in which i compare my unborn child to a rabbit

Back when I lived in Yuma [and Tim still hadn't noticed me], I decided to join 4-H.  I'd been begging for a dog for years, so I guess my parents figured that this was an easy way to appease my desire.  [It didn't work.]  They finally settled on letting me get a rabbit.  [Getting a goat and a rabbit was just too much to ask, I suppose.]

The day I went down to pick out my rabbit is still burned in my memory.  On a warm, sunny day, I chose a beautiful female mini-lop, with black and white spots covering her entire body.  I held her tiny frame in my arms the entire ride home, my heart already completely attached to my sweet little girl.  I named her Precious.

Over the next few weeks, my tiny baby bunny and I became inseparable.  As she grew, she became the most cuddly rabbit I have ever met.  She would always jump up into my lap and just wait for me to start petting her.  We even potty-trained her.  I couldn't have loved her more.

One day, my friend Ashley brought over her female rabbit and we decided to let them run around together in my backyard.  Before I knew it, however, my rabbit had gotten on top of her rabbit and started doing things the likes of which I'd never seen before.  I grabbed Precious off of Ashley's rabbit and frantically ran inside to my dad.

After I'd explained Precious's actions to him, he laughed a little and said that it sounded like my sweet little Precious was actually a boy.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I didn't believe it.  Hot tears ran down my face.  Could it be possible?

Once the shock wore off a few minutes later and I'd gotten used to the idea, the universe seemed back in alignment again.  Everything was fine.  I'd just change his name to Domino and that would be that.

[It never worked, by the way.  I always called him Precious and he was still the sweetest bunny I have ever met.]

But that brings me back to the present.  Over the past few weeks, I have had an inordinate amount of people ask me what I would do if my sweet little Ellie were actually a boy.  While I always found it an odd question, every single time, I would think of the story of my sweet little rabbit and smile a little inside.  Because I know that if Ellie were to be born a boy, I would probably react in the exact same way.  With hot tears.  Not because I wouldn't want a boy, but because I'd be in such shock.  Though thankfully I'm sure I wouldn't find out in the same dramatic fashion as when I was an unsuspecting nine-year-old.  [And, quite frankly, I don't think I'd get away with continuing to call him Ellie.]

But all of those unusual questions started to make me paranoid.  After doing several loads of laundry full of baby girl clothes, I started to wonder.  Even though I'd been told a couple of different times by different ultrasound technicians that my sweet baby was a girl, I couldn't help myself.  Why else would I keep getting asked that question?

At our appointment yesterday, as our doctor was checking up on our baby through an ultrasound, I asked him to please confirm for me one more time that we were actually having a girl and not a boy.

After looking around for a minute, he pointed to the screen.

"Does that look like a boy to you?"

"I, uh...I can't tell," I admitted.

He adjusted the wand.  "How about now?"

"Oh.  Oh yes.  Definitely a girl," I said, smiling.

Then a few minutes later, he dealt us the news that I hadn't made any progress and that baby girl was not likely to be born by my due date.  [Which is TODAY, by the way.]  And suddenly, I was no longer smiling.  We scheduled an induction for next Thursday morning just in case I haven't gone into labor by then.  But all rational thinking went out the window yesterday afternoon as I tried not to cry about the fact that I might be pregnant for another entire week.

But at least I'm not crying about the fact that my baby has had an unexpected sex change.

Because, you know, that would be traumatic, too.

reasons i love being married

Oh man, I love being married.

I love being married for a million reasons.  Plus another trillion.  It is by far the best thing that has ever happened to me.  Or perhaps I should clarify: Tim is the best thing that has ever happened to me.  And everything has just gotten better since we decided to get married.

One of the reasons I love being married is getting to go on dates with my best friend.  Like I mentioned, Tim and I made it our personal quest in life to find authentic Mexican food in Utah, and when Valentine's Day rolled around, we knew we couldn't pass up another opportunity.

We decided to try out Javier's in Ogden.

But we actually liked this side of the sign better:

I realize that our exposure to the Spanish language is rather limited, but I feel relatively confident in my assertion that "specilas" is not a Spanish word.  Or an English one, for that matter.

We actually weren't super impressed with the food, but we did get to meet Javier, and that was pretty cool.  It was a little like meeting a celebrity.  As much as you can in Ogden, anyway.  

But our favorite part of the whole experience was when I was attempting to ask our waitress's opinion about whether she liked the tacos or the chimichangas better, and she just gave me a confused look and said, "No."  I tried to restate my question, after which I got the same answer: "No," this time with a vehement shake of the head.  Not having any idea why I was being faced with so much negativity where my beloved Mexican food was concerned, I quickly ordered the tacos and left it at that.  

After she left our table, I turned to look at Tim, who was unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a laugh.  Apparently our waitress had thought I was asking if I could order the tacos and the chimichangas together, which is where the confusion had set in.  Cue night-long giggle fest.  I had hoped that this touch of authenticity [i.e., our waitress not speaking English] would bode better for our food, but alas.

 

When we got home, we dipped strawberries in chocolate [in our fancy plastic china] and watched Once Upon a Time.

It was perfect.  And perfectly romantic.

Not to mention the flowers and the cookies Tim surprised me with:

That man gets me.

Another reason why I love being married is the fact that I went from having zero sisters to having eight sisters.  Kind of a big difference.  I always wanted sisters growing up, and I finally got my wish.

My sister-in-law Ali decided that she wanted to give me a pedicure before baby Ellie is born.  I feel completely confident that if there were a "Sweetest Person on the Planet" award, it would go to her.  Seriously.  Who thinks of something like that?  Yesterday she scrubbed my feet with a sugar scrub, put lotion on them, gave me an incredible foot-rub, and then painted my toenails.  On her day off.

I almost died of happiness.  If there's one form of pampering that I love, it's a good foot-rub.

Like I said, there are about a trillion reasons left about why I love being married.  I would say a good 83% of those reasons are extremely mushy, and if I listed all of them, some of you might start throwing tomatoes at me through cyberspace.  But let me leave you with just one more.

This picture was taken at 39 weeks and 3 days.  Which means that our baby is due this Friday.  And she is one of the many reasons why I am so thankful to be married.

If she only knew how lucky she is to have a dad who is already so completely devoted to her.  

And to her mother.

Here's to marriage!

blog book

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you might remember that I always joke that I'm writing everything here "for posterity's sake."  The truth of the matter is that I'm only half joking.  I am terrible at keeping a traditional journal, so writing here on the blog is my way of chronicling our life events.

That's why when Tim surprised me two Christmases ago with this present, I was ecstatic.  What better way to keep an actual record of the things I'd been writing about "for posterity's sake"?  After that year, I made him promise that he'd give me the same present every year for Christmas.  And he didn't disappoint.

Here's our book for 2012:

front

 back

It is possible, and perhaps even probable, that our posterity will read through these books and think, "Wow my mom/grandma/great-grandma was a freak!"  But that's ok.  At least they'll have some idea what our personalities were like.  And maybe someday, somehow, something I write will make a difference for them.

If nothing else, I want them to know that I thought about them long before they were born.  That I don't do anything in my life without considering the consequences that my actions might have on them.

And I hope that someday, when my baby girl is no longer a baby, she'll be able to read this book and never wonder about how much I have always cared.

just so you don't have to ask...

...I'm still pregnant.

She's still in there.  Just chillin'.  In fact, I don't think she's making any plans to vacate in the very near future.  But that's ok.  We'll enjoy the remaining days of our parasitic relationship together in relative peace and quiet.  [Though when we spoke in church on Sunday, and I said that I had hoped to go into labor to avoid speaking, I was only half joking.]

But in related news, my fingers are now officially too swollen [read: chubby] to wear my engagement and wedding rings.

Suffering through the textbook withdrawal symptoms has not been an easy task, but I have found a way to relieve them somewhat.  Behold:

My newly beloved $10 ring from Target.  If you weren't looking very closely, you might assume that Tim and I recently came into a very large sum of money.  And by not very closely, I mean approximately 0.24 seconds.  But hey, it's those first impressions that count, right?

And in other related news, we have made great strides where Ellie's nursery is concerned:

For those of you concerned that I am not following the current AAP guidelines, fear no more!  Those bumpers will be taken out as soon as she starts sleeping in her crib.  But in the meantime, they look cute, and I got them for free as a hand-me-down.

See that board with her name on it?  That little beauty is all Tim's doing.  [Except for the burlap ribbon.  That may or may not have been my doing.]  We had some leftover wood from another project, and he decided he'd like to make something for his little girl.  I was duly impressed.  At least our children have some chance of craftiness.

And those knobs?  Those were also Tim's doing.  Well, ok, if you want to get technical, they were my idea, but Tim did paint them for me.  I would have painted them myself [really, I would have], but the doctor advised against it.  It actually took a lot for me not to hover over him to check their second-by-second progress, but I restrained myself and left to another room.

And in other other related news, Tim had the day off yesterday!  Ok so maybe that isn't actually related in any way, shape, or form.  It may have had more to do with the fact that he worked an excessive amount of hours last week for an event in Provo [which somehow I ended up working, too].  But it was an amazing day off, filled with doughnuts, hot chocolate, roast, baked potatoes, cauliflower, and ice cream.  And maybe some cookies, too.

Don't worry, we didn't actually eat all day.  [Though it may have been a consideration.]  The truth was that in between all of that eating, we got a lot done, too.  Including, but not limited to, our trip to the DMV so we could switch out our AZ plates for UT plates.  Truthfully, this particular errand makes me feel like a traitor, but my mom assures me that since I was born in Utah, this isn't actually the case.  I haven't decided if I believe her yet.

And now that I've turned yet another blog post into a [mostly non-fiction] novel, I'll graciously allow you to finish out the remainder of your day.

Any guesses on baby girl's real due date?

the good news and the bad news

Well, the good news is...I'm still pregnant.

The bad news is...I'm still pregnant.

Just kidding.  This really is mostly good news.  I'm only 37 weeks and 4 days along, so baby girl still has some time to cook.  And the chubbier the better, as far as I'm concerned.

At our last doctors appointment, he told us that she was measuring approximately 6 pounds, 3 ounces, which he said is a couple of weeks behind the "average," but he was quick to reassure me that most moms don't mind a smaller baby.  He's right.  I don't.  [But I'm still hoping for some chubby cheeks.]

For some of you this next part might be getting into the TMI territory, so if you fall into that category, go ahead and scroll down to take a look at some of those pictures down there.  I won't be offended, I assure you.  Go ahead.  Take a peek.

But for the rest of you brave souls, the truth of the matter is that I really can't feel most of the things that most moms say happen to their bodies as they prepare for labor.  If my body is experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, I can't feel it.  If my belly has "dropped," I don't know it.  If I'm supposed to be feeling increased pressure, well, I can't feel that either.  Not yet anyway.  From my readings about the end of pregnancy, this could mean one of three things [in order of decreasing likelihood]:

1. My body won't be ready to deliver until my due date.  At least.
2. My body could be ready to deliver within the next 24 hours.
3. There is a slight possibility that I could be pregnant forever.

Ok so maybe that last one isn't really a possibility at all.  But sometimes, in moments of self-doubt when I read all about the signs of impending labor and am not experiencing any of them, it is a serious consideration of mine.  And as for the other two things, all of my readings about labor essentially tell me that even though there are technically "averages," it really is incredibly different for every individual.  Which to me means that they really have no idea how and when things will happen.  They can make educated guesses, but in the end, they're in the same boat as I am.  Waiting.

I am just so anxious to meet our little girl, even though I know that when she comes, our lives will be filled with sleepless nights and probably a fair amount of crying from me.  [See: sleepless nights.]  She has become such an important part of my life already, and I love her.  I love her even though I don't know who she'll be or what she'll look like.  I love her because I know that no matter what, she is ours.  Our little girl.  The little girl that we would already do anything for.

Ok for those of you who have scrolled down to avoid more talk of labor and pregnancy and mushiness, you can probably tune back in now.  But I make no guarantees.

This last weekend, we went on another double date with my in-laws, Jeremy and Ali.  First we went to the new Brigham City temple.

Isn't it gorgeous?  Seriously.  I feel so lucky that this beautiful edifice is 15 minutes away from my house.  The inside is even better.  Whenever I go inside one of these houses of the Lord, I feel an almost tangible peace.  This last Saturday was no different.

Timothy and me.

And the lovely Jeremy and Ali.

Afterwards, we all went to El Toro Viejo.  This was a result of mine and Tim's quest to find truly authentic Mexican food in Utah.  A feat easier said than done.  We have already been to more Mexican restaurants up here than I'd care to admit, always justified by the fact that "we won't be able to go out as much once the baby comes."  Which, while true, is also an expensive justification.

And, in case you were wondering, El Toro Viejo was probably the closest we've come.  We were duly impressed.  And Jeremy and Ali always make for amazing company.

We also got to drive to Salt Lake City on Sunday evening and have dinner with a few of my cousins.  It was so fun.  They all grew up on the east coast, and even when they moved closer to attend BYU, we didn't get to see them all that often.  Now they're one hour away!  Which basically means that there is at least one plus in having moved to Utah.

p.s.  Thank you for all of your sweet comments on my last couple of posts.  First of all, to all you moms for having given me advice about newborn clothing.  It was extremely helpful, and I think we are now as prepared as we're going to be in that department.  And secondly, thanks for all of your sweet comments on my last post, about my meltdown in our driveway.  There really are "good things to come." :)