Oops! We Did It Again

Well, it looks like T-Daddy and I broke our almost 6-year streak of no unplanned pregnancies.

Yup, that’s right! We’re pregnant with baby number 3, affectionately called TB3 for the next 8 months.

So, how did this happen? I’m going to refer you to your middle school sex-ed class. Or the awkward birds and bees convo with your parents. Your choice.

Were we trying? Refer to the very first sentence of this post. We have a very special gift.

How did I find out? My temperature spiked. Seriously. So I checked to see exactly when my period was supposed to start. That day. It was still early in the morning so I blew off the temp spike and went about my day. Next morning, my basal temp was still high so I took out the infamous stick and 30 seconds later…plus sign. (Apparently, my midwives got confirmation in 10 seconds…so I’m pregnant, pregnant.)

What did I do when I found out? I freaked out. So I sent a picture of the test to my person, then I jumped in the shower and prayed. Full disclosure: 2019 came in like a lion in Casa de T4. I was worried about how to break the news to T-Daddy. We have been waiting for like forever to have a “down” period to get a hold of things. I didn’t want to add one more thing to his plate that was already overflowing. I knew he was going to go straight to finances – we just bought a house and now we’re “buying” a baby. And I didn’t have any answers or solutions. I needed a solid plan when I came to him.

I’m so thankful that God has placed women in my life who snatch me up and love me at the same time. I was reminded that it wasn’t my place to present a plan to my husband. It was only my place to say “Babe, we need to come up with a plan.” And then let us do it TOGETHER. See, I’d been here twice before – having an unplanned baby and having to break the news to T-Daddy. But I’d never been here before – having a baby (planned or not) with my husband.

How do I feel? I’m having a baby with my husband! I can’t begin to explain how good that feels. I still can’t tell my friends what it feels like to try to get pregnant and anxiously wait for that plus sign. But now I know what it feels like to have a baby with a man I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with. To bring a baby into the world and not simultaneously wonder if my relationship will still be around when the baby is born. This baby was conceived in love, not lust – a testament to how far T-Daddy and I have come in our relationship. And that alone makes me so excited! (Plus for the first time the ultrasound will say “Baby *T-Daddy’s Last Name*.” Not my maiden name.) Also, I’m having a baby!!!! This can’t be real!

So how did I tell T-Daddy? I did something I’ve never given myself the chance to do before. I made a pregnancy announcement. I wrote a poem and created a nice photo. Bought a married folk card, some Takis and a #5 candle. I let the TDs stay in aftercare and set everything up while I waited for T-Daddy to come home.

When and how did we tell the girls? We told them the night we got confirmation from my midwife (two days after we found out). We ordered some cups that said “Super Big Sister” and “Big Sister,” along with books “Big Sisters are the Best” and “I’m Going to Be a New Big Sister.” I made them hot chocolate and called them in the living room. It took them about 10 minutes to get what we were telling them. But once they did…in the words of TD1: We’ve been asking you everyday for a baby and you never gave us one.

When did we tell family? We told them the day after we told the girls. I made a quick baby announcement and we blasted it out via text and waited for them to get it lol. About 50% of them actually got it. They thought I was just making a cute picture.

So now what? T4 is becoming T5. We’re super excited (and super scared). The girls have been rubbing my belly everyday and following along with my pregnancy app.

T-Daddy and I have a lot to figure out. We’ve worked hard to build our current lifestyle and it’s not exactly designed for newborns and all that comes with them. The TDs are pretty self-sufficient. We’ve given away so much stuff. Alllllllllllllllllllllllll the baby stuff. And now we’re starting over. And childcare. I can’t work 7 days a week and care for a baby. And I can’t stay at my current jobs and not pay for childcare. So what does life with a newborn look like? Who knows!?!?!? But we’re about to find out!

Out of the Darkness 2018

T-Mommy from T4Treasure and CW from Truly Loved both completed the 2018 Out of the Darkness Chicagoland Walk in September. It was both of their first time participating in the Walk and they sat down to discuss. This post is a collaborative post co-written by them and appears on both blogs.

Signing Up/Why I Signed Up

Truly Loved: I signed up for the walk because I no longer want to remain silent about my personal struggle with depression and suicide. It also felt like a tangible way to share the message of God’s love, mercy, and hope with the world. I want to allow God to use my past to help fight the lies that this world teaches us about our worthiness and purpose. To show that through our weaknesses and imperfections God makes us strong. To proclaim that even if you have never felt loved, appreciated, or worthy you are more precious, important and loved by God than you could ever understand. 

T-Mommy: I first found out about the Out of the Darkness Chicagoland Walk in 2015 when I was looking for anxiety and depression caused and organizations to give back to. I had recently been clinically diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder and Mild/Moderate Depression. My diagnosis both freed and scared me and I felt emboldened to be an advocate for others like me. 

In my research, I came across the Out of the Darkness walks. I was excited to register. So I thought. Turns out the Walk conflicted with my wedding and TD1’s bday. Maybe next year with better planning.

Maybe next year. It’s what I said in 2016 and 2017 too. Then 2018 came. Maybe this year. I marked the event as Interested on Facebook and Truly Loved commented she’d walk with me. Yay!!! I don’t have to walk alone! But I didn’t sign up. I wanted to wait to be sure there’d be no conflicts. Then one day, the walk pulled back up on my newsfeed. The Walk was approaching. I knew it was now or never. 

Being an advocate for those that are hurting, helping to provide a safe place for those feeling despair that they don’t know what to do with, it’s something I care about. But I wasn’t as ready to be their voice as I though I was. In my rush to not chicken out, I totally forgot to let TL know I was in fact doing the walk. After she found out and reminded me she’d walk with me, T-Daddy agreed to walk too. I decided to make it a family affair and signed the remaining three T’s up.

Prepping for the Walk

T-Mommy: I didn’t prep much for the Walk. I didn’t fundraise. I told my family I was walking but I didn’t talk much about it. I went to a kickoff event, recorded a video to promote the walk, but I never posted it. Was I ready to have this convo in public? How deep was I willing to allow people to dig into my own life in order to have this much needed convo?

I wanted to both scream from the mountaintops that I was doing something that I cared about and let other people know about it, but something inside me kept quieting my voice. Was it shame? Fear? Unworthiness? I busied myself with my already busy life and kept any thoughts about the Walk on a low simmer on the very back backburner of my mind. Before I knew it, Walk weekend was here. Maybe I can just sit it out and walk next year. I didn’t tell anyone I was walking. Is there still a point if no one knows? That same voice that had talked me out of walking the prior years was back. I already committed to this, so I have to see it through. I will see it through. I need to see it through.

Writing on The “Why I Walk” Wall

Truly Loved: As I stood there facing the “Why I Walk Wall.” I knew I wanted to write something but there was too much to say. So, I simply wrote “Because I’m a survivor, and through God there is always hope.” It felt wrong. It still feels wrong. My reason for walking – for breathing, for hoping, for loving, for caring, for existing– is so much more than that. I walk because I was once a prisoner to hopelessness, hate, and anger, but I no longer wear those shackles. I walk because I once lived every moment of my life in fear of man, but I now know God is bigger. I walk because my heart was once closed to those around me but it now remains open so that I can love and be loved. I walk because I now know what hope feels like. I walk because of God’s unlimited goodness and grace. I walk because He saved me and since then He has changed every aspect of my life. I walk because I want to share God and His goodness with the world. He is the only true opponent to despair.

T-Mommy: Writing on the wall wasn’t super emotional, at the moment. I wasn’t sure I was going to write on it until I was waiting to write on it. I hadn’t thought about what I was going to write until I was writing it. I wrote three names. A group – family and friends. A statement – Because God’s grace gives me hope. Even writing the names, I was so hesitant. Did I have the right to put their names up there for others to see? Would I be asked to tell stories that weren’t mine to tell?

One of the names that I wrote on the wall was my godbrother’s. He’s a big reason why this Walk first stood out to me in the first place. But, I have struggled a lot with his suicide. To this day, I find it extremely hard to look at a picture of him. It’s been almost nine years. I vividly remember getting the phone call from his sister. I remember trying to make sense of it all. Not really knowing how or what to feel. I remember feeling like I didn’t have a right to grieve or be sad. At that point, I wasn’t extremely close to him anymore. Going around the family, seeing his sister and mom, the mother of his child, his girlfriend – all these people that were a big part of his everyday life, hurting so inconsolably made me feel selfish for my own pain. I was in the process of moving 20 minutes from where he lived and I was super excited to rekindle my relationship with him, my godmom and my godsister, to get to know his little girl, when everything happened. So now here I was sad because it was never going to happen. I was mourning a dream and they were mourning a huge part of their already life. Did I, do I, have a right to walk in his honor when I didn’t know one thing about what was going on in his life at the time?

The other two names carry similar tales – one was a friend of my granny’s who used to babysit me as a kid. When she found out my granny died, she couldn’t take the news. The other was a family member, whose death wasn’t ruled a suicide but an accidental overdose. I don’t know if she committed suicide, but I do know that she was really sad about the passing of her husband and her death caused a forever split in my family that still hasn’t been repaired…almost 15 years later. So I walked for them, the pain they felt while alive and the pain that still permeates long after the news of their deaths traveled and the funerals were held.

But the biggest thing about the wall were the things I didn’t write. The names of people I know who have attempted. The times suicide threats have been used as a manipulation tool on me. My own struggles. Writing on the wall was far more complicated than what I bargained for.

Memorial Wall

Truly Loved: As I stood there staring at the memorial wall it suddenly became difficult to breathe. All those beautiful faces, all those precious lives coming to such a devastating end. As I glanced over the collage of pictures, I focused on a few of the faces. They were smiling as if they didn’t know what was waiting in their future. I tried to imagine what their lives had been like. What demons had eventually forced them into a darkness so deep that they stopped seeking the warmth of light.  That’s what despair does, it takes away all possibility of light and joy and leaves nothing but never-ending darkness. I reflected on my own struggle with despair. Those years where I suffered silently, smiling for cameras, making my sadness bearable to those around me while internally battling overwhelming feelings of self-hatred and shame. All those smiles. Were they really happy in those photos or were they already chest deep in despair? It’s so hard to tell. 

And then came the realization: My face should be up there. I too had lost the battle to despair…yet, I’m here. Feet firmly planted. Alive. Breathing. HAPPY. In so many ways it seems unfair.  

I thought about my husband and daughter. What would my husband’s life be like if he had never met me? My daughter- those precious fingers and toes, those big dreams of hers, they never would have made it into this world. 

I could have missed so much. 

I tried to understand how I made it from that place of pure, devastating, life-ending despair to a place of hope, joy, and love. It’s still hard to comprehend. There really is no worldly explanation. I am here and have all of those things because God saved me and He enriched my life with those gifts. 

In those moments, I also considered who would have cared enough about my suicide to walk for me if I had died that day. But I stopped myself before I got too far down that path because in my heart I already knew the answer. I had never experienced real love in my life until I met God. God. And then I realized that if I had died that day I never would have passed from this world unloved and forgotten like I had always assumed. There would have been mourning for my soul. Maybe not from the people that mattered to me at the time, but I would have been mourned more than I can possibly comprehend because I am loved more than I can possibly comprehend.

God and the angels in heaven would have intensely mourned the loss of my life, as they have mourned the loss of each person posted on that wall, and the lives of all others lost to earth’s despair.

Because each one of us important.

We are unique.

We are here for a purpose.

We are God’s children.

And we are loved and cherished more than our hearts and minds can possibly imagine.

T-Mommy: I didn’t look at or go near the Memorial Wall. Earlier, I talked about the internal struggle I had with writing the names on the “Why I Walk” Wall. That struggle, particularly my godbrother, is why I didn’t look at the Memorial Wall. I have not been able to look at his picture since I did his obituary for his funeral. That was almost 9 years ago. I’ve tried a few times since then, but it always seems to haunt my spirit. I’ve been to many funerals in my life, looked at tons of obituaries and even written/designed my fair share of them. None of them have had the same kind of impact on me as his. Not even my granny’s, and that was a hard one to write. Maybe it’s what his death represents – a life gone too soon (I’ve officially lived longer than he did); a battle with internal demons that I too share; an outcome that I don’t want to fully admit is a real possible one; unanswered questions that I partly am not ready to ask, scared of the answers if they exist, or not ready to accept that I’ll never truly know the answers. I don’t know. But I know that the fear of conjuring up his face in my mind is what kept me from going near the Memorial Wall. Maybe next year will be different.

Walking The Walk

T-Mommy: Once we arrived at the walk, it was exhilarating. I immediately recognized the magnitude of what I had signed up for and was happy to be a part of it. I was happy to have included my family and friend. I wished I had included more people. Had made more people aware of it. While my heart is deeply saddened by the number of people that suicide has touched – much more than the 7,000 people that showed up on that day – I am so grateful and elated that so many people rallied behind this cause to let those impacted know that they care, we care. 

I nervously posted on social media some photos of us at the Pre-Walk and the most memorable and touching comment was the one that said how happy she was that we were doing this as a family and laying the foundation for our girls to have emotional intelligence. I questioned my decision to bring the girls. How could I get them to do this without shattering their innocence? As they questioned me about what the different color Honor Beads meant and I struggled to explain to them why I had so many colors on, I wondered if this was too much too fast for them. And I know just because one person said they were happy I took the TDs, doesn’t automatically mean that T-Daddy and I made the right decision. But, it did reaffirm why we made the decision in the first place – because we want to raise emotionally intelligent children that are empathetic and compassionate to those around them. We want them to know that if they are blessed enough to live a life of comfort, security and minimal pain and sadness, that they should care about those less fortunate around them. That some of those people will be their friends, cousins, teachers, adults. I felt super uneasy trying to navigate TD2’s curiosity as she enthusiastically asked questions in sometimes inappropriate tones. 

Doing this walk alone or with just adults would have given me the opportunity to really sit in my feelings – whatever they may have been – without having to put on a face or “adult” for the girls. But having them there gave me so much hope for the future. I walked away feeling like I can make a difference. We can make a difference. 

We have a team name, a motto, logo, and a Scripture to stand behind. I’m excited to get back out there next year and walk again. Hopefully, I won’t let my fears stop me from inviting others to join us.

Truly Loved: This walk made me realize that I want to do more. I want to speak out more about my experiences, to push for resources and education regarding mental health justice. I need to put a face to this epidemic for those still in denial and for those who are silently suffering.  I am excited to do the walk again, and I am relieved that we are going in more prepared with our logo and scripture, but my hope is that between now and the next walk I will have also done something to bring education and acceptance to my community.

Year 3: Protecting Our Marriage

9+6=15

Today makes 3 years since T-Daddy and I said “I Do!” Since that day, there have been giggles, smirks and infatuation with most things lighthouse, nautical, infinity or storm-related. It’s like a forever inside joke. 

There have also been some very real and raw moments and conversations in those 3 years. I’m constantly reminded by a very dear mentor-turned-friend to protect our marriage. And be intentional in doing so. What she already knew but I didn’t fully realize till this year is that the biggest threat to our marriage isn’t other women and men, friends that don’t like him or me, or even our family. No, the biggest threat to our marriage is us.

She was telling me to protect my marriage from my insecurities, my fears, my overthinking, my grievances, my anger, my desires, my busyness. Even our children. As I set out (and failed) several times to really listen to T-Daddy, I realized that in so many instances, I was our own worst enemy. I was so busy looking for the enemy on the front lines that I never noticed the one who snuck in the back door. 

The biggest threat to our marriage is us.

Every time I chose to scroll Facebook or Instagram instead of being fully engaged in my husband’s presence, I was attacking our marriage. Every time I led our daughters to believe they were somehow equal to and therefore entitled to the same respect, authority and priority as T-Daddy, I was attacking our marriage. Every time I failed to truly become fluent in and speak T-Daddy’s love language, I was attacking our marriage. Every time I vented to my friends about how much he annoyed me, I was attacking our marriage. And every time I cringed at his words and behaviors in public because he was “embarrassing me,” I was attacking our marriage.

Hiking in Georgia

As a married woman, my biggest ministry is my family. And I know that “the overall health of our family cannot and will not exceed the health of our marriage.” It doesn’t matter what kind of daughter, sister, friend, worker I am if I’m a horrible wife. Doesn’t matter how nice or kind I am to other people if I’m rude and mean to my husband.

I was attacking our marriage.

This past weekend, I was talking to my brother and the subject of our anniversary came up. He asked how long had it been and when I told him 3 years, he enthusiastically said “That’s so cool!” Funny, that wasn’t my first, second, third or fourth thought. But he’s right. It is so cool! Today, I get to celebrate three years with a man I am perfectly happy lying with under the stars, watching the moon rise. I get to do life with a man who is most definitely cheering the hardest in everything I do and carrying me when I can’t go on, even if that means he isn’t the loudest or even seen doing so. Who’s the yin to my yang. The ice cream in my root beer float. 

And he is so worth protecting…even from myself. Especially from myself.

Broken Records and Sista Friends: How to Fix a Broken Record Book Review

“You and I will discover that we never had the power to fix our broken records in the first place, but there is Someone who doesn’t just fix them; in fact, Jesus heals.” -Amena Brown, How to Fix a Broken Record

We all have them. Broken records, or experiences and thoughts that stop us from being our best and greatest selves. In her book, How to Fix a Broken Record, Amena uses her personal experiences to deliver hope to her readers.

Amena begins her introduction talking to the reader like she’s meeting them for the first time. She ends with “Let’s find some more of those little key lime pie snickers dessert things and talk about the new records you’re listening to. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

And just like that, the tone has been set for the rest of the book. How to Fix a Broken Record reads less like a self-help or “magical fix” book and more like a conversation with a sista friend. Loaded with musical references, Amena talks natural hair, dating, marriage, church and adulting. It’s filled with anecdotal stories that both make you reflect on your current life’s soundtrack and encourage you to surrender to God to change it indefinitely.

I was first introduced to Amena Brown when I started doing spoken word for my church. My worship pastor suggested I check out some of her work. So I did. And she was phenomenal. Listening to her talk about her relationship with her younger sister gave me hope about my own relationships with my younger siblings. I was inspired to see a black woman using her gifts for the Gospel. So to say I was excited to start reading How to Fix a Broken Record* would be an understatement.

With each paragraph, every sentence, I felt a connection being made and strengthened. Through her words, Amena gave life to experiences, thoughts and internal struggles I could never find the words for. She offered me hope when I felt defeated, comfort when I was weary, reassurance when I was insecure and laughter when I just needed it. We danced to songs of our younger years and bonded over memories of cultural staples. In 36 chapters, Amena, who is a few years older than me, became the older sister I never had and the friend I always wanted.

So yes, Amena. We can most definitely grab dessert and talk about the new records I’m listening to the next time you’re in Chicago.

How to Fix a Broken Record is available now at AmenaBrown.com. Check out Amena’s podcast, How to Fix a Broken Record on iTunes and Google Play.

*Full disclosure: I am a member of Amena’s launch team for her book, but the opinions expressed here are solely my own.

TB3: Week 10

TB3 is about the size of a LEGO mini-figure.

My emotions are not letting up. This was another emotionally hard week for me. In fact, I actually hit a wall one day and had to fight back crying in the office in front of everyone.

I also started having nosebleeds this week. I’ve been flirting with them for a few weeks and they finally came. I had them when I was pregnant with TD1, but not TD2, so I wasn’t sure if they were going to show, but here they are.

I’m still super hungry. I think I’m eating at least every two hours, if not more. And I may or may not have had fries delivered to me at work. Not my proudest moment. On another occasion, I had a friend call to ask me if I wanted her to bring me fries. One of my happiest moments, for sure.

I went for a long walk with a friend on my off day. We talked about pregnancy, friend stuff and everything in between. It felt really nice to be out and moving and just sharing with someone. I really needed that time together…and working out. Speaking of working out, I missed my yoga class because I wasn’t feeling well and it really bummed me out. It’s the second week in a row I had to miss, and I have an obligation next week so I’ll miss that one too. I’m not happy about missing so many weeks because this was something I told myself I was going to commit to doing for me.

Also, my good friend anxiety is starting to come back around as I start feeling the pressure again to figure out our childcare situation and my work schedule once TB3 is here. That, plus the emotions of scheduling TD2’s ear tube/adenoid surgery has me over here on the biggest emotional rollercoaster. I also noticed that I keep adding the qualifier “I know I’m pregnant” whenever I talk about my emotions or thoughts as if they’re not valid on their own. I need to work on that. If it’s pregnancy hormones getting the best of me, so what. I am pregnant, right?

This pregnancy is already 1/4 of the way done. Man time flies.</p>

TB3: Week 9

TB3 is about the size of a jack.

This week was my church’s annual Girls Night Out. It was a phenomenal night, and I had the pleasure of serving with an all-girl crew. A huge milestone for our church and production in general. I also went out with some of the moms afterward. I tried to hang with the big girls and ended up with a horrible sugar hangover. So much for trying to fit in with my mocktail.
I also had TR’s funeral and it just left me with so many emotions listening to the things that people had to say about her. 1. It’s mind-blowing that her funeral was standing room only. To leave behind a legacy that impactful at such a young age is amazing. It makes me wonder what am I leaving behind to TD1 and TD2 – and even TB3. Am I instilling in them the foundation they need to be just as impactful in their own right?
Emotionally, Week 9’s word is loneliness and distrust. It’s becoming harder for me to become really vulnerable with the people around me. I found out some things about some friends that really hurt and sent me into a spiral, which caused me to question my emotions. I don’t trust them and am constantly asking myself, “Is this me or the pregnancy talking?” I can tell this isn’t T-Daddy’s first rodeo because whenever I talk to him, his response is always “Babe if that’s how you feel, I think that’s very valid.”
I forgot how much of a Jedi mind trick pregnancy can be.

TB3: Week 8

TB3 is about the size of a 2×2 LEGO brick.

I can’t believe that we’ve known for a whole month now….seems so crazy how much time has passed since that first morning staring at that stick.
My nausea didn’t let up this week, but I am feeling a little less anxious. Let’s hope that continues into the next week.
This week has been a bit rough on me, emotionally. I found out that someone I knew as a teen died. She was 32 and I’m turning 32 in about a month, so it really just put things into perspective. I also found out that my childhood pastor died a few days after Christmas. I can’t believe that no one told us until now, especially how close my family was to everyone at the church. It was also a really tough week at work. Just one of those weeks where you just really need to unwind because it’s so much hitting you at once. So I decided to take prenatal yoga at my favorite yoga studio. Then, I treated myself to a night out afterwards. Totally out of my comfort zone, but I also knew that I wasn’t in the right headspace to go home to T-Daddy and the TDs. I didn’t want to take out my frustrations on them. I would not have been a happy mama.
Also, this week: I tried to be cute and wear a dress. When I say it was so tight on my stomach and hips, I’m surprised I was able to breathe or walk. And apparently, it showed off my baby bump, which is probably the only plus. Guess I’ll be upgrading my wardrobe sooner rather than later because I am officially over jeans and the constant buttoning and unbuttoning that comes with pregnancy.

TB3: Week 7

TB3 is about the size of a playing die.

Week 7 was not very kind to me. I’m still tired. Will it ever end? I feel like I can’t get enough sleep. The fatigue and nausea are horrible. In addition to that, I got really sick over the weekend and had to leave work early. I really don’t want to be that pregnant woman. I still got a long way to go. Pregnancy canNOT take me out now.
I talked to a friend to try to get an idea of some creative maternity/back to work ideas since I have some flexibility and it did not go the way I expected. Instead of walking away with a solid plan, I walked away with the advice “Stop thinking about it.” It didn’t really give me the peace of mind I was expecting.
On top of that, the Focus almost died this week. I’m pretty sure I lost it. We have a new baby on the way and now the car decided it wanted to act a fool. (To be fair, it was already acting a fool and has been very good to me despite the how cruel the world has been to it.) T-Daddy and I knew we were gonna need a new car before the baby came, but worst case scenario, we were ready to tough it out in a compact sedan. But I have no idea how we’re going to buy a car right now. The dealership was able to buy us hopefully a few more months with the car, but the constant squeaks and grinding have me paranoid.
On top of that, I had to buy silicone rings because my fingers are swollen and I couldn’t get my wedding band on.
This OCD control freak is feeling the need to control all the things. Let’s hope Week 8, which starts tomorrow, treats me better.

TB3: Week 6

TB3 is about the size of a popping firecracker.

I’m just SO tired…all…the…time. And nauseous. It’s throwing me off my game. This has been such an off week, for sure. I was making stupid mistakes at work. To the point that I had to sit down with one of my trillion bosses and talk about some of the stuff that happened. Nothing major and he was understanding, but it definitely wasn’t a “sweep it under the rug” situation.
For someone who’s a recovering perfectionist and doesn’t like to make mistakes, big or small, this is huge. It just added to the growing sense of overwhelm and anxiety that I have been feeling rearing its ugly double-head.
In other news, I found out that someone else was pregnant. TB3 is going to have lots of little playmates hopefully. I also can feel a little bump inside my stomach. It’s very small and almost unnoticeable, but very cool to be able to feel it. Since I know waaaay too many nurses and medical professionals to even begin to guess what proper/technical terms, so I’m not gonna try. We’ll just leave it at I got a bump. *cheese*

TB3: Week 5

TB3 is about the size of a bb pellet.

This was the week of the infamous Chicago polar vortex, so I spent a great deal of it indoors, which actually turned out to be good because I was extremely tired.
A few hours after I found out I was pregnant, the symptoms rolled in and they have not slowed down. I don’t remember feeling this pregnant, this fast with TD1 or TD2. Bets are being placed on if that means TB3 is a boy or twins (major side eye for that last one). I was also reminded that I’m older now and it could simply just be old(er) age that’s got me feeling it. Whatever. I’m over these symptoms.
T-Daddy and I also decided that we’re not going to get the early ultrasound, so that means waiting until 20 weeks before I ever lay eyes on the little human my body is creating. Seems so weird, but I’m definitely pregnant as Aunt Flow still hasn’t shown up, soooo I think I’ll survive.
I’ve also been trying to come up with a plan for daycare and work and maternity leave and everything is all dependent on each other. So I need to figure out what to tackle first. Still feeling pretty excited about all of this, but I want need a plan.

TB3: Week 4

TB3 is about the size of a speck of sawdust.

This has been one busy week. I found out I was pregnant before I was technically 4 weeks, so Week 4 started with a trip to my wonderful midwives.
Then, we told the girls. Their excitement made me even more excited. I didn’t know it was possible to be this excited about a baby that 5 weeks ago I was absolutely sure I didn’t want. In fact, I may have even been inquiring with other ladies about more permanent forms of birth control just earlier this month. I’m sure God was looking down on that convo like “Ha! Bet!! I got you, T!”
We also told our family and close friends. But the girls definitely provoked some of those conversations. Here’s looking at TD1 pointing to my belly asking “Did you tell her yet????” as I’m talking to a friend. Guess I’m telling her now.
Annnnd, I told my jobs. Who were surprisingly happy. I didn’t expect them to be upset, but man I was not prepared for the amount of joy this news brought. I’m sure most of it was just that they’re happy it’s me and not them, but I’ll choose to believe they’re happy for the bun in the oven too.

T-Talks: Fires and Zombies and Death

We were having dinner as a family a few nights ago when random comments and jokes turned into an impromptu emergency prep talk. One of the TDs made a comment about waking up and mommy and daddy not being here which led me to ask what would they do if they woke up and me and T-Daddy were gone. Their answers led T-Daddy to talk them through different scenarios including waking up to an empty house, tornadoes and fires.
 
We were in the middle of this conversation when TD2 burst out in tears.
TD2: I’m scared.
T-Mommy: What are you scared of?
TD2: I don’t want to die!
T-Mommy: Why do you think you’re going to die?
TD2: Because these all sound like bad things that I’m going to die.
 
This led to a convo about how having these types of convos can actually save our lives. And LOTS of cuddles and hugs and kisses. I promised her I’d lie down with her and as we were climbing into bed, she grabbed her customized stencil with her name on it.
TD2: I’m going to sleep with this because Anna* gave it to me and I don’t want it to burn up in case there’s a fire.
 

Because fires are scary, I got to snuggle with this cute little face.

The next day:
We were looking at T-Daddy’s toenail when TD2 walks in. He stubbed his toe months ago playing basketball and has just been waiting for his toenail to fall off.
TD2: What are you doing?
T-Daddy: Mommy’s going to try to take my toenail off.
TD2: Why? What’s wrong with it?
T-Daddy: It’s a zombie toenail.
TD2: *in tears* Noooo. I don’t want it to be a zombie toenail. I don’t want to be eaten.
 
*Name changed to protect the innocent. Plus who doesn’t love a Disney princess name!

Just searching for my not-so-secret treasure