Lincoln: 2 Months Old

Lincoln is two months old today.  Already.  I used to smirk at the parents who said things like "I can't believe my baby is a month old already!" and "It feels like she was just born yesterday!"  And now, look at me.  I'm one of them. 

Seriously, though.  We welcomed Lincoln two months ago, and it already feels like he's been a part of our lives forever.  He fits so perfectly into our little family that it's hard to imagine him not having been there all this time.  He's an angel of a baby, always smiling and cooing, and perfectly content to just hang out.  He's still a snuggle bug and is happiest when he's wrapped up in someone's arms. 

I don't know his exact weight just now (he's got a check up tomorrow afternoon), but I'll come back and update when I do.  I'm guessing he's somewhere in the 10lb-11lb range.  He's eating like there's no tomorrow lately.  I don't have him on any sort of feeding schedule just yet, but he's been sucking down 6oz every few hours, sometimes more.  He's a great sleeper.  For the last two weeks he's been going to bed for the night around 9 or 10pm and waking up for a bottle somewhere between 4:30 and 5am, then going back to sleep until around 8am.  Last night, we got a solid 9 hours out of him and it was amazing.

Right now, we're still in the blob phase.  Lincoln's not doing much in the way of rolling over or sitting up but he's got great head control and makes regular, normal eye contact. Tummy time isn't his favorite these days, but he's perfectly content to hang out on his belly if he's lying on top of Scott or me.  He's happiest when he's got a full belly and is snuggled up in our arms, and I'm perfectly happy to indulge him.  He's by far the cuddliest of my three babies and I'm eating it up.

Bailey and Gerry are still in love with him.  They're always asking to hold him or give him a bottle, and they're quick to sit down and chat with him or sing him a song. It's so awesome to watch them all together.  Lincoln smiles at them like they're the greatest things on earth.  Gerry is the proudest big brother.  Just ridiculously happy to have this little person to help take care of. 

I know I say this all the time, but we're so in love with this little boy.  Look at that face...who wouldn't be?  

Lincoln's Birth Story

There's nothing I love more than reliving my kids' birth stories.  I'll never forget their births, but it's so nice to have a tangible story with pictures to look back on, and Lincoln's is no exception.

I found out I was pregnant for the third time in August 2015.  We'd come back from our summer vacation a few weeks earlier, and I remember that for a few days after I'd felt a little bit nauseous off and on.  I assumed I was drinking too much coffee first thing in the morning and not eating enough, so I'd just scarf down a banana before my second cup of the day and go on my merry way.  It wasn't until day 5 of feeling like crap that I started to wonder if maybe there was more going on.  I remember I was standing at the sink washing dishes and complaining to Scott that I wasn't feeling good.  "Well, you're not pregnant", he said matter of factly.  But as soon as the word "pregnant" fell out of his mouth, I started wondering.  Could I be?  We'd been going back and forth for a few months about whether or not we wanted to add to our family, and had finally decided that we'd hold off for now because we had two family weddings coming up the following summer, one of those being out of the country, and we were in a good place with Bailey and Gerry.  We figured we'd maybe start trying after the weddings and see what happened.

Unlike with Bailey and Gerry, there was no sweet moment where I came out of the bathroom after taking the test and smiled and announced the news to my husband.  Instead, I took a pregnancy test later that morning in the bathroom at Target while I was picking up school supplies for Bailey and Scott was at home wrangling the kids.  I honestly wasn't expecting a positive.  Truly.  But there it was.  I floated through Target that morning with a smile on my face.  When I got home, I called Scott upstairs to our bedroom and said, "Soooo...remember how we decided to wait until next year to maybe try for another baby?  How do you feel about squeezing three kids in this tiny house?"  This may have been the longest wait for a reaction out of him, but eventually {after the initial freak-out} that slow smile spread across his face.

I was pregnant.  We were doing this again.

At 12 weeks along, I took this picture of Bailey and Gerry and posted it as our "official announcement".

Both kids were so excited when we told them they were going to have a new baby.  Between Bailey starting school and me being swamped with daycare kids, the weeks almost seemed to fly by and before I knew it we'd hit week 20 and were headed to our gender ultrasound.  I remember walking into the office with Scott and Gerry and climbing nervously onto the table.  At that point, I hadn't been feeling as much movement as I had with Bailey and Gerry, so I was just praying for a healthy baby.  The tech moved the doppler around, got a great heartbeat, took measurements, and told us that baby looked healthy and perfect.  She asked us if we wanted to know the sex and I almost--almost--told her no.  I had my girl and I had my boy.  This time, I wanted to be surprised.  But...Scott really wanted to know and we'd have to face the wrath of Bailey if we didn't come home with a definitive answer for her, and so we asked the tech to yes, please tell us.  She moved the doppler wand slightly to the left and there it was, unmistakable.

We were having a little boy.

Another boy.  Another little man in the house.  Another protector for Bailey {not that she'll ever need one}.  Another mama's boy for me.  Another sports enthusiast for Scott.  I spent the drive home that day imagining what it would be like to be the mother of three children.  I was over the moon.

The next 5 months passed slowly.  We celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I became more and more uncomfortable as the baby grew.  Scott and I discussed {and argued over} baby names.  We moved Bailey back into the smaller bedroom and bought her a brand new loft bed, and set up the bigger bedroom for the boys.  My mom and sister threw me a sprinkle.  I washed and folded and put away teeny tiny baby clothes.  I rearranged the boys' bedroom 500 times.  I packed and re-packed my hospital bag, sanitized bottles and pacifiers and the breast pump.  I watched my belly grow and grow, and I took about a thousand pictures to document it all.

I rested as often as I could, which wasn't very often.  This little guy put quite the strain on me, and by the time I'd neared my due date I was ready to be done.  I still loved being pregnant, reveled in my giant belly and in the baby kicks and rolls and hiccups I felt.  I took pictures of my naked belly, stretch marks and all, because this is very likely our last baby and I wanted to have as many photos as possible to look back on.  I talked to Bailey and Gerry about the baby, and let them feel him kicking and rolling.  I complained.  A lot.  I was in pain but so very, very happy.

 
Not surprisingly, my due date came and went.  I went to bed every night, hoping to be woken sometime before dawn with contractions.  I had an OB appointment on my due date, and induction was scheduled for the following week.

The last picture I have from my third pregnancy

We made arrangements for Bailey and Gerry, and went in for my induction at 8 days past my due date.  My mom met Scott and me at the hospital at 6am and by 7:30 I was hooked up to pitocin and ready to go.  I was well past my due date.  Baby was super low and heavy.  A midwife came in and checked me around 7:35am.  "I get off at 8am", she said, "and this baby is going to be here before then."  Sweet!  I could handle 25 minutes of contractions.  I was ready.  It was go time.  We all thought he'd be here right away.  My mom even offered to pick Bailey up from school at lunch time to come meet her new brother.  That's how sure we all were that he was going to be here any minute.

8am came and went.  No baby.  My pitocin had been turned up from 2 to 10 and I was still only having moderate contractions.  I got out of bed and walked around for awhile.  Swayed a bit.  Changed positions.  My nurse brought in a birthing ball and I bounced on that thing like my life depended on it.  Still, nothing happened.  We'd been at the hospital for about five and a half hours when my mom and I sent Scott to get lunch.  There was literally nothing happening at this point.  Not a thing.  While he was gone, the nurse came back in and turned my Pitocin up to 12.  A few minutes went by, my mom chatting away and me lazily surfing Facebook and texting friends, when a strong contraction hit.  I closed my eyes and breathed through the pain and thought, Finally.  That felt like the real thing.

I thought that we'd still have a while to go, but a few minutes later another strong contraction hit.  And then another and another until they were just about one on top of the other.  By this point, I was closing my eyes and softly cursing until the pain crested, still undecided on whether or not I wanted an epidural.  Scott wasn't back yet and, after I'd had a few more contractions and my breathing {and cursing} grew louder, my mom quietly asked if I wanted her to call the nurse.

At that point, I'd figured this was quite possibly the very last time that I would get to experience a birth.  So, why exhaust myself with painful contractions when I could get the epidural and enjoy these moments this one last time?

Within minutes of making the decision, the anesthesiologist had arrived and Scott was back with a lunch that he and my mom wouldn't get to eat until much later.  When I was in labor with Gerry my epidural failed and I felt every ounce of pain and pressure in the hours and minutes leading up to his birth.  Because of it, I was so focused on making sure the epidural worked this time that I didn't realize how close to delivery I really was until I started shaking in transition.

The next few minutes are a blur, but before I knew it nurses and the midwife had come in, Scott and my mom were "in position", and I was pushing.  With Bailey, I remember the epidural working so well that I felt almost zen during her delivery.  There was virtually no pain and just the tiniest hint of pressure that let me know when I was having a contraction and could push.  With Gerry, there was intense pain and an incredible amount of pressure that was almost frightening in the moment.  This delivery fell somewhere in the middle.  I felt no pain from contractions, but a constant pressure that was painful and a bit scary in its intensity.

I vaguely remember my mom standing by my head and counting to 10 with the nurses as I pushed.  I remember the sheer exhaustion I felt and the fear that my exertion was doing nothing.  I remember letting my head fall back onto the pillow between contractions and muttering, "I don't think I can do this."  I remember Scott encouraging me to keep going, telling me "He's almost here."  I remember the nurses instructing me, "Breathe.  Push.  Count to 10.  Take a break."   I remember, in the middle of all of that, the midwife suddenly and sternly telling me, "Stop.  Don't push.  Stop.  Breathe through this contraction.  Don't push."  I remember my mom echoing her, a bit more forcefully.  "Jess, don't push.  Don't push."  I remember the nurse's grip on my leg tightening for a brief moment, and I remember knowing in the back of my mind that something wasn't quite right but just focusing so hard on following the midwife's instructions.  I remember a moment of quiet, and the look on Scott's face--a mix of confusion, fear, revulsion.  The cord was wrapped around my baby's neck.  Three times.

To her credit, the midwife sorted it out quickly and carried on as if nothing had happened.  "Push when you're ready", she said.  And I did.  And just like with Bailey and Gerry, I replayed in my mind all the years that had led to that moment, from my first date with Scott to our wedding to each of our children's births.  It's a wonderful thing, in that moment, to take that sweet trip down memory lane.

After what felt like forever {but Scott will be quick to point out was really only about 30 minutes} our boy came wailing into the world at 1:39pm.  The nurse placed him on my chest and I got my first good look at the little person I'd been growing these last 10 months.  I gazed into his eyes, counted his fingers and his toes, spoke softly to him, and snuggled him close.

He was perfect.

They took him after awhile to be weighed and measured {21 inches long, and 7lbs 12oz}, and Scott and I decided on his name.  Lincoln Joseph.  Lincoln, because Scott loved it {it was the name of a character in one of our favorite tv shows and we'd always said that it would be a strong contender for another baby} and Joseph, because it's my father's middle name.  A bit "cool" and a bit traditional.  It suits him well.

Shortly after he was born, Scott's parents brought Bailey and Gerry to meet their new baby brother.  And then after that we enjoyed visitor after visitor.  Lincoln and I were both exhausted but I was so, so happy that he was here.

He was a dream baby from the very beginning, and I've loved every minute of being a mom to three.  He completes our family in a way that I couldn't have anticipated before he was born, and I can't wait to see the kind of person he becomes.

Welcome to the world, baby!  

Lincoln Joseph.
Born April 7, 2016 at 1:39pm.
21 inches long.  7lbs. 12 oz.

Lincoln: 1 Month Old

I don't know if it's the fact that he's another boy or that we just didn't know what we were doing when Bailey was a baby, but Lincoln is a dream.  Like Gerry, he's super chill and calm, and really only cries when he's hungry and we're taking too long to feed him.

At one month old, Lincoln weighs 8lbs. 7 oz. (less than Gerry weighed at birth) and it 23 inches long.  He's bottle fed right now, and is a great eater.  He's not sleeping through the night, but we'll get there.  Right now, we're getting anywhere from 1.5-3 hour stretches before he wakes up.  We're exhausted, but he's an adorable reason to lose sleep.

He's a snuggler.  Big time.  And I absolutely love it.  His favorite thing to do right now is to snuggle up on my chest, whether he's wide awake or sleepy.  Add in a big, soft blanket and it's like the best thing ever for both of us.  I'm eating it up, and taking as many opportunities as I can to really relax and cuddle with him before he's too big to want to anymore.  I've got about a million pictures of him just like this:

What can I say?  My boy's a love bug.

We're just now starting to get a few teeny smiles out of him, here and there.  I have yet to get one, of course.  Lincoln is all about the love for Scott right now.  As soon as Scott is within his line of sight or he can hear him, Lincoln starts with a tiny hint of a smile.  He's starting to coo at Scott, too.  Daddy gets smiles like this one:

And then I lean in, and get THIS.

No big deal.  I don't need a smile from my baby.  It's not like I carried you for 10 months and then went through the pain and exertion of labor and delivery.  Smile for dad, that's cool.  

Like the rest of us, Bailey and Gerry adore their baby brother.  They're constantly asking to hold him, to give him a bottle, to snuggle up next to him.  I love watching them together.  I knew Bailey would be a great big sister; she was wonderful with Gerry.  But I wasn't too sure how Gerry would handle being a big brother and having a new baby in the house.  If I'm being honest, I was a little worried.  But he's been so amazing.  He takes care of his baby brother...gives him kisses, asks to hold him, talks to him.  He sings You Are My Sunshine when Lincoln gets fussy.  He's slipped into the role of big brother so seamlessly it's like he's always been one.  He and Bailey are the best siblings I could have asked for for this little guy.

So, now that we're one month into this whole "having 3 kids thing", it's not as bad as I was expecting.  I have moments where I kind of feel like I'm drowning a bit.  When all 3 kids need or want something at the same time and I feel like I'm being pulled in 10 different directions.  But those moments are few and far between.  So far, I'm loving being a mom of 3.

I mean...come on.  Just look at them.

Welcome, Baby!

It's been quite some time since I've actually had a minute to sit down and catch up, but I have a good reason...I had a baby!

Lincoln Joseph was born on April 7, 2016 at 1:39pm.  He was a teeny little peanut, weighing in at just 7lbs. 12 oz. He's the sweetest little baby and we all just love him so much.

I'm keeping this short and sweet {because that's all I've got time for at the moment} but check back soon for more updates, pictures, and Lincoln's birth story!

VoxBox Review: L'Oreal RevitaLift Volume Filler

I'm so excited to be reviewing another VoxBox!  This time, I got to try the L'Oreal RevitaLift Volume Filler products, and I can't wait to show you a before and after photo!

Before I write out my review, it's important to note that I have dry, blotchy skin and that pregnancy makes it worse for me.  As far as my skin goes, I've been lucky to have fairly "good" skin for most of my life.  I never really dealt with awful acne as a teen and have only ever had to use facial lotion to keep my skin hydrated.  But, I've been noticing lately that I have pretty noticeable dark spots under my eyes, wrinkles on my forehead, and fairly noticeable veins on the upper part of my eye lids {thanks, kids!}.  I'm going to be 32 this summer, and I'm only now realizing that I could be taking better care of my skin.  Cue the RevitaLift voxbox!

Here's what came in the box:

• Eye Treatment {to reduce under-eye hollows and and sunken shadows}
• Concentrated Serum {intensive face serum to replenish skin's fullness}
• Day Cream {to replenish skin's fullness, smooth lines and fine wrinkles}
• Night Cream {to recover skin's fullness while sleeping, and smooth lines and wrinkles}

Stock Photo...but this is what actually came in the VoxBox

I'll admit that when I first opened the VoxBox, I was intimidated.  All my life, I've been a soap and water kind of girl.  At most, I'd follow that up with a bit of lotion on my face.  And now here's this box with not one but FOUR different products that I was supposed to be using.  The first day I tried the products, it took em almost 20 minutes to figure out which product went where and in what order.  I'm proud to say that, 4 weeks later, I've got it down pat and the whole routine takes me about 4 minutes tops.  And that's only because I take my time while I'm doing it.

So...for my review.  I LOVE this line.  Like, seriously love it, and am ridiculously grateful that I was chosen to test it out.  It's incredibly easy to use, and every product in the line goes on smoothly and leaves my skin feeling hydrated and soft.  And I really love that I can use the night cream before bed and it basically works for me while I'm sleeping.  I'm going to post a before and after photo below, but want to clarify here, too, that this product has been a game changer for me.  My skin is smoother and less blotchy after using it, my under-eye circles are hardly noticeable, wrinkles on my forehead are less noticeable, and the pesky veins that I have around my eyelids are nearly gone.  And my skin feels SO damn SMOOTH after I use it.

The great thing about these VoxBoxes is that the products we receive are all full-sized.  And, as far as the RevitaLift products go, a little bit goes a long way.  So, in a month, I still haven't had to replace them yet, which is awesome.  Because I haven't had to stock up on more of it, though, I don't know off the top of my head how much it actually costs.  BUT...when I do run out, I will be buying more of this line, regardless of the price.  That's how much I like it.  I don't typically buy much for myself and I very rarely "splurge" on anything that's just for me.  But this is one thing that I absolutely will splurge on for myself in the future.  And that's saying a lot.

Check out my photos below {and ignore the goofy faces I was making...and my crazy hair}.  The first photo was taken before I started using the RevitaLift line.  Notice the under-eye darkness, the wrinkles on my forehead, the uneven skin tone, and the veins around my eye lids.  And then check out the after photo, which was taken just this week.  My eye brows are raised...and no wrinkles on my forehead!  And where did those under-eye circles go?  And my blotchy skin?  I didn't use a filter in either of the photos, and I'm wearing the exact same amount of makeup in both (eye liner on upper and lower lash line and a bit of mascara on the top lashes...that's it).  To me, there's a very noticeable difference in these two photos.

I've tried A LOT of VoxBoxes over the past year, and I've liked just about all of them.  This is the only one that I can say I was 110% satisfied with and would continue to purchase and use the products in the future.  Give it a try and see what kinds of results you get!

*I received these products free from Influenster for testing purposes.*

Bailey's Mid-Year Kindergarten Conference

WARNING:  I'm a ridiculously proud mom right now, so I'm going to spend this post gushing about my daughter and how amazing she is.  Read at your own risk.  ;-)

I had Bailey's conference this morning and I'm blown away by how well she's doing.  Her teacher describes her as quiet and shy (the complete opposite of what she's like at home), and as an example for the class.  She can recognize and write all 26 letters of the alphabet (uppercase and lowercase), numbers 0-30, can count to 100 and beyond without help.  She can recognize rhyming words, though she has a hard time producing them, which we've noticed at home, too.  Her handwriting is getting better and better, and she's gotten the hang of starting sentences with a capital letter and ending them with some form of punctuation.  She's reading short books with small words on her own, can sound out and spell random words, recognizes all 14 sight words they've learned so far and then some, can write both her first and last name without help, and is just doing great all-around.

When she started Kindergarten back in August, she was placed in the full day program, based on how she tested.  The full day program is available for kids who tested lower than their peers and/or who needed more help.  The goal is to bridge the gap between what the full day Kindergarteners and their half day peers are able to do in terms of education, so that when they all move on to first grade next year everyone is on or near the same level.  Bailey's teacher told me that she's already bridged that gap and will do perfectly fine in first grade next year.  

As far as being with other kids, she says Bailey is a good friend and gets along well with everyone.  I already knew she would, but it's nice to hear it from someone who is unbiased.  Especially since Bailey has been something of an over-emotional diva at home since school started.  My only concern, and one that the teacher noted she'd look into, is Bailey's speech.  Not all of it; she's been speaking pretty clearly since she was around 2.  She has trouble with her "th-" blend.  Instead of making the blend sound, she pronounces it like an "s" {"Sank you!"} or a "d" {"dem" instead of "them"; "dey" instead of "they"}.  And when she writes, she sounds out her words the same way, and she writes them they way they sound to her.  There's a note on her bedroom door that says:

"Bailey's Room.

Sanc you"

I had to ask her what the bottom part of it said..."Sank you, mom.  Like, sank you for not coming into my room."  Her teacher says it's fairly normal and may be attributed to the fact that she's got a missing tooth front and center, but that she'll mention it to the speech teacher and see if she has any tips for working on it with her.  Other than that, though, she's doing amazingly well, and we couldn't be prouder!

Wacky Wednesday at school...dress wacky!  

Baby Number 3: 35 Weeks

Sooooooo....it's becoming "real", you guys.  I've got 5 weeks left of this pregnancy {let's be honest...probably closer to 6 or 7 weeks with the way my babies tend to stay in forever}, and I'm feeling everything.  Most days I vacillate between sheer joy that there will be another teeny baby in the house, abject terror that Scott and I will be officially outnumbered, sadness that this is likely my last pregnancy, and feeling anxious to meet the baby.  It's a crazy mix, I tell ya.  A crazy mix.

Physically, I'm in survival mode.  As I'm typing this, little man is wiggling around like a ninja on crack.  Every once in awhile, I'll feel his butt or his head or some other limb (seriously, how do all these women really know what's what in there?) poking out.  More often than not these days, his movements are painful.  But so is just about everything else.  And the exhaustion?  Ridiculous.  By the time 5pm rolls around, I feel like I've been hit by a train and am just being dragged along the tracks.  So much more tired this time around than in either of my other pregnancies.  Sleep is amazing...except that I'm not getting any.  Heartburn is a bitch these days, and it keeps me awake for hours at a time during the night.  And, Scott, if you're reading this, I love you.  Like crazy.  But there have been so many nights where I've just wanted to punch you in that handsome face of yours for being able to sleep so peacefully when I can't.  I'm not even sorry about it.  It just is.  

The "nesting instinct" that I'm always reading about is in full effect...the only downside is that I'm too tired and sore to actually follow through on all these grand plans I have of organizing the house to prepare for baby.  I have to do things a little bit at a time, which is frustrating.  And then, of course, I've got Bailey and Gerry {and sometimes Scott} coming through and screwing up the work I've already done.  My To-Do List is pretty extensive, and includes everything from "wash sheets for crib" to "organize linen closet" to "wash kitchen walls" to "scrub every room and corner of the house", and then just keeps circling back around and around.  Daycare doesn't help much, either.  Realistically, I know that none of this is a big deal.  But the irrational part of me just wants it all done.

Lately, I've been thinking about this third baby of ours.  He's most likely going to be our last and, while I'm {mostly} content with this, I can't help feeling so, so sad for Bailey.  She's 100% on board with another little brother right now, but I know how badly she wanted a little sister and I'm sad that she'll never get that.  My sister and I were never close as kids, but have gotten closer since growing up and having kids of our own, and I'm sad that Bailey will never have the kind of sisterly bond that I've wanted for her.  I have 3 nieces and, while it's crazy now because they're all so young, it's going to be so amazing for them as they grow up.  I can't help feeling like I've failed her a bit in that respect.  Yes, she's got cousins and friends...but it's not the same as having a sister.  On the opposite end of that spectrum, I'm really glad that Gerry will be getting a brother.  He's been surrounded by girls, both in our family and at daycare, his entire life and I love the thought of him growing up with someone to goof around and "be boys" with.

So, with 5 weeks to go, that's where I'm at.  Little by little things are coming together, though not nearly as quickly as I'd like them to.  My mind is constantly racing, thinking about the things left to do, to buy, to pack before baby gets here.  And then there's the matter of what to do with Bailey and Gerry when I go into labor...it will all get sorted out, I know.  I'm trying really hard not to stress too much about it right now.

I'm soaking up the baby kicks, the hiccups, hearing his little heart beat at each of my prenatal appointments--all the best things about pregnancy.  Bailey and Gerry are big on kissing my belly these days, which is pretty much the cutest damn thing ever.  We're still undecided on a name, though that's 100% me at this point.  Scott's been set on 2 names for about 4 months now, but I'm holding us up and insisting that we wait until after he's born to name him.  I'm not sure why.  I just don't feel a strong connection to any one name right now, and a name is kind of a big deal, you know?  ;-)  We'll figure it out.


In the meantime, here's a gratuitous bump shot!

Baby Number 3: 31 Weeks

We've made it to 31 weeks!  

Not that I'm even the littlest bit surprised, considering I went well past 40 weeks with both Bailey and Gerry.  I have no stats on this baby, beyond the fact that he's a normal size and a normal weight and moving right along in terms of growth.  Poor thing doesn't even have a name yet and the walls of his bedroom are still a soft pink, left over from when Bailey was the occupant.  

Such is the life of a third baby.

We've got the crib set up and ready to go, and I'm almost positive that I'll have a clean set of sheets on that mattress before we bring him home.  He's got a dresser with clothes inside, just waiting to be worn.  My bag for the hospital is absolutely NOT packed yet, and I don't plan on even attempting it for another few weeks.  I can distinctly remember when I hit the 32 week mark with Bailey and my sister found out I hadn't packed a bag yet.  "What?!" she screeched.  {Yes, she screeched}.  "How do you not have your bag packed and waiting by the front door?!  You're going to go into labor and HAVE NOTHING READY TO TAKE WITH YOU!!!"  She had me so freaked out that I packed a bag that night, nearly convinced that I was going to give birth before the following morning.  Bailey was born nine weeks later.  Nine weeks.

With Gerry, I packed my bag at 36 weeks.  I was so very, very hopeful that he would be born on or before his due date.  I took my time and carefully packed a few outfits for him and a few for me, being sure to include things like chapstick and a book and photos of Bailey (who was 2 and a half by that point) to focus on during labor.  The bag sat in the trunk of our car for what felt like forever, until Gerry was forced out at just under 42 weeks.

This time I'm not rushing.  I refuse.  We have a coming home outfit washed and ready for the baby, and I have a general idea of what I'm going to pack for myself.  Beyond that, nothing.  I don't even know where the actual bag is.  I'm sure I'll find it accidentally in the next few weeks.

Bottom line, I'm trying really hard not to let myself get too stressed these days.  At my last prenatal appointment I damn near fell off the scale when it showed my weight.  That was a number I'd never seen before.  I had to check my pockets afterward to make sure Gerry hadn't slipped an anvil or something in there before I hopped on the scale.  

He hadn't.

My glucose test came back totally normal, but my hemoglobin is fairly low.  Which explains the ridiculous exhaustion I've been feeling lately.  So I'm taking iron pills twice a day and filling up on leafy green foods as often as I can.  

And have I mentioned the stomach pain?  

I generally try not to complain too much during pregnancy, thought I'm sure my husband will tell you otherwise.  But a few weeks ago, I noticed that the skin on my belly was really starting to hurt.  I assumed it was the literal tearing of a stretch mark, slathered on some lotion, and went on my merry way.  Fast forward a few days later, and I realized that my stomach would start really hurting by the end of the day.  Like, hurt from the inside out and was tender to touch.  I just kept on slathering on more and more lotion throughout the day.  A week later, I was feeling almost constant pain from about 4pm until I passed out for the night.  Moving and bending over made it worse, and pressing on the area was simply out of the question if I wanted to stay conscious.  So I brought it up at my prenatal appointment a few days later.  After a somewhat painful exam, it was determined that I've got a few torn ligaments and an abdominal hernia.

Gross.

And, also, ouch.  And there's not a doctor around who will even attempt to fix the issue until after this baby is born.  So, that's something new this time around.  I'm resting as often as I can with 2 kids and a full time job, but damn if I'm not near tears by the end of the day.  And it also doesn't help that the baby is in there just ninja kicking around all day long.  I love him, but damn.  Settle down, kid.

My life right now

So that's where we're at these days.  Pain on top of the usual sciatica and back issues.  At least it gives me something else to focus on, right?  I'm nothing if not positive, you guys!

Now, we're just counting down the weeks until little man makes his arrival.  I'm due March 30th, but I've pretty much got it in my head that we won't be seeing him before early April.  And I'm okay with that for now.  Scott and I have decided that we'll name him after we meet him, which is an entirely new concept for us.  We had Bailey's name picked out the day we found out she was a girl, and Gerry's name was chosen before we had even gotten married.  So this complete and utter indecision is entirely new and I think we both feel a little weird about it.  We're going in with a short list of names that we like, and we'll figure it out from there.  Hopefully.

In the meantime, we're hanging in there.  Gerry is as crazy as ever and Bailey is loving the Kindergarten life.  I could do with a little less energy from both of them, but we're getting by.  And now we're down to single-digit-weeks {hopefully}...baby will be here before we know it!

Happy Birthday, Gerry!

We celebrated Gerry's 3rd birthday yesterday, and he had SO...MUCH...FUN.

Birthday plans were a little scattered this year with this new pregnancy and the craziness of daycare and Bailey being in school, so we threw together a party for our boy {almost} at the last minute and took him, his cousins, and a daycare friend to one of his very favorite places on this earth--Chuck E. Cheese.

To say that he had a good time would be the biggest understatement of this century.  He spent the majority of his 2-hour party looking like this:

Look at that face.  Pure, unrestrained joy.  I love that about him.  Also, for those not yet in the know, this picture was taken in the Ticket Blaster.  It's basically a see-through tube that your kid stands in with goggles on and enough air blasting to send hundreds and hundreds of tickets flying around.  The object is to catch as many tickets as possible while they're flying...Gerry caught one, and that was only because it blew into his mouth.  He spent the rest of the time in there jumping up and down with the world's most giant smile on his little face.  To him, this was magic.

He got to meet Chuck E. Cheese, play all the games, eat pizza and cake and ice cream, and generally have the time of his life.  And he did.  He was so happy.  It was, quite literally, the best birthday he's ever had.

After the Chuck E. party, we had yet another cake for him with family at my parents' house.  More sugar, more candles, more fun.  Seeing that smile on his face all day long was just incredible.

Which leads me to the meat of this post.  My son.  I won't post his birth story  again {though you're welcome to click that link and read it}, but I'm about to go all sappy mom because it's his birthday and my kids' birthdays always make me sentimental.

At 3 years old, Gerry is crazy.  To put it mildly.  He's loud and rambunctious and goofy.  The second his feet hit the floor in the morning he's on the go and he doesn't stop until he passes out for the night.
His favorite color is blue.
He loves most foods.
Bailey is one of his favorite people in this world.  They fight like most siblings do, but he misses her when she's not here and he looks for her when he wakes up in the morning.
Paw Patrol and Mickey mouse are still at the top of his list as far as favorite tv shows and toys to play with.
He LOVES his doggie blanket.
He has less than zero interest in going on the potty.
He loves to run around and be silly.
He absolutely will not smile a normal smile for a picture these days, unless I catch him off guard.  Otherwise, we get these goofy faces out of him.
He doesn't hold back his emotions.  Any of them.  When he's angry, he yells and stomps his feet.  When he's happy, he walks around with a big smile on his face that just can't be contained.  When he's feeling silly, he lets it all out and runs around with no clothes on.
He loves to make people laugh.
He's a bit of a mama's boy.  And I kind of love it.
As wild and crazy as he is, he has a sweet side that not many people have the privilege of seeing.  He gives awesome hugs and kisses, and he's been known to ask us if we're okay if and when we "seem" to be in pain or tired or sad.
He's great with babies, but rough with the big kids.
He has one knock-knock joke in his repertoire, and he plays it on repeat.  And still thinks it's the funniest joke in the world.
Chick-fil-A is his Mecca.


I love this little boy more than I ever thought I would or could.  He's 3 years old now, but he'll always be "my baby" in my eyes.  And I can't wait to see what this next year brings him.