Actually pretty in pink

Let me be the first to say that I never ever ever thought my daughter would have a pink room. I have been waging the fight agains the frilly since the ultrasound nurse said "Girl!" As a young girl, I never liked pink. It's not so much the color itself, just the super girliness it seems to represent. I distinctly remember sitting in church, face red from crying and arms folded tightly, because my mom had made me wear a pink dress that day. And I was probably 12 — a little too old for such pouting. While I wasn't coordinated enough to wear the title of tomboy, I definitely wasn't a girly girl.

And this anti-girly girl mindset came into play when making decisions for baby girl. In my mind there would be no poofy dress that looks like a cupcake trying to swallow my child, there would be no Carmen Miranda bows the size of grapefruits adorned with feathers and sparkles strapped to her head, and there would be no glitter, no rhinestones, and no tulle. Sure, I want her to be feminine and sweet, but styled like a contestant on "Toddlers in Tiaras." I wanted the same style for her room, and to me that meant little to no pink.

Who would've thought that it would actually be Scott who selected the color and changed my mind about it. His way of preparing for baby has been planning her room, and it's been so sweet to watch him searching the Web, pinning what he likes to a secret pinboard (The boy's on Pinterest! It doesn't get much cuter). When he sent me what he had in mind, I was surprised with how much I liked it. While it did have pink, it was a pale pink, and paired with a kelly green in her bedding and curtains, it was just too perfect to say no to.

Thanks to our friends Katie and Nate, baby girl's room got painted this Saturday. Scott and Nate worked hard while Katie and I entertained Preston with sidewalk chalk, golf, and the sprinkler. Our part was much less difficult.

Now with the paint, it really feels like baby girl's room is beginning to take shape, even if it is only a pink room with a white dresser/changing table in it right now. And even though I've accepted the pink, I still stand firm on my cupcake dresses policy.

It's a girl!

Yesterday, Scott and I got to see sweet baby #2 when I went for my second ultrasound. It's amazing how babies go from little beans at nine weeks to fully looking like a human at 18 weeks. After marveling at the baby's profile, tiny fingers and froggy legs, the ultrasound nurse told us that baby was a girl. While part of me was surprised (I just knew it was a boy), the other part of me felt like she was telling me something I already knew.

When we found out Preston's gender, I had been certain he was a girl, so in my mind being certain it was a boy this time around just meant we were getting a girl. Also, Preston had been telling us it was going to be a baby sister for a couple of months already, and he's a pretty smart kid.

It was fun to see the already apparent differences in my two children at this stage during my ultrasound. With Preston, he never really moved much or seemed bothered by the ultrasound wand invading his space. There were a couple of times after an ultrasound where I wondered if Preston could actually move his legs because he kicked around so little in those brief moments where we could watch him on a screen. He was always a chilled, laid back baby on the inside and continues to be one (for the most part) on the outside.

Baby girl, on the other hand — not so much. From the minute the ultrasound wand was pressed against my stomach, you could tell she did not enjoy having her space invaded. She kicked and wiggled, trying to get away as best she could. I've noticed that the best way to feel her kick is to curl my legs up in front of me to give her a little less room. It gets her stirred up every time. Looks like we need to be ready for a girl who needs her own space.

Prior to this ultrasound, Scott and I had decided not to do too much planning until we knew the gender. We got to enjoy a nice little stretch of expecting a baby while not fussing with the logistics too much. Now, it makes the reality of everything sink in a little more. Baby sister will be here in four and a half months! We've got to start making decisions — the biggest one at the moment being what we'll call her.

While baby now has a pronoun, she doesn't have a proper noun. Girls' names seem to be much harder to decide on than boys names for me. Scott and I spent the majority of the time batting names back and forth while waiting for the doctor yesterday. Every name was either connected to a person one of us had a bad memory of, sounded like we were trying too hard, or just wasn't a good name. The naming conundrum always brings me back to this "Friends" scene.

So, for now, we'll start pulling the newborn stuff out of storage while running through ever-growing lists of girl names. Too bad Vito is a boy's name.

Image via Pixels.com

Making room for Baby #2

Yes, we're making room for baby #2 who is expected to arrive in late October. My sweet friend Cassie took this picture (as she usually does) to help us share our exciting news with the world. As a couple of side notes: 1. Who has ever looked that happy to be reading What to Expect When You're Expecting? and 2. Preston's look of concern is for Cassie. He really wanted her to sit on the bed with us and show him the back of her camera.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I was pretty shocked. While we planned and prepared for Preston a few months before I ever got a positive test result, this one wasn't so planned in that it wasn't at all, and all those things I felt we had a little time to think about pre-Preston came rushing forward that early Friday morning because I had to think about them — now! It was a little overwhelming. Poor Scott, I woke him up before 6 a.m., and before he had time to become fully conscious, I dropped the "I'm pregnant" bomb on him. "You've got to let someone wake up before you say that!" was his response.

Now, if you know Scott, you know his plan of one child. As an only child himself, he liked the idea of continuing that tradition. But he actually handled the news much better than I initially did (at first I was crying because, oh my goodness, we're having another baby and then I was crying because I felt bad for crying about the baby). He said there were a lot of things we didn't know about becoming parents the first time, and that God worked it all out. He'd do that for us this time, too.

Having had some time to adjust, we're all very excited about what's to come. We never made a big to-do about telling Preston because, at not quite 2-years-old, he still doesn't quite get it. But we talk about the baby, and at dinner in his roll call of people he thinks we should pray for, he'll mention "Baby Tummy" (because, in my attempts to explain the baby is in my tummy, he thinks the baby is in everyone's tummy), which melts me into a puddle every time.

I've noticed some similarities and some differences between this pregnancy and my last. With Preston, the nausea came in waves. When it hit, it hit hard, but it didn't last long. With this one, I feel perpetually queasy. Food helps some, but overall I feel blah a lot of the time. My earliest craving with Preston was lemon and carbs, and in keeping with the acidic theme, this go-around all I want is tomatoes and carbs. Both times, sweets sounded disgusting. With Preston, that went away in the second trimester as I formed a deep love for milkshakes and Cocoa Puffs. So, we'll see if these are any indication of another little boy in our future soon enough.

Thank you all for your congratulations and well-wishes. We are excited about what the future holds for our growing family and appreciate your prayers and encouragement along the way!

Preston's birth story

He's laying here on my stomach, not far from the place he stayed for the first nine months we got to know each other. His snores are somewhere between a bird's chirps and little dolphin squeaks. He's a little Houdini who can weasel his hands out of any covering so he can put them in his mouth. He loves cuddling and hates being cold. He cries very little (usually when he's cold) and sleeps well during the night. He is fascinated by the TV and unmoving ceiling fan, and he loves for his daddy to sing and play guitar for him. And it's hard to believe he wasn't here three weeks ago.

It's been a whirlwind of a three weeks, and I figured it was time to recount how we got this little miracle here in the first place.

At 39 weeks, I sat in my doctor's office as he explained that my son was probably 7.5 to 8 pounds and that with his size and my size, I might not be able to deliver him naturally. We decided that a c-section was the best option and scheduled it for the coming Wednesday, three days after my due date. It wasn't what I had planned, but I'm incredibly thankful my doctor made that call rather than letting me labor for hours only to end up in the same situation.

Wednesday morning, May 2nd, after sleeping as poorly as kids before Christmas, Scott and I arrived at the hospital, checked in and went to our room. My c-section was scheduled for 9 a.m., but I didn't end up going back until 11. The anticipation was killer. We spent it watching Kathie Lee and Hoda toasting Wednesday Wines-day... I thought that was every day for them.

Right before it was time to go back. It looks like I have a pillow under my hospital gown. I don't.

I've never had any kind of surgery, and I'm pretty sure the only other time I'd spent the night in the hospital was when I was born. But I wasn't nervous about the spinal block, c-section or recovery. I was just ready to meet my son.

After answering a lot of medical questions over and over, including how many children I had (just this one) and why I was having a c-section (he's just too big), I was wheeled back in a sexy blue hair net as Scott followed in blue scrubs. This was it!

Scott waiting to meet me in the OR. He's my Dr. McDreamy.

Once I was the most insane numb and the blue curtain was pitched, it was time for the procedure to begin. On TV, when they depict childbirth, it's a very dramatic moment. The music swells and after one more I-don't-think-I-can-do-it push, the baby cries, the doctor announces boy or girl, and the parents look at each other with tears in their eyes and bright smiles.

I had wondered prior to the c-section if I would feel robbed of that heartwarming moment, what I thought I would experience until five days prior. But when my doctor lifted my beautiful baby boy over the curtain and I saw him for the first time, I knew that my moment was perfection. There was nothing like it.

Our first family photo

Before I saw him though, I only knew two things about him, which my doctor had announced as he was delivering him. "He's got a lot of hair!" and "He's a big baby!" I didn't think he looked that big, but he did weigh 8 pounds 14 ounces and supposedly, compared to the other babies in the nursery, looked like quite the bruiser.

The hardest part was that, after nine months of his being all mine, they had to take him away from me. Scott and Preston went to the nursery while they stitched me back up and wheeled me back to my room for recovery for 45 minutes.

I was very very thankful for the lactation nurse, a woman who is adamant about getting babies to breast feed as soon as possible. She asked my recovery nurse how soon she'd be finished. When that nurse was uncertain, the lactation nurse said she was bringing me my baby in 10 minutes, ready or not. I watched the clock and, at 10 minutes exactly, Preston was in my arms for the first time.

Me and my boy!

After that, Wednesday was a bit of a blur since they gave me a magic pain killer button to push whenever I needed it. And once my lower body numbness wore off, I really needed it!

We stayed in the hospital until Friday. Taking him home was an incredible feeling — a mix of overwhelming, underprepared, and exactly what we wanted all in one. We've loved these three weeks with our little buddy and can't imagine life without him now. He's pretty much perfect. I guess we'll keep him!

With all those wrist bands, I thought I'd been club hopping.

For more pictures of Preston's arrival, check out Cassie Jones' blog. She took some amazing photos!

"I'm Pregnant and I Know It"

In a YouTube parody video, do you look for ...

- references to maternity pants?
- awkward pregnant dancing?
- working a variety of pregnancy truths in an LMFAO song?

If you answered yes to any of those, then this video is for you. It will definitely make you laugh (but, if you are pregnant, I would advise your not laughing too hard, you know, to avoid accidents).

Waiting on Preston

A lot of things have happened lately that I've failed to blog, so this week is spring cleaning where I will do my best to clear out the drafted posts in my blogging queue.

In September when Scott and I announced we were expecting, my friend Cassie was quick to jump up and say, "Hey! Let's schedule your maternity pictures now!" When I marked March 3 on my calendar, it felt like decades away — like how far Christmas seems when you're five and it's July.

And then, all the sudden, it was time for pictures. I had found the perfect Pin-spiration for what I'd like the photos to look like, and Cassie jumped on board with her usual, extreme enthusiasm. I've done several blog posts about photo sessions with my friend Cassie, and this one is no different. The photos she captured were just what I wanted them to be.

The only downside was that Scott was looking like the fourth member of Alvin and the Chipmunks due to his wisdom teeth extraction two days earlier, but that only means that we get another awesome Cassie Jones photo shoot!

Here are just some of my favorites.

If you'd like, you can see more on Cassie's blog. Thanks, Cassie, for your amazing work!

Week 32: A letter to my son

To my boy,

This week I realized that you'll be here next month. It's hard to believe that in eight weeks (Please be eight weeks. Six works, too. You see, your momma is impatient), you won't be kicking under my ribs or somersaulting after every meal. The little hands, feet and face I've seen in blurry, Etch-a-Sketch form will be right here in front of me. We'll get to see if you in fact have your daddy's long second toe or my crooked pinky toe (heaven help your poor feet if you get both), your daddy's blue eyes or my large forehead (a mark of pride and distinction among the Harris clan). And there you'll be — all ours. I can't wait for that.

At the same time, I also realized that next month you won't be all mine any more. I won't be the one who gets to hold you all day, every day. While I'm not the biggest fan of the bladder/trampoline routine you perform, those days of feeling your kicks and nudges will be in the past. So, I promise to be the best at sharing I can be when that time comes, but for now I'm going to relish this time we have together now — before you grow taller than I and have to help me get the sugar off the top shelf.

Love,
Momma

Awkward and Awesome Thursday

My Nashville baby shower. The amazing hostess (and my second mom) Sandra, Lindsey, me. Courtney, Leslie, and my mom.

 Awkward:
- Having to apologize to my teacher Monday night for the horrible spelling on my quiz. Pregnancy brain is fully dependent on spell check.
- Being completely unable to cross my legs anymore. I feel so unladylike trying to force my knees to stay together. I need a Thigh Master to prepare those muscles next time.
- Attending a breast feeding class at the hospital. It was probably more awkward for Scott as the only male in the room, but the teacher praised him for his being there and the support he was giving me. I say he was the only male; there was actually another guy lurking in the hall for a time, trying to get a sneak peak. Joke's on you, creeper. All that he saw on the PowerPoint was different kinds of bottles.


Awesome:
- The amazing baby shower thrown for me at my home congregation in Nashville. It was amazing how many people showed up and all of the gifts we received. We couldn't even get them all back home! They were just material representations of all the love I have received from that congregation in my life. I felt very blessed.
- A sweet lady at church whom I've never spoken to grabbed me in the hall to tell me how cute I looked. "It's not easy looking that cute, especially while pregnant, but you do!" I wanted to tell her how it's not easy to feel cute, either, and that she definitely helped with that.
- Having my Thursday night class cancelled. It's the little things, like not having to sit in an uncomfortable chair from 7-9:30 p.m., that make it all worth while.

Baby Barack?

An expert photo editor I am not.

I haven't had a lot of baby dreams during my pregnancy. The most common one is that Preston is already born, and I'm in the bad habit of leaving him places — laying on the ground, sitting in a grocery cart, underneath the Christmas tree, etc. Nothing too weird; just my subconscious's way of processing how underprepared I feel.

Saturday, though, I had a weird one. With an ultrasound this Friday (hopefully with a little 3D action thrown in there so we can see what this little guy looks like), I've been wondering what features he'll have from my end of the gene pool and which will come from Scott's. In my dream, the ultrasound tech put the magic ultrasound wand to my belly only to reveal that my son looked just like Barack Obama. There little Preston/Barack was, smiling Obama's iconic smile, waving on the ultrasound monitor. Then he pulled out a guitar and gave an impromptu, in utero rock concert, complete with dog collar necklace (I blame this commercial for that detail).

I woke up very confused after that. According to What to Expect When You're Expecting, dreams about your baby's appearance signifies concern for the baby's growing or fear that your baby will inherit your bad traits.

But what about when your baby looks like the Commander-in-Chief?

Attack of the pregnancy brain

Through a process of trial and error (lots of error), I've learned that pregnancy brain and birthdays don't mix. As much as I try to be ahead of the game and on top of things, I have inevitably failed in the birthday greetings department. My mom's birthday is in December. I had her card bought in November and had it mailed a good three or four days before her actual birthday. I was so proud — until it was 9:30 p.m. on the night of her birthday and I had yet to call her. I had spent the whole day thinking it was a Wednesday, knowing that Mom's birthday was on a Tuesday. Needless to say, I felt like a heel.

Then January rolls around along with my sister's birthday. I had bought her card at the same time I had Mom's, so it was ready and waiting on the desk to be signed, sealed and delivered. It wasn't until I called Courtney to wish her a happy birthday on that day that I realized the card was still patiently awaiting further orders and not on its merry way to Nashville.

I tell these (no doubt incredibly enthralling) stories to say that I've yet to come up with the perfect system to remember anything. Aside from the birthdays, pregnancy brain has made keeping up with my class assignments next to impossible. I have them written down all over the place, only to come back to my scrawlings with little recognition as to what it all means. And forget forming on a coherent sentence. I've decided to just start tossing out sandwich meats as filler.

These little Rememberings seem like they would be helpful. They're the "Live Strong"-style option to the traditional string around your finger. The only problem is that I would have to remember to put one on or figure out which one of them I need to remember. I could always go the Harry Potter route and carry a Remembrall like Neville.

To top it all off, I had a cute little one-liner for an ending, but I forgot it. Oh well.

Salami.

Rememberings images via Design Milk.

Week 27: Making room

In my Thursday night class, we had to explain how something we had brought to class reflects something about us as a "getting-to-know-you" type exercise on the first night. I found myself at a loss. I wasn't my planner because I'm far from organized, and I wasn't my shoes for all of the places I've traveled. So I decided to go with my maternity pants. Like my pants, I have to be able to stretch and make room for life's changes. I'm accommodating more responsibilities (family, work, school), and therefore have to find ways to make it all fit. Give maternity pants another gold star for their awesomeness!

With this being the last week of my second trimester, that stretching theme is that much more relevant. Since the last post, my little guy and I have passed a few milestones. Right before Christmas he started distinctively kicking, and a few days after Christmas he could be felt from the outside. My sister Courtney got to be the first one to feel his little pops (that's what Scott gets for taking a nap), but Scott got to feel him a day later. Now Preston has a lot more strength behind him and makes his presence known as often as he can. If I watch my stomach, I can see his kicks and his arms and legs pushing along the way.

All of the end of the pregnancy events are coming up, between baby showers and maternity pictures, plus I'm trying to get my graduate school assignments finished up before April. It's crazy how quickly it's gone by and how far away April still feels. I'm ready for him to be here, but I'm focusing on enjoying these last three months as a family of two.

A whole new world

We took full advantage of this little perk.

Although Aladdin and his magic carpet were not involved, Saturday Scott and I ventured into a whole new world — for us anyway. We went registering for baby gear. I felt pretty prepared. My friend Heather had provided me with an extremely detailed Excel document charting all of the things she and her husband had registered for when expecting their daughter. (Obviously this document was the product of a self-proclaimed Type-A and her accountant husband.)

Armed with several printed pages of baby needs, Scott and I walked through Babies R Us's automatic doors into a sprawling almost warehouse of baby goods. Suddenly the 226-item list in my purse seemed like a mere drop in the baby bucket. We stood with mouths wide at an entire wall of baby bottles. Who knew there could be that many? What could the differences possibly be?

Slowly but surely we walked through aisles of carseats, strollers, bath accessories, bedding, toys, books and everything else you would ever need (or think you need) for your baby. We finished before Scott could request a paper bag to breathe into.

Next, we ventured to Target to repeat the process. We were both incredibly thankful that Target only has six aisles of baby goods, which we had already familiarized ourselves with at Babies R Us. We felt like old pros at this point.

Throughout the day, when either of us would become frustrated and equate our lack of knowledge about baby swings with our future parenting skills, I would remember that Preston will have two parents who love him, a house to stay in, and food to eat. That's all a baby really needs ... plus swing that moves front to back, left to right, bounces, and has six different sound functions.

Nursery canvas DIY

"When I grow up" canvas with Preston's Winnie the Pooh, Sleep Sheep and little bison. 

Slowly but surely, Preston's nursery is coming together. All the furniture is in place, and we're in the process of gathering those little knick-knacks that add a personal touch. To go with our dapper gentleman theme, we have gathered prints of hats, little dogs, and have a pennant on the way with his name on it, but last night I decided to do a little art project that, while it didn't directly go with the theme, is still a cute addition to his room.

Upon completion last night

I had seen a similar canvas on Pinterest a few months back and loved the sweet sentiment. Obviously I'm quite keen on Preston's dad, so why wouldn't I want two of them? (Ask me that when Scott is in super intense Type-A mode, and my answer might be different.) So, I bought a 9x12 canvas at Hancock along with the blue paint (I already had white paint) and some thin paint brushes and went to work.

I printed the sentence off the computer and cut out the letter with an Exact-o knife to make a stencil for the canvas. After I had painted the canvas blue, and it was dry, I traced the letters onto the canvas and painted them in. The whole project cost me $9 and took me about three hours. The best part was that I was also doing my homework, listening to the book I need to have read by Thursday night on my iPod. (Even better than that, I got the book for free from the library instead of $10 from iTunes!) I felt incredibly productive when it was all said and done.

I love that, with the canvas, it can sit on his bookshelf or be hung on the wall. I don't know where it will finally end up, but I'm loving how it came out.

Diaper bag dilemma

Last week on Facebook, I asked what made a good diaper bag and what bags my friends would recommend. It's opened up a whole world to me, and I've spent more time thinking about bags that ultimately carry poop receptacles than I ever thought I would.

Diaper bags are the one baby-related thing I have no clue about and no idea where to begin. My retinas have the imprint of psychedelic and super girly prints burned into them after looking through the typical diaper bag offerings. There are also the choices between an obvious diaper bag, a big purse that could function as a diaper bag, and the diaper bag in disguise as a big purse.

While I probably lean more toward the diaper bag as big purse option (cute but still has all the little pockets and provisions of a typical diaper bag), I don't mind a diaper bag that looks like one. I just want the pattern turned down from the 11 on the amplifier all the others seem to be on. Plus Scott has to give it his "I'd carry that" stamp of approval.

So, what options are out there? Here are a few of my top contenders at the moment.

Clockwise from left: Timi & Leslie diaper bag/backpack, Ty Lucas Baby tote (completely out of my price range, but cute just the same), Skip Hop Versa bag, Skip Hop Duo bag, JJ Cole Mode tote bag, Timi & Leslie bag

Feel free to weigh in on the debate in the comments and let me know what you think makes for a good diaper bag. 

Week 20: Breathless

If week 20 had a song, it would either be Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" (you know, because "we're half way the-re!") or the Corrs' "Breathless." 

On the one hand, we're at the half way point and (hopefully) have more weeks behind us than ahead of us to meet our son. We've been slowly getting the nursery ready (the crib and bookshelf are assembled, and we have bedding just no mattress) and making other plans for his arrival, like when to start taking the birthing classes at the hospital, etc. I'm hoping that, in all the preparation, April will sneak up on us. 

And then there's the matter of breathing. The stairs I climb every morning to get to my office have become my Everest. When I get to the top, I'm huffing and puffing like I'm about to blow some unsuspecting pig's house down. Also, the joint task of standing and singing at church has become a little more difficult. 

This week I learned that our little guy is a night owl. After a few days of not feeling him fluttering around, I was surprised and relieved to find him kicking around at 3 a.m. Saturday morning. He was having a grand old time kicking and flipping. I told Scott that it probably didn't bode well for our future nights' sleep. 

It's a ....

BOY!!

Here is our precious baby boy! Have you ever seen anything cuter in your life? I know I haven't.

We found out Monday that our sweet little one is a boy, and we're thrilled! Everyone in our families (except for Scott and his grandmother) thought it was going to be a girl. The only word I think accurately describes how I felt when the ultrasound nurse told us it was a boy is flabbergasted. I was completely shocked in the very best way. I would let out a crazy laugh every now and then. While I never had specific leaning one way or another, I always thought it would be a girl but was thinking boy closer to time. I'm just so eager to meet our son!

I was amazed at how much our little peanut had grown from the last time we saw him. He was only 2.5 centimeters total at nine weeks, and now his little calf bone is that long. He's got the cutest froggy legs. He's a whopping 6 ounces! During the ultrasound, he even waved at us with his little pointer finger, his fist up by his mouth. And look at that little foot! Even as tiny as he is, he's got toenails on that foot. Our God is amazing!

Now knowing that he is a he, I can't wait for him to get here. I find myself unable to go to sleep, just laying there thinking about once he's here, tickling that foot and kissing his cheeks. April needs to hurry up!

Now we get to start preparing for the dapper gentleman nursery!

Week 17 and the great gender debate

Today is the day — the day every woman counts down to after she finds out she's pregnant. This afternoon we find out if our little one is a he or a she, no longer relegated to the awful "it" pronoun. I'm so excited!

According to the poll, it's all tied up — 25 think it's a boy, while 25 think it's a girl. The Chinese gender calendar says girl, the unscientific picking of a color-coded Hershey's kiss at Bible study said girl, and the pencil test Scott and I partook in during Intersession 2006 says girl.

"What is the pencil test?" you might ask. Well, let me enlighten you. Take a good old pencil, not these fancy mechanical kinds, and stick a threaded needle into the eraser. Now you have a swinging pencil pendulum. When placed over the wrist of a man or woman, the pencil takes on a mind of its own and begins to move in a circular motion. Hang tight, because some fortune telling is about to commence. This first circle is baby number one. Then the pencil, on its own accord, breaks free from the circle, and makes one of two lines — an up and down (toward the person and over the hand) or a side-to-side (across the wrist). Up and down is boy; side to side, girl. The pencil will continue this pattern of circles and lines until the number and sex of each of your children is predicted. It will then eerily stop, completely still.

Scott and I, still a young dating couple at the time, each took this pencil test at a cookout during Intersession. We each got the same result: one girl. (It always bodes well when the object of your affection matches up in children number.) Since then, I've always kind of expected that to be the case.

So, at 3:30 p.m., we'll see if the pencil is right or not! Then the clothes shopping can commence!

Week 15 and the cry baby

My red pre-pregnancy skirt's last hoorah. 

So, it's been a little while since I last did one of these. But now that I have a replacement camera charger, I hope there will be no more shenanigans from my camera for the duration of this pregnancy. Otherwise, it might meet its fate against a brick wall.

Anyway, between the last post and this one, I've entered the second trimester. I'm hoping there's less narcolepsy and nausea now. There's one thing that I know won't be going away soon, and that's my constant crying.

I've always been a crier. In happiness, sadness, tiredness, excitement, and sickness, weeping has always been what I lean on to convey my feelings. Needless to say, pregnancy has exponentially increased the number of my tears.

The best (and also most embarrassing) was in my Writing Non-Fiction class when I got choked up during a peer critiquing session. My classmate had written about the death of her uncle in such a moving way that it had caused me to cry while reading it, and then cry while talking about it in class. And then, to top it all off, I made her cry.

Add that to the growing list of other tear-jerking moments I've experienced, like "The X-Factor" auditions; an ESPN special on high school football in tornado ravaged Joplin, Mo.; the "Branden's Proposal" YouTube video (It's ridiculously sweet. Go watch it. Ignore the choreography at the end, though); Project Runway; anything and everything with a child on it; editing the deaths section for the magazine; a story about Kate Middleton visiting children with cancer; and the fervent, silent shaking of pompoms at the Ole Miss game. These are just some of the things that have me sniffling on the sofa. I think Scott has taken it as his personal mission to seek out things that will make me cry just to see what my limit is.

I'll take crying over heartburn any day, though.

What's in a name?

I went to the doctor yesterday for a baby check up. Hearing my little one's heartbeat never gets old, but my main excitement in going to this appointment was getting to set the next one, which is our second ultrasound and gender reveal time!

My doctor asked if we were going to find out, and without hesitation I said yes. I mean, back in the day, Courtney and I would tell what Mom and Dad were getting the other for Christmas. We couldn't stand not knowing. (Incidentally, when Scott and I got married I was shocked that he wouldn't participate in this game and insisted on keeping gifts secret until Christmas day. Some people...) So of course, between my hatred of secrets and Scott's type A personality, we'll hopefully find out on Nov. 29.

Now that the day is set, though, I'm feeling the crunch of figuring out the name situation for boy and girl. How do you even go about giving a kid a name? I mean, so what if Scott and I like it; our child is the one who will have to answer to it, learn to spell it, bubble it in on a Scantron, and so much more. It's a daunting task.

While we have our front runners, there's still a little indecision lurking there. It's a pretty permanent thing.

For those who have named a child, how did you go about it? Did both of you love the name equally going about it, or was it ultimately decided in a grand rock/paper/scissors battle? Let me know in the comments!

P.S. You now have 27 days to cast your vote in the right sidebar as to what you think Baby Hannigan's gender is. Get to it!

Nursery brainstorming

While we're still a month or more away from finding out the gender of the baby, I have been planning nursery possibilities from the beginning. I've never been a fan of the cartoon sheets and over the top primary colors of most nurseries and want this room to be a welcome and soothing space for baby as well as be appealing to mom and dad. I've been pinning a lot of ideas and have recently landed on the top two contenders.

For a little boy ...

The theme title Scott and I have decided on for a boy is "The Dapper Gentleman." The room has a preppy vibe to it, but he's still a boy's boy. I wanted to steer away from baby blues and pastels because that doesn't seem boyish to me. But I didn't want dump trucks or an all out football motif, either. (I mean, I'm an Arkansas fan, but this is just too much!) This nursery takes that English hunting lodge feel and adds a bookish spin to it. 

For a little girl ...

For a girl, the theme has been harder to pinpoint. I wasn't a big pink girl growing up, and I'm not looking to swathe my daughter in cotton candy, rainbows and unicorns. The overall vibe I'm going for is vintage girly. It's warm and friendly but not SPARKLES and BARBIE!!! I want it to have handmade, crafty touches as well as lots of older, weathered looking pieces. I didn't run completely away from pink, but it's definitely not an 80s hot pink-a-palooza. 

Now that Scott and I are united on a nursery theme, we've got larger hurdles to jump — like agreeing on a name.