One step enough for me.

We are done having kids.

In black and white, with that final period, with no prepositional phrase or hesitant adjective to modify it, it seems so final. It is, of course, unless there is some sort of heavenly intervention which does not seem forthcoming in my ponderings. You would think I would have prayed mightily about this, to reach such a decision. I didn't. That sounds faithless, doesn't it? No, I've always been a believer that Heavenly Father is always talking to me about what is on my mind and so I just need to pay attention to the feelings that I have. It feels like those ponderings are the mighty prayers.

When I had Tessa, things went pear shaped. I didn't  write about it here, because I wrote about it on the other blog, but she was breech, I had a c section, I had placenta accreta (which is when your placenta embeds itself too far into the uterine wall and won't come out on its own), had to have another emergency d&c, and lots more blood than I did with Maggie. I ended up having three units of blood and having a doctor tell me in the midst of it that I should never get pregnant again and that if I did, I hold be ready to lose half my blood volume and my uterus.

I'm not really sure what I was supposed to do with that at the time. I was just focused on what they told me after, which was that if I had had the birth that I wanted,  I would have been in the ICU. I just focused on the fact that stubborn, comfortable Tessa saved my life.

But it's been five months now, and I've been thinking about where to go from here for all of them. I think I have gone through the stages of grief, to a certain degree. I first was in denial--what's the big deal? So I lose my uterus. Big deal. Then I think there was some anger about them unfairness of it all. Then I think there was some desperate reaching heavenward to try to have Him say that, yes, we wee supposed to have another baby, as if somehow I could cajole Heavenly Father into overcoming this for me. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the truth crept into my heart. We are done.

Jut writing it makes me cry, and feel guilty all at the same time. I don't feel guilt for being done. No, I don't feel any personal mandate to repopulate the earth, and I effectively doubled my mom's childbearing, so that's pretty good. No, I feel guilt for wanting to mourn the idea of what I could have had when the two healthy, strong, beautiful, amazing children I have already been blessed with ply t my feet. I feel guilty for feeling robbed when I have been given so much. I feel guilty that I feel robbed of the dream that I had for our family when those dreams have already come true.

Because the reality of this is that I don't feel like I chose it, but I am in some sense relieved. I am tired. My body is thrashed. I miss the sass, spunk, and vitality that comes with consistent sleep. I miss the brain function that makes me witty. I posted something about challenging toddler behavior on Facebook last week, and someone told me that these are the best years of my life.

I know that, and it hurts so much sometimes, in these small fragments of moments, to know that I will never have another newborn. I will never feel the wonder of a first smile again. Sometimes I feel bad for just holding Tessa so tight, for kissing her cheeks so much, for reveling in her babyness...the chubby rolls of thighs, the cheeks that are so round, the sweet sleeping sighs. I see Maggie watching me, and I feel bad, because I don't want her to think that I am any less entranced by her. But I will never get those things again. Already I see Tessa changing into the older baby she is on the cusp of becoming. Already I see her fascinated by her sister, entranced by the action and activity of the house, and literally turning away from me to be a part of it. This is how it was meant to be, this is life, this is what we want for our children. Thrilling independence and the confidence to pursue life and hard things is the badge of honor for a parent.

But.

My heart still hurts to see it, to know that soon they won't need me as much as they do now. And part of me is thrilled by that idea, because the weight of that need can sometimes be crushing. But mostly I find myself wondering what that means for me. Who will I be then, when they don't need me like they did? Who will I be to the world? Who will I be to myself?

I know that there is a time for every purpose under heaven, and that just as He helped me learn how to be a mother, He will help me change and grow into the different stages of my life as a mother. But I also know there is a time to mourn, and I think this is my time.

These have been the hardest six months of my life. I use no hyperbole in that statement. I hope I never have to deal with anything harder, though I feel certain I will.

My mourning is quiet, but it is real. So if you see me, every once in a while, hug my baby very tight with a far off look in y eye, it is my heart taking a picture. Because this time won't come again, and I don't want to forget any of it. I know I will. I know I will forget most of it.

But I hope I never forget how much Tessa loves to smile. I'd hope I never forget how sweet Maggie is to her siste, wanting so much to hug her that she practically smothers her. I hope I never forget how, before she kisses me good night, she always kisses Tessa's head. I hope I remember the sweet way they play on the floor together, Maggie briangrqing Tessa another book. I hope I don't get so wrapped up in Tessa's babyhood that i  forget that these moments with Maggie are fleeting too.

There is so much deception in mortality, that it lasts forever and that the moments are just something to get through on the way to something else, like so many airport terminals. We rush and rush and rush, pushing past people and times and moments, to try to achieve something or be something or get something gone, not realizing tht those people and times and moments are the point. Perhaps this will help me not do that so much. Perhaps knowing that the baby clothes and the maternity dresses are going to goodwill will help me walk a bit more slowly.

These moments are eternal, but not in the way I think.

We are  done having kids.

Deep breath, because we are just beginning to raise the ones we have got.

sometimes i miss my old life.

i probably shouldn't say that, and i rarely do, but it's true. and when the sleep debt gets so big that it becomes physically sickening (as in, i'm so tired i'm nauseated) and when both of my kids decide to go through some sort of developmental nonsense at the same time and when i don't pray enough, i miss my old life.

i don't think there's anything wrong with that, because it's the same self-deception that tells us that our neighbor must be so much better of a person because of x/y/z that isn't at all informed by reality, but instead by the grass is only greener philosophy. the reality is that my old life sucked big time sometimes too. i was stressed, i was tired, i was pushed to my limit.

my limits are just bigger now.

i often feel smaller, strange as that may seem. motherhood has a way of shining a bright beaming spotlight on all of your idiosyncratic flaws and faults, making them seem as if they are the only thing there. i yell too much. i get frustrated really easily. certain things (like toddler screeching or ignoring what i say) make me INSANE.

so somedays i envy the days when i was only responsible for myself, and then for my husband. i see now, as i'm writing this, how Heavenly Father has prepared me for this time of Great Pressing Need. i am surrounded by it, and i am responsible for it, and i see how He has allowed me to learn how to take care of myself, then how to take care of myself plus another person, and now how to take care of a family.

but it's hard and anyone who says it isn't is either much better equipped for sleep deprivation than i am or a big fat hairy liar.

(i'm betting on the second.)

do you know that i didn't realize that sleep deprivation causes you to be more stressed and to deal with emotions less ably? i just read that. i thought i was just a jerk.  turns out i'm just tired. heh.

i don't know what i wanted to say, really, except to say that though i think i'm probably doing an okay job at this parenting thing, i don't think i will ever feel like i am. i feel small, most days, though the work is mighty. i feel weak most days, though i think what i do indicates great strength. i feel unable to meet the challenge of raising two girls to be mighty and faithful and kind and obedient, because i don't know how to do it. but i also don't know how my kid learned how to say "no, thank you." so i think we're probably doing something right.

i absolutely know that having children is a divine way of improving yourself, of coming closer to Him. there's no way on this earth we could do it alone. i'm still not sure we're really doing anything. there's a lot of grace in this gig, thank heavens.

i'm still tired. it's still hard. that doesn't mean there isn't joy. on my good days, i am filled with it and i see it in every toddler footfall and infant smile. on my other days, i have faith that tomorrow will be better and i will be better because of today.

and so it goes.

enjoying the journey.

this time, with tessa, i am just not as stressed out as i was with maggie.

i remember being so fretful about every little thing. why wasn't she sleeping better at naps? why would she only sleep long stretches when she was laying on my chest? how could i get her to eat more easily--and did it mean something bad? why wasn't she rolling?

the list goes on and on.

this time, i hardly think about those things. i can't know what the difference really is, though i really imagine it has much to do with our 4 or 5 week early start when she was honestly attached to me 24-7.  but i think there are equal parts in there of knowing she's likely our last baby, because of my uterus's abnormal desire to hold on to the placenta, as well as this not being my first rodeo.

we're still nursing, and i nurse her almost exclusively at night.  so if she has an off night, she's usually attached to me for most of it. and those nights are exhausting.

but i don't stress out about it as some sort of abnormal indicator.

she's not sleeping through the night, and i don't expect her to. she's doing great and while i would like to get more sleep, that's really not tessa's fault. she sleeps a good 3 to 4 hour stretch before i even think about sleeping myself, so it's not fair to be upset at her for waking up to eat.  she's supposed to. i get it.

i am not stressed out about her development. she's not rolling from back to belly yet, but i'm sure much of that has to do with the fact that she doesn't get as much floor time as her sister did because...she has a sister who doesn't really understand the idea of little fingers that can be crushed or being completely gentle with tender heads.

i think i don't want tessa to grow up much. she's in a wonderful stage, so expressive and delightful. she wakes up happy, even when she's starving.  she's happy and she's healthy and i don't remember what our family was like without her in it. 

this time, i am trying to enjoy it as it comes. i trust myself. i trust my instincts. i trust that i will know when the time is right to do new things, if those times come.  i am much more interested in those moments, when i remember that i may not get to experience this again, when i hug her tight or when i feel her sweet baby face melt into my neck as i rock and bounce her to sleep.

these moments move too fast. i think i moved too fast through them with maggie. i was always waiting for her to get to the next stage.

i'm not in such a hurry, with either of them, any more.

slow down, sweet girls.  mama can't move that fast.

thy faith hath made thee whole.

there's a story in the scriptures about a woman who, having suffered for fifteen years with what is described as an "issue of blood" but what i assume was something that we would currently diagnose as  endometriosis or fibroids,  heard about the Savior and His power. when she knew He was coming, he crawled through a crowd to touch the hem of His garment, knowing that even a minor contact with Him would have the power to heal her.  i have to believe that she considered herself unworthy of an audience with Him, feeling like her problem was not enough to warrant such attention, but was desperate enough to look for any road to healing. 

i have never thought of this story as anything other than what it is presented as in the scriptures--a story of exceptional faith. i never saw myself in it or felt the personal connection to it that i might have with other stories.

i get it now.

as i was cleaning the kitchen tonight, i stepped back and felt what has become a too-common shooting pain in my left ankle.  i don't know what it is--it started last week and i think it might have something to do with the cold--but it is very painful, much more painful than the first few steps in the morning, when i have to lean on any available surface to try to get started.

and these always take me by surprise.

so as i was wincing in pain, my yelp bringing my husband in to see if i was okay (he thought i had cut myself), i said "what if i can never run and play with my kids?"

and i began to cry a little.

while my husband assured me that it will get better (and my mind tells me it will, however frustrated my heart and body are with the slow progress), i thought about this story.

i now completely understand how someone would crawl through a crowd, hands and knees in dirt, being kicked and jostled and paid no mind, to touch the hem of the Savior. beyond the obvious, that it would be such an honor to even be in His presence, i understand that kind of longing desire for healing.  i told my husband that i guess, if it never gets better, i will look forward to the resurrection that much more.  i long to be whole so much.

i would crawl through any crowd for the chance to run with my daughter through a park. to not face every parking lot with complete terror that she might pull away from me and i will not be able to chase after her.  to not be housebound because i haven't figured out how to go down the stairs with both my toddler and my baby and my whacked ankle.

to be whole.

i say this not to elicit sympathy, but to say that i understand, just a little bit better, the Atonement of Jesus Christ.  i understand how the power to heal is such a gift. 

i wonder, a little more, how i can call upon the power of Heaven to help me in this journey. but mostly i am grateful to have found, yet again, another Someone who understands. 

valleys and mountains and all kinds of cliches.

so, a lot of people have told me how well i'm doing, how surprised they are that i am keeping (or trying to keep) a cheerful attitude about this whole broken pregnant thing.

my reaction? what else am i supposed to do?

am i supposed to whine, rage, complain, be bitter? am i supposed to let myself sink into the kind of darkness that is not anywhere close to being helpful in moving me THROUGH this? sinking seems to indicate being stuck, and i'm physically stuck enough. i don't need any extra emotional or mental or spiritual stuckness.

so i've been trying to soldier on, and it helps so much to see progress.  yesterday, i got down the stairs on my own and actually got up off the stairs without any help. it just sort of happened, and it was kind of awesome.

but with any of this stuff, there are always setbacks, and yesterday was a big one.

baby girl is breech, so i have to have a c-section.

i would like to say that i didn't see this coming, that i didn't know i was going to be asked to do this, that i didn't know that additional challenges were coming our way, but that's not really true at all. i think i knew, all along, that this was what was going to happen.  that's how God works in my life--He prepares me as much as He can along the way. 

but i was definitely hopeful, and i thought that she had turned.  they told me in the ER with my leg that she was breech. i thought maybe she had turned in the fall and would turn around again.  i thought i had convinced myself that she had.  no such luck, unfortunately. 

so here we are, a day and a half away from baby day and yesterday i was entirely shell shocked.  i don't know how else to describe it.  i wasn't surprised, but i was petrified. fear from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes and everything inbetween. i think i had imagined that it would be so much worse than it really will be--that my present condition will be almost impossible for mobility, that i will tear open the incision, that i will not be able to function in that much pain.  that taking care of my most basic needs will be impossible. that i will never, ever get to the 2nd floor of my house again. 

these are all fears, and like all fears, they are probably rooted in some degree of truth but have blossomed into something entirely overwhelming (much like the renegade bush outside my kitchen window--that thing is a demon).  the overwhelming is usually what paralyzes, and it's also usually what isn't actually so.  strangely, i find that to be true. the things that scare me the most are usually the things that never really happen.

in the meantime, though, the paralytic nature of such fear makes it almost impossible to move forward, in faith or hope or any kind of positive emotion.  instead, you just sit there, wrapped up in the fear, and wait for the worst to happen.

in this case, it means that i was dreading the birth of our baby.

isn't that awful? i hope you take that in the spirit in which it is intended--i don't dread meeting tessa. i just was so wrapped up in the logistics and scary nature of it all that i was missing the point.

we are having a BABY.

she's a miracle. her lungs are mature. she's healthy. she's about the size of maggie when maggie was born (i apparently grow them all the same size, though we'll see...).  she's active and kicking and apparently really likes being nestled up near my heart.  she's her own person, she does things her own way, and she refuses to listen to anyone else's ideas for her.  she reminds me of me, in that way.

i worry, still, that there's something wrong with her.  not a thing has been detected on her 3 ultrasounds.  i feel certain something would have, were there something to detect.  but i still worry a bit, especially with all that has come in our path the last few months.  i just worry that somehow, somewhere, there's another shoe that's about to drop.

but regardless, i have been praying to move forward with faith and hope. hope is so much what i need: hope that i will have the strength to do all that i need to do, hope that the path for us will be made clear, hope that we will have sufficient for our needs, hope that our family will be whole and healthy and strong and normal again soon, hope that our burdens will be lifted in some small measure. 

i need hope. i cling to hope, especially for myself.  i cling to it because, in the face of something i have never experienced, hope allows me the capacity to believe that i can face just one thing at a time and conquer it. hope allows me the space to know that, hey, i don't have to know it all right now. i just have to take it one step at a time.  that's all i need.

and if that's all i need to do, i think i can do it.

it's trying to see farther than that, trying to move more than that, that makes me a little bit more than just a little bit afraid.

so in the meantime, i pray for hope and i pray for joy, so that i can go into this with full confidence that the ONLY thing that really matters is a healthy, happy, strong new baby. 

everything else, i can weather.  i'm strong enough for that, i think, in my strength and in my weakness. 

i'd like to say i know why all of this is happening. i don't. all i know is that every single day, i have more of a testimony of the goodness of people, of the capacity of the human heart, of the strength of the individual, and of the absolute and total dependence i have on my Heavenly Father.  i'm still not great at praying like i should, and i should read more scriptures. but i have no doubt, not even a little bit, that He knows me, He loves me, and He is holding me and my family in the hollow of His hand. 

weakness: broken but not broken.

i have never been as in need as i am now and it's very frightening at times.

if you don't already know this about me, i am not someone who readily asks for help. in fact, i think i resist it because i don't want to be seen as weak, or because i don't want to put anyone out, or i don't want to cede control of the way i do things or my life.

you don't get those kinds of choices when you can no longer put your weight on your left leg.  you don't get those kinds of choices when you can't climb the stairs in your own home. you don't get those kinds of choices when the discharge instructions say that you should keep your affected leg elevated AT ALL TIMES. you don't get those kinds of choices when you can no longer care for your 1 year old on your own.

sometimes, asking for help ceases to be a "luxury" and suddenly becomes a necessity.

in those moments, it's very frightening.  though i am getting much better at doing some things for myself, i am no longer in the position to be the caretaker. i am the cared for, and boy can i tell you that that is hard for me.

it's not that i don't recognize that we need help. i absolutely do recognize that we need help. my husband starts his student teaching in a week. he will be gone for 8 hours a day, and i can't take care of my baby by myself.  we have tons of people offering to help, but it's hard for me to not stare that great gaping need in the face and have fearless confidence in other people. that's not to say that i don't believe in them or in their capacity to help, because i absolutely do--but it's more like i am not accustomed to this feeling, this absolute dependence on someone else, and so it scares me mightily to need so much.

the need itself is almost paralyzing, if i let it be so.

i have been humbled. i think that's not a bad thing. 

strength: broken but not broken.

i'm not sure who's still reading this.  it's fine if no one is, because i have yet to decide what to do with it now that i have another blog that deals with the kids and is protected. it will certainly take over the cute kid portion of our program, and i haven't decided if i just want to start journaling (so i can not edit myself at all) or if i want to keep this little portion of the internet for myself.

long story short, if i'm talking to crickets, it's okay. i understand.

lots of stuff going on here, most of which has been incredibly challenging.

on august 2nd, i fell on the stairs, did the split, and sustained an open fracture of my leg/ankle. i had surgery that day and was in the hospital for two more. i came home sunday and have yet to be able to get to the 2nd floor of my home. camping out, as my mother in law puts it, willy wonka style in my living room is what's going on up in here.

it's been a trial, a blessing, a learning experience, and a wonder all at once. 

i think there are moments when you see yourself for what you didn't know you were. that has been my experience with this, or at least it was for the first few days.  when it happened, i screamed in fear and freak out for about 30 seconds. then, as my wonderful husband rushed to see what happened (and it was abundantly clear that i had done something fairly horrible to myself), i switched into some sort of practical, deal-with-it gear.  i started rattling off directions, because he was understandably rattled.  "you're going to need to call 911." after he did that, i said "you need to call your mom and have her come up right away to watch maggie." and then "i'm going to need my insurance card. my wallet is in the green bag." and then "you'll need food for maggie and diapers and stuff" because he was going to follow me to the hospital in the van with the magpie until his mom could meet us there. 

after all of that was handled, i sat, beginning to shake in a splits formation on my stairs, clinging to the rail just above my head. 911 had said not to move me.  i wasn't inclined to do that anyways.  he sat on the stair below me to help hold me up. i prayed. he gave me a blessing.  i prayed that the ambulance would come soon, because i was so uncomfortable. it wasn't pain--just totally uncomfortable.  i was bleeding, and when the ambulance came (they didn't know it was an open fracture), they didn't understand why i hadn't moved.  so they helped me move.  and then they wrapped it up as best they could, and i scooted down the stairs, having the presence of mind to not get my one pair of maternity shorts bloody on the way. 

who does that?

we rode and i tolerated it.  we got to the trauma unit and i tolerated it. the only time i cried was when they tried to reset my dislocated ankle. even that wasn't too bad (by then they had given me the good drugs). i was more upset when they did an ultrasound and we found out that the baby had turned breech (i think she's turned again--or so it feels) in the fall. she's perfectly healthy and was the whole time, even under the influence of some pretty good drugs.

then they came and told me that the reset of my ankle had worked in one place but not in another.  i'd had enough by then. i told them that i needed my husband. the first time, i'd been by myself because he had maggie and the last thing i wanted my baby to be was freaked out by mommy freaking out.  this time? no way. i needed my husband.  he came. it was bad.  they couldn't get it back in and so they kept on trying. sorry to be so detailed, but i don't want to forget. i was sobbing, just saying over and over that i couldn't take anymore. 

they finally stopped, saying that they would do it in surgery.

yeah. thanks for that.

because i was 35.75 weeks pregnant at the time, they were very cautious.  on the one hand, we were far enough along that if anything happened, baby girl could be born and would be more than likely fine. on the other hand, it was two patients they were dealing with instead of just one.

as the stars always align when i have some sort of emergency, i had two of the top people on my team. my anesthesiologist was, in fact, the inventor of these nerve block pumps that they put into my sciatic and femoral nerve to try to kill the sensation enough to do the surgery on that alone. it didn't work, but it's what kept me pain and narcotic free for the entirety of my stay after surgery. he was wonderful, kind, and really concerned about me and my baby. i was very dehydrated when i went into surgery, so when they did the spinal (i was awake for the surgery because it's much safer for the baby) my blood pressure kept dropping. he told me later that i reminded him of why he hadn't done obstetrics in so long--it was too stressful!

they put me back together, ala humpty dumpty, with 2 pins, 1 plate, and an assortment of screws (cool tidbit: i got to look behind me and see the in-progress x-rays. it was very awesome to see all the hardware--and not a little surreal!).  they took me up to the ortho floor and i was remarkably not in pain. my husband was astounded. he expected me to be in horrible pain, but my pain never reached anything higher than a 3 or 4 on the scale of 1-10 the whole time i was there.

they kept me on the nerve blocks for 2.5 days, hoping to give me enough time to heal enough to get over the huge pain hump before heading home. they turned them off at 4am on sunday, and came by to see how i was doing. they had given me 2 tylenol when they turned them off. before that, my leg was really heavy and dead, which made moving really hard but made feeling also pretty impossible. when they came to check me at 8am, to see if i was ready to go home, they called me the toughest lady in the hospital. i thought they were joking, but they really weren't.

and in those moments, when i think back to them, i think "wow. i am much stronger than i think i am." you don't know that until you're tested. you don't really know what you're made of until you have to put it on the line. my mom has always had an incredible tolerance for pain, and i've always been the wimpy one. when they told me that i was the toughest lady, i thought "i am my mother's daughter." what a proud moment for me.

33.5 weeks.

this pregnancy is hitting my body image HARD.

numbers on the scale are frightening.  i am reaching the "i don't care" stage--case in point, i had pop tarts twice in 24 hours for the first time in like...ever. my party line is that there is no excuse for pop tarts.

unless you're 9 months pregnant, that is. 

and cookie dough.  i haven't gone overboard with that, which is pride-inducing, but i'm just so tired of caring when it doesn't matter. even when i'm eating well, i'm still gaining weight at a predictable, relatively normal rate.  but when you already hoped to not gain much, it's sort of depressing.

i desperately want to be able to not be frustrated with my toddler, to not be tired at 6pm and then wired at 11pm, to be able to finish all of these projects that i have, but work and my big belly seem to get in the way.

and then i feel guilty.

why am i so anxious to be done? it seems unfair to tessa.  she needs to cook. i'm totally fine with that on an intellectual level. i don't want her here yet. it's far too soon.

but good grief, i'm going to be DONE DONE DONE when she is. 

i think that's a good thing, but it feels like an eternity until that point.

in the meantime, i'm trying to eat better. i'm trying to get more rest. i'm trying to remind myself that, once she's out, even if she's screaming every 45 minutes for food, those 30 minutes inbetween will be much better sleep than now. 

i'm a broken record. i'm sorry. i just wanted to say, somewhere, that i am tired, i am huge, and i am tired of being huge. 

when i was at my midwife appointment on monday, i met a new one (i'm far enough along to start seeing everyone so that i can be familiar with them in case they are on call when i deliver).  she asked me if i was planning to have more kids, and i said, emphatically, "oh yeah. we're not done." and she was so excited. she said "normally, when people are as pregnant as you are, they are not as quick to say they'll get into this again. that's so great."

i guess that's a good sign that i'm not THAT miserable.  i think i just want to stop feeling like i'm the fattest thing ever.  i'm really, really, really looking forward to that immediate 20 pound weight loss.  i am retaining so much water this time that i know that it will be crazy. 

and, of course, i'm excited to meet tessa. but i'll be straight up--that's a side benefit to getting my body back for a while. 

see? guilt.  i shouldn't be thinking that way!

i'm sure i'm not the first to think that, though.  i hope not anyways.

sigh.

32.5 weeks.

i don't remember how i felt when i was this pregnant last time. was i this tired? was i this determined to get EVERYTHING done before she came? was i this down on myself, watching the number on the scale move ever closer to a number i haven't seen in YEARS?

i'm sure i was. in fact, i may go back and look at the posts from that time when i'm done with this one so that i can remember.  i do remember a few choice, golden nuggets of pregnancy side effects that have reared their ugly heads again. i seem to remember, in fact, that one of them happened right about this time and i was like "what?!?" 

it's hard being pregnant and having a toddler. it's not like she's physically demanding, really. she climbs the stairs on her own and can climb down with a finger to hold on to.  she climbs on me, but doesn't mind sitting on a tall pillow beside me.  she's not THAT heavy, and i'm not so large that getting her in and out of her carseat is a big deal. 

no, it's not physical. it's entirely emotional.  it's just exhausting keeping up with her, especially when she's in a "i'm not listening..." mood that day. i just don't have any patience. and it's not just with her. i have no patience with anyone, really: drivers on the road, students in my class, any piece of technology, my poor, wonderful husband, dishes, the fact that dinner has to be made every night.  nothing. i have patience for nothing.  this has been, by far, the worst side effect of this pregnancy. my mood swings are just not good.  i'm taking fish oil to try to combat it (read about it online), and i don't know if it's working or not. i know when i am eating better, eating more protein, i tend to feel better.  imagine that.

(ahahahahaha....just found week 33 from maggie--sound familiar?)

whatever. i'm getting stuff done. i'm determined. and i'm sometimes miserable. but not as miserable as i could be. perhaps not even as miserable as i might one day be, sometime soon.  perhaps not even as miserable as i deserve to be, given my attitude.  my feet keep swelling up, and that FRUSTRATES me so much (i never swelled much with my first pregnancy...summer pregnancies suck for that reason alone).  i've got aches and pains and braxton-hicks that beat the band, man.  but i get to practice my deep breathing and it's all good.

56 days, give or take 14.  i can make it. there's a little co-sleeping bassinet set up in our room now that tells me that, whatever i endure, it's worth it in the end. 

nesting, part one.

papers to grade, closets to organize, etc. so i really shouldn't be on here when my husband is taking charge of ye olde crazy toddler baby downstairs (why does she like to kick so much? why does she smile when we tell her no? MADDENING, I TELL YOU. MADDENING.) so that i can get work done, but...

...i spent eight hours (no, really. i am pretty sure it was close to eight hours) yesterday basting together the letter for Baby T's contribution to the nursery.  i thought it would be a lot more complicated, then i thought it would be a lot easier, then i was all ARGH. THIS IS TAKING FOREVER. but it's almost done, save reinforcing the seams with the sewing machine (i was away, so i did it by hand) and stuffing and closing and hanging. 

i had puffy ankles to show for it (oh, hello period of time wherein if i don't walk around a bit while sitting in the same position, i get slightly balloony ankles) and my hands were all carpal tunnely but it makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, i might be ready when this girl gets here.

so much left to do, but i turned to my husband and said "i think i must be getting ready to have a baby. i have the need to sew."

it's true. 

i think i've lost my chops.

i've never considered myself an exceptionally social person, though i very much like to meet people and to engage in spirited conversation. i always liked hanging out with friends in my pre-marriage life, and i liked making fun happen.

i don't know what has happened to that person, but socializing wears me out, mainly because i feel like once you get married it's awkward to try to have friends.

am i the only one who feels that way?

even standard sorts of activities seem strained to me, especially if my kid is around. i'm certain that's because i don't have the wherewithal to try to engage socially when i'm trying to make sure my kid doesn't launch herself, head first, off of a set of stairs, but it's also just sort of exhausting to put an almost 14 month old in the midst of adults.  it's a landmined field of awesome, because i don't know where she'll go or what she'll do and yay there she is talking to a stranger and oh boy there's a tablecloth she's going to pull (not might...going) because wouldn't you if you were at that height?

you get my drift here, right?

so we have bantered, off and on, about how we should invite people over, make friends, do things. but honestly? i'm tired.  and i want to make friends, and i seem to do okay when i'm on my own, but when it's a family thing, i just stink at it.

so is that how married life is? you have your separate friends? because i find it exceptionally easy to make momfriends, and i don't mind when it's a momfriend activity plus baby because moms tend to gravitate toward the non-potentially-lethal activities.  but mostly i just feel stupid at other socializing, and like people just don't like me.

but maybe this is how it just is right now? maybe someday, when our kids are a bit older and we have settled someplace, we will find families who have similarly aged children and be friends with them (because, hopefully, i'll like the moms of my kids' friends or that's going to really be stupid)?

so i'm putting this out there: is this normal? am i just bad at this now?

sleep vignettes and other adorable things.

if i don't write these down, i'll never remember, and i want to remember, and this is the easiest place to do it.

this weekend, maggie spent an inordinate amount of time winding down for bed. she just laid in her pack and play (we were away) and chattered. i swear she said every word that she knew, but especially the ones that she had mastered that day. "auntie, auntie, auntie, auntie" was like a mantra chant.  she got a bit upset when she heard her daddy leave the room (she hadn't realized i had come in), and cried. i gave her hugs and laid her back down a couple of times.  then i listened to her chatter some more.  she seemed to chill out, and then i heard her say "YUM! yum." and then all was silence.

those were her final words. she's a nut.

--

about a month ago, she started getting better with her sleep with some encouragement from us.  one night, as we began another process of getting her to be more independent with her put-down process, i just sat and watched her.  she was in her crib, not upset at all, playing with her blue bear.  she folded her arms with him, then hugged and kissed him, then put him down on the bed and patted next to him. suddenly it occurred to me that she was doing our bedtime routine with blue bear--prayers, hugs, kisses, loves, and into bed. 

amazing little kid she is.

--

she knows the word "taco," and she says it like "tato." her dad thinks that's the most adorable thing she says. i have been pretty enchanted by "pup!" which she likes to say all of the time as well.

she mastered the word "banana" today. during lunch, she just kept saying it (she had previously only said "ba") and saying it and saying it until she had it down.  now, when she sees it in a book, it's "banana."   before that, her only other two syllable words were those with the "ee" sound at the end: "daddy" and "teddy."

--

she's started babbling sentences.  today, it was like i was living in a country for which i had not studied the language well enough. every few words would be one i would recognize, and it was obvious that the sentences had meaning, but i haven't the foggiest idea what they meant.  as bill cosby says, "i just listen for my name."

--

today, she fell asleep by herself on the floor of the living room. she found the pile of freshly washed blankets and decided she was done. so she put herself to sleep.

MILES from where we were, let me tell you.

--

she's starting to cry when she thinks she's in trouble, especially with her daddy. it's sort of heartbreaking and adorable at the same time.  i think she might get that from me--i very much don't like to be in trouble.

week 25: baby t.

dear baby t,

we know your name now. we like it, and we've been using it more and more.  maggie tries to say it, and it's fairly adorable, and i like the idea that you are someone now. not that you weren't someone before, but you are who you are now. 

your name story is sort of like your sister's, but less certain. that's not to say that we don't feel sure now--because we do--but it wasn't as clear at first that your name was being chosen, or that we were being helped.  we just sort of...landed on this name and couldn't get it out of our head. we went through what must be a fairly typical process of finding a bunch of names we sort of liked, and then narrowing it down, and then narrowing it down some more, until we had about three or four. but the other three were nothing compared to your name.  and we couldn't get it out of our heads.  so we didn't. and we figured out, finally, that the reason we couldn't is because you had chosen your name.

we were the ones that were a little slow on the uptick.  forgive us, baby.  we got it now.

your name is spunky and sweet, graceful and powerful.  it has room for astrophysics or for cake design, for being a lawyer or being a mom or being all of those things if you so choose. that's important to me--that you can walk into any interview anywhere and be taken seriously. we even asked grandma tutu what she thought of our short list. "would you give them an interview?" we asked. and she answered honestly. and that was good.

you kick a lot and move even more.  you seem to like sugar, but i think mainly you're like me--you're a person who needs to eat frequently, and you like it when you do.  you started to kick tonight as i was putting maggie to bed, when i was singing.  that was sweet. i like to think it's because you heard my singing and liked it. maybe it's because maggie was on my lap and you wanted all of it to yourself. who knows? but i liked it. pretty soon, i think maggie's going to figure out that she's being kicked by you. 

hopefully that won't be the beginning of sibling rivalry.

i think of all that i did for maggie's pregnancy and what i haven't done for yours, and i feel a bit badly about it. i only have like three pictures of my belly.  i am not recording every little thing.  but i am still invested, baby girl, and i'm still planning. i'm still working and i'm still trying. 

thanks for being patient. i promise you, somehow, i will figure out how to be a good mom to both of you. there may be bumps in the road, but i hope you know how loved and wanted you are.  we are very excited to welcome you to our family.

keep cooking for a while yet, though. we're not ready for you quite yet.

love,
mommy.

four am wakeup call.

i'm 24 weeks tomorrow, and the hip pain while sleeping has commenced.

i don't remember when it started with maggie. i seem to remember going to the doctor after weeks of not sleeping well and my doctor looking at me and saying "you look tired." i feel like if the most unobservant of doctors i've ever had makes a comment like that, you must actually look like a truck ran over, backed up, ran over again and then dragged your remnants far and wide.

so i'm not sure when that started, but i know it was a pretty big, long deal.  we're just a few weeks away from the third trimester (finally! yay!), so i think it was probably around this time.

anyway.

maggie has been making HUGE strides in her sleep. as in, she's basically doing it herself now. she'll rock for a few minutes (like 2 or 3) and then she squirms and points at her bed and signs please when we ask her if she's ready for her bed.  then she might whine and complain a bit, put her bear to bed, or just lay down on her blankets and settle in.

she does it all by herself.

we're still in the room at this point, but we're getting farther and farther away. i'm pretty sure that soon we won't need to be there at all. 

i feel so very proud of her and so very grateful at the same time. it's been hard work, but i think what's most rewarding is that we did it by listening to her and to the Spirit. we did subscribe to anyone's plan of sleep training. we listened to our kid and we prayed. and when the time was right to do something else, we did it.  and it was hard at first and it was exhausting but when i think about how quickly she changed and how much she has grown since then, i am so proud of us for being brave and i am so proud of her for doing it on her own. 

and the past few nights, she's been sleeping better than she has in AGES.  what a blessing.

i don't expect it to be an every night thing. but it's so nice to see that she can do it.  i think she had slept through the night ONCE in the four or five months previous to this last month. now she's done it three or four times (once on the night before her birthday party--what a blessing!).  i'm grateful for long stretches. 

but i don't really get them.  last night, i was wide awake at 4am. i think it might be because my body is so accustomed to not getting straight sleep (longest stretch is usually 3 hours, maybe 4). when it got 5.5 straight hours, it was like BING! TIME TO WAKE UP!  so up i was.  finally, at 5, maggie woke up briefly.  when she went back to sleep, i went to work. i got a lot done, but goodness i am tired at 930.  why am i not in bed?

i still have work to do, and there's something lovely and wonderful about the time to be just me (whether it's working or not) after she goes to bed. she's kind of squally right now--cold + big fat molar coming in (the gum in superswollen now and pushing up) = whiny, weepy, cranky kid.  plus, we're in the throws of the 2-1 nap transition. she's been on one nap for a couple of weeks now, and i think her body is still trying to adjust to that change.  some days she has monster naps. some days she barely has an hour long nap. 

nevertheless. things are good here.  i'm busy but my husband is home more.  i have read 2.5 mysteries in the past two weeks. i have gotten through the grading for seven classes.  i'm about to start four more, and i managed to plan two entire classes (including posting all of the materials and rewriting 8 quizzes) in two days while my baby was sick and my husband was getting there too.

it's a challenging life, but it's a good one.

even when i wake up at 4am.  

i've been having Deep Thoughts about motherhood and this whole gig wherein we take our lives in our hands to give life. 

but i can't think about that because the phrase that's going through my head constantly is "don't pee on my head and tell me it's raining."

let me pose this question to you, internets: is it possible for someone to try to upload two papers, to try to email said papers once before, and to fail both times miserably? as in, i never got them and am yet being told that, yes, said assignments have been sent?

at first i thought, sure. it could happen. i was suspicious, but okay. benefit of the doubt never hurt anyone.  but how can you tell me you sent it to an email address that i'm checking every single day from my phone (so multiple times a day) and yet never received it?

don't pee on my head and tell me it's raining.

student2 just sent me a superrude email after getting his superlow grade on his plagiarized paper, suggesting that it is, in fact, mere coincidence that his paper and a superfamous tell you everything about a book including themes and character sketches type of site has the same phrasing, the same ideas, the same construction. 

uh huh.  yup. i buy that. fine. i'll just tell you all of the things that are wrong with your paper on the face of it, tell you that you're rude and need to reconsider how you speak to someone in authority, and suggest that a few moments of careful reflection before hitting "send" wouldn't be wildly out of line. i should have also suggested a great deal of spell check, but even i'm not that snarky.

and the thing is? i still really like what i do. 

but next semester? so different. so very very different. 

the requisite end-of-semester professor rantfest commences...now.

oh no, wait. that's been every afternoon in my house when my husband comes home.

"guess what?" i'll say and he'll probably inwardly roll his eyes heavenward, begging for the end of this trend toward tirading, and i'll launch into a diatribe about a student who begged and begged and begged for extra consideration for turning in late work and then doesn't turn them in, or the 90% of my class that didn't turn in their final paper on time, or the students who email me absolutely clueless about why the link to submit their paper has gone away two days after the paper was due.

this semester, though, it just felt so much worse. the absolute disregard for syllabi.  the inability to manage to read directions. the begging, pleading, whining, and sometimes downright saucy confrontations about policies that were deemed unfair (i never cower to those--they just annoy me).  it was a rough start for me to the semester, with the worst cold i've had in MONTHS (literally--hadn't been sick since maggie was born) and morning sickness on top of that and a baby being sick, and i feel like it took me weeks to catch up.

but catch up i had and things seemed to be running well.

i could sit here and say that this is all a reflection on me, but i won't because, while i do believe it's a bit of a reflection on the chaos in my life, it's not a reflection on me as a teacher. it is, however, a reflection on me as a syllabus writer and a policy upholder. 

i need to get my metaphorical and merciless ducks in a row.

beyond that, i think it's a sign of the times, sadly.  and it will just keep happening. but when it does, i'll have plans, policies, outlines, and details already published for students. they'll have agreed to them in writing. they'll have promised that they've read them.  thus, when the time comes for them to cry ignorance, i will feel confident (if not entirely comfortable, because i don't ever like being the bad, bad guy) holding my ground.

but goodness i've never been so glad to say goodbye to a semester in my life. 

good riddance.  two more weeks and i am done done done. 

just in time for summer to start. 

sigh.

dear baby sister: thank you.

Baby Sister,

you rock already. i just wanted to tell you that now, as i'm thinking about it and you just flutterkicked the heck out of me.  you are awesome and already so, so different from your sister.

i don't expect any different. for your whole life.

everyone thought you were a boy, even daddy, and i did too because i felt so different.  but there was a time when i began to feel like you were another little girl, so by the time it was time to find out, i didn't care. i just wanted to know that all of your bones were growing, that your spine looked like such a beautiful string of pearls, that your head contained a big, beautiful brain, that your heart was beating well. 

so when they told me that you were a girl ("that view should look familiar" said the ultrasound tech), i was not expecting to be so filled with overwhelming joy. but i was.  pure joy, from my toes to my head.  i cried.

we are so excited for you.

before i went to that appointment, i ate a lot of jelly beans. see, when maggie was in my belly, she didn't want to move AT ALL for the ultrasound.  so i thought, just in case, i would urge you along.

i really didn't need to do that. in fact, i have to go back to get a picture taken of your heart because you moved SO MUCH. you were rockin' and rollin' in there, already an individual who had your own idea of how to behave in each situation. in fact, i have noticed that when i eat a lot of sugar, you react A LOT.  i should keep an eye on that, i think. but i love that about you. you're just so...excited.  already. 

i was thinking about you yesterday, and it sort of came to me that your reaction to the jelly beans and your tendency towards periods of huge activity (lots of kicks and flutters in a short amount of time) tell me a little bit about who you are. we've been trying to think about your name, and though we think we have it narrowed down (because nothing else seems to fit but this one name, though we're not certain), i just wasn't sure if it was you.

yes, we have lots of time to figure it out, but i want to start to get to know you. if i know your name, i think that helps.  so i was thinking about this name that we've been kicking around, and wondering if it suits you. and suddenly...i got a little glimpse of who you are.

and i think you're like me.

see, most of the time, i walk around getting VERY EXCITABLE about certain things and then moving on. it's not that i'm hyper or even especially passionate. i'm just...as your daddy said...enthused about things that capture my fancy. so, lately, for example, i've been ranting and raving to your daddy about my teaching jobs.  "ranting" and "raving" may not be the best terminology, but i always get very animated, using my hands to punctuate what i say and feeling very strongly about what i say.  but that doesn't mean that my blood pressure rises or that i'm angry or upset--just ANIMATED.

and i think you might be like that too.

maggie is more like your daddy--steady, confident, sure of herself. i think you might be more like me: quick to be excited but perhaps equally quick to doubt.  i think the name we've been thinking of suits you, and i think it is a confident name, a name that says to the world that you are unique, an individual, but someone who is spunky and faces the world with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

i'm excited to meet you, baby girl.  i'm sure you'll grow to hate the fact that we called you Baby Sister until we were sure about your name, and maybe even after, but know that it's the greatest term of endearment we can come up with now. soon you'll be someone else, called by your name or by some nickname (like maggie's bubba or doodlebug) that i come up with organically because it just comes out of my mouth.

but in the meantime, sweet Baby Sister, thanks for being you. keep growing. keep kicking. keep reminding me that you are entirely different than our sweet maggie girl, because it just reminds me that i have double the blessings in the form of two extraordinary daughters who are bound to rule the world, with love, someday.

i love you already.  thanks for being content with what i have to offer right now, which isn't as much as i could give you under different circumstances.  i may be distracted, busy, and stressed, but each day brings more excitement to meet you and each day makes me want to know you more.  i can't wait to get to know you.  i think we're going to really like each other--at least until you're 11.  :)

love,
mommy.

cue the procrastination.

well, we made it.

we made it through the week we'd been both dreading and looking forward to for MONTHS--ultrasound, recital, maggie's first birthday party. it was GOOD. we were blessed. all went well, save some elevated blood pressure at the doctor's appointment (new doctor, they wanted me to do a ton of labwork because of it, i got a blood pressure monitor instead and have been monitoring--oh look, not a smidge over 120/70...going to call and say "not doing labs--have evidence it's nerves, so leave me alone" and see how that goes over). 

we made it.

now descends the end-of-semester madness.  yay for that.

but mainly i just wanted to write about how i think it's entirely CRAPPY that parents don't support other parents. we are all so darn judgmental. i posted a facebook status update about reverence in church. i wasn't yelling, i wasn't upset, i was just alarmed at how LOUD it is in church.  i specifically said i didn't think anything of kids being the cause of this, only that i thought the bigger people could be quieter in general, beginning with myself.  i have only noticed this lately, since maggie has been increasingly interested in the world and, therefore, increasingly difficult to get to sleep at church. i know the day is coming when she will no longer do it.  i'm not looking forward to that day at all, but in the meantime, i literally have to cover her ears, even when in the mother's room, when someone walks into the door of the building. it's absurd.

but the chapel? good grief. we walked in with a sleeping baby. but the pre-Sacrament meeting din was so loud that she woke up. i got her back to sleep, hello organ (not slamming the organ--just wow you don't notice how loud that is).  back to sleep, hello microphone.  and this all amid a lot of just noise.

it was just disturbing, that's all. (so was walking out during the opening prayer to hit the mother's room and seeing someone staring at me, who was clearly not closing eyes or bowing heads. weird.)

so i posted a status about it and i have some dad basically telling me that i'm doing it wrong, that it shouldn't be hard to just give them a look and a shh and that's it.  that the Spirit exists independent of children, that we should just listen to the speakers. he's a dad. and i don't want to be annoyingly sexist, but i wouldn't be surprised if i talked to his wife and she admitted to having the same problems that we (me and said dad's sister-in-law) have.  of course it's not my child's fault that i am distracted--but she IS the reason. it would be wonderful to just tune her out and listen to the speaker, but in the meantime, she would have climbed onto the pew and fallen off, cracking her skull, or removed the entire contents of my purse while proceeding to gum my iPhone into oblivion or eat a mechanical pencil, or walked onto the stand (climbing the stairs by herself) to party with the piano, or run down the hall never to be seen or heard from again.  that's not a viable option.

beyond that, WHY CAN'T WE JUST BE SUPPORTIVE? you don't have to agree with the other person. you can even suggest that the person may not be entirely clear on a particular concept. but why is it necessary to, when seeing a struggling parent, pour salt onto a metaphorical wound? what purpose does that serve? what good does it do? NONE.  it just divides parents.  shouldn't we be united, especially within our church? shouldn't we be each other's greatest support system?

i just don't get it. 

parenthood can be incredibly isolating. my sunday experiences are emblematic of this. i spend much of the three hour block separated from where i "should" be because i have responsibilities that call me out of class.  maybe you're the person who sits in the front row and thinks bad thoughts about the mom in the back row with the really adorable towheaded kid who wanders up to the front occasionally. maybe you're the one who doesn't understand why the family is sitting on the couch. maybe you're the one who thinks it can't be that difficult to just get a kid to take a nap. 

if you are, i guarantee you're not a parent yet, because i've been you.  but if you ARE a parent, and you still think that, i don't understand. i really, really don't understand.  nothing has taught me more about the need for friendly, empathetic faces and understanding arms than being a mom for the last year.  and now, with Baby Sister on the way and what can only be described as insanity looming this fall, i need it.

i just wish i could find it more readily sometimes.  i just wish we were all a little less sure of how right we are and a little more sure of how much we love each other and appreciate each other's challenges, even if they are not our own. 

and that rambling rant is now concluded in favor of SOME kind of productive work being done on my exhaustive/exhausting list of remaining things to grade.

i find the following things awkward.

...chatting with students online. it feels uncomfortably familiar for me to approach a student on Gchat at 10:35pm, but it also feels unmerciful to not say "hey, you're not failing, you're just looking at the wrong thing" when i know it's true and the kid is sitting right there. it feels wrong...on all levels. especially when said student was all "hey, i'm going to skype you because it's weird that i've never seen you face to face and you're my teacher" and also took a picture of himself in a wifebeater as his skype profile picture...*shudder*

...finding out, through a ward member's blog, that there was apparently some big party at a ward member's house that a bunch of families were invited to...and we were not.  i think it was probably for older kids, but i still was all "wow. WOW. wow. we have no friends."

...having your mother-in-law refer to the baby that "we're" having.  uhm, does anybody else share this body, besides me and ye young baby bean? i think not.  brent gets props because a) he contributed 1/2 of the DNA, so yeah, he can claim him/her and b) he has to DEAL WITH ME every day. that ain't no easy feat sometimes, especially since i occasionally tell him i just want to hit him. not because he's done anything bad (never does...he's a prince) but because sometimes i just get irrationally aggressive when pregnant. i never DO hit him (unless he gives me permission) and i never do damage (haven't been to body combat in a LOOOOONNNNNG time...i am a pansy girl) but really? "we're" having a baby?  i think not.

...when you get a lot of hand-me-downs from people and then you realize you don't like any of them. or the vast majority of them are not in good condition. i feel awkward because, really, i am so grateful to anyone who wants to share with us. we are so blessed in that way, and i am so grateful. but the other part of me thinks that i would NEVER give anything to anyone else that wasn't in great condition.  maggie has onesies that she wore ONCE, got sweet potatoes all over, and destroyed.  i'd put her in it if i was desperate (before she grew out of it) and we were hanging around the house, but that's the equivalent of putting me in dirty gym shorts because all of my other shorts were in the washing machine.  does that make me a bad person?

...looking obviously pregnant and someone being surprised when i tell them that maggie's getting a sibling.  either i assume that the world looks at my belly way more than it does or else people just think i am enormously fat. i'm not sure which one is worse.

...pretty much everything about the fact that i watched the first seasons of make it or break it and switched at birth in a two week span. 

letters to my girl: month TWELVE.

dear maggie,

about the time you started walking, i stopped writing. you might see a correlation there. it's also about the time we found out that you're going to have a sibling. i got a little tired, baby girl. i'm sorry about that.  i will try to be better, especially because so much happens so fast with you that i don't ever want to forget it.

let's go from head to toe, shall we? people say you have your daddy's face and my smile. i think they're right, to a certain extent, but as you get older i think you look more and more just like you.

hair: blonde, and coming in more and more! it's starting to get a little bit long and shaggy in the back, which is exciting, and you're getting more and more on the top. you don't look like you have "kid" hair yet--it's still baby hair--but it's very blonde and very fine.

eyes: still gorgeously blue. i don't think that's going to change, which is sort of awesome since my grandma had blue eyes too. seems appropriate.

nose: molars make your nose run. i'm sure you'll be horrified to read this someday, but it's one of the ways that you tell me that you're teething.  also, you've been fighting colds since christmas (everyone in our house has, actually).  your poor nose has been getting its fair share of attention lately.

mouth: well, there's a lot to talk about here. seven teeth so far, working on at least two more. 

eating--you're eating big kid food now, but you're still drinking milk too. you love your bottles and will not hold it while eating at all. i don't think you ever will.  i think you'll give them up before you do.  i don't blame you. why do work when you can recline and not have to? i think this speaks volumes about you.  we're working on transitioning you to whole milk from formula. so far, you don't even seem to notice.  if it's in a bottle, you're good to go, i think. 

you are getting really good with finger foods.  you don't really miss your mouth very much if you decide that you actually want to eat something. there are times, though, when you just seem to absolutely refuse to eat anything.  for this reason, you're still eating some purees in a pouch. at least then i know that you have eaten SOMETHING with some nutritional value.

some of your favorites: blueberry yogurt (you eat it EVERY morning!), apples (it's the one food that you will consistently try to eat), goldfish (you eat them one at a time--i wish i was like you!), cucumber (found out at a salad bar of all places), grapes (we have to split them in half for you), CHEESE! (cheddar, though--nothing else will do), peanut butter (this one's new), blueberry bagels or really bagels of any kind, frozen muffins (they're easier to hang on to! you especially like the pineapple ones).

some of your least favorites: meat. you really don't like it.  you don't like pancakes, french toast, or waffles, unless the waffles are frozen and you are teething and then you just gnaw on it until it's thawed and then throw it on the ground.

someday we'll get there.  i think once you get some of these molars in, it will suddenly be a lot easier to eat some of this stuff that you've been looking at with suspicion.

talking: your first real word was "done!" i didn't realize how often i said it to you when i was feeding you or when i was changing you or when i was doing anything until, one day, you said it back to me when i asked you if you were done while you were in your highchair. i think i beamed.

you say, and know what they mean:  done, mama, dada, cup

you say these words after we say them: yum (this one is about to be upgraded, though, because you say it unsolicited recently),  bum, apple, gum (from the "raindrops were gumdrops" song), yeah, come (this one's new), dum (not dumb; i think it's the sound word), cheese, bee (either the letter or the insect, we're not sure).

you talk all the time. you love to talk. but you're also happy to be silent as well.  you are so smart. you take direction really well. even though you can't say them, you know what things are (especially your toys). you correctly go to your penguin when we ask you, you know what your caterpillar is, you know what your zebra is.  you know what "diaper time" is and you know what breakfast, lunch, dinner, and milk are.  you know what it means when i say "daddy's home!" and you squeal in delight.

you are adorable.

hands and arms: you can clap, wave, and pick almost anything up. you've taken to trying to haul and drag my big purses around, which is fairly hilarious. you like nothing better right now than to walk around with a reusable grocery bag around your NECK because, i guess, it's too big to just hold on your arm.  your fingernails grow insanely fast, but you won't let me cut them anymore because you would rather sleep in your bed (i used to cut them after you would fall asleep in the rocking chair). i actually don't know what i'm going to do about that.

belly:  you've still got a little belly, but it's so cute that i hope it sticks around for a little while longer.  you have taken to pulling up your shirt (now that you're wearing more shirts than onesies) and showing it to the world.  you can correctly identify it when we ask you where your belly is--you pat it lovingly.

legs: i think you're getting ready to run. or dance. or both.  you've begun to run in place a little bit when you're excited, big smile on your face.  it's SO STINKIN' CUTE.  it's like you're learning that you can move those feet faster and with more rhythm that you thought you could.  i've not been looking forward to the day you learn how to run, selfishly.  but you're pretty fast anyways. it didn't take you long to get out of the "toddling" part of learning how to walk. you walk with confidence now, like you've been doing it for your whole life.  you have incredible balance, navigating piles of laundry and piles of toys in the living room like they are no big deal.

when you got your zebra riding toy, it took you a few minutes of suspicious inspection before you figured out, ON YOUR OWN, how to mount it and bounce on it. you're incredibly strong and you're always on the move.

feet: we finally have shoes that work and fit and i love them. you seem to be enthralled by the velcro on them, but only unhook one part, so they still stay on.  i'll take it.  but most days, like me, you're barefoot. i bet that's how it will always be.

brain: you are so smart, maggie.  as you get older, you just surprise me even more.  i know every parent brags about their kids and what they do, and i'm certainly no different, but your daddy and i were talking today about how you're smart in every area. you're verbally smart--you pick up on words, phrases, and what they mean VERY quickly.  you're aurally smart--you understand what you're hearing and what sounds mean and can follow directions very well.  you're physically smart--you have fallen a few times, but it didn't take you long to figure out how to avoid that by getting off of the couches in the way that i showed you. i think maybe it took you two or three days of me showing you every so often how to do it. then you had it. the same thing is true for any of the skills that you have developed--you learn it quickly and it's yours.   you LOVE books.  your new thing is bringing us books (we're working on having you not throw them at us) and having us read them over and over and over again.  i didn't think we'd get to that phase for a while, but...we're there. but you're so smart about it--you know exactly what you're doing. 

i don't know what will come of this, but i know that you are a clever girl. i hope you will always use that cleverness to achieve something good. there's not enough cleverness being used for good in the world.  whatever you choose to do, i know that you will be successful at it. it's who you are. you were born that way.

heart: my goodness are you sweet.  you have your moments of fussiness and your moments of short tantrums, which i attribute to not being able to articulate what you want or to understand how to express your displeasure, but you are overall a smiley, happy, cheerful kid.  you like people SO MUCH now.  you love to be around other kids. only recently, you have been utterly fascinated by babies smaller than you. you want to touch them, to examine them, but you do it in this gentle sweet way.  you love other adults too, and you love church so much because there are so many people and so many new things to see.  you flirt with people in the store, you wave to people sometimes, you are so sweet to everyone you encounter.

with us, you are cuddly and kind and so funny.  you are almost always smiling. when you're not, you just want one of us to be with you. you have taken to having some chill time with me on the couch sometimes, if you're feeling a bit tired or just need to be close.  it's very sweet and i treasure it.  most of the time, though, you are an intrepid explorer, trying to see what you can find next, and always with a smile.

i can't believe it's been a year since you joined our family, maggie. you are the best and the sweetest and the most exasperating. :)  you are teaching us things that we never could have learned without you, and i am so grateful every day that you are ours for the time that Heavenly Father has entrusted us with you.  we promise to keep doing our best, and we're thankful that you are as forgiving of us as you are.

thanks for making me a mom and making your dad a dad. thanks for teaching us how to do it and how to trust ourselves. thanks for proving that we're doing something right by being as happy as you are to be where and who you are.  thanks for coming to us as perfectly as you did.  thanks for being you.

i can't wait to see what the next year brings. you'll be a big sister.  i think you'll be an extraordinary one. this baby bean has no idea how lucky s/he is to have you. i'll remind him/her of that, i promise.

we love you so much more than any word, anywhere, anytime, could ever express. 

love,
mommy (and daddy).