Cashier: “So is this your first?”

Me: “My first what?”

Cashier: (Awkwardly) “The first time you’ll be taking these to a baby shower.”

Me: “Um, typically you don’t take stamps to a baby shower.”

Silence.

Me: “I’m not pregnant. However, this shirt is big and could be mistaken for a maternity shirt, so I’ll give you a pass.”

Friends, this is a Public Service Announcement. Unless there is a baby’s head coming out of my hooha do not ask me if I’m pregnant.

Thanks so much,

Molly

Well my due date has come and gone friends.

It’s true. My womb is apparently awesome. My babies love it and refuse to leave it without a good ole fashioned eviction notice.

With Bitzy, I was 10 days late and literally on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was losing my ever loving mind. With this little boy (for the most part), I’ve accepted the awesomeness of my womb and declared that his papers will be served on Thursday and that is that.  No tears, no frustration, no heartache…just a calm readiness.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take what I can get. If he decides to come tonight, I’m not arguing…but I’m not holding my breath either.

In the midst of watching my due date come and go, I can’t help but be grateful that I seem to produce very full term, big, healthy babies.  There are plenty of families in the NICU who would love to be overdue rather than delivering at 25 weeks gestation.

This, my friends, is the perspective that I need when I’m practically doing a three point turn in the bed at night just to roll over. Or when my little one kicks my privates so hard that my sciatic nerve buckles and I can hardly walk. Or even when carrying around a toddler all day in addition to the huge watermelon in my belly makes my back ache and takes the word “exhaustion” to a whole new level, I am finding myself grateful.

This, is a gift my friends.

God is faithful in giving me these tough reminders.

Anyway, there’s your update on the baby in my belly…hopefully I’ll have pictures of his perfect little self on Thursday!

Maternity pictures are a funny thing. They document the miracle of pregnancy, however, they also capture the hugeness of a person during her final and most unfortunate looking days of pregnancy…the “they” that I’m speaking of is “me.”

I’ve seen the “sexy” maternity photos where the mama is practically naked with wind blowing through her hair, she looks glorious and glowing and bursting with life.

You see friends, I have come to a conclusion about pregnancy. Are you ready? It’s really profound. Get ready.

There are some people (not me) that look amazing while pregnant. They look better, feel better and seem to GLOW. Then, there are people in my category. We are tired, look awful and rather than glowing it’s more akin to sweaty.

I’m not complaining though. I do not take the absolute miracle and gift of pregnancy for granted for one single second. I know plenty of people who would love to feel the pains of pregnancy. So, that said, I have accepted the fact that I get massively huge during pregnancy.

Truth hurts people. Again, not complaining. Just gearing up for my next round of WW in a few months.

Anywho, back to maternity pics.

Perhaps I should have had them taken when I was around 5 or 6 months before every surface of my body decided to celebrate pregnancy by expanding…but alas I did not.

At least I can show these pictures to my darling children and remind them of how I completely forfeited my body in order to grant them life…I can see a future guilt trip coming on. I gotta put these things in my back pocket for them they are teenagers and I have to prepare all the ammunition possible.

While I don’t love the way I look, I do love my amazing family…this picture makes me smile.

Hopefully it’ll make you smile too.

There are moments in life that are surreal. For me, things like starting Kindergarten, getting my drivers license, going to college, getting married and giving birth were all landmark moments in my life. I couldn’t imagine them ever happening, but low and behold, they happened. And now as I look back, I still remember the shock of it all. Almost as if I needed to memorize the feelings I felt because I recognized how rare and special those moments truly were.

Today, I had a surreal moment.

As I laid on the white paper clad ultrasound bed having warm gel slathered all over my growing belly I was nervous and excited. It’s not every day that you learn whether your newest sweetheart will wear blue or pink.

I remember as a kid putting pillows under my shirt and prancing around my bedroom wearing either a blue or pink shirt to signify the baby’s gender. Again, I couldn’t fathom that I would ever actually have a real baby growing, flipping and dancing in my belly. It just seemed like a far away fairytale.

Thankfully, my fairytale has come true.

With my precious Zach by my side as he held my love and firstborn, Bitzy Boo, we looked at our newest sweet pea. Although I have felt lots of movement already it’s different seeing the baby moving and shaking on the big screen. It was magical to say the least.

And then, the ultrasound tech answered the long awaited question. BOY.

A healthy, beautiful, strong boy.

As the tears streamed down my cheeks they were filled with happiness, joy and (I’m not gonna lie) a bit of fear of mothering the heart of a boy. But again, I recognized the significance of this surreal moment.

And I memorized it.

I recorded it in the jukebox of my heart and I’ll never, ever, forget the feeling of knowing that a tiny little baby boy is growing like a weed inside of me.

Glory to God in the highest.

Apparently Negative Nancy has come into my house and taken over my body.

I’m feeling like quite the skeptic this evening. I admit that my normally, Positive Polly counterpart is offended that Nancy has embodied me, but has allowed just this one night for me to vent all of my frustrations with the world.

So, in the name of Negative Nancy’s everywhere I’m gonna let ‘er rip.

1. I’m annoyed at TV. So many shows are terrible and disturbing. Let’s take Sister Wives for example. Hmmm…the “old” wives are mad at their “husband” because he’s taking his brand spankin’ new wife on an 11 day honeymoon. They feel “left out.” Now, I’m no expert on Mormonism, but come on people. Of course you feel left out, your husband is sleeping with another woman for goodness sake. Get a grip.

2. Back to TV. Zach went to the store tonight to get me some paper towels because, apparently my life doesn’t work without them. It’s like I can’t function in the kitchen without paper towels. Anyway, I had a few minutes with my own DVR queue madness and I happened upon, wait for it, Pregnant and Addicted. Apparently this lady was a heroin addict who is now “just” addicted to Methadone (which apparently is better for you than heroin- so that’s a victory).  I realize that addictions are real so I wasn’t too far down the judgmental path until she said that both her live-in boyfriend and her are BOTH addicts on unemployment with no plans of finding a job, because apparently it’s a lot of work to stay medicated day in and day out. Makes.Me.Crazy.

3. Daisy is truly driving me insane. Honestly I think that my visit from Negative Nancy is 89% Daisy’s fault. The good news? Since it’s FRIGID outside I started giving her “room time” in her crate in the basement. This gives me a break. I mean, Bitzy has to take naps in her crib, why shouldn’t the puppies have to as well?

4. As I have previously said before, I hate maternity clothes. Like, really hate them. I would rather wear one of Zach’s huge sweatshirts for the next five months than wear some of the awful clothes. It’s such a downer every morning putting on terrible clothes.

5. Lastly, this week my sweet Bitzy and Zach have been deathly sick with me having just a tiny touch of it. I was busy tending to them and now that they’re feeling better? I’m sicker than a dog. Funny how that works isn’t?

Okay, I’m already annoying myself by being Negative Nancy. Life is too fun to complain!!!

I mean, look at this picture…how could I be negative for more than 25 seconds when I’ve got these beauties in my arms?

Now that I’m feeling better after my vent, TODAY is THE day that we find out what kind of little bun we’re having. To say that I’m exciting doesn’t quite cover it. In fact, me, the non-dancer just did a little jig and Zach said, “Look at you, you have a little bit of swing after all when you’re excited.” Babies make me do crazy things I guess…like dance!

Have a Positive Polly kinda day:).

I have not forsaken you my dear readers. Promise.

I’ve got a healthy mix of exhaustion, writers block and being a busy bee.

I’ve got 11, yes 11, half written drafts sitting in my blog queue. So, you’ve got lots-o-fun coming your way.

But for now, I have a few tidbits for you…

Some of you will receive one of this priceless works of art in your mailbox!!! Yay!

Get ready for my sweethearts.

In other news, my Bitzy slept for an hour and forty-five minutes today in her crib for her first nap!!!! I couldn’t believe it!!! So, then during the time of her second nap she walked around, whined, played and hung over the side of the crib for a solid hour. It’s like her body doesn’t know how to deal with a really good nap. So after her skipping her second nap she’ll be ready for bed at 5:00pm. It should be interesting around here this afternoon trying to stretch it out to at least 6:00pm.

Also, in case you were wondering, all maternity clothes are terrible and it’s starting to make me really annoyed. Just because I’m preggers doesn’t mean that I’m blind! I can see the terrible clothes on the racks! So the other night I was having a melt down about ugly maternity clothes and Zach says, “You should be a clothes designer!  Maybe that’s your calling!” To this I had visions of being the next Calvin Kline and then I remembered that I can’t sew or draw, so I suppose being a designer is out of the question.

Also? If you’re obsessed with spinal cord injuries and pregnancy, search no further, there’s a show on TLC called “Paralyzed and Pregnant with Twins.” It’s a Christmas miracle.

And finally, if you’re wondering if it’s possible to eat an entire pan of Rice Krispy Treats in one sitting, let me clear it up for you, YES! It’s quite easy actually.

Did you know that you can get a 1/4 caffeinated beverage? You totally can at your local Starbucks. So, since being preggers if I’m extra tired in the morning I do a little drive- by and get a (tighten your seat belts, it’s intense), a “Tall, Quarter Caff, Non-fat, No whip Peppermint Mocha with no chocolate shaving. Please.”  Isn’t that fabulous?!  The rub? This morning I’m innocently drinking it and I begin to feel nauseated and dizzy, very much like a felt with my Bitzy for the first 20 weeks of pregnancy.  If we could all say a little prayer together that this weird sicky feeling was a fluke that would be wonderful. It’s the most wonderful time of the year and peppermint mocha’s are very much a part of that!

I suppose this isn’t a confession, but still, it’s news. My laptop bag of many years tragically ripped last week and I had to get a new one. Check this beauty out…I love it! The brand is Kailo Chic if you’re in the market for a new bag.

You’re never gonna believe this in a billion years. The past few weeks I have truly outdone myself with the candy consumption. I have truly been impressed with my resilience and fortitude in putting some serious candy away. Not to mention all the other junk. Cheeseburgers, pizza, ya know, crap. It’s like I was in a prison with Weight Watchers and now I am wild animal out of my cage searching for all the Partially Hydrogenated Oil I can find. And boy have I found it. But then on Saturday something happened, all I wanted was salad and fruit. It was like my little baby said, “OK Mama, you’ve had your hay day, now feed some something green.”  So I have. I have eaten better than ever the past few days and I’m feeling much better. Sometimes you’ve just gotta have a junk food binge. Right? Can I get a witness?

I murdered 4 crawdads (or crickets, whatever) yesterday and I feel absolutely no remorse. I do not understand why they continue coming into our house. I mean, it’s winter. Don’t animals die or hibernate or something in the winter? Ah, so freaking annoying. As long as they come, I will continue to murder. Be warned crawdads, be warned.

The other night, around 10:00 or so, Zach and I were watching something lame on TV and I got struck by Magical Christmas Lightening. It’s true. In a flash, Christmas spirit flooded my body and I just HAD to decorate right then. You know the feeling? When you just cannot live another minute without the twinkle of white lights sparkling in your home?  So, of course I sit up and say “We’ve gotta decorate for Christmas! It’s almost Thanksgiving!” Here’s the rest of our “chat.”

Zach: “Forget it, it’s too late. Can you relax for once?”

Me: “Never. We’ve gotta decorate. I will totally explode if we don’t decorate right now.”

Zach: “We don’t have a tree and won’t for weeks, let’s just wait.”

Me: “If you don’t help me, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and do it myself.”

Zach: “You wouldn’t.”

Me. “I would buddy. I so would.”

Zach: “Fine, I’ll get it all out for you, but then, you’re on your own.”

Me: “Except for hanging the garlands, right? You’re so good at hanging garlands (are you picking up my game here ladies?).

Zach: “Fine. Garlands and that’s it. Sometimes you drive me crazy.”

Me: “You mean, in charming, fabulous way?”

Zach: “Um, yeah, something like that.”

And then, we began the Christmas decorating of 2010. And it looks fabulous, if I do say so myself.

In other news, my sweet Bitzy has really stepped her “pretend play” lately. Love doesn’t describe how much I love playing pretend. We play tea party, nap-time (we put all of our babies and stuffed animals under a blanket and kiss them all) and then we play kitchen. I had no idea that the awesomeness of pretend would come so early. At only 13 months (today!) she’s a regular imagination station. Best.Time.Ever.

Daisy and Lily have been on “vacation” at their grandparents house. They’ve been home for 2 days straight and haven’t driven me crazy (yet). It’s a record. Maybe we’re all on the road to recovery.

Do you have any confessions for me? Do tell my peeps.

It was a normal Friday night in September.

Clear. Beautiful. Warm.

I am involved in a great ministry at our church where I co-produce a program 4 times a year. The bad news? It’s at 7:30pm.  Right in the middle of my sweethearts night-night routine.

In the months past, I just brought her with me and Zach would walk around with her, or I would wear her in the Bjorn. It wasn’t always easy, because heaven forbid that I miss bedtime.

As we have previously discussed, my darlings sleep habits aren’t exactly easy peasy. It’s like her sleep is behind a large steel door and I’m the only one with the key (which, let’s face it, I love it). I am able to get her to sleep with little trouble (if we follow the routine completely- to the letter), however, I am Mama. I have magical powers. Daddy is good, but he doesn’t have the sleep magic that I have. So, all that to say, while I knew that there would be tears on her part (and mine) without me being there, it was for the best. For a terrible sleeper, missing bedtime is never a good decision.

It was only the second time in her entire life that I didn’t put her to sleep, but I knew that it was for her own good.

So, that said, I went to my church program, did my thing and on the way home, stopped by Target to pick up things before heading home. I mean, I was out on the town people! It’s not often that I’m all by myself and have the luxury of stopping by Target, so I was thrilled!

While shopping I started thinking about it had been awhile since my “monthly visitor” had arrived. I dismissed the thought and continued on…but something was nagging me.

So, I headed to the pregnancy test aisle and picked one up just for fun.

I finished up and as I was checking out I tried counting days on the calendar trying to figure out how “late” I was. Math has never been my forte nor is actually writing dates down on the calendar to document said “visitors.” Therefore, with the test in hand I couldn’t wait until I got home to get the big news.

So there I am in the Target bathroom peeing on a stick.

I’m really classy like that.

Honestly, I wasn’t nervous or anxious I was just curious to know…

And there it was.

All I could do was laugh. I just laughed and laughed. I remember walking back to my car with the test in my pocket laughing hysterically. Although I was shocked, I was giddy with excitement.

On the way home I thanked God for this baby and cried and cried.

As I drove I started thinking about one of my best friends, Julie. I knew that she and her husband were hoping for a baby soon, and somehow I just knew that she was pregnant.

So I call her.

Julie: “Hey, what’s up?”

Molly: “Are you pregnant?”

Julie: “Um, um, um, um.”

Molly: “Yup, thought so.”

Julie: “Um, um, um, um.”

Molly: “When are you due?”

Julie: “Um, um, um, um.”

Molly: “I know that you’re pregnant. When are you due? You have to tell me because I’m pregnant too and I wanna know my due date!”

Julie: “WHAT, YOU’RE PREGNANT?”

Molly: “Just barely pregnant. I’m on my home to tell Zach, I just took a test at Target.”

Julie: “Target? You’re gross. I’m due May 15th.”

Molly: “I knew it!”

About that time, I pulled into my driveway at home and big goodbye to my sweet Julie.

I walked in the door set down the bags and called Zach into the kitchen. As he was putting something into the cabinet, I grabbed him and put my arms around his neck and said, “I’m pregnant.”

Then he passed out and I had to give him CPR.

Nah, not really. But he did turn as white a ghost.

Zach: “How did this happen?”

Me: “Really? Do you want to go through the birds and the bees again? Aren’t you excited? We get to have another Bitzy!”

Zach: “Yes, of course. Shocked, but excited. How did this happen again?”

This conversation is very typical of Zach and me.  I don’t over think things. I don’t go back in time and try to figure things out or dwell on the past, I just move forward and obsess about today and what the future nursery will look like. Not Zach, he’s more analytical trying to put all the pieces together.

He’s the cheese to my macaroni.

(which actually sounds pretty good right now).

Then, after all the hugging and CPR we retreated to our family room where we cuddled and watched TV and every now and then I would look at him and say, “I’m pregnant” and he would just grin.

Sometimes the unexpected blessings are the most fun.

Here’s the latest and greatest picture of our new sweetheart.

New life excites me like nothing else. So excited for May 27th!  God is amazing!

I’m alive…but sleepy. Oh so sleepy.

Too sleepy to be witty or interesting. Way too sleepy to even type.

Turns out that this child in my belly and my beautiful Bitzy are requiring 100% of my energy.

So rather than piecing sentences together from my scattered half-brain, I will give you a few pictures of my sweetheart. She’s cooler than my silly stories anyhow.

I’ll write again soon, promise.

I betcha you’re never gonna guess what that little blob is??? It’s my little baby silly! Can you believe that there’s a blob in my belly?

I can’t either.

With my Bitzy I was sick, as in barfing my brains out from 4 weeks-20 weeks. It wasn’t pretty people. In addition to being a human puke faucet (sorry for the visual, just keeping it real), I was exhausted 24 hours a day. I came home from work every day and collapsed on the couch and slept only to wake up to eat dinner (and the subsequent barfing) and then back to sleep again.  And also, I spotted from 5 weeks-9 weeks, making this kooky mama a real life basket case.

Not my favorite period of time in my life.

This time around, if I hadn’t seen that little blob swimming around on the ultrasound screen twice now I wouldn’t believe it. This pregnancy has been a dream. No sickness, no spotting, hardly any tiredness, I mean, if pregnancy was always this easy I’d have 20 kids.

But here’s the bad news. No symptoms = my crazy flag flying more wildly than usual…and as you know, that means that I’m way crazy. Like Jerry Springer style.

Let’s take a few weeks ago for example. I had a terrible, awful, no good, very bad dream about my baby (never to be repeated), so I woke up convinced that something was wrong.  Let me also add, that I have had several other complete meltdowns after bad dreams that never came true.

For example, one night when Zach and I were dating, I dreamed that we were at a bar and a guy was hitting on me and Zach didn’t protect me or stick up for me. I was furious in the dream and when I woke up I was still irate. I called him and told him about the dream and his “it’s only a dream” response wasn’t exactly what I was looking for. I wanted his heartfelt apologies for not being there for me in my dream and promises of protection in the future.

Imagine my disappointment!

So I did what any normal person would do, I was enraged and convinced myself that he hated my guts and would never love me.

Duh.

Shockingly Zach was not amused at my antics and he got mad right back at me. Needless to say, we had a terrible fight about my dream and his unsatisfactory response.

So, after my bad baby dream, I called the doctor and explained to the gal on the phone that I simply had to have an ultrasound (I left out the part about the dream- I’m not totally insane).  She asked why and I told her how different this pregnancy has been and how there is just no way that everything is OK when I feel so good.

Let me also interject that I’m 99% sure that I’m “red flagged” on their call system because I call so frequently. My number calls in and an alarm goes off…which I’m totally fine with, by the way. No shame people, no shame.

After I stated my case about how I simply must see the doctor, she said that she “would send a note back to the doctor and let him decide”…which is fine with me. My precious doctor knows that I’m a complete koo-koo hypochondriac, so I knew that he would have mercy on me.

And alas, he did. I got an appointment for that very afternoon. Score!

When I arrived at the office I waited for what seemed like forever and was finally called back. It was then that they told me that the doctor said to go ahead and give me an ultrasound and then he would see me in his office.

Yikes.

His office? It sounded cryptic.

Not shockingly my nervousness went up a notch or two.

Finally it was time for the ultrasound. My heart was pounding as she turned up the volume for me to hear the sweetest sound on earth, the familiar clip-clop of my sweetie’s heartbeat.  Then, that little blob gifted me with a little dance up and down just to let me know that he/she was just fine.

Life lesson? Sometimes being nuts is totally worth it. You should try it.

Afterwards the ultrasound tech led me back to my doctors personal office.

I patiently waited and when he walked in, that precious man gave me a hug and said, “Feel better now?”

He knows me well.

Then he sat down with the ultrasound pictures and pointed to the circle surrounding my little blob.  Then he said, “See this Molly? This is your uterus. It’s beautiful. Women would die for your uterus.”

Umm…OK. Good to know. I thought I wanted a perfect body, but a good uterus will do just fine thankyouverymuch.

Then he went on point out the umbilical cord, heart rate and other details of the scan and said that everything looked “great” and that I had absolutely nothing to worry about.  Then, he voiced magical words to my worried heart, “After 2 great ultrasounds your chance of miscarriage is less than 1%. Stop worrying and enjoy it! Only 20% of women do not have morning sickness, be thankful.”

Then he hugged me again and sent me on my way. I would like to think that he didn’t shake his head and roll his eyes as I left, but I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

But you, my friends know me. I’m crazy and I can’t help it!…maybe my “perfect” uterus is to blame. I mean, you gotta have a trade somewhere. Crazy head for a perfect uterus?

So blob baby is still doing great at 11 weeks pregnant.

How do I know? Well, duh, because I’m the proud owner of my very own Doppler.

That’s right. Every night that little blob baby and I have a chat as I listen to his/her heartbeat. It’s lovely really.

Ha! I always surprise you with my level of crazy don’t I?

Gotta keep you guessing!

I so wish that all little stories were funny and had happy endings.

That tears only rolled down the cheeks of those laughing hysterically.

That heartache was only in the movies.

If I had a genie in a bottle those would be my 3 wishes…but there is no such thing as a genie and there’s no bottle (sorry Christina Aguilera), so unfortunately there are still heartaches and tears and sad-endings.

And ya know what? Sometimes life just doesn’t seem very fair does it?

It’s tough stuff.

Ya see, some dear family friends lost their sweet baby boy last night at only 23 weeks gestation.

Again, it’s just no fair.

That a life has ended that never really began.

So the question that pulls on the shirt sleeves of those of us who love this beautiful family is, of course, “why do bad things happen to good people?” This question has been asked by millions of people, millions of times as they search for answers in times of grief and sorrow.

Now I’m no theologian. Not even close. I’m not a Biblical scholar or an expert at anything really. But I am familiar with loss and I do know the pang of heartache and how doubt in a Sovereign God can creep in the hearts of the most dedicated Believers. I know all about that.

So I feel equipped to answer this age old question…so here it goes…

I don’t know.

I have no idea why bad things happen to good people. How’s that for an answer?

Why crackheads can pop babies out one after the other when some couples try for years to conceive a child.  Why at this very moment someone in the world is dying from starvation. Why murderers choose to kill rather than to love. Why babies die.

I just don’t know.

What I do know?

That God is good.

That He tracks all of our sorrows and has collected all of our tears in His bottle. He has recorded each one (Psalm 56:8).

That He makes all things work together for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

That He heals the broken hearted, binding up our wounds (Psalms 147:3).

And as if that wasn’t enough…

He will not abandon us or leave us as orphans in the storm- He will come to you (John 14:18).

Did you hear that?

The Creator of the whole wide world is not only available, but right beside you in the midst of grief and mourning.

I remember a few days after we found that we had a miscarriage and after the D&C and the drama of it all, I was just so sad. That’s the best way to describe it. So sad. I wasn’t confused or doubting the character of God, I was simply sad and I really needed a bit of comfort from my Jesus (read the whole story here).

So I laid face down on the bathroom floor and prayed that He would heal my heart. I just couldn’t handle the sadness. It was so heavy, I could barely carry the load of it.

And I cried.

Oh, how I cried.

I cried for my sweet baby, I cried for me and for Zach and for the innocence of pregnancy that was forever shattered.

I just cried and prayed for what seemed like hours.

And through all the pain and confusion and the sadness, Jesus was there.

He sure was.

And while I’ll never know why bad things happen to good people, I trust that there is always a plan.

Always.

There’s a bigger picture than what we can see. And I’ve gotta trust that our Lord and Savior is looking at the whole big beautiful scheme of things and is acutely aware of how He will use them for good.

But, that doesn’t make the hurt less does it?

So to our dear sweet family friends, I send my love. I am so so so sorry. And I pray that the Great Comforter and the Prince of Peace will lay His beautiful hands on your hearts and give you comfort.

And to the rest of you, my sweet readers, I love you too.

Greetings my dear friends!

I’m so sorry that I have fallen off the blogging wagon as of late. To be honest, I’m tired, like really tired, and the first thing to go in my family unfortunately isn’t laundry, it’s this little corner of the world wide web.

Also, my sweet Bitzy has been sick for going on 2 weeks. Poor little Bitzy Boo. Last week she had Roseola or Baby Measles, which was a high fever (101-102.5) for 4 days and then she broke out into a rash all over her tiny little body. Then just when I thought she was healthy again now she has a nasty head cold and she’s currently cutting 5 teeth at once.

She’s not so good at being sick, and frankly I’m not great at it either.

While I’m a nervous wreck about my sweetheart being sick, she’s been healthy for a full year with only 2 minor colds. I would say that we’ve made out pretty well, but that still doesn’t ease the snot that’s pouring out of her tiny little button nose.  Remember her first cold? Read about it here.

Oh, and another reason I’m tired…

That’s right.

I’m with child!!! Sweet new baby is due May 27th, 2011!!!!

Were we trying, you ask?

Not exactly, but we’re thrilled and feel so blessed by this new little person already.

So…sorry that I’ve been, ahem, preoccupied.

I’ll try to do better.

My Gracie is a mere 3 months old so the real truths of my horrible pregnancy haven’t vanished into sweet romantic memories.

Me, in non-swollen times.

I admit it, I didn’t enjoy being pregnant.

Of course I LOVED feeling her move and shake inside of me, that was magical, but let’s face it, pregnancy kind of sucks.

And the swelling.   Oh the swelling.

From 32 weeks on, if you stuck a pin in me I just know that gallons of water would have gushed out.  It was just gross.

Needless to say, my wedding ring wasn’t impressed with my new found fatty fingers.  So I bid goodbye to my beloved ring and dished out $25 for the cutest fake that I could find.

And then after my beautiful Bitzy was born my fingers were still swollen.

Huh? I thought that you popped out a baby and everything went back into place (including my organs that were shoved up inside of me like the stuffing of a sock monkey).

That totally didn’t happen.  Bummer.  In regards to my ring, it’s a big bummer.

So a few weeks ago I was sick of my fake ring and wanted to try on the beautiful ring that Zach had slipped on my finger so effortlessly when I became his bride.

So, I dug it out of my jewelry box and tried to slip it on as I once had pre-Gracie.

Slip on, it did not.  It was more like my finger was being strangled.

The culprit.

But I was determined.  “Go on ring.  I know I can get you on!”

And I did.  I got that little sucker on!  My beautiful ring finally traveled the length of my finger and was welcomed back home.

However, there was a slight problem.

My finger was turning purple.

At first I tried not to panic.  I tried all the tricks for getting rings “unstuck.”

You know, like cold water and soap.  Oh if it were that simple. Little silly me.

I then proceeded to try everything in the house with a little “slick” in it.  I even held my hands above my head while icing my finger and massaging it with soap.

I wasn’t kidding around.

I tried ice, vegetable oil, soap, lotion, and nothing.  Not even a budge.

Perhaps the “not even a budge” is what took me from panicked to hysterical.

Did I mention this was on my 30th birthday and it all went down at 3am?  That may be important to the story.

Zach and I had enjoyed a wonderful evening together while Gracie was at her Lolly & Pops.  We saw a movie and had an amazing dinner.  It was delightful and relaxed and the perfect way to usher in my 30′s.

Then my ring ruined it.  Actually, I suppose it’s my fat finger’s fault.

I’m sorry ring, it’s not you, it’s me.

Anyway, when I realized that the ring was officially stuck, I do what I always do in crisis…

1. Begin whining immediately.

2. Yell for Zach to help.

3. Google it.

So, I whine and cry and yell and Google.  Of course my knight in shining armor comes to my aid and begins administering the torture techniques that Google suggests.

Showing off my ring on our honeymoon in Montana.

Note to self:  Google isn’t always right.  Sometimes they are wrong and most importantly, sometimes they inflict pain.  And lots of it.

Let’s just say that tying a string around and/or taping the inflicted finger is painful and elicits screaming and tears, however, I’m not going into details.

Fast forward 1.5 hours.  It’s now 4:30am and the ring is still on.

At this point, I’m getting ready to call an ambulance.  I’m exhausted, freaked out and ready to bid goodbye to my ring finger.  Zach then informed me that I wasn’t going to die and to RELAX and for Pete’s sake we’re not calling an ambulance.

Easy for him to say, his circulation wasn’t being cut off.

So, I said the words that I had been holding in since the moment that I put the ring on…

“Cut it off.”

Zach looks at me and says, “Really? Are you sure?”

As I gazed at my fat, purple and swollen finger I was absolutely sure.

So he got the pliers and began.

My amazing ring that represents my undying and never-ending love for my husband was being broken and torn to shreds…

But, my medical degree from Grey’s Anatomy told me they it would be easier to fix my ring than attempting to repair the nerve damage in my finger after hours of no blood flow.

I know, I’m ridiculous and dramatic, but having a purple finger for hours can really made you more nuts than usual.

Finally, my ring came off and blood flow was restored.  I was relived to say the least.

She was worth it. I would do it all over again for her...my Gracie.

But now, for the problem of a cut off ring.

Zach bought my ring at The Shane Company luckily.  They are known for their customer service and kindness. When I went in I had prepared a heartfelt speech that led to begging, crying and pleading to save my beloved ring.  After my rant concluded the sales person looked and me and said, “No problem.”  She barely blinked an eye.

Apparently this happens a lot.

It was a mere 3 days later and I was wearing my newly re-sized and sparkly ring (that they fixed for FREE by the way) and I had conveniently forgotten the whole sordid affair.

My ring was back on and the world was back in balance.