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).

Preston's room

When it came time to decorate Preston's room, we knew before we knew the gender that our son's room would have a "dapper gentleman" theme. We liked the idea of keeping it sort of preppy and boyish without being over the top cartoony.

With his arrival only days away, Scott and I finally finished up our slow assembling of Preston's room so that we'd have it checked off our list. We're very happy with the results!

Here is the view of his room from the doorway. His room is also the guest room, so we have a queen-sized bed sharing the space. We fiddled with a few different configurations, but after moving the bed several times, we decided where it was originally worked best.

I really love his crib. When we were ordering it, it was in our shopping cart and saw the same looking one suggested to buy. After clicking on it, I realized it was a four-inch shorter version, perfect for petite moms. We quickly made the swap, and I'm glad we did. Scott's brainchild was the banner in the corner, which I really like.

In the back corner are all of Preston's books, toys in canvas boxes and Boppy. Scott also came up with framing the little dog pictures, which are actually stationery cards. I think they're my favorite. There's nothing cuter than dogs in clothes.

I was so happy to learn that there was coordinating queen-sized bedding to match Preston's crib bedding. Let's just hope he likes plaid when he's 14, because that's what he's getting. The shelf over the bed is for pictures of Preston to be added later on, and I painted the canvas on it now. The teddy bear was Scott's when he was a kid.

To the left of the doorway when you walk in is his changing table/dresser. We have a "Rules to being a gentleman" print that will go over it once we get it framed and a navy pennant with his name on it. The wonderful thing about the dresser is that the changing table comes off, so it can be used past the diaper stage.

And in case you were wondering, here's what the room looked like before! It was a catch-all for shipping boxes and Scott's sweaters, apparently, and had very little furniture. It's a crazy transformation.

Now all we need is our precious boy to make it complete!

Happy birthday, Scott!

We had been dating six months, and Scott's was the first birthday that we got to celebrate as a couple. I spent hours scouring the Internet for the perfect birthday gift to please his extremely picky tastes.

Would he really wear that shirt? Would he like this wallet? What about concert tickets? But to what? Gift cards aren't romantic, are they?

It took me a while to decide, but I ultimately did. Since then, getting to know Scott better hasn't made the gift buying process any easier. In fact, it's only increased in difficulty.

Around any gift-buying holiday, I'm always lamenting, "Scott! You're so hard to buy for!" Lately I've learned that this struggle to find the perfect gift is actually a complement to me. Because while he has extremely particular taste, at the end of it all, he chose me.

And when I realize that, I don't mind his pickiness at all.

Happy birthday to the love of my life! Thank you for being so picky.

The blog turns two

[via]

My blog is now entering the "terrible twos," but I'm hoping that doesn't mean my writing falls by the wayside. In these last weeks of my pregnancy, finding the motivation to write has been difficult, but I know when Preston gets here he'll provide excellent blogging material.

In celebration of my blog's birthday, here are this year's three most read posts. Enjoy the walk down memory lane!

1. It's almost here!: This post about what to wear to Razorback games got more than 1,000 hits thanks to Pinterest.

2. Off the bookshelf: The Girl Who Played With Fire: While I'm sure my book review was a fascinating read, I really think this post's main draw was other people looking for the book's cover art. 

3. Drum roll please!: And last but certainly not least, the post where we announced we were expecting! Now here we are, nearly seven months later, waiting for our little guy to make his appearance! 

P.S. Last year's blogiversary post!

The Pottery Barn kid

All my life, I was Jennifer H. in school. Having the most popular name of 1985 will do that to you. I didn't find it obnoxious, nor did I blame my parents for all the times someone shouted "Jennifer!" and I turned around only to discover that (like usual) I wasn't the Jennifer being called.

When it came to naming Preston, we wanted something different that few children would have (and that also didn't come with past baggage of people who we knew named whatever who we didn't like) but not weird, like Doorknob or Pickles. Preston fit the bill perfectly.

Last month I found this blog post that made me laugh. She said that, if you want to make sure your child won't be Emma B. or Owen W. in school, go to Pottery Barn Kids and see what names they monogram on the sample items. Then you know what is about to be the next big name.

Well, look what Scott brought to my attention today:

This is the Pottery Barn Kids personalization shop for boys, and every single thing has Preston on it.

Every. Single. Thing.

Looks like I'm going to have to prepare Preston for a life attached to his last initial and get "Preston H." monogramed on everything. At least I know how cute it looks — especially on that little navy chair.

Apologies and catching up

A little maternity picture bribery to keep you interested? [Cassie Jones Photography]

Sometimes I feel like Matthew Broderick at the end of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." You're still here?

While I'd hate it if you left, I haven't really been the most hospitable hostess, posting less frequently as the big day approaches.

Lately, so much has been spinning around and happening that I haven't really had a moment to sit and contemplate it all. At the beginning of March, Scott started his new job as an Admission recruiter here at the University. His territory is Southwest Texas and Pulaski county in Arkansas. He's really loving the change, and I'm loving having him working just downstairs from me.

So that combined with the end of the semester and grad school projects coming due (Oh, hi, term paper. No, I haven't researched for you yet. Maybe in the middle of contractions in a couple of weeks? OK, see you then.) and getting loose ends tied up at work for my three-month hiatus has left me little room for this. And I apologize.

Luckily, we're pretty ready for Preston to get here. I mean, we have all the things we need for him, but I'm still at a loss for what to do when a baby is here and figuring him all out. In the car the other day, I was asking Scott, "How do you know when he's cold? How do you know if he's too hot?" And he (so helpfully) replied, "Well, I think sweat would be your cue if he's too hot."

His nursery is close to completion; we just lack a few frames on the walls and hanging the curtains. Plus we need to figure out how to put that carseat into the car. Otherwise, the hospital won't let us go home with him. They seem a little particular about that.

So, please, don't heed Bueller's words and go home (unless that's where you read this, then by all means stay). I promise I'll be a better hostess and at least set out a cheese plate or something to make you feel more welcome.