All posts by T-Mommy

T-Mommy is the mother of two beautiful daughters and the eternal sidekick to T-Daddy. You can catch her at or on Twitter: @T4Treasure4

TB3: Week 24

TB3 is the size of a GI Joe.

I mean is this really any different from a Barbie Doll tho? IJS 🤷🏽‍♀️

I’ve spent most of this week battling a nasty cold or allergies…not really sure. So if you see me and I sound like death or like I’m trying to cough this baby up, I promise I’m okay. I’m resting as much as I can and my midwives and primary care physician are on top of it.

At this point, I’m convinced TB3 is gonna singlehandedly change the world. After all she or he is singlehandedly changing me. That’s gotta count for something right?

Good news is that T-Daddy turned 30 this week, so now I’m not the only one having a child in my 30s. And apparently, Week 24 is the first week of viability. Still doesn’t seem real that from this point on there’s a person that can (with a lot of medical intervention) survive outside of me.

Tomorrow is Week 25. I like the number 25. Not sure why, but hopefully that means it’ll bring some more good with it.

TB3: Week 23

TB3 is the size of a Barbie Doll.

Week 23 was just as eventful as Week 22. End of the Year Program for the girls. Prom for my sister. Busy week at work. Family drama. Another bad asthma attack. Heartburn. Uncomfortableness. Pre-birthday celebration for T-Daddy.

The more I go through life with a progressing pregnancy, the more I realize how pregnancy affects everything. Like I don’t breathe, eat, drink, sleep, dress the same. I’d be lying if I said I’m all excited about it because really I’m just ready to get back to my life. Then I realize that the life I knew is gone forever. I have this pregnant life and then the life after the baby comes. And I’m just ready to see what that life is gonna be like so I can adjust accordingly. (And maybe get back to an asthma-free life.)

TB3: Week 22

TB3 is the size of a water bottle.

Week 22 has been a whirlwind! I can’t believe that it’s already over.

It started with us getting up bright and early to head to Georgia for my brother’s graduation. It ended with end-of-the-school-year/new-job-role madness. All of this basically means that my attitude and emotions are a rollercoaster right now. I’m pretty sure I have way less patience for things than I normally would. Also, I’m valuing my alone/quiet time more these days.

Acid reflux and general uncomfortableness have been my best friends this week. As far as I can tell, they’re not necessarily caused by anything but exasperated by me bending over. So yeah, this has been fun, and I can’t wait for it to be over! Also, I’m pretty sure this is contributing to my less than stellar attitude. Kudos to everyone that is putting up with me. Maybe I’ll treat you to fries and ice cream on me!

Another thing this week has been so many people telling me how pregnant I look. Apparently, my belly is showing and I’m glowing. I expected it from my family in GA because they haven’t seen me since I’ve been pregnant, but I’m even getting it at home too.

Lastly, it has been decided by the masses that TB3 is a boy. I’ve heard the baby referred to as “he” so much that I’ve started doing it. So just a heads up – my use of pronouns from this point forward are not indicative of what’s inside the orange envelope. You’ll just have to wait until July 28th for that.

TB3: Week 21

TB3 is the size of a baseball cap. 

Physically, this has been a pretty easy week. I haven’t had one of those in a while so I’ll take it. One of the craziest things has been feeling the baby kick/move. It’s nothing like I remember. It feels like waves and clouds. I know it’s because of the whole anterior placenta thing, but I’m wondering, does it get more intense? 

I walked the Got2Run For Education race and felt it for days. I hadn’t realized how much I had halted all things, but now I want to get back out there. (And to be fair, I also power-walked the day before and power-cleanse the day after the race, so pretty sure my body was just like “slow down girl!”)

While physically this week went easy on me, it definitely brought to light some things I need to get in order before TB3 comes. That’s always a hard reality to face and an even harder one to execute. I was in denial at first, but after spending the last two days being poured into at a conference, I recognize the writing on the wall. While there’s still a lot of frustration and simply just not knowing where to start, there is also a lot of gratitude and appreciation. I’m thankful to be able to get things in order before TB3 comes.

I realize that I’ve been fighting what having this baby really means for our family. On a surface level, I’ve accepted that some things were going to have to change. The TDs need to be more independent. We need childcare. Our budget will have to change. T-Daddy will have to take over some things while I heal after delivery. Everyone around me would have to change. I never really allowed myself to be honest about the ways I’d have to change and what that looks like. Spoiler alert: I have no idea. But I’m grateful to be given the chance to figure it out before it’s critical. I have 18 (as of tomorrow) weeks to come up with a plan and start implementing it. 

If change is a result of growth, then I am excited to grow as a wife and mom and woman. I know God is trying to tell me something and wants to work on me in ways I haven’t let Him before. And whatever comes of that, TB3 will get to experience it wholly. That’s both terrifying and exciting. 

TB3: Week 20

TB3 is the size of a paper airplane.

We’re here – the halfway point!

I’ll keep this short and sweet. Week 20 was full of nice weather, time outdoors and celebrating. This week’s highlights include: finally seeing Endgame, Mother’s Day, seeing TB3 on the big screen and my favorite – BBQ.

Apparently, I have an anterior placenta (placenta is located on the front of the uterus) which means it’s going to be a little more difficult to feel the baby since my placenta is acting as a cushion between me and the baby. Not gonna lie, I’m a little bummed because baby movements are my fave part of pregnancy. There was also the news that my asthma still isn’t under control the way it should be, so I’m on a daily inhaler for the rest of my pregnancy. That being said, I still feel tons better than I did a few weeks ago.

I know you all are dying to know, so no we don’t know if TB3 is a boy or girl. Results will be revealed in two months. We have a date set, but are still trying to figure out the best way to let everyone know. Stay tuned for more details,

TB3: Week 19

TB3 is the size of a Gameboy.

*sigh* Week 19.

I’m beginning to have a love/hate relationship with this pregnancy. (Maybe I’ve always had it, and I’ve just been in denial until now.) This week started with me half-dressed looking in the mirror brushing my teeth and the next thing I know I’m on the verge of tears because it hit me that I’m really pregnant. It’s not a fry baby. Inside is a real, live baby.

There were also a series of vivid dreams. One of which involved a party being thrown for us at the hospital. During said party, we found out that we lost the baby because of my asthma and it was a boy. I had to interrupt the party to get on the mic and tell everyone the devastating news. Also, for some reason we named the baby Amir. Clearly, not a T name. So yeah, these dreams are just weird.

This week also brought two very real realizations with it.

First, I really suck at this self-care thing. I mean this isn’t a new realization as I’ve been unsuccessfully trying for years to take better care of my self and schedule regular retwists, manicures, time to myself, etc.

I once heard self-care related to the care of a vehicle: there’s the “fun” maintenance (carwashes, new accessories, springing for the top of the line interior/exterior upgrades, etc.) and there’s the necessary maintenance (oil changes, filling up gas, repairing broken parts). People like to indulge in the fun part of self-care…the massages and spa time, the quiet bubble baths and reading time. But no one really likes to think about the necessary maintenance – the daily showers, making sure you’re eating three times a day (or in my case a minimum of six), remembering to breathe.

I suck at both. I spent three weeks convincing myself I was fine when I really needed an oil change and some gas, only to look at myself one day this week and wonder when was the last time I got my eyebrows done. Or a pedicure. It’s easy for me to blame it on pregnancy, but the truth is this was a struggle before I was pregnant. It’s just a bigger struggle now because I have a tiny human zapping me of all my energy and cares.

Secondly, for the first time that I can remember I am struggling with what being pregnant, and eventually a child, means for my work.

I do not want to take maternity leave.

I know I have to. I know I would be extremely upset if either of my jobs were to say that I didn’t have a job to return to (which is basically all maternity leave guarantees you) or tried to force me back before it was time. I’d be on my soapbox about how the world doesn’t value motherhood.

I looked forward to bonding with TD1 and TD2 and couldn’t wait to meet them and dreamed of all the fun Pinteresty things we would do on my maternity leave. But as I had a mild asthma attack during a huge service and all of the people on my team were more concerned with my wellbeing than they were with the directions I was giving them, I didn’t have warm, fuzzy feelings of a baby to come. I was over it. I know that no one has ever really seen me out of breath. No matter how small of a deal it seemed to me, it was unusual to them and cause for concern. But, it made me angry.

Don’t get me wrong – I am extremely grateful to work with people that care about my wellbeing and are willing to step up to fill in the gaps when I’m not able to. But I don’t want them to. And I don’t like that this pregnancy is putting me in that position. It makes me feel weak and incompetent.

On top of that, big things are coming my way in terms of work and opportunities. And the elephant in the room is my pregnancy. Because in four months, everything that I’m working on will be put on pause or handed off to someone else while I go do what I know is a frigging blessed miracle. And then, I have to sit at home for a yet-to-be-determined amount of time and adjust to this new normal that this sweet, little adorable baby is going to bring into my life.

So right now, there’s no excitement about finding out the gender or growing our family. I’m just pregnant. And it hasn’t exactly been fun and exciting this go round. So I’m just over it. And I’m okay with that.

And yes, next week, my feelings may change. And I’m okay with that too.

TB3: Week 18

TB3 is the size of a slingshot.

So I guess David could’ve used TB3 to slay Goliath.

Week 18 is my dude. It started and ended with answers. Real. Concrete. Answers.

First. Y’all I’ve been having asthma attacks for the past three weeks and didn’t know it. Do you know how relieved I was to finally have an answer? At one point, I had to see a cardiologist to make sure my heart was okay. (It is — those answers came through later in the week.) I had a few episodes where I couldn’t breathe to the point where I thought I was gonna pass out. I was freaked out, but I also thought maybe it just meant I was doing too much and needed to slow down. Never did I guess that I literally couldn’t breathe. But now I have my inhaler and meds and a plan and I feel like it’s going to be okay. I can breathe again.

I also feel like a baby because I didn’t want to get out of bed for a week, but T-Daddy ran an entire marathon having a horrible asthma attack. I mean, I am building a whole human on the inside. So I guess you could argue I’m running my own marathon over here. 🤷🏽‍♀️

This week was also the big B2K reunion concert. I’m sure I used my inhaler more at that concert than I have in the entire 15 years since I was originally diagnosed with asthma, but it was worth it. Even the production issues didn’t ruin the concert for me. (T-Daddy may or may not have had to tell me to leave work at work and stop pointing out everything. I have a problem. I’ve accepted it. It comes with the territory of doing what I do.)

Lastly, we celebrated TD2’s 6th birthday this week. I can’t believe my baby is 6. Honestly, I’m not as emotional as I thought I would be seeing as how I’m carrying another one and it seems like just yesterday I was carrying her. With everything that has been going on, I’m just thankful that I felt up to celebrating her. It was simple – just cake and ice cream with immediate family (but to be honest between T-Daddy’s side and my side, having family over is a party). She loved it and I loved seeing her happy.

I also made sure to get a picture of me with her. I’m often behind the scenes – taking pictures and videos, making the story and memories come together. Needless to say, it can be hard for me to find pictures of me with the girls sometimes. Between being told some pretty scary things last week and having an old classmate lose her husband (please pray for her and their daughters), it’s been on my mind to want to leave them with more than faded memories if something should happen to me. So I remembered to take a picture with my daughter on her birthday. And that was a wonderful ending to a pretty good week.

TB3: Week 17

TB3 is the size of a game controller.

Remember how I called Week 16 a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week? Well, clearly I hadn’t met Week 17 yet. 

This week was off to a good start – I started feeling better just in time to produce our Good Friday and Easter services. My grandfather came home from the hospital. I was in a good mood. Things were starting to look up. 

And that’s when it happened. Family drama. Multiple anxiety attacks. An episode of not feeling well that eventually led to multiple doctor visits. Apparently, I’m either extremely stressed and overworked or I have more than the normal pregnancy symptoms going on. Either way, this mama has been prescribed less stress and more rest.  

I’m extremely thankful to T-Daddy for picking up the slack and staying by my side as I spent an entire day in the ER (and the first of multiple trips to doctors/hospitals). I’m thankful to everyone who insisted I go get checked out when I kept saying “I’m fine. It’s just been a long week.” And to everyone who has checked in on me and prayed for me.

I don’t have answers for what’s going on, but I’m hoping to find them soon. In the meantime, I am taking extra care to do a little less and pay more attention to my body over the next 22 weeks.

And because I want to end Week 17 on a high note:

  1. I finally made it to yoga. It was hard and there were tears and stopping to rest, but I. MADE. IT.
  2. I saw TB3! In attempts to get answers, a limited ultrasound was done to look at baby and my surrounding areas. And for a few blissful seconds, all I felt was joy – no pain or worry, just pure, blissful joy. I even got a picture to take home. (And yes, we showed the TDs.)

TB3: Week 16

TB3 is the size of an action figure.

Week 16 was a rough week. I should have known it was gonna be a doozy when I went to wake the girls up and started thinking about how I would feel if they didn’t wake up. Talk about starting your morning off right.

So here it is: the bad and the good of Week 16 – in no particular order.

I Could Have Done Without:

  • High blood pressure – first time ever in my ENTIRE life.
  • My anxiety peaking…again. I broke down and got a therapist. Hopefully, I get a handle on it.
  • Taking the girls to see “Breakthrough.” I get “Mother of the Year” for this one.
  • My granddad having another stroke…then finding out he’s had a series of mini-strokes in the 10 years between this one and his first one.
  • A series of “Oops! My bad.” moments at work.
  • Winter stalking us.
  • Feeling like crap for two whole days and the massive headache that wouldn’t go away.

I Could Get Used To:

  • Fries saving the day…and my head and stomach.
  • Hearing the baby’s heartbeat. It was way easier to find and louder than the last.
  • Spring telling Winter to “Hit the Road Jack!'”
  • A friend gifting me her glider to replace my broken one. I can’t wait to sit in it and stare out my front window.
  • Feeling TB3 flutter for the first time.

So there you have it – Week 16 was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. But tomorrow is a new day…and the start of a new week.