious calories!

For Real? Mom? Dad?

 

Sometimes we wonder if Zoey is going to put herself up for adoption when she meets us.