ultrasound recap. and all those feelings.

So, I was pretty nervous about the ultrasound.

We opted out of all genetic testing leading up to now (a decision I'm still happy we made), so this was the big important first ever examination our baby was going to have by the medical world. We'd already decided to wait to find out the gender until the birth, so I didn't have that excitement to distract me from the potential for discovering problems. I was so nervous about it that I didn't even consider what the experience of seeing my baby move around on the screen would be like for me.

Let me backtrack here and also share that I had been waiting to have an emotional attachment response to my baby. That sounds like a terrible thing to say, but I thought that when I found out I was pregnant, I would feel this huge sense of love for the child I'm carrying...and I didn't. It was more like "I'm carrying a child? Where is it? My body looks the same. I feel the same." And then when I did start to feel the physical effects of pregnancy, they were not good. They made me cranky, tired, doubting of my physical abilities to do my normal routine, and generally pretty sick.

So then I thought "when we hear the heartbeat at 11 weeks, then I'll fall in love." And again, I didn't. It was nice and reassuring to know the baby was still alive inside me. It was a cute sound and it made me happy. But I didn't fall in love that day, and I was really hoping I would.

I started to doubt that I would have any emotional attachment until the birth. It was odd and I felt a bit defective, because I hear other women talk about how they loved their unborn babies from the moment they found out they had conceived, and I always thought I would be like those women. I've always wanted to be pregnant and really looked forward to this whole process, but I was having a hard time really believing there was an actual living human inside me. It felt a lot more like a persistent stomach virus than a baby.

I hit a wall at 17 weeks and got sad and discouraged. I had expected morning sickness to end with the first trimester, and it didn't at all. With each day that I spent hunched over my vomit pail, missing out on seeing people and being social, completely bored with laying on my left side but unable to find comfort in any other position, I started to hate being pregnant and wondered why I signed up for this. This lasted for about 3 weeks.

On the night before the ultrasound, full of anxiety, I laid in bed and started praying. I have a lot of friends who are hurting right now, specifically because they or someone they love is really sick. I know that God's love for my baby and everyone else is not dependent on whether He keeps us from going through trials, and I confessed that I was scared of Him and what He might decide to put us through. It was a pretty honest and raw place I was in. I had no words articulated, except "Jesus, please..."

And then--right then--an answer that I needed but wasn't asking for at the moment came: "You do love this baby."
What? Yes! Of course I did! Here I was begging for mercy on behalf of my little one, wanting so badly for him or her to be born strong and healthy with every chance to achieve anything they want in life, and it was my own proof to myself that I cared. That I was starting to become a real mother with all the motherly feelings and deep, deep love for the tiniest details about my baby's life. It wasn't a promise that everything would be alright and we would get a good report on the baby's health the next day, but my growing confidence in myself to have the love I need to face any hardships that may come definitely helped me walk into the office the next day with more peace than I had the night before.

Our ultrasound tech was less than friendly. She was a bit gruff at the beginning of the appointment and I tried to soften her and win her over with complementing her ultrasound skills. "I can't believe you know what you're looking at!" It sort of worked?
"Your baby is breech."
Thanks. I'm sure the next 20 weeks will allow for plenty of time for the baby to flip around once or twice. 
"Head circumference looks good."
"Really?! Because we have a family history of anencephaly so I was worried..."
"The head looks really good."
"...thank you."

And then, she moved on to the heart. That's about when I lost my composure and tears slipped down onto exam table paper under my head. I could see four perfect little chambers pumping regular and strong. 145 beats per minute.
"Heart looks good."

Then, a perfect strand of pearls arched down the baby's back. Moving in line with the kicks I was feeling.
"Spine looks good."
We have a family history of spina bifida too. More worries erased.

Two feet, two hands. A little birdcage of tiny ribs. A stomach, a diaphragm, and two kidneys. We got to see a perfect little skeleton wiggling around on the screen. I squeezed Tim's hand with each new relief. The reality of this baby's physical body and presence in our lives finally hit me in the deepest way. I was so happy.

wearing clothes while pregnant

It's the night before our 20 week ultrasound, and because I need a distraction from my natural tendency toward worry and pessimism, here's some thoughts about wearing clothes while pregnant.

I used to think that wearing maternity clothes would be this cool rite of passage thing, but as soon as I started to need them and look around on websites at maternity clothes, I realized that it wasn't going to be as fun as I'd imagined. It seems like popular clothing brands water down style and upcharge a lot when it comes to maternity clothes, and their maternity departments are really small so there's not a lot of options.

For instance, Gap Maternity is still trying to sell me this skirt; the acid washed split denim number from 2002.

Not only that, where are these mysterious maternity clothes that are advertised online? They're not in the stores. Only a small number of brands actually have maternity sections in-store,  you usually have to order online to get the clothes, which is far less than ideal when your body is changing sizes in different places. I hate ordering clothes online and then sending them back when they don't work.

I got discouraged at first and imagined myself having to adopt a very matronly uniform for this next season of life. What do women do when they need an entire replacement wardrobe for the 5 months that they can't wear their old clothes? Clothes can be so expensive, and the thought of spending hundreds on a temporary fix that I didn't even really like...I didn't like.

 Then I found a very unlikely ally in my search to wear clothes while pregnant and still feel like my old self: Forever 21.

I normally hate shopping there because the stores are so chaotic, the clothes so temporary, and everything is so full of Lycra. But, as it turns out, temporary, cheap stretchy clothes are kind of essential to dressing a pregnant body. I scored big and I learned a few things.

First: I needed camis. This right here is a cami that costs two dollars and eighty cents.

All I needed was a larger size than usual to give me some room to grow. I purchased seven of these in the happy colors below and I've worn them practically every day this summer. In the fall and winter I'll layer them and add a cardigan and scarf. 

Second; I learned that anything that gives my belly the freedom to expand counts as maternity friendly. This stretchy striped dress was around $8 and I can add leggings to it in the fall.

I needed a new black dress to wear to shoot weddings and I didn't know how I was going to get around the typical defined waistline that most dresses have.  My third lesson was that any dress with a removable belt lets me pick my own waist definition spot. I got this dress for around $22 in a larger size and I just move the belt up over the belly, closer to my ribs and it looks darling. It even hides the bump a lot right now, which I like for work situations because it takes the focus off of me being pregnant.

And then I applied the same principle for casual dresses. Plenty of room for the bump in these loose-fitting numbers and the belt lets me choose where to show a waistline.

I also picked up some leggings for $5 each so I can adapt these looks to colder weather. I think I spent around $80 to get all this stuff, plus a cardigan. I feel so much better now that I can wear clothes that I actually like!

I did have to make the fateful trip to Motherhood Maternity to get some maternity jeans. There's just no other way around the jeans issue (besides the hair tie looped through the button hole trick, which I've taken to the limit). I don't love them, but they work. Also; bras. I got a gentle scolding from my midwife for wearing underwire ("your body needs to be free to change and expand!") so I've switched to sports bras for now because underwire bras are my former favorite and that's all I have.

Anyone else have any tips for me?? I haven't reached the 3rd trimester yet and I have a feeling that's going to be a whole new world of dressing girth. Eep!

a post about AC units

This summer has been rough on our love affair with our apartment. Remember our perfect apartment?

When we were deciding to live here, I spent not one second contemplating the fact that it didn't have central air. It just didn't occur to me. It was winter, and this place had beautiful light pouring in from huge windows in every room and offered free radiator heat. Free heat! In Chicago! We were going to save thousands.

And we probably did. From February to May, life here was so comfortable and our monthly bills are a fraction of what we used to pay to heat and cool a townhouse. But then, summer set in early and weather records starting getting broken with the heat. Right around the same time, I started to get sick. At 5 weeks pregnant, I was nauseated and depleted of energy and started getting very sensitive to temperature and odor, and then we had a couple of 100 degree days.

It was a bad mix.

We went out and bought an air conditioning unit, and it was $150, which is fine for one AC unit, but we weren't going to buy any more at that price. Tim installed it in our bedroom and for the whole month of June, I spent my days and nights in that room working on my laptop and napping and vomiting and generally being pregnant. Tim toughed it out in the office (where we used to spend all of our working hours together) until he could stand it no longer and bought another $150 AC unit to give him some relief. Those two little units allowed us to work and sleep, but didn't improve much else at home. Call me cheap, but I wasn't willing to spend any more than $300 on improving a situation in an an apartment that we might not even live in next year. It would have cost us another $600 to outfit the rest of the rooms in our apartment with new AC units, and that was neither appealing nor in the budget.

Leaving the protective igloo of our air conditioned bedroom to run an errand or even go to the bathroom brought on a wave of heat, which brought on a wave of nausea, and I was so miserable. Those beautiful big windows in every room ushered in the full heat of the sun, and being on the top floor only increased the temperature as heat wafted up through the floorboards. Turning on the oven to cook dinner brought the kitchen to over 110 degrees, so we ate sandwiches. I left windows open to try to catch a breeze, and with it came extra dust that coated the floors. By the end of July, I was talking about moving out.

I was so mad at the situation. How could my life be made so difficult by the absence of one modern invention? Tim and I both grew up without air conditioning (albeit, in a cooler climate) and we survived. I hated the feeling that buying more really expensive stuff would make me happy, and had resentment that being pregnant was turning an irritating situation into an unbearable one just because of hormones and the fact that my body was changing outside of my control and couldn't take the heat. The absolute worst part of all this, the part that made it all plainly sad and unlivable, was that when Tim would reach for a hug, I couldn't return the affection without an inward grimace. He's just a big, warm man, and I was forever overheated and pukey.

And then last week, salvation came. We saw our downstairs neighbors packing up and moving out. Soon their kitchen window, which we had to walk by in order to get to our car, was bare and displayed a totally empty apartment save for 4 AC units grouped on the tile floor. We acted immediately by leaving a note on their door asking if we could PLEASE buy those units from them? And they called back and said yes, we could have all four for $100.

I don't have a moral to this story. Life in my home is livable and enjoyable again, and it's because of stuff. I don't know where we'll put them in the winter when we need to seal our windows again, and I don't know if we'll be able to recuperate any of the money we spent on these when we eventually move out, but I can cook a meal in my oven and eat at the kitchen table with my husband and hug him for a long time without having to pull away. So.

Oh, life.

Today, Tim and I met with a potential client in a coffee shop. The meeting went well and when it was over, I looked around me and noticed all of the other patrons in the shop who were sitting alone at little tables being so studious. They were buried in their head-phones and laptops and textbooks, all silently going hard after big things in life they really wanted, and for a second I remembered exactly what that was like and I deeply missed being in their shoes.

I had 6 years of that season of relentless pursuit. For most of that time, I worked a full-time job while taking a full-time load of coursework, and it was so hard. It felt like it would never end. Tuition ate up all of my money, but I could somehow always afford a cup of espresso to get me through the next studying session at the coffeehouse, even if it came from scavenged quarters and dimes dug up from under the seat of my car. Those days were glorious. They were full of questions that weren't light and I cried so many tears for the not knowing and being alone, but that work it did on my character was profoundly good and I am proud of those years. They felt long at the time but they're a vapor now, and I had no idea they would end so darn quickly and everything would change.

I wouldn't do them all again, but I'm not a "do it all again" kind of girl. I can't forget the bad stuff like the details of the heartbreaks and the not having enough money for haircuts or new tires with winter snow fast approaching. But still, they were good years.

Now I'm in a different place that feels more like coasting on all the stored up energy I worked up when I thought I was getting nowhere. And it's nice. Truly. I'm not discounting the fact that I get to travel and love my husband and start a family. This was the point of all that work.

I just never thought that wooing clients, sealing a deal, and making money would for a moment seem less fun than working my arse off to get a diploma and try to find myself by thinking existential thoughts fueled by coffee.

Oh, life.

Wherever you are, don't wish it away.

finding out

We found out on April 26th, 2012.

I was all excited to take my first pregnancy test, which I did on the earliest possible day that the package told me I'd get an accurate reading. It turns out that all the romantic notions I'd had about taking a pregnancy test and waiting on the results with my husband kind of poofed into thin air. You have to pee on a stick, which is kind of medical and gross, then wipe the pee splatters off the stick before your husband sees it, and do you peek at the results before you leave the bathroom? Is that allowed if you want to 'find out together'?

We sat on the bed together and waited for three minutes, and then looked. And it was negative.

And that was ok. I had worked hard to not build up hopeful expectations while I built up hopeful expectations anyway. It was only the first month. I really couldn't expect to get pregnant that fast and there was probably nothing wrong with either one of us. Except that I was well studied on the subject of fertility and my own body and I knew for sure that Mars and Venus had crossed paths at the right time...so...still, it was fine. Maybe next month.

I had been feeling a little weird and thought that meant I was pregnant. I had cried easily a couple of times over sentimental things and thought it was a sign. I had a few mood swings and thought that was a sign too. I tried to put all of that out of my mind and Tim and I went to run errands.

We walked into Whole Foods and the smell of the produce section hit me wrong. I had this clear moment of knowing that is hard to describe and I assertively walked over to the vitamin aisle and selected some prenatal vitamins and tossed them in the basket. I told Tim I should have started taking them a while ago. A week or so went by and I stayed in this limbo of thinking my body was telling me I was pregnant, but remembering the test results. 

We had a photographer's social planned at our house for a Thursday night, and that afternoon I got testy. I had a list of things to do to get the house ready for our guests and I was feeling overwhelmed. Tim was helping but at one point when he wasn't doing some household thing my way, I snapped at him and he retreated to the kitchen to wash dishes. 

I felt mean, and I hated that. I didn't feel like myself at all and I was tired of being denied that something real was happening to me and throwing me off kilter. I grabbed my last pregnancy test and snuck off to the bathroom to get my final answer, which I expected to be another negative result.

It wasn't. The horizontal line popped up immediately, no three-minute wait required. 

And then I realized that I was all alone in the bathroom with the weight of this realization, which was heavy, and my thoughts surprisingly weren't fairy-dusted or sunshiny. This is happening? And it's permanent? And I was just mean to my husband and now I have to go tell him I'm pregnant?

I made haste to the kitchen. Tim had his back turned to me as he was washing dishes and I reached for a hug first, which he immediately returned, and then I said; 
"I just took this pregnancy test..."
"WHOAH! I knew you weren't acting like yourself!"

He was so excited, which reminded me that I could be excited too. And then it all turned sweet. We forgot about the chores and the people who were coming soon and the food we needed to make and everything else, and we just held each other and rejoiced and lived in the moment for a while. In my heart, I fell to my knees and thanked God for giving us undeserved grace to be able to get pregnant so easily. It wasn't lost on me then, and still isn't, that I was spared the pain of what I could have gone without. 

deciding to try

Next time, I want to get pregnant by accident. Because getting pregnant on purpose is stressful.

The process is full of endless second guessing. Are we ready? No, but are we really ready? What's a justifiable reason to get pregnant? If I'm sad every day that I'm not, is that good enough reason to go for it? I'm 25. Is that too young? We've been married less than a year. What will people think? 

Well, that was my process. Tim's process was endearingly more simple. His had two levels: "I'm not ready yet", and "now I am". I will always envy his ability to make assertive decisions while I hem and haw and worry for weeks over what to do.

Back in February, we were having these talks a lot. We were almost ready, but not quite set yet. Then, I found out that I was a potential candidate to be a bone marrow donor, and I couldn't donate if I was pregnant. What a sweet relief it was to have an important reason to wait! And it was my only reason for the 8 weeks it took to determine that I was not the right candidate to donate my marrow. This coincided with the birth of our niece, and I then felt helpless against the overwhelming desire to start this process in my own family.

In the first days after Zaylee's birth, a few well-meaning people said out loud what my brain and heart were mercilessly screaming at me: "you're next!", "don't you want this too?", and the classic "whenever you're ready...".  Oh, what this did to me. 

It's not that I felt like I needed to meet anyone's approval. When people suggest ideas that are wrong for me, they're easy to brush off. I couldn't shake this because it was a deep, private desire of my own heart laid bare and spoken out loud. 

The ride home from visiting the maternity ward felt so severe. At first Tim didn't understand. "It's not a big deal. Don't pay any attention to what other people say." 

"It IS a big deal! And it's not because of what anyone's saying. It's what I'm feeling and what I've been wanting for so long."

Wait, how long had I been wanting this? I've always known I wanted to be a mother. I remember being 5 years old and squeezing my baby brother so tight he would cry every time I held him. When I was in my teens, I would dream freely about getting married and having babies. In my single twenties, I shut down those desires completely out of self-preservation. When Tim and I got serious and started talking about marriage, I started to dream again, this time about little dark-haired technologically inclined sassy Franco-American children. And now that we were settled and happy in marriage, the deep desire to start a family was past longing. It was primal. It was pain.

There was nothing to wait for. I wanted a baby more than a house. More than a Master's degree. More than another major-responsibility-free year in my twenties. More than a good night's sleep and more than the money we save by being childless. I wanted this more than any of those big things that couples usually want to get settled first before having a baby.

We took a few more weeks to pray about it, and then it was firmly decided. 

We would try.

an announcement :)

I am almost 16 weeks pregnant! More to come soon on this amazing new season that Tim and I are embarking on. We couldn't be more thrilled, giddy, scared, and honored.