Ready or Not

Hello blog readers, I'm writing to you poised on the brink of what I am sure will go down as two of the best months of my life.  (I definitely don't feel like I'm over-selling this.)

I'm writing, of course, about 

MUH.

TER.

NUH.

TEE.

LEEVE.

While our second son's debut may have fallen at quite possibly the most inconvenient time for Koby (as his football team is battling for a district championship placement and looking towards the playoffs AND his one true love [yeah, that would be deer season, not yours truly] opens in a few days), somehow, my six weeks of maternity leave will be miraculously stretched over a period of two months because of some well-placed holiday breaks.  Soooooo basically I won't be working from November 5 to January 7.  And I can't get fired for it.

If you are reading this real-time, then you know that I have posted in the afternoon on a work day (and if you are reading this real-time, I'm pretty jealous of your job) and you know that I am probably not posting this from work.  That is because I've taken today and the next two days off as I could probably go into active labor at any moment.  (And no, I definitely don't feel like I'm over-dramatizing this either.)

At my appointment this past Monday my doctor asked me my thoughts on scheduling another induction based on my progress so far and considering that we live about an hour and forty-five minutes from the hospital.  I think my exact words were "When can we do it?" and involved some clapping.  So we are all scheduled for a November 5th birthday, unless Hayes decides he prefers another one sooner.

And now we are playing the waiting game, and I'm trying not to time every contraction and to move as very little as possible.  I'm calling it some self-prescribed bed rest... that involves watching a one year old.  And still preparing the house for a new-born (more on that later).  For obvious reasons, Koby and I would really prefer NOT to have Hayes on the side of the highway in our car and so we're reasonably a little nervous about making it to the hospital in time, seeing as I'm already out of the 'early labor' stage and my dr. anticipates a much quicker labor this go around.  (As opposed to the 17-ish hours with Knox.)  So I'm selfishly asking for your prayers - prayers of thanksgiving that we aren't trying to prevent pre-term labor, that we aren't worried about getting to the hospital in the middle of a hurricane like so many parents on the East coast, and prayers that Hayes STAY PUT at least until Saturday, when we'll head to Abilene to stay for the weekend.

In other news, I'm preparing to be Mom times two, and it's already been an interesting mix of "I'm going to do so much better this time" and "Wow, I'm still really unprepared".  You know how people say that with each subsequent kid, their efforts to be 'perfect' parents seem to diminish (or at least become more realistic)?  Well, I kind of feel like the opposite of that parent, disregarding any notions of trying to be 'perfect'.  And the reason is because I am just 100% less ignorant a parent than I was the first time.  Maybe you're one of those girls who popped out of her own mom knowing instinctively how to care for a baby, and if you are, then feel free to laugh at me a lot, but I am not one of those females.  I am still convinced that I'm going to be a better mom to newborn Hayes, sheerly because I have a tiny inkling of knowing (sort of) what to do.

Example.  I breast-fed Knox for awhile, but by the time he was two months old he was already somewhat on a formula regimen and we were also traveling quite a bit and messing with his schedule, perks of being a coaching family.  I remember the awkward times at football games, as I tried in the blustering West Texas wind to measure and pour powdered formula into bottles while holding baby Knox, using the tin formula can I'd brought in my diaper bag and the teeny tiny scoop that comes with each container.  If you even remotely know what I'm talking about, you know how much of an idiot I am, especially considering that I think I did this for nearly the entire football season.

You see, I didn't know these existed.  

For about $6 I could have avoided being the T-Rex arm mommy at the football games, wasting money in the form of formula powder blowing all over the place.  It can be chalked up to nothing but ignorance in its purest form.  One of my friends and fellow teachers/coach's wife kept telling me that they ('they' meaning people who tried to mix bottles on the go once and decided people didn't have to live like this) made 'spinners' she used to carry in her diaper bag that helped her make the bottles at the games, but I kept privately thinking she was crazy.  ("I don't need someone to help me swirl the formula together, I need something to help me pour it in!"  She was, of course, referring to the spinning lid.  Once again, I'm an idiot.)

And so for Hayes, I won't be the mom who doesn't know about formula dispensers.  I also won't be the mom who doesn't know that feeding a one year old an entire box of raisins will give him diarrhea.  (Sorry, Knox.)  I mean, I understand that 'you live, you learn' and obviously, every mom is going to learn from her mistakes as a first-timer, but are every one else's so very elementary? I work in a nursery where two of the babies still taking formula are sons of first time mommies, and they knew about formula dispensers.  Is there a class I missed?

On the other hand, the other part of my brain that isn't all like "I totally (sort of) know what I'm doing now" keeps forgetting that we are essentially starting all over.  Seriously, if Koby hadn't reminded me that we had to put Knox's old carseat back in the car for Hayes to come home in, I may have forgotten. And then, it took me another whole day to remember to readjust the straps and to put in the tiny-baby attachment so he won't bobble around in there like a pinball.  Then, I packed all our bags a few days ago (finally) and surprisingly remembered outfits for Hayes to wear home, taking some from the 0-3 months clothes I've already set aside in bins in the nursery closet.  What I failed to remember is that Hayes would also be coming to live with us after leaving the hospital, so instead of putting all the 0-3 months clothes back in the bin, I should have put them in the dresser.  A mistake which I rectified today.  Am I doomed to be a first-timer twice???

Ah well.  I am so excited to meet Hayes.  I can't believe he's almost here and I am SO excited to welcome him into our family and for Knox to begin his role as big brother.  And I am so grateful that I get to have two whole months of maternity leave to soak up his newborn baby-ness - something I didn't even get with only-child Knox, as I went back to work four weeks after he was born.  

CHANGE

I've been doing some research and come up with a few surefire tips for successful parenting.

1.  Don't 'save' clothes.  Kids grow fast.

I just found an entire suitcase full of clothes  (literally, the clothes were stashed in the suitcase: things got a little last-minute when we were packing and leaving Colorado City) for Knox that he could have been wearing all summer.  Don't even get me started on the outfits (in the plural) I was 'saving' for Easter this past March, only to discover at Easter time this year he was too chubby to fit into any of them.

2.  In the event that you did save clothes and missed out on taking cute pictures for Instagram of your child wearing said clothing, get pregnant with another child of the same gender ASAP and remedy the situation.

Bingo.

In reality, I haven't been doing research.  You may or may not have noticed, but I haven't blogged since July.  I'd blame this on a variety of reasons, but the biggest one is me.  I've been lazy, felt ill-footed, felt too behind to catch you all up, felt tired.

Even though we've been in our new town since June, I realized last week that some days I still have that feeling of 'temporary-ness' at this time of our lives.  Temporarity?  Temporariness?  (Oh, that is a word?  No angry red squiggles showed up under that last one.  Interesting.)  You know, the feeling you have when you're living out of a suitcase on a vacation for which you didn't quite pack enough clothes?  I don't know why I have that feeling sometimes, or why it comes and goes, but I think it's the fusion of a few factors like: my baby (yes, Knox is still my baby, shut up) growing too fast, being in the third trimester of pregnancy, which really just feels like waiting (as opposed to feeling like nausea), and being at a new job while still feeling disoriented because it's different than my old job.  It's all irrelevant, anyway, since things (should be) in an eternal state of shift... it's just that I feel ultra-aware of it these days.

I think I realized the out-of-sync feeling enough to name it when I got lost for my third time on the way to Walmart last week.  I was frustrated by the fact that THINGS CHANGE.  It irritated me.  In that moment, a small part of me missed every town I'd ever lived in where I could find the nearest Walmart without accidentally ending up outside the city limits.  I missed familiarity, I missed my job and my classroom,  I missed the days when Knox was little(r) and I had energy to play with him every day after school, I missed our too-small old house, and even dumb things like my Jeep that was red, a season that wasn't scorching summer and our even smaller, smellier first house.

Having a lot of time to mull this over, as I had driven quite out of my way, the less-dramatic-and-pitiful part of my brain starting telling me obvious things.  Without change, Knox wouldn't be walking (read: running like the bulls of Pamplona) and so visibly learning, I'd always be pregnant (please restrain yourself from making the obvious joke here), or I'd never be pregnant, Hayes wouldn't be growing and kicking and getting ready to complete our family, Koby would still be working in the oil field somewhere and we would all be infinitely unhappy.  Thank God for change.  The smarter part of my brain also told me that it was highly likely that the next time I complained about a new standardized test I'd have to give my students or broke out in hives over the cost of baby formula that I'd probably refer back to September of 2012 and miss those familiar days.  And so the smarter part of my brain told me to enjoy the proverbial smaller, smellier house* that we will miss later, NOW.

*I am quite satisfied with both the odor and size of our house.

So speaking of changes and enjoying all things while they still fit, so to speak, here is WHAT KNOX CAN DO NOW!  (I feel like this should be a recurring segment.)

Walk, squat, spin, climb, throw, run, more signs (eat, milk, more, all done), animals noises and faces (snake, tiger, cow, cat, lizard), change contacts and other things on my phone, car noises, pick out outfits (namely, instruct me on clothing he does NOT want to wear/remove), interesting and impressive spitting/spit bubble techniques, burp like a 40 year old Budweiser drinker

THINGS I AM CONVINCED KNOX CAN DO

Smell graham crackers on my breath, hear the rustle of food packaging while in the deepest of sleeps and/or at 50+ feet away, find hidden objects that a Bloodhound couldn't track, understand things like "No", "Sit down" and "Don't you dare"

So, readers, know that in my silence we have NOT been having problems with the pregnancy (I think some were worried) nor have I been doing anything awesomely productive like actually mentally preparing myself for the arrival of our new baby IN 52(ish) DAYS... I've just been struggling in a place of change: watching it maternally, feeling it physically, geographically, professionally, and spiritually, and while strangely noting that it's almost too much to relay, occasionally feeling frustrated or sad that it has to happen (did you ever cry about a tiny sock?), but ironically waiting for more change in order to share it.  And waiting is stupid, as I pointed out to you in surefire parenting tip number one.

I think we should end with a picture of the world's cutest kid.

Second Anniversary, Second Son

Well, we're fresh from our little anniversary getaway trip that included a trip to the zoo, sinful amounts of food, and sleeping in past nine in the morning.  Happy two years to us!  It was fun to get away and hang out together sans the tot, although we both found ourselves doing our best 'Knox impressions' every few hours.

Koby's final words on the Fort Worth Zoo: "Well, that was fun, I just wish there were more tigers."  Koby's final words on the NYLO hotel where we stayed in Irving/Las Colinas: "That's the kind of place you wish you were staying maybe more than one day" and "I like those hotel pillows".  He should probably write online reviews for a living.

Aaaaaand say hello to yet another Pinterest project.  First and second anniversary photo-within-a-photo.  Glad that I'm baby beluga-sized this year instead of the regular blue whale I was last year - it makes for a much more comfortable July!  We're laughing in the first anniversary photo because it's the second take: in the first I was so rotund that the house literally shook when I ran from the self-timed camera to Koby and thus messed up the shot.  I had to walk the second time but barely made it in time to turn around and pose.  This year obviously went a lot smoother.  Ahhhh pregnancy.

And speaking of pregnancy, we are finally unveiling the name of the newest Andrews family member.  Are you prepared?  Get ready to meet

Hayes Brandon Andrews

come this November.  Tomorrow we're having another doctor's appointment and our follow-up sonogram to make sure that every thing is still moving on track.  Specific prayers that HAYES (I typed 'baby' but he has a name now!) is growing and developing according to schedule, with no more 'soft markers' for any Trisomy chromosomal abnormalities.

Knox is getting ready to be a big brother - mostly preparing by doing things like shouting his favorite word, "dog" (though he says "dod" or "gog"), refusing to practice walking, and trying as many new foods (and non-foods) as humanly possible.  I told him that he'd probably need to start pulling his weight around here a little more in preparation; helping out with the dishes and laundry, making his own meals, and learning to drive so he can cart Hayes around when Mommy is too tired.

He's taking it in stride.

Gummi Update

I'm the worst, really.  I know I am.  It's okay though.

We got the results from the blood screen back... a week ago.  If you have no clue what I'm talking about, feel free to zip back over to this post, where you can read about our little pregnancy scare.  To sum up, at our anatomical sonogram, our doctor noticed what are called 'choroid plexus cysts' on our son's brain.  These cysts are simply pockets that sometimes happen as the baby's brain is developing, and while harmless in and of themselves, they have been linked to chromosomal abnormalities such as Trisomy 13, 18, and 21.  Basically, the average woman's chances of having a baby with Trisomy 18 are around 1 in 4,000 - many Trisomy 18 abnormalities result in early miscarriage.  But, seeing the isolated cysts (meaning there are no other signs of T-18) ups the odds to something like 1 in 400.

Enter genetic screening.  I took the quad screen to test my hormones and blood levels to measure the risk of my having a baby with chromosomal abnormalities like Trisomy 18 and 21.  While the test can be inaccurate for the better or worse (again, read the aforementioned post for more information), it was nice to hear the nurse tell me that based on my results, our risk was something like 1 in 3,779.  Big sigh of relief, prayers of thanks and a collapse on the couch after that phone call. While we're not out of the woods yet, I feel infinitely better than I did a few weeks ago.

Now I can start thinking about the future without a knot in my stomach.  I feel like I am free from this nagging worry and doubt and we can talk about our second son without a dark question in the back of our minds.  And so of course, with this gift of unburdening, I have been making absolutely no progress on tacking down a nursery theme.

Because even with all of the scary cysts and the scouring of Google for every entry I could find on Trisomy 18, a big part of me kept saying, "Wait, a boy?"  I mean, when the tech asked if we wanted to find out the sex and then said ever-so-nonchalantly "Well, it's a boy", it took me at least thirty seconds to realize what she'd said.

"Wait, what?"  I stammered, as if she'd uttered the gender in some new language.  I should tell you I wasn't hoping for a girl against a boy, even though having one would be so sweet.  But I had started dragging girly things into the nursery.  Hello, flowery crewel chair.  Hello, watercolor pansy print.  Hello, butterfly mobile hanging from the ceiling.  I had this gut feeling that #2 was of the XX chromosome variety.  And since my instincts were spot on last time, I had this motherly hubris happening.  Of course, there is a 1 in 2 chance of guessing correctly, and I am ever in the odds.  Of my two pregnancies, I have been right 50% of the time.

And so I will try to work the crewel embroidered armchair into this second son's room, mostly because I have nowhere else to put it.  The pansy print goes, the butterflies stay.  And we are thisclose to choosing a name for our newest progeny; and it's one we haven't shared with anyone yet, so get ready to be surprised.

And in the name of pure celebratory feeling, I will share with you our little Gummi's picture from the day we found out he was a boy.  A picture that might be the most terrifying thing to ever make me laugh.

And finally - thank you so much to the countless friends, family and readers who have texted, emailed or commented on Facebook with words of encouragement, shared verses, and prayers.  Koby and I can't express what it feels like to be so supported and cared for by people like you.  We covet your prayers still and will keep you up-to-date on the progress of the pregnancy.

It's A Boy! And...

I did not want to post this entry.

Eager though I am to share embarrassing stories with friends and strangers in the name of entertainment, make a fool out of myself for the education of my students, or else often times immaturely seek the attention of whatever room I inhabit, I desperately and at all costs avoid vulnerability.

To me, vulnerability is feeling emotions beyond one's control in the presence of others. It is for this reason I so obviously dreaded and suffered through my beautiful, precious, one wedding day, when hundreds were witness to my happiness (which I felt should have been private), my nervousness, and sheer feelings of being overwhelmed. It is why I allowed no one but my husband in the delivery room during my hardest moments of labor. It is why I avoid difficult goodbyes like the plague, I don't know what to do when people cry and why I make jokes in moments of discomfort: anything to avoid revealing raw emotions in front of another person, regardless of the nature of the emotion.

And so, despite my terror, confusion, and uncertainty all tinged with a strange, elusive happiness, I will begrudgingly share this story with you because I have decided the situation is much bigger than the way I feel about it.

Yesterday, Monday, Koby, Knox, and I visited Abilene for our anatomical (read: gender-revealing) sonogram to find out that we were going tot be blessed with another beautiful boy. What happened next did not unmake the blessing, but it rather did change it in an unexpected way.

The usual prenatal sonogram specialist was away on vacation in Italy, and so a covering doctor came in to visit us after the tech showed us our son's various body parts including, but not limited to one creepy-yet-oh-so-lovable alien face, a round little belly, and criss-crossed feet. Hey baby! I did note that the tech paid what seemed like a longer-than-last-time amount of attention to (what to me looked like) the top of the head. Nothing too alarming- I know doctors are always checking the sizes of babies' heads.

The doctor came in that dark and small room, made a few conversational jokes and then settled down to business. He started, in what I considered weird fashion, by talking about my baby's brain. He continued on for at least one full minute while I considered that he was a good deal more thorough than most doctors, when I realized that he was explaining something that was abnormal on our sonogram. On our baby. And it occurred to me that the less time you spend in the small, dark room, the better.

In that minute I heard three stupid words that have consumed my life since- choroid plexus cyst. Because I could now successfully write a research paper over these "normal" abnormalities, let me attempt to succinctly fill you in on their meaning. Essentially, the choroid plexus cyst (CPC) is not a cyst at all, but more like a pinched-off pocket or blister of cerebral fluid that shows up in about 1-3% of prenatal ultrasounds, almost always goes away by the third trimester and ultimately means nothing whatsoever. They can be unilateral (on one side) or bilateral (on two sides) and can range in size but do not affect the brain or its processes in any known way.

For something so harmless, as I understood them to be after my two-minute crash course (definition bolstered now by countless resources), I wondered why this doctor was telling us at all, and I was about to write it off when he continued that there is a slight link between CPCs and Trisomy 18, which is a chromosome abnormality.

You know of Trisomy 21, you probably just don't recognize that particular chromosome abnormality as that name. You know it as Down Syndrome. In addition to a mild association with Trisomy 18, CPCs are also linked to Trisomy 13 and 21. Trisomy 13 and 18 are both abnormalities that doctors describe as not "compatible with life", meaning that most T13 and 18 babies are stillborn or perish before their first birthday. But I'm back in the tiny dark room, and I don't know that yet. But I can remember reading about T13 and 18 during my last pregnancy, and I can remember that they are very, very bad.

Our doctor was careful to tell us that T18 (the abnormality to which CPCs seem to be most linked) is a very rare condition, affecting only about one birth in every 3,000. Having CPCs show up on an ultrasound doesn't mean that the baby does indeed have T18, but the odds increase to something like 1 in 400, solely because of the cysts' existence.

One in 400 doesn't sound like terrible odds - but it does sound scary in a tiny dark room when all you've ever known is the "Looks perfect!" sonogram and monster kicks and healthy, fat babies.

And so the doctor continued- CPCs are considered a "soft-marker" (like signs) for abnormalities like T13, 18, and 21. None of the other soft-markers were seen during our son's ultrasound, meaning we have what is called an "isolated choroid plexus cyst", and upon checking the hands, feet, heart, and stomach of our little baby, the doctor reiterated that our chances were very low for having a baby with Trisomy 18 because all looked fine. Tell-tale signs of T18 that are almost always caught during a sonogram include clenched hands, "rocker-bottom" feet, and heart defects. We left the office feeling blind-sided by the news and overwhelmed by both our emotions and poor, tortured 11 month-old Knox, who had waited with us the two hours it had taken just to get in to the tiny, dark room.

My perception of basically everything changed. The mind: it goes to a dark place when confronted with news like this. I felt joy- a boy! Like Knox, how sweet. Brothers! A choroid plexus cyst? How dare this mar my pleasure at having a new son growing in my body. My body... Had I done something to cause this?

We rushed to our OBGYN appointment which was scheduled that afternoon, as we now live one hour and forty minutes away from our hospital. The sonogram doctor had called ahead to catch our doctor up to speed- CPCs, two parents who seem to be taking it well, to be holding it together, not freaking out... My doctor basically reiterated the knowledge that I had so recently taken in to my own brain (which may have CPCs of its own, did you know? So could yours. They're that harmless.). She was even more emphatic that this is

most
likely
nothing.

Most likely nothing, based on my age (26) and the isolation of those CPCs. An option for me, she continued as all doctors must do, would be to take the quad screen test, which I had opted out of for both pregnancies. This screen is a blood test that does not detect chromosome abnormalities in the fetus, but rather measures different chemicals in the Mother's blood, and based on the findings, comes up with likelihood of the baby having an open neural tube defect or abnormality. The findings have occurrences of false positives five percent of the time, meaning that in reality nothing is wrong, but the test indicates that there may be. The screen "catches" things like Down syndrome 85% of the time, meaning that in 15% of the cases when the test indicates that nothing is wrong, in reality there is.

More information that I'd already gotten but thought I'd never need, but now applied to me: amniocentesis testing follows the quad, if you want. This is an invasive test that will tell for certain if the baby has an abnormality, but comes with anywhere between a 1 in 200 to 1 in 500 chance of spontaneous miscarriage, regardless of the baby's health. Doctor continues, and if I need to make a decision about continuing the pregnancy, I will need to begin the testing process now, because I am approaching 19 weeks... Amniocentesis, termination. These are the things my doctor is telling me while I'm trying to ignore my mashed-potato-covered baby who's grunting and crawling all over my husband and meanwhile wondering what's going on with the baby still in my belly...

It was hard to make a decision. For Koby and me, the amniocentesis test and termination were and are off the table, they're unspoken, non-options that don't really exist in our vision for what's next. And the quad test- that wasn't really in my scope of reality yesterday either. Maybe the one true time I would accept ignorance in favor of something else. But, our reality changed in the span of two minutes and in the space of two millimeters of a brain cyst, so today I took the blood screen.

I get the results from the screen in one week, and we are scheduled for another check up and a level 2 sonogram in four weeks. It's frustrating to know that even if the CPCs are gone, the link with the chromosome abnormalities isn't eradicated. I debated on sharing this at all since it is likely that nothing is wrong, but because we can now basically not count on the "all-clear", I thought I should share rather than bear it privately, which would probably be my instinct. We will just have to pray for continued, on-target growth, no more soft markers, and an inexplicable peace that while not guaranteed, these things mean that everything is fine. Or else pray for the preparation in our hearts and lives for what's coming.

I know that the results from the blood screen, which could be at best an unreliable source of comfort, could be wrong, but I want to start the journey to be the absolute MOST prepared I can possibly be for my baby. I know that I did nothing to cause and can do nothing to change my baby having or not having a chromosome abnormality, and so some would have advised me not to take the test. But I feel I can change my level of preparation, of readiness, of peace, and that it will all have a positive impact on my son.

I know that in all likelihood, there is nothing wrong with my baby -a less than 1% chance, in fact- and that I will likely deliver another healthy son. But I've told you of the dark places to which a worried mind will lead you, and so in the midst of planning for my son's nursery, I find myself wondering if I will ever be able to bring him home to see it.

And I hate that.

I also know that I hate posting this because it is an unfurling of my fear, my sickest doubts, and what may he completely unnecessary grief. I know that not everyone feels the need to share emotions like these, as I usually don't, but I also know that today I have read and been encouraged by so many women who have gone through or are going through similar situations an it helped me. I found myself hungering for more posts to read from moms cleared of the T18 diagnosis and even those living with a child with the trisomy or who had lost one because of it. And so, though I know most will not have read all these words, if you are and this is happening in your life, this post is for you.

But of it all, probably the thing I hate the very most, is the fact that I hate so many things on the day after I found out that our new baby is a boy. I hate that you're reading about my fear instead of seeing cute and clever pictures proclaiming BOY! because I've been too dumbfounded to take any. I hate that my concerns and needs to feel informed have tainted even a bit of the joy, of this time of getting to know more about my baby, and I wonder and preemptively hate how often something similar will happen in the future.

I'm sorry if we are friends or family and you are finding out about our little boy this way- I've told very few people because I just don't feel like talking about it much (ironic though it is that u filled up 11 pages of handwritten paper in preparation for this post). Please don't be worried and do know that the odds are heavily in our little guy's favor to be healthy and strong.

Please keep praying for us, and I promise go be a better blogger and post frequently. And if you found this because you, too have now googled every combination of the words "choroid plexus cyst" and "Trisomy 18" and any other jargon you now wish you never knew, please read and feel that when all hope seems lost, rotted and withered, you can stand firm and count on God's perfect ruling to prevail. (Habakkuk 3:17-19)

A Glimpse of the Gummi

Sorry blogfans.  (Read: sorry, parents.)  I have been inattentive and in a wholly non-blogging mood.  Mostly because we are very busy doing completely normal things and that doesn't always make for spectacular reading material.

What does make for the most gripping of anecdotes is the nature of pregnancy symptoms.  However, in my ever-present efforts to "be a lady" (oh, I've been trying and failing for the past twenty years), I must refrain from sharing too much with you.  Someone needs to write a book ... or blog, I guess, if you'd want to be really post-modern about it, over blogging about pregnancy delicately.  I try to be delicate in my writing - to not say anything that will embarrass my mom, to not say anything while I'm completely angry or worked up over something, and to not say anything that will come back to bite me when I'm rich and famous.  But if you've ever been pregnant and given birth, you know that there isn't much delicacy to be found in the entire process.  I mean, from the beginning you're urinating on a stick for crying out loud, and then maybe if you're someone who's not me, saying some curse words involving birth control (or maybe about not taking birth control).  I don't know, that's just what I hear.  So, if you'd like to really dig up some blogging gold, come talk to me privately sometime about my pregnancy and post-pregnancy mishaps.

In the mean time, all I can say is I apologize to any concerned citizens who saw me puking on my front porch this morning.  You try being a lady in that situation.  In all seriousness though, my pregnancy symptoms have been better (?) this go around.  I don't know.  My nausea isn't so bad - it's not ever-present like it was last time.  I'd call this version something more like "Sneak Attack" or "Hit and Run"... "Shock and Awe", I don't know.  As far as fatigue, I was ONE BILLION times more tired during this first trimester than the last pregnancy.  Of course, this trimester I was also caring for an infant whereas last time I was just trying to keep down as many Dairy Queen hand-dipped cones as I possibly could.  Thankfully, that's fading as I enter my second trimester (winner in last year's "Favorite Trimester" category).  I do feel more angry ready to lash out at anyone who looks at me wrong emotional during this pregnancy.  My husband has been so kind as to publicly counter this feeling every time I mention it to someone, claiming that I was "just as crazy" last time.  Helpful.

Since it's been almost two months since our surprise, I forgot that it was sort of shocking when we found out that I was already pregnant again.  That we'd be having babies 17 months apart.  And so when I let the news out it took me by surprise when every one was... well, shocked.  Thankfully, the comments like "But Knox is so little", the pitying looks/laughter, and the downright rude insights into how much fun it won't be to have two babies have subsided.  As has the fleeting guilt I felt when I first found out - I know other moms have felt this, too.  Whether planned or unplanned, the news of second baby is sometimes followed by this silly feeling of guilt.  I say it's silly not because I felt it at all or that others do, but because it is completely illogical.  The argument of 'not being able to enjoy' the first child in his/her different stages of growth after the next one comes is like saying parents of twins can only appreciate one twin at a time.  And if you think about it, the poor second child (who is loved just as much) never has a chance to be 'the only baby' and get all the attention - should I feel guilty about that later, too? No, thankfully I got over it after a day or so.  But it was there and very real for one late, sleepless night after my discovery.

Now, I can't imagine us not adding to our family right now.  I am so excited to have another baby and to have this one grow up so close to Knox.  Knox will be a good big brother, I can already tell.  He is such a sweet baby and I know he will enjoy having a playmate soon.  Whether or not he will be delicate with said playmate is another concern, but I guess we can work on it together.

Sometimes my friend Marie and I joke about how we are pitied because we are so young and already have two children (well, I'm still working on #2, but you know) but how we will laugh when, in five to ten years, we're completely done with things like morning sickness and formula and all our friends are complaining about their prenatals making them puke up their breakfasts and 3 a.m. feedings.  We'll probably be too busy to do more than chuckle, though, as we're driving the kids to ballet or baseball or karate and paying for skateboards and helmets and stitches.  But then we'll really be having a good old laugh as we rest after the kids have graduated and gone and our friends are frustrated when their kids back into their garage doors with their new cars and fail freshman math.  Or course, we'll be getting college loan bills in the mail and calls about meeting "this great guy who's in a band that's like, really going places", so the laughter may be more along the lines of insane cackling, but I'm sure it'll be just fine.

Maybe it really is just insane to become a parent, anyway.  Who thinks, "You know, it's just not enough to be responsible for my own welfare, choices and consequences, I think I'd really like to create a new life and be responsible for it too in a world with roller coasters, serial killers, Jersey Shore, sororities and Smirnoff.  And then I think I'll do it a few more times"?

Ooooooooh but it's so great.  See?

HEY GUMMI HEY!  Please excuse the Gumminess - this was at about 10 weeks, which means Gummi Bear was TINY!  S/he is about 3" long now.  I hope I get another sonogram at my next appointment.  It's just too fun.

Gummi Bear

You may have noticed on Facebook that the Andrews Family will be expecting another little Gummi Bear in November of 2012.  (The sonogram pic that christened Baby #2 with this name to be posted soon.)  We're so excited that Knox will have a playmate so close in age and that we will be blessed with another baby!  More info to come - recap on birthday weekend, upcoming adventures, and of course, my pregnancy symptoms this go around.  But now, some announcements that didn't quite make it.

2011: A Year in Review

Sometimes it can be overwhelming: how much God blesses me.  I'm married to my best friend, we have a beautiful son, we love our jobs and a T.J.Maxx was just built in Abilene.  Or I just discovered it.  Either way, it's spectacular.  You may not feel that last thing fits in with the others, but then again, you may not understand my love for discount shopping...

It's safe to say that, of all my years (1986-present), 2011 has taken the cake.  To be fair, since Koby and I started dating in 2007 every year after has been the best so far.  (I think that says a lot.)  I'm a firm believer in visual aids, so here's some proof that 2011 was pure heaven.

In January I painted the fox picture that would be my first subconscious indicator that the Blob would be a boy.  We celebrated Koby's birthday in Abilene with his whole family at Lytle Land and Cattle and we began the search for a new house.

House hunt successful!  During Super Bowl weekend in February, Koby and I took a leap of faith and made the move from Sweetwater to Colorado City.  I began to experience insatiable hunger.

Ah, March, you were a great month.  We found out that our little baby was a baby BOY while surrounded by family and friends at Knox's Gender Revelation party... it's probably one of my Top 5 memories of all time.

Koby and I departed on a Tennessee vacation (birthday present courtesy of Koby's thoughtful parents) the day after our party.  We really appreciated the FOLIAGE in Tennessee (it was green) ... actually it was just nice to see trees as well.  Definitely a place we want to revisit.

In April I noticed that I was becoming stupid, we unveiled KNOX as a name possibility, and I turned 25.  Oh, and I looked like this.

May brought the end of school and the next day my best friend Belinda got married.  It was special to be a part of her wedding day and I felt accomplished not to have keeled over in all my heftiness in the 90 degree heat.

My husband also scored his dream job in May.  Joy abounds!

In June I taught the 'Daring Drawings and Curious Colors' Art Camp at the Grace Museum for the second year.  It's one of my favorite summer-time activities.  I dare you not to laugh as you read about how one of my little campers felt on 'orange days'.  Ah, and I began to be very impatient to meet the Knox man (who was still unnamed) and Koby ever-so-happily said farewell to his temporary time in the oil field.

On July 10 Koby and I celebrated our one year anniversary.  I don't really have any good pictures of that because every time I'd set up the self timer on the camera and then try to 'run' away, my waddling would shake the house, thereby shaking the camera and messing up the picture.  We lived each day thinking "any day now" ... and Knox finally came one day before his estimated due date.  The 20th of July, 2011 changed our lives.

August meant back to school - Koby started his first year of teaching at the Elementary school as the P.E. teacher, working also as the 7th and 8th grade offensive coordinator for the football teams and as an assistant to the varsity football team.

In September, Koby and I found ourselves juggling infant-raising, careers and coaching.  We also visited Midland when Koby was in friends' Derek and Kim's wedding.

BUSY was the theme of October.  I traveled to Alabama to be in my high school friend Helen's 'dream wedding' status-worthy ceremony and suare, then Knox and I visited Abilene for ACU's homecoming celebrations and he met some of my DT sisters.  Koby and I also enjoyed festive dress-up days at our respective jobs.

Koby and I spent Thanksgiving in Throckmorton in November.  I think it's pretty cool that we can all get together to do things like take four generations pictures!

Aunt M (Melissa, who hates being called Aunt M) had some basketball games in Abilene the weekend following Thanksgiving.  Koby, Knox and I watched the games with Poppa Layne... I'm so glad Knox was there for some games during Melissa's last ever season of basketball!

In December, Knox turned 5 months old and somehow escaped the stomach virus that got Koby, his dad, our childcare provider, her husband, two of the kids at Knox's daycare, and me... thank goodness.  We traveled to Graham and Throckmorton for Christmas and since I'm too lazy to re-upload those pictures, you can make an easy click and see them a few posts ago.

Phew! Did we really cram that into 365 days?! This post took me surprisingly longer to put together than I'd anticipated but it was completely worth it - I got to relive the highest points of an incredible year. The Andrews' have big dreams, ideas and hopes for this upcoming year: I think it's going to be unprecedented in joy and love.

Acrylic Paints and Pork Chops

I got a text from Koby today while he was completing his LAST DAY in the oil field, requesting that we have a 'real' dinner tonight. So I started thumbing through some Food Network magazines and found this recipe that seemed easy enough for me to throw together for my very excited husband tonight.

Reviews? It's good - we both decided it would be even better with bacon. And the smashed potatoes 'as-is' are a little bit bland compared to how we usually make them. Overall, it's a super easy meal to make that's relatively healthy and is a nice twist to your average pork chop.

Ingredients

* 1 pound small fingerling potatoes
* 2 cloves garlic
* Kosher salt
* 4 1/2-inch-thick boneless pork loin chops (5 ounces each)
* 2 teaspoons chopped fresh sage
* Freshly ground pepper
* 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
* 1 large red onion, cut into 1/2-inch wedges
* 2 Granny Smith apples, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
* 3/4 cup apple cider
* 1/4 cup buttermilk

Directions

Put the potatoes and garlic in a saucepan, cover with cold water and season with salt. Cover and bring to a boil, then uncover and continue cooking until tender, about 15 minutes. Cover and set aside.

Meanwhile, rub both sides of the pork chops with the sage, and salt and pepper to taste. Heat a large cast-iron skillet over high heat, then add 1 teaspoon olive oil and sear the chops until golden on both sides, about 5 minutes total. Transfer to a plate. Wipe out the skillet and add the remaining 2 teaspoons olive oil. Add the onion and apples and cook over medium-high heat until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the cider.

Return the chops to the skillet. Cover and cook, turning once, until just cooked through, 4 to 5 minutes. Drain the potatoes, reserving 1/4 cup liquid. Return the potatoes to the pan; add the buttermilk and mash, adding cooking liquid as needed. Season with salt and pepper. Serve with the pork chops, onion and apples. Drizzle with the pan juices.

Per serving: Calories 413; Fat 16 g (Saturated 5 g); Cholesterol 76 mg; Sodium 98 mg; Carbohydrate 40 g; Fiber 5 g; Protein 26 g

Photograph by Antonis Achilleos

In between runs to the grocery store and cooking, I became very bored and decided to paint. As with the other fox painting, I'm totally copying illustrations I'm finding on Etsy. I don't have any small canvases left and so I decided to paint these on the backs of grocery bags - I LOVE brown paper for some reason.





This post is sort of lame - you can imagine that the lack of sarcastic teenagers around me for 8 hours each day provides me with less entertainment than normal.

Things are Better with Pictures

Here's something fun that's been happening lately - I can't go for more than two or three hours without a full-sized meal. I seem to be entertaining the following thought frequently "Hmmm... (insert any non-strenuous daily activity here) really made me hungry..." Case in point: today, after the world's fastest doctor's appointment, I thought to myself, "Wow, it's barely 4:30 but Blob and I think DINNER TIME!!" So I waddled into Sharky's before the Senior Citizens were even thinking about packing up for supper. I commented today that it's good that I live about 70 miles from the lovely shop, or else my incessant desire for their rolled wonders of burrito bliss might cause Baby Andrews to pop out rolled up in his own little tortilla, demanding bottles of spicy ranch. (Yes, the unrealistic part of this scenario is my newborn's immediate speech ability.) I couldn't get this image out of my head while driving all the way back to Colorado City, and so I had to create this illustration on the computer when I got home.


Yes, I'm aware that it's weird but it made me laugh and I hope it makes you laugh too, even if you're semi-uncomfortable.

In other news, Koby is disenchanted with all the names we've chosen so far. Keep in mind, he is also the team member of this dynamic duo who was all for naming the baby when we found out he was a boy weeks ago. Thanks to my common sense I feel that we have narrowly escaped being the parents who rename their child five times before he is even born. Koby's re-obsessed with the name he's been championing for a son since ... well, a son was just a wee idea in Koby's fickle head. What do we think of


???

Once upon a time, I teased Koby about this name because it seemed so trendy, and trendiness is the opposite of the man I know and love as my husband. ("It's not trendy!" he says and I reply "It has an x in it.") It seems like something Brad Pitt would name his son. (Did he??) But maybe it's growing on me? It rhymes with


God has seriously blessed me with a friend who is exactly five weeks behind me in her own pregnancy. Sarah and her husband are expecting their first child, also a boy, in August. (Her name should be lit up because it's a link to her blog - I hesitate to tell you to read it because she's incredibly funny and you may all forsake me once you visit there. But really, go read it.) I was just chatting with her today about all things double-x chromosome and told her that I have found myself calling the Blob "Baby Koby" in my head. I guess I'm already thinking he'll be a little clone - I keep seeing this blond, curly headed and nameless little kid stomping through the house in my mind's eye. I can't wait to witness the real thing!

For My Next Trick...

"Ahhhhh...." This is the sound you'd hear me making if you were lounging along with me in my living room right now. Koby's out of town to Graham and I've been getting caught up on some things - including GRADING (big sigh of relief), lesson planning for school and Grace Academy this summer, laundry, and some nursery things. I think it's safe to say that the following accurately describes me:



I purchased some letters today at The Dragonfly boutique downtown... these cute felt ornaments were half off, so I got them all for $7! Since we don't know what we'll be naming the Blob yet, I got a variety based on our favorite names so far. (And the obvious "A".) Curious to know the names? So is every one else. Here's what we're thinking so far.

- Beau Brandon
- Charles Wesley
- Shane Thomas

Obviously, these are subject to change. So don't be surprised when we name him Frances or something.

Today I gathered up some things I acquired for free and decided to make them over... whether or not I'll actually use any of the things I painted today remains to be seen, but it seems imperative that I do something to curb my nesting cravings.







I'm not quite sure whether I'll be using No. 3 - I'm not crazy about the way it turned out. It's still a very tacky frame (though sometimes I dig tacky) but I thought about having a sweet prayer printed and matted within the frame. We'll see how it looks once I have more pieces in the nursery. Not sure it'll go. As for No. 2, I am hoping to turn it into a miniature black board. Something like this:


The beautiful crib Randy and Mardi generously gave to us as a baby gift is slowly filling up with the things I can't stop creating...



Speaking of gifts, my mom picked up these cute little dudes at IKEA the other day for outrageously cheap. Can't wait to get them into the room, they're so cute!


(She didn't get the scary wolf boxes, obvi.)


This plush plays a lullaby when you pull on his tail!

And now I need to pack my own traveling bag - I'm heading to Arlington tomorrow for a Student Council convention I'm attending until Tuesday.

Fox Hunt

WARNING: This entire post discusses decorations for the baby's nursery. Not things related to the nursery, but all things directly involving decor and planning. You've been warned.

Today we picked up a $20 side table for the recliner in the nursery. I've settled on a color scheme for the room:


So I painted the little table, exciting to be 'doing something' to get ready for the baby. Here's a before and after.


For now, the nursery is still a hodge-podge of what we have so far, strewn together with the items we still don't have places for in the house yet. (Yes, this can be stressful for the anal-retentive side of my personality, which rears its ugly head whenever I step in the room. In fact, even typing about it is irritating me.) So, I've been window shopping online for idea possibilites to recreate our little boy's room.


"Foxes" is the chosen theme for the nursery, so I'm planning on collecting eclectic pictures/paintings/prints like this with red and furry foxes for the room. I also had my mom dig out this guy


from the recesses of our family garage where all my old Beanie Babies are still stored. I just knew they'd come in handy someday! (One down, two hundred and forty two to go...)

Koby's Gram is generously making us a baby quilt and matching curtains for the nursery - I can't wait to see what she creates! Weeeeee.