being woken up 4 times between 12-6am...

you realize you've been spit up on five times...

a bout with shooting poo...

and then he learns how to do this:


and it's okay.

not cute.

J and I went to bible study monday morning. I'm still nervous to take him out in situations where things can go terribly wrong (ie: him screaming and me running out the door flustered). Our first grocery trip went off without a hitch, but I was constantly in fear of having to ditch a full grocery cart. So monday I was quietly trying to leave early for a denstist appointment. First word: quiet. This kid is not quite. He grunts, moans and growls constantly...sleeping or otherwise. I never knew a baby could be so vocal! So as we were tiptoeing out I look down and see something on the couch where we were sitting. An umbillical cord. I shrieked. Obviously the attention and mood of the room shifted. And yes, my last attachment to my son was lying there pathetically on the couch. All I could say was gross and disgusting. There was a brief thought to keep it and make a necklace for Matt, but that thought went away with the tissue and nub into the trash. Luckily we could all laugh about it. And the women told me if that's disgusting, to just wait. Oh life, never a dull...

PS after the fact i realize that yes, Miranda Hobbs, had a similar experience involving a cat and a misplaced umbilical cord as well.

is this thing on?

We've hit the 2 week survival mark, MY survival mark. It's been a whirlwind, and I'm sorry for not updating sooner.

I was due Sunday the 31st, and that day came and went. That Thursday we went in for a checkup. The amount of tests ran on me during this pregnancy is epic, God bless insurance. Anyways, something came back questionable. One doctor said one thing, another said another. The recommendation for C-section came in, and Dr. McDonald said we could do it in a couple hours. WHAT? No, no. I need more than 3 hours to mentally prepare for this. Additionally, my mom was flying in at 5pm that night, and her missing it wasn't an option. So Friday morning at 5 we were due at the hospital. A frantic phone call to my mom, a Red Lobster dinner (tacky indulgences, I know), and a sleepless night eventually got us to Friday.

I was scared out of my wits. We got there at 530, after a frantic search for the correct entrance. (We only planned for the ER). And a few hours of waiting till 9am, blast off hour. Surrounded by friends and family in the hospital room pre-surgery we were blissfully scared out of our minds. I felt like a snob introducing "our photographer" and friend Bryan, to the surgeon. A few pre-baby pictures were taken. And we found out they were going to allow Matt and my mom into the surgery room.

The operating room was like a horror movie... bright, sterile, cold. Unlike other surgeries when you get wheeled in already knocked out, this I got to experience from start to end. I sat hunched on the operating table while they dug around my spinal column to insert the spinal epidural cathetar...not fun. Soon my legs turn to logs, they inserted the vag cathetar after (upon request) in a fashion that was anything but ladylike (think frog legs).

The first few minutes of surgery were horendous: an all over awful feeling, throwing up into a sucking tube, and my arms tethered down in a Jesus fashion. A moment I will never forget is looking through the door, probably my most pitiful state in life, getting cut open (I was blocked by a curtain), and seeing Matt's supportive but scared face wanting to do something... anything, but not being able to do a thing. They said they were cutting and brought Matt and my mom in for delivery. Matt videotaped it, not because he wanted to, but because I said it happens once and can always be deleted. I felt a huge release of pressure and they said he was out. I heard his cry. The emotion of that moment cannot be explained. It was every happiness, fear, pain and anxiousness imaginable. I waited for a few sobbing minutes before I saw Jameson. Heard them weighing him, Matt and mom telling me he was perfect, and of course the throaty cry over and over. I just kept telling myself that he's real and actually here. The first thing I saw in my son was Matt's nose.  I haven't watched the video yet, but soon. They let Matt carry him to the nursery, cue photographer Bryan. I'm so grateful for these pictures.

That night was a mess. I had excruciating pain, apparently from the gas that enters the body from surgery, for hours on end. I thought it was a heart attack, that I might die. Doctors and doctors came in and out, trying everything. Morphine, X-rays, CT scans, everything. And nothing was found except this unexplained pain. I'm grateful my mom was there, my medical advocate. She fought and fought for something to be found, to be done. I remember screaming in pain, looking over at Matt's helpless face. It was an awful night, but one that eventually ended. The pain continued in lesser form for the following days. I was in the hospital for 4 days post-op, and relished the room service, pain meds, and nursery. Matt is a champ with the diaper changes, and to my delight got peed on during the first one :) Breast feeding was initially a HUGE struggle, physically and emotionally, but J and I are working it out. It's still not fun, but there is something gratifying about being THE person that can calm and satisfy this child.

Apparently Jameson screamed the entire first night in the nursery, coming into the world with a vengance, which is not suprising. The first night home was a rough one. Matt tried to let me sleep and took the first shift. A couple hours of crying with Matt led me to find both of them on blankets on the nursery floor: Matt exaughsted and Jameson crying. I took over for the next few hours, painfully tiptoeing through breast feeding and minding a huge abdominal incision. What a night. The physical, emotional and mental implications of it all were overwhelming. 

My mom was here last week, and what a blessing. They say you want your mom, and what a truth. She was a guide and a support. Additionally, an amazing babysitter that gave me bouts of sanity away from the baby and some nice lunches out with Matt. Matt's mom is here now for a few days, and I'm anxious for when the training wheels come off next week when she leaves. I can't believe we've survived, and I'm not sure I could do it over. But life is getting worked out, and God has been good.

Can't wait for you all to meet our little guy. He's generally mellow when gas isn't involved. Has his days and nights mixed up...not fun. Pees and poos like a champ. Is incredibly cute while sleeping. Makes ridiculous faces. And is just generally amazing. Life is good.

Here's some of my favorites...all of them can be seen at photos.youvebeencaptured.com

the day after d-day

me thinks i looks ridiculous.

stats:
overdue
3 movies from blockbuster
1 vacation day for matt
73 degree apartment
carmel ricecakes galore
a need for Ben & Jerry
some downtime before the storm

stretch marks

with 5 hypothetical days left??? are you kidding me. pregnancy, you continue to be so uncute.

38.935785 weeks

The latest on the home front. According to the random lady at the thrift store, I'm hiding a basketball under there. Thanks lady, and stop poking it. It kinda freaks me out every time I see it in a mirror. As of last Thursday I'm not dilated at all. I'm not counting on the 31st, but time will tell. I try to mentally prepare by inserting a infant into every action I do, and it just doesn't hit. And apparently it won't...until it's too late. Till then I try to savor my sleep.

An erie calm before the storm has hit. Life has gone pretty haywire these last few weeks, and throwing a pending labor and child into the mix has made it not so stress-free. This last week I've been without a car, which is frustrating because of a pending to-do list, but has also forced me to relax and watch too much TV, too. In the end I'm trusting God's got it all in control, and that my stress does little.

The baby's room is pretty set...

I love the crib! Mom and Dad Mackey totally blessed us with it. Matt thinks it's depressing, and I say who cares...I'll console our blind infant out of his depression.

One of my favorite things is this blue frog. Thomas, (aka Thomas the Toilet) one of my kindergartners in Korea, colored it. All the rest of the class had green frogs, he was intent on his blue...if you get my drift. (I actually stole it from him, but that's another lesson) I intend on making it some poignant metaphor for my kid someday, but chances are he won't care.


And last is the return of the tiger. This ginormous stuffed animal comes with a story: When I first met Matt apparently he could never remember my name. He'd always call me Tiger, which I thought was just an affectionate nickname. In reality, he could never remember my name. True love. Flash forward a year when we had started dating and I receive this huge Valentine's package. Lo and behold, our striped friend was stuffed inside. My tiny dorm room had to house this giant for a long year. It later ended up a conversation piece in our house on Rivermont...the type of conversation depended on whether Matt and I were speaking. Eventually we moved out, I left the country, and assumed my Tiger went to dumpster heaven. Yet another suspiciously huge package came my way this spring, from my sweet friend Erin Bell...and hence, the Tiger returned. And now our child will love it. Such a strange and beautiful world we live in.

36 weeks

some not-so-glamorous sunday afternoon shots...
it just keeps growing and growing.


the front shot is less impressive. (this was my football stance...i could give a mean tackle with this lump)


and the parents-to-be. we laugh. i cry. it's love. he makes my life incredible. i can't begin to tell you the amount of excitement about the thought of going through life with matt brings. i get selfish about our time together right now, knowing the inexplicable amount of change a child is going to bring. but in the end, it's us doing life together, the thing we've always wanted.

holy cannoli.

As of August 1st, I have 30 days left. Sweet Jesus. I've stopped counting in weeks, because the number is too few. Last Thursday marked the end of school. My official trophy for getting a Master's is riding on the front of me. 20 pounds as of last visit; pregnancy is truly the end of vanity. Pictures tomorrow.

my humps.

Carrie asked for a belly update. I need to do it when I'm feeling fresh...no sense in documenting horror. The most recent on my camera from end of June...so probably 30 weeks...I'll get ya some recent ones stat.



Carrie asked for a belly update. I need to do it when I'm feeling fresh...no sense in documenting horror. The most recent on my camera from end of June...so probably 30 weeks...

sweet child o' mine

Last week my girlfriends, Dana and Rachel, were sweet enough to throw me a shower. Obviously looking at the parents, we know this child is not coming out normal, per say. And by looking at the father, there may be a hint of diva in this sweet child. Needless to say, it was a rockstar themed baby shower. Love it. I don't do the themed characters cheese well. All the girls in my program came out and it was a good time. All the snacks a preggo could dream of...7 layer dip, Zaxby's chicken finger, and oh the fruit salad. I don't know if I'm craving fruit all the time, or just giving into my natural desire. But grow it on a tree, vine, or the ground, and I'm sure to eat it. I got sparkling grape juice while jealously watching the rest of the crowd sip champagne. The rockstar cupcakes came complete with blue booties.
We're not much of a game crowd, but Dana and Rach hit the spot with the onesie contest. Each girl got a onesie and some markers and created their own, to be judged by me for the win. Loved it. Fun favors for me at 2am in a few months, and a sweet reminder of people I love. Check out the wares. Awkward Em won with "A little mess...I pooped." The Beatles, mowhawks, and a smiley face on crack were also involved. Thank you girls. I'm not good with the cheesiness of life, but I truly appreciated all the love and laughs. It was a last hurrah of sorts before the majority of them enter life in the workplace and as I enter life on other terms.
Em, the winner:

Cassie's instistence on 2nd place in the middle:
A replica of Matt's "New Hampshire for Damnsure" on the left, and the Beatles on the right:

Rachel encouraging him already, and Shannon with our Crimson Tide:

Bessie's mowhawk love, Meredith's crack smiley, and Bree's rendition of the Man:
And the group.

baby blue upchuck.

I am unfit. I had a dream last night I had a baby the size of my palm. He got smothered by his blanket and stopped breathing. He started turning black like frostbite, and I couldn't recussitate him. Welcome to my dreams. Pleasant, right?

Anyways, at my marketing internship I further found out I was unfit. I learned last week that you actually have to bring baby clothes to the hospital. Poor kid would have been streaking without a cause. I'm sure Matt and his scissors would have created something Tarzan-ish from betsheets. Anyways, this week I learn you have to have a door sign at the hospital. Well, okay not HAVE, but apparently it's what the cool babies get. My co-worker had our designer make this rockin poster-sized shabby-chic thing of cuteness. I look online to see what it's all about, and I find this...and this...

If not having these makes me an unfit parent, then handcuff me. I'd urge anyone to send sushi, cocktails, or a live-in nanny in lieu of these vomitus creations.

it's like christmas.

So we've been rocked with some pretty amazing gifts thus far.

My BFF GFs gave me this. It was said that any girl who is required to carry around a bag of milk and diapers, that it better be a friggin cute bag. And they obliged. And I love it. And Matt said it wasn't too frou frou that he wouldn't carry it. How kind. Thank you Turns, Bell, Rae & Cait!


My mom made us this blanket. And I love it, too. Super soft. I knew I wanted it striped, either gender. Blue/grey for a boy, olive/grey for a girl (let's be real...I don't do pink, nor would my infant daughter). Anyways, mom insisted on blue before we knew. She's got insight...


And lastly, our friend Mellie created the apple of Matt's eye...

infant replicas of his infamous v-neck shirts. We all know I'm not marrying a J.Crew model, but he has this uncanny ability to cut all articles of clothing. Apparently crew neck shirts are "too restricting." Luckily, our child will not feel restricted either.

just peachy.

No, I am not a gleeful preggo. I whine and moan and ache at any variable moment during the day. Jabbing pains and constant motion in my belly is not my idea of a good time. I mostly keep my complaints within Matt's earshot, in hopes that any hint of sympathy grows. I had read about and noticed early on the presence of more body hair. I looked at my shoulder yesterday and realized I am covered in peach fuzz. Not cute. Luckily, it's nothing a 6th grade boy would be jealous of. But probably that woman in Liberty's Financial Aid department would (she had a ferocious beard). I'm hoping it falls out later, or else we're going to be talking some serious laser hair removal in the future. No woman should be fuzzy.

Hello Stranger.

January: Matt calls this picture the beginning of the end... what a ride it's been. Vomiting greets me promptly at 7am and lasts beyond any notion of morning. It's not cute. My roommate accompanies me to my first appointment and we get mistaken for life partners. Cute.


February: 9 weeks. Waist so small... Lot's of saltines and ginger ale by this point. The nurses yell at me for losing weight. I'm sick and miserably tired at this point, but no worries, master's degrees don't require much of anything.

February: He asked. I answered. After 7 years anything is possible.
Diamonds AND lobster. That's happiness.

March: Matty hits the big 2-5... geez we're old. St. Patrick's day was quite bleak without any green beer.

April: 19 weeks...my heap of wheat is a little heapy-ier. I don't really pass for pregnant yet. My dry heaves disagree though. God bless the anti-nausea medication they created for chemo patients AND pregnant women! Unfortunately they are as stingy with it as kids with candy, which puts me sick for only HALF the month now. Baby steps.


Late April: Matt's parents visit...I'm a little fat, a little preggo. The boobs have made their full-fledged entrance. I complained to my mom and she laughed and said it only gets worse.


We also find out its a he, with a wee! We were both SUPER happy to delay the idea of a boy-crazy, 13-year-old, PMS-ing terror for a few more years. We acted like kids on Christmas day, I think the nurse believes we're unfit.

Kinda looks like he's flipping the camera off, don't you say?
I think he's got matt's belly.
Those aren't walnuts...
He's looking at you. Creepy baby.
Yea, not sure what this is. But it's inside me.



June: 27 weeks and belly-baring... I'm starting to get consistent looks and pity, too. The heat hit 101 degrees today. It's going to be an AWESOME summer in the south.


I'll be a good blogger from here on out. Promise.