finding out about baby

I opened my eyes on June 17th, 2012.  Father's Day.

I thought about checking on my family, who had been staying with us for the night, but I couldn't wait another second.  I walked into the bathroom, got out a pregnancy test, and waited the dreaded three minutes.  One line appeared automatically and I continued to stare mercilessly for a second line.  For a few seconds, there was nothing.  Then, gradually...

I couldn't tell if another line had appeared or not.  I thought it had.  But I couldn't be sure.  Since the existence of a second line would change the course of our lives, I ran back and jumped on our bed.  Tim's eyes opened in surprise, unaccustomed to the rude awakening.  Instead of explaining myself, I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of bed and toward the bathroom.  I pointed toward the test.

"Do you see one line or two?"

I could see him try to clear his head from the fog.  He focused his eyes on the test.  They slowly widened as he looked back up at me, comprehending what I was really asking.

"I think there's two."

"I think so, too."

I've never seen a man wake up so quickly.  Smiles spread widely across our sleepy faces as he pulled me into a tight hug.  We both jumped up and down and squealed in delight.  Tim pulled back with a dazed look in his eyes.

"Happy Father's Day to me," he said softly.  Then another huge smile spread across his face.

"Happy Father's Day," I smiled back.

Once we had calmed down a little bit, we said a short prayer, our hearts full of gratitude.

I briefly considered running out into the hallway and screaming our news to my family.  Then I came up with a much better idea.  I talked it over with Tim and we decided we'd wait to tell them until after church so we'd all have more time to soak it all in.

I squirmed through the entire three hours of church, trying to imagine what my parents' reactions would be like.  I'd never felt so impatient in my entire life.  After what felt like an entire day, we were all finally home from church.  I told my dad I had a Father's Day card for him and made him sit down on our couch.  Tim gathered my family around as I presented the card to my dad.  He looked at the front of the card and read aloud.

"The best dads are promoted to...grandpa."

He opened the card.

"Congratulations, Grandpa!  Happy Father's Day!"

His expression of shock was matched by every member of my family, but the shock quickly turned to utter delight and excitement.  My mom gave me a huge hug and my entire family took turns finding various ways of saying, "Wow!" and "Congratulations!"

My brothers soon turned their congratulations into teasing.  My little brother, Eric, who had just had a kidney stone, started giving words of "encouragement."

"Well, Katie, now you have the next eight months to prepare yourself for the most pain you've ever felt in your entire life."

And, "Good luck with all that pain and nausea in the next few months.  You're gonna need it."

Thanks, Eric.

My brothers always make me smile.

As we sat around our dining room table eating the Sunday dinner we'd prepared, happiness permeated the atmosphere of our home.  We talked about the future and my parents told all kinds of silly stories from when I was a little girl.  My brothers continued to tease me and Tim and I continued to smile at each other.

Throughout the evening, I wondered again and again when this was all really going to sink in.  Going to feel real.

Twelve weeks later, I'm still wondering the very same thing.

And we could not be happier.

hormonal absurdities

You guys.

YOU GUYS.

Pregnancy does some strange things to your emotions.

You mommas out there know.  And some of you women know at certain times of the month.  And most of you men will never know.  [And I think we all prefer it that way.]

To be honest, most of the time I feel completely normal.  But sometimes, the waterworks turn on at the most random times and I have no idea - no idea - why I'm crying.

The first time I noticed this hormonal phenomenon, I was at the Devey family reunion.  We were in the middle of a talent show, and one of Tim's nephews got up to demonstrate his karate skills, complete with loud "Heeyah!"s and "Yah!"s.  Suddenly I found my eyes filling with tears as I took in this...tender...moment.  My logical side did its absolute best to convince my brain that my hormones were being absurd, and yet somehow, the knowledge alone didn't take away the tears.

The next absurd story took place in Primary [which is a church class for kids if you're unfamiliar].  A little girl was giving her talk and named off the various sports she liked to play.  For each sport she mentioned, her mom got out a visual aid.

"I like to run," she said, as her mom pulled out her sneakers.

"And I like to play soccer," she said, as her mom pulled out a soccer ball.

"And I like to play baseball," she said, as her mom got out her glove.

Somewhere down the list of favorite sports, my eyes began to fill with tears as if this was the most touching moment I'd ever encountered in my entire life.  I glanced over at Tim to see him looking at me, trying unsuccessfully to mask a smile as he noticed my unshed tears.

My favorite - and probably most absurd - hormonal moment came last night as I watched this video:

For some reason last night this video made me feel all teary-eyed and tenderhearted as I listened to the ridiculous lyrics and watched the hilarious dance moves.  Tonight I watched it again and laughed hysterically - mostly from the knowledge that it had somehow made me cry the night before.

In semi-related news, yesterday I threw up at work more times than I'd like to think about, but somehow, I felt all cheery and lighthearted as I gave students the bad news that it was now too late to sign up for classes.

You never know.  You just never know.

before the baby

When Tim and I got engaged, we discussed, among many other things, when we wanted to start having children.  Let's wait at least two to three years, we said.  It'll give us a chance to really get to know each other.

But sometime at the beginning of 2012, I began to have small inklings that Heavenly Father might have other plans.  Since we had only been married a few months and since I was still in grad school at the time, I shrugged it off the first few times.  Then something totally unexpected happened.

I had a miscarriage.  And I hadn't even known I was pregnant.  Didn't even think it was really a possibility.  But the grief that followed was instantaneous and acute.  Needless to say, I immediately began reevaluating my thoughts on the matter.  But ultimately, it all came down to one plaguing question: Did I really want to prevent the coming of a child that was meant to be in our home?

Don't worry, I didn't quit grad school because of all of this soul-searching.  I quit for a thousand other reasons.  But it would be a lie to say it wasn't a factor at all.

Tim and I continued to pray about the matter, but I said very little of my growing convictions.  I wanted him to  independently get the same confirmation that I'd had.

It didn't take very long.

Tim's grandma died in February, and we drove up to Utah for her funeral.  Throughout her service, I felt my convictions growing stronger, but again, I didn't say much about my feelings because I didn't want to influence Tim.  Sometime during the long car ride home, however, Tim got his own sacred answer.  Maybe he'll write about the experience someday, but suffice it to say that by the time we got home, he was even more convinced than I was that it was time to stop preventing pregnancy.

It was honestly the scariest decision we've ever made as a couple - not because we didn't want a baby, but because we knew how drastically our lives would be changed in a very short amount of months.  But we knew that as we moved forward with faith, Heavenly Father would allow everything to happen when the time was right - for Him, for us, and for a child we hadn't even met.

almost-anniversary

I realize that it's now August 18th and that our anniversary was August 5th, but let's just take a second to pretend  that today is August 5th and that I am not a procrastinator.

Because one year ago today [cough, cough], I married my best friend.

And you know what?  I knew our marriage would be amazing.  I knew what kind of a man he was, and I knew how beautiful our relationship already was.

But looking back on that day, I see a naive young woman who didn't really understand what it would all be about or how amazing a marriage could really be.  Because you know what?

It's been better.  This past year has been far better than I could have ever imagined on August 5th, 2011.  Far better than I could have ever dreamed as a young girl imagining that prince I would someday marry in a fairytale far, far away.

Somehow, in some unfathomable way and for some unknown reason, I got the pick of the litter.  The cream of the crop.  I don't know how I got so lucky - or so blessed.  But I am so grateful.

That man I call my husband is truly the most selfless man I've ever met.  He's kind and strong and devoted.  He smiles - and somehow truly means it - even in the most difficult of situations.  He finds a way to laugh, and make me laugh, when life gets stressful or hard.  He is generous almost to a fault - but in the truest sense there is absolutely nothing faulty about it.  His faith in the Lord is unshakable and his quiet goodness is a constant reminder that I want to be better.  That I can be better.

During my freshman year of high school, my seminary teacher asked us what we were all looking for in a future spouse.  Everyone listed off the same superficial answers you always hear after such questions, but after some thoughtfulness, a senior boy that I really looked up to replied, "I want to marry someone who makes me want to be better."

And in so many ways, that has become the embodiment of my relationship with my husband and even of my view of love in general.  Not that I want to feel inferior to him, but that together, we can be better.  That we are better and stronger together than we ever could be apart.

My heart is filled with inexpressible joy that the baby I am carrying is going to have such an incredible father - a father who already loves him/her more than they may ever comprehend fully.  A father who will be a true dad in every sense of the word.

On August 5th, 2012, our real anniversary, I woke up at 2:00 in the morning with the stomach flu, which continued to get worse over the next ten or so hours, until I was completely and totally dehydrated.  I was miserable.  Eventually we decided it was time for the ER, and after the agonizing time spent in the waiting room, we finally made it back into a room where an IV placed in my arm seemed to make everything better.

Sounds like a totally miserable way to spend your anniversary right?  As Tim's brother, Billy, put it, "At least it won't be hard to make next year better."  But even though it was hard and miserable and made me just want to cry, looking back on the whole experience gives me fresh appreciation for my husband and for my marriage.  He took care of me the entire night, was endlessly concerned for my well-being, filled out all the paperwork I was then-incapable of even noticing, and smiled with a new light in his eyes the second I started feeling even minutely better.

And that, my friends, is what true love is really all about.

And I am truly grateful that I get to call Tim mine...forever.

grandma and grandpa?

Did I tell you that I'm going to have a baby?

Oh, yes.  Yes I did.

You can't blame me for asking.  We're pretty excited 'round these parts.

And you know, our parents are pretty excited, too.  Let me give you some examples.

As soon as we got married, my mom started buying all kinds of baby things, including a Pack N Play and a double running stroller.  Uh-huh.  You heard me right.  A double running stroller.  In fact, I have a very distinct memory of her telling me that she'd bought the contraption because it brought a smile during my face during a moment when I had felt like doing anything but smiling.

Not enough evidence?  Don't worry.  I have more.

We had only told our immediate families about our pregnancy for the first few weeks, just to be safe.  But remember, in Tim's family, immediate family involves like 40 people.  Big families, you know.  We asked them all to keep it a secret for awhile, knowing full well that it would be a difficult secret to keep for so many people.  Well, when we went down to Yuma a couple of weekends ago for Melissa's wedding reception, it seemed like all kinds of Yumans already knew about our little bundle.  Tim decided to ask his dad about it.

Tim:  So, dad...it seems like everyone already knows about the pregnancy.

F.I.L.:  Well, we only told our close friends.

Tim:  How come so many people know then?

F.I.L.:  We have a lot of close friends.

That conversation still brings a huge smile to my face.  I mean, I can't really blame them.  It was a really hard secret to keep.

Don't worry, I still want to tell you about how we found out.  And about how we told our families.  And about how I've thought about and loved this baby for years before I found out I was going to be a mom.  And about  all of my silly, hormonal crying stories.

And I will.

But if I told you all of that right now, this blog post would turn into a novel, and goodness knows nobody wants to read my novel, and I certainly don't have time to write one.  But I have quite a few weeks to catch you up on.

Like I said, it was a difficult secret to keep.

p.s.  I still want to tell you about our anniversary, too.  It was a bit overshadowed by our baby news and a brief hospital stay, but one year ago, my life changed drastically...for the better.  And that's something worth mentioning.

baby devey

I've been a terrible blogger lately.
 
I'm not even going to try to deny it.
 
But would it help if I told you that I'M GOING TO HAVE A BABY?!?!
 
That's right.  I'm pregnant.  With child.  Have a bun in the oven.  Am going to be a MOMMY.  And I can barely contain my excitement.

 It's such a surreal feeling.  We had our first ultrasound yesterday and even watching the baby up on the screen, it was hard to believe that the picture was actually coming from a baby in my tummy.  That the heartbeat I was hearing was coming from my body but that it wasn't my own.
 
Surreal, but beautiful.
 
I'm twelve weeks along, and I am so ecstatic to report that the nausea has lessened considerably in the last couple of weeks.  [You know, except for last weekend when I caught the stomach flu.  Then I had considerable nausea and even ended up completely dehydrated in the hospital.  And I'm sure it was just made 5,000 times worse by the fact that I'm pregnant.]
 
I would show you a "bump" picture, but let's be completely honest here: I don't look any different right now.  And any chance I did have of gaining some sort of tiny bump was probably gone with the pounds I lost during the Stomach Flu Incident of 2012.
 
Tim is absolutely convinced we are going to have a boy.  I honestly have no feeling one way or the other.  I keep thinking that whole maternal instinct thing will kick in and somehow I'll magically know the gender of my unborn child.  But I'm not holding my breath.  [Bad for the baby, duh.]
 
Either way, we are so excited.  There have been happy tears shed over this baby on more than one occasion.  And not just by me.

 Baby, you are worth every second of this.  Every.Single.One.

friday the 13th

Friday the 13th turned out to be a very interesting day for us.

Last year, Friday the 13th was an amazing day.  It was in May, and it was the day that I graduated!  Plus, my best friend had her baby that day, so I felt like I was walking on sunshine.

This year, however, was a different story.

But let me rewind a bit.

On Thursday, I walked up the stairs to our apartment after work and noticed two very strange marks on our door.  Upon closer inspection, they looked like puncture marks that might have come from a pocket knife.  I opened the door, mentioned it to Tim, and completely forgot about it.

Then at around 1:00am, right as we were about to fall asleep, we heard a knock at the door.  We looked at each other, completely confused.  Who could that be?  Tim slowly got out of bed and started to walk down the hall.  Suddenly, our doorknob started shaking violently.

Someone was trying to get in our house.  At 1:00 in the morning.

Tim started yelling in his loudest voice.  Then he called to me to dial 911.

I just sat there, confused.  "Right now?" I asked, panicked.

"Yes, right now!"

I dialed the familiar number with tremling fingers.  I'd never called 911 before.  And I'd certainly never had someone try to break into my house.

The dispatcher asked me all kinds of questions until the policeman finally came to our door.  It felt like it took forever, but really, it was only about three or four minutes.

As soon as we opened the door to our uniformed friend, we noticed a third puncture mark.  One that definitely hadn't been there earlier in the evening.  After talking to the policeman for a few minutes, I fully expected him to say something comforting.  Maybe, Don't worry, it probably won't happen again.  Or, I doubt he'll be coming back tonight.

Instead, he said a few things that made us feel worse.  "These marks in your door could be a warning of some kind.  It could be that someone just got out of prison and thinks someone else that they know still lives here and is trying to scare them."  He continued, "I would put up some sort of surveillance system, even if it costs you some money.  And you need to arm yourselves, and then do whatever it takes to protect your family.  Do you understand what I mean?"  We both nodded, momentarily stunned speechless.

Needless to say, we didn't sleep at all that night.

It absolutely petrified me to think that Tim might have to go to work on Friday - my day off.  There was no way I was staying home by myself that day.  Gratefully, his work gave him most of the day off.

And then the next morning, we promptly made the trek over to Harbor Freight to buy a surveillance camera.

Thankfully, we haven't had any more attempts.  But it's incredible how positively violated a break-in attempt makes you feel.  Makes me feel.  Even if they never come back, I'm not sure if I'll ever feel totally safe in my own home again.  And that's a terrible feeling.

But regardless, I already feel like we've been incredibly blessed.  It could have been a lot worse - in so many ways.  And I'm absolutely positive that prayer had something to do with that.

So, my friends, here's to hoping that our lives go back to being completely uneventful in that respect and that next Friday the 13th is more like the last.