Tuesday, September 23, 2014

My own personal cheering section

Syndil's fist 4 word sentence!! 

"You did it, Mama!" she cheered, clapping her hands and jumping up in down. 

....In the busy Target bathroom.

Somebody give me an M&M.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Have you ever felt like you were witnessing a train wreck? But simultaneously, you ARE the train wreck? This was kind of like that.

Today I was pumping gas. 

Syndil was grumpy, so I was crouching down and running around the car, popping up in different places to keep her entertained. You know, making faces and stuff. 

A woman was walking past, and stopped to see who I was playing with.

"Aw, look at her! Hi cutie! How old is she?"

"She is 2, and he is 8 weeks"

"There are two of them!! Wow, and look at you, pregnant with another one!"


"Wait, did you say 8 weeks? That is so.....fast.....oh. You aren't pregnant, are you?"

I was speechless.

"Well. Sorry. I just thought..." She gestured to my tummy. Then she shook her head. "Never mind."

And she walked away.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Birth Story

(To write this post, I took the timeline that I posted on my personal facebook page (in bold), and added a few memorable conversations from that night)

At 12:30am I started having contractions. They were 7 minutes apart. 
"Honey, this could be the real thing!! We might be having a baby tomorrow! If the contractions don't stop."

At 1am (30 minutes later) they were 5 minutes apart and I couldn't talk through them. I hopped in the shower, but they only got more intense. 
"...Or I could be having the baby in this shower."
At 1:20am our friend/sitter arrived to watch Syndil as she slept. She was certain we wouldn't make it, and called 911 in case we had to stop on the way.
"Um, hi. My friend is in labor, and driving to the hospital, but I don't think she is going to make it. If you see a car parked on 270 between here and the hospital, stop to help her deliver the baby!!"
At 1:30am my contractions were less than a minute apart as we drove over 85mph to the hospital. I was trying desperately not to push.
"I'm sorry, we are on divert. You will have to go to the nearest hospital."
"Um, you ARE the nearest hospital, we are 3 blocks away! And she is pushing!!"
"I'm sorry sir..."
"I can't hear you! She is screaming too loud! We will be there in 3 minutes!!!"
At 1:45am a team of doctors was running through the halls as fast as they could go yelling "Don't push!!" I was screaming in the wheelchair, because how was I supposed to stop? My body had taken over, and was pushing by itself.

At 1:50am they put me on a bed, and I was dilated to a 10. 
Three seconds later he was crowning.
"She is at a ten!" the doctor yelled.
"Ok, try not to push-"
I screamed, and shook my head. "Too late, he is coming NOW!"
He looked down, surprised. "He is crowning!"
The 15 doctors and nurses in the room froze for a second, then frantically started running around.
"I can't get the IV in!!"
"Where is the pediatrician?? She is GBS positive!!"
"Get her feet in the stirrups!"
Kurt ran into the room. He had to park the car before running up, and almost missed the birth.
"I thought, oh gosh, this is her worst nightmare. She is on her back, her feet are in stirrups, and there are over a dozen people in here. And her Doula was still in the parking garage!"
4 pushes was all it took. 
At 2am our little guy came flying into the world.

What a wild ride

Once it was all done, I looked back over the past 2 hours and thought "No way did that just happen."

With Syndil, I was in labor for 28 hours, so I did NOT expect this!!

I was 40 weeks, 5 days, with an induction scheduled for Monday. Ha.

We are so excited that he is here, and he is healthy. And that we didn't have him on the side of the road. It was so close. If there had been any traffic, we wouldn't have made it. And living right outside of DC, at any other time there would have been traffic!

I tore pretty badly. With Syndil, they did an episiotomy. With Leo, I tore through that, and way further. 

After an hour of skin to skin and nursing (while trying to ignore the team of doctors huddled between my legs) they told me there wasn't enough light, and I'd have to go to the OR for repairs.

Kurt got to do a little kangaroo bonding time with Leo while I was gone. It's our tradition. He also hung out with the Doula, who had arrived about 5 minutes too late.

Those repairs. Sigh.

I didn't want a spinal, and I had eaten too recently anyway. My anesthesiologist opted to do a light sedation, with lots of lidocaine injections. I have never been so high :) He and the nurse kept me entertained, while monitoring my pain level. I can't remember a lot of our conversation, but I do remember laughing a lot. 

Afterwards, my nurse was in raptures.

"It was just amazing. I am so glad I got to see that. The repairs they did, it was like a work of art."


When the main doctor came in to discuss my repairs (and go over the possible need for additional surgeries in the next few months), the nurse told him he had created a masterpiece.

"Well, I don't know about that. But I will say, it was like a jigsaw puzzle. It took three of us to figure out what went where."

Um, what...? 

Kurt looked just as confused as I did. How many pieces were we talking about here?

The things you never expect people to say about your vagina.

The rest of the stay was a blur. It didn't fly by or anything, I was just on a lot of pain meds, and some narcotics. But man, I loved that place. 

Syndil wasn't too sure about Leo. When she visited in the hospital, she had no interest in touching the baby. But now that he is almost 3 weeks old, she loves the little guy.

And I do, too.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

He is here

Leo Oliver
Born 8lbs 14oz, 
21 and a half inches long

I am so in love.

Birth story tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Would you ever eat your placenta?

Not going to lie, people. It grosses me out- a LOT. But...I might do it anyway. In pill form- not with a chisel from my freezer. I need to draw the line somewhere.

But why draw it here? Why not on the other, more normal side of this issue? Good question. And I'm not sure of my answer. I'm feeling very conflicted.

A large part of me (most of me) thinks this is the stuff of nightmares. 

So why even consider this?? Well, there is a big history of both post partum and clinical depression in my family, and I need to be closely monitored post partum (by choice). 

The tricky thing about depression is, when you are depressed, sometimes you can't see how bad it is until you are looking back- when the view is terrifying, because you can see just how close you were standing to a dangerous ledge, and how tempted you were to just step off. 

So, even though I may think I'm fine in the moment- I could be wrong. And the hormones in the placenta are supposed to be tailor-made for your post partum needs. Which, that makes sense, since your body made them (ew).

I actually had no ppd issues with Syndil. But my mother's battle started with her second kid- me. 

So, there is that. 

Other reasons I'm considering this: 

It's, um, healthy and stuff? Ok, I haven't really looked into other benefits. The depression one- that's the main reason for me.

But I really don't know if I can hack it. Without hacking it (ha. sorry.) 

Could you do it? Have you done it?


Honestly, I can't cut raw chicken without gagging- it just feels too much like what I imagine human flesh would feel like. So to actually prepare human flesh...?


But, you know, kudos to those of you who can do it. Also, to those of you who can touch raw chicken. Neither of these things is easy.

So, what does it come down to?

My stomach and mind rebel at the idea of eating a part of my body. If my arm was stuck in a trap and I was going to have to chew it off, fox-style? I would probably just die instead.

But, PPD is no joke. And this could help.


Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Being THAT pregnant.

This is just as comfortable as it looks. Anybody want to take over for a few days, so my back can get a break? ;)

I'm just sitting here, waiting for Syndil to wake up from her nap, and thinking about being this pregnant. So many things I didn't remember. 

The way my feet spread/grow under the pressure. 

Hitting things with my belly when I turn around (mostly Syndil, haha. Poor girl gets knocked over by her brother at least twice each day). 

The terrified looks people give me when they see me coming. 

The awkward comments they make because they have no idea what to say, but feel compelled to say something. 

The killer leg cramps that wake me from a dead sleep. 

The fact that only 3 shirts even fit anymore, and those probably have stains on them that I can't see, because my boobs and belly are in the way. 

The fact that I'm ok with that. 

The way people talk about rather intimate parts of my body- even people I don't know. I'm not embarrassed about my cervix, but I don't usually volunteer details about my lady parts in the check out line. 

The way women ask me about my birth plan, and then tell me I'm doing it wrong. Too natural, and I must be holier-than-thou, and looking for a medal. Not natural enough, and don't I care about my baby? 

Getting stuck in bed, and needing a push to get out 6-8x per night, so I can pee. 

Applying a new layer of deodorant 3+ times each day. 

The way people hold open doors and offer to help. Appreciating that, even though I really could do it all myself. 

Wanting him to come as soon as he can, because I can't wait to meet him. 

Wanting him to wait another 3 months, because I'm not ready. 

The weird looks I get when he starts dancing in there, and my belly starts to move. 

The REALLY weird looks when that happens, and I'm next to a teenager. 

Feeling so special. 

Feeling so frumpy. 

Feeling so, so ready to have my body back. 

5 more weeks.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Turd is just SUCH a great nickname.

Syndil stared hard at her dad, and whispered "Turd." 

A little smile crept onto her face.

"Turd turd turd turd..."

She has been listening a little more than I expected at a year and a half old, and sometimes she picks up a new word in the middle of my conversation. Like this one.

Can you guess what she is trying to say?


This is as close as she gets. It's actually a pretty good toddler version.

Do you guys let your kids use your first names? Or are you more of a "mom and dad only, please" kind of family? We are definitely the latter, I very much prefer to be called mama. And I'm pretty sure Turd likes to be called Dada. 

So, I should try and stop her.Or at least try to smother my laughter, yes? But... It's just such a great nickname.

I keep thinking that this? Is not something my in laws anticipated.


Do the names you love lend themselves to any unfortunate nicknames? I'd love to hear. Especially the unexpected ones. 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Well, 'uck.

Syndil spend 20 minutes happily chanting "Uck 'uck 'uck!" in a disgusted voice the other day, after we were almost hit by a car on our walk.


Have your kids ever learned a naughty word or phrase that you swear you only said around them once??

Monday, April 7, 2014

This whole pregnancy thing just isn't as...monumental? As last time.

Thank you for your support the other day, with I miss the memories I don't have. Losing my mom ten years ago- it's scabbed over, you know? Not so much of an open wound. It mostly just itches. But April second just makes everything a little more raw.

Your comments and thoughts are very appreciated.


We haven't been as good at taking pictures this time around. Heck, the whole pregnancy thing just isn't as...monumental? As last time. With Syndil, I had 3 pregnancy apps, and could tell you the week she developed eyelashes. This time, I have to guess which week I'm in when people ask (33, as of today- I just checked).

Anybody else experience this?

Last time I'd had 3 photoshoots by professionals by the time I was this far along. All were done by talented friends,and didn't actually cost me anything, but even if I'd had to pay I would have because I was so darn excited, and wanted to document everything.

This time around, I live far from those friends. So it's mostly up to Kurt (or my 30 second timer) to take pictures. I have some exciting ideas for photo shoots, but they just feel like so much work! Kurt is rarely home, and when he is, I mostly just pawn our daughter off and take a nap.

But, the other day, he took the camera into his own hands, and snapped a few while we were playing. And, I'm pretty sure my well-thought-out photo shoots aren't going to be nearly as pretty as this candid. It's a bit blurry (most pictures of Syndil are, these days), but I still love it.

I have a weakness for backlighting. And do you see her fingers?? I'm in love.


On a related note, do you guys have any tips for using Photoshop Elements? I just realized that my Bamboo drawing tablet came with it, and I'm pretty excited- but I have no idea how to use it. I opened it to edit this picture, and closed it again 2 minutes later because it's like they are trying to be as cryptic as possible. All those symbols, and no description when you hover over them? Obviously, it was not made for a person like me. Picmonkey is more my comfort zone. Any tips on where to find some good tutorials?


And if any of you blog about your children, and are looking for a place to link up some of your best posts, I found a great little link up. It's at Perfection Pending, called Manic Mondays. It starts Mondays, but goes all week (this week's link up is here). Enjoy!

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

I miss the memories I don't have.

10 years is such a long time. Sometimes it seems like forever.

I can't remember the way she smelled. I can't really remember her voice. Her image is a little blurry, like I've been staring into the sun, and now my eyes are having a hard time focusing on details.

I remember her movement. Nervous, but graceful. How she would hitch up her pants when they started sliding down on her hips. How she would tilt her head and shrug. How her feet were permanently turned out when she walked, after decades of dancing. The way she would blink when you drew her attention back outside of herself, and whatever she had been pondering. The slightly distracted, welcoming smile when you barged into her room (if the door was open. You knocked if it was closed), and how she would set down her scriptures so she could really focus on you. She was a great listener. She was a great conversationalist.

The nervous way her voice changed when she was talking on the phone, or really anytime she was feeling uncomfortable. Her laugh would get higher, more forced. It wasn't that she didn't think something was funny, she just wasn't in her element.

The way she would grimace whenever she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A former dancer, she didn't have patience for aging, or for her body 5 kids later. If she saw me now, would she be disappointed? I don't think so. But I am the same size she was when she thought she looked ugly. Yet I know she would tell me I look beautiful, and mean it. Why couldn't she say the same for herself?

The family dinners. She cooked every night, and we all gathered around the table. The laughter and conversation that flowed- that is one of my favorite things about growing up in our family. We all connected over dinner. Now that I'm in charge of cooking, I can't imagine how she did it over and over, every single night. Even there she was shy sometimes. But every once in a while, she would chime in with a sarcastic quip that would have us all rolling on the floor with laughter- literally.

One time she threw a roll at my dads head. We were all shocked. It was possibly the most unexpected, hilarious moment of my childhood.

She couldn't sing. Literally could not carry a tune. She was self conscious about it, and barely whispered in church during the hymns. But she really loved to sing, and always wished she could be in a choir. If life was fair, she would have been born with the voice that matched her love of music. Instead she just listened. But with her children? She sang. Our whole childhood she sang. She made us each a song when we were born, and sang it to us every night until we were too big to stop asking.

Man, she loved us kids. We were her world. We were her best friends. Her proudest moments. When I was in a play (just a minor role with 3 lines) she bought tickets to every show. The lead came up to me after, and commented on how it wasn't fair that my bouquet was so much bigger than his. It didn't matter that we were poor, or that it was the 4th time she had seen it that weekend. She was so proud, she couldn't keep it in.

When my little brother was in soccer (ages 3-9), you'd have thought he was the star player from the way his fan section cheered him on. It didn't matter that he scored 3 goals in all those years. She was just so proud.

I wish my memories didn't stop back then. I wish I could be thinking about that time she visited me in college, and we sat up all night talking about a guy I was dating. I wish we could have done a girls weekend trip someplace, just her and her girls. Maybe Vegas? She would have loved to see a show. I wish I could think back on her face when I was trying on wedding dresses. She would have loved every single one, even the ones that looked bad. We would have laughed and laughed. She would have stayed up all night planning with me, and then called the caterer, reception hall, everything for me (with her awkward, forced phone voice), just because I was nervous about doing it. I wish I could remember her on my wedding day. I felt her presence, but there is no image to go with that.

I wish I could think back to Syndil's birth, and see her there. She would have been on that red eye flight with Amber, and they would both have been at my side when Syndil tore her way into this world. I wish I could think about the dozens of trips she has made out to visit us, to see her first daughter's first daughter.

I wish I had these memories.

Ten years is such a long time. She has missed so much.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Life is so much nicer when we are fighting.

When Kurt gets mad, he stays up all night cleaning.

When I get mad, I stop cleaning indefinitely.

In this way, we are very compatible.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Nap schedule changes need to be submitted 12 hours in advance.

I ran away to the post office today. 

After a few hours of not-napping in her crib, Syndil was just too much for me to handle. 

I was trying to figure out what to do. Leave her in there for 2 more hours? Give in, and deal with a super cranky toddler for the rest of the day? Run away?

I chose option #3.

I took her with me, mostly because I was craving those amazing harmonies she produces while screaming along to the radio. 

A tired toddler's scream is just so soothing in an enclosed space.

And tonight, when Kurt gets home? I am going to smile, hand him his daughter, and hit the road. I'm not sure where I'll go, but I will go alone. And I will probably spend money. And pee without her sitting on my lap in the stall.

Anybody else need a break?

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Silence is suspicious. But a mischevious giggle- that can be worse.

You know that moment when you've added almost all the ingredients, and you realize your pot is too small to fit any more? 

So you have to find a bigger one, and scoop everything out carefully (since the first few ingredients have already been boiling), and try not to spill it on yourself? 

And then you hear a suspicious giggle, and look over just in time to see your toddler run out of the room clutching your wallet- which she loves to open and empty and hide everything she finds? 

Yeah, that is not my favorite moment.

 Participating in a fun parenting link up:

Perfection Pending

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

3 months later, I still didn't know his name.

In college, I took a dance class.

I took a lot of dance classes, actually. But one time I decided to try Latin Ballroom.

There were almost always more girls than boys, and so the girls would all take turns being the boy. Especially the tall girls- they got a lot of turns. But they could gain 5 lbs without anyone noticing, and could reach things in the cupboards without climbing on the counters, so it was fair.

At the beginning of the class, the teachers would show a dance move, usually some kind of hip swivel, and then the class would try to copy them.

(recently returned missionaries doing a hip swivel- you have never seen such an awkward sight)

Then they had us line up in two circles, "boys" on the inside, girls on the outside, and we would practice that move with a partner. Sometimes the results were funny, and sometimes they were painful.

Then, just when you almost had it, they would rotate the girls one spot, and you'd have to try and learn all over again.

Conversations are always awkward when you are just meeting someone for the first time, and they are already breathing on your neck.

They are even more awkward the next week, when they remember your name and try to continue that 3 minute conversation, but you honestly have no memory of ever seeing them before in your life. Because by then so many guys had breathed on your neck, it wasn't even special anymore.

For the class final, we had to compete in a region-wide dance competition. One where people came from places like Las Vegas and Idaho, and had costumes worth more than 3 months of rent combined. We weren't competing in those levels (ha!), but in front of those judges. So there was pressure to not be awful.

One day in class, they told us to start thinking about who we wanted to be partners with. The tall girls couldn't compete as boys, so some of the tall boys would have more than one partner. In this kind of thing, people generally partner up with somebody about their own size, so I was looking at the shorter guys in the class. And none of them were amazing dancers. Except one.

That one had already been picked by the time I approached him (about 30 seconds after they told us to start considering). And it turns out the girl who got there first was very serious about it, because she even got engaged to him to secure her spot as his dance partner (I assume).

It was really awkward when I asked him, because he blushed bright red, coughed a little, and explained that he had already promised Shelly that he would be her partner for this competition and for life. He said it like he was letting me down easy, and was worried I would cry.

Silly boy. I'd been at BYU for 5 years. If half the class wasn't engaged by the end of the semester, to people they hadn't even met at the beginning of the term, then I wouldn't have recognized the place.

I turned away from that conversation ("No really, congratulations!!" mostly aimed at the fiance glaring at me from 5 feet away) and almost ran into that awkward guy from picture #2. Super nice, very funny, not a good dancer.

"So, Helena, I heard you don't have a partner? Want to dance with me?"

No. I didn't. Because as much as I like social dancing for the social part, I really love performing and doing well. But, what could I say? That my second choice was standing 10 feet behind him?

"Oh! Um, yeah. Totally." Crap.

For the next 5 weeks, we danced pretty much exclusively with our partner.

And I didn't know his name.

The first few months of class, I had been meeting and remeeting guys (and "guys") every 3 minutes. After the first few weeks, I didn't bother trying to remember names. Plus, I'm just bad with names in general. And sometimes faces. Remember the office intern?

But my partner remembered my name, and lots of details about me that I had probably mentioned in conversations (but as I had no memory of these conversation, he could have learned them through extensive stalking). I meant to ask his in the beginning, but it just never came up naturally. And no one ever said his name nearby. So week after week, this nameless partner continued to breath on my neck while I desperately tried to think of ways to get him to say his name.

When it started getting close to the competition, I suggested we meet outside class to practice. He had been improving, but not as fast as I needed him to.

"Here, put your info in my phone, so we can get together."

A few minutes later, he handed my phone back.


When I ran into him with a friend, I tried the old "Hi! This is my friend Caroline." And then waited for him to finish the introduction.

"Hi! I'm Helena's dance partner. You should come see us dance!" Then he ran off to class.

"Maybe we could have a team name! Let's combine ours!"

"Yeah, we can call it Herlanis!"


It was so, so awkward.

We got second place in the competition. They asked me to try out for the beginning ballroom team (but I was already winding down my college experience). I was really proud of how well we did.

But the thing that stands out the most? Is the fact that I danced with my partner every day for 3 months, and never learned his name.

Beat that, you guys. Beat that.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Dance party in my belly!

Yup, definitely 2am around here. This little guy is an all-night partier!

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Growls in both ears

The best part of sleeping with my girl is usually the cuddles. 

Tonight it was listening to her try and snore back at daddy. 

Growls in both ears. All night long.


Do your significant other's melodious noises keep you up at night? Or is there something else that drives you crazy?

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Nursing Aversion

I didn't get it. When people said they hated breastfeeding, and chose formula, I just couldn't understand. Even with all the painful issues we had to work through, bfing was always worth it for me. The bond, the health benefits, the convenience. I would not have traded that for anything.

(I debating posting this image. It's one of my favorites- but it features my boob. 
Awkward. Or not awkward? Maybe it shouldn't be awkward? 
So, to help normalize bf'ing, (as these ladies are trying to do) I decided to post it. 
And you can even pin it if you want to.)

But then she was 16 months old, and I was pregnant. I was shooting for 18m+, possibly going to try and tandem.

And I developed an aversion.

This wasn't like anything I could have imagined. On a chemical level, I absolutely abhorred nursing her. Every second. Every time. And I could not talk my way out of it. It became one of the worst experiences I've ever had.

I started resenting her in those moments, and neither of us deserved that- but especially not her.

So, we weaned.

It took a few hard weeks, but by the time she was 17 months or so, she never even asked for it anymore. 

She saw me topless today, and didn't care. And I love that. The pressure is gone. The dread and the revulsion that I had never expected to feel has been replaced with relief and happiness.

Hopefully in May my body will be ready again. And if it is, I will nurse for as long as I can- whether that's 4 months or 24.

But I will never again judge a mom who gives up on breastfeeding. If their bodies are reacting like that, if they hate it with every cell in them...then formula could save that relationship.

Or maybe their reasons for not nursing? The ones I was so quick to condemn? Are just something else that I can't understand. Too complicated, too different than my own experiences. Too foreign to me.

But not wrong.

The more I learn about being a mom, the more I realize I just don't know. I used to have all the answers- or if I didn't, it wasn't hard to find them. The answers used to be so obvious, I didn't understand how anyone could choose differently.

Now I look at moms whose kids are happy and loved, and I think "That? That is not easy." That is hard work and sacrifice and trying a million things until you figure out what is right for your family. And then facing a hundred people who think you've made the wrong choice, even though they are not you, and they just don't know.

Even the "right" answers aren't right for every family.


Did you give up on nursing? Or maybe you still breastfeed- and you are feeling pressured to stop?

What are the things you've had to let go of, that you always thought you would do differently- but the real life version of them just didn't work for you?

How has being a parent (or an aunt/uncle, or a friend to someone with a little kid) changed your perspective on parenting?

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Are You Pregnant??

Ha, I found this post in my drafts folder! I wrote it back in November.

It definitely isn't the worst story I have about this question. Remember that time the guy at church refused to believe I wasn't pregnant, even though I had only been married for a few months and was still years away from getting knocked up? Well, this is nowhere near as bad.

But still, pretty darn irritating.


Wow, I don't know how to feel about this question right now. I am, but I'm only 7 weeks- it isn't the baby making me look like that! A big burrito and a large soda would have had the same effect.

Last time I was about 17 weeks when my tummy had this shape. So, I get why you asked. But it's still frustrating.

Let's make a pact, you guys. Stop asking this. Unless you see the baby kicking, or the mother is standing in one of those classic pregnancy poses, or you can see the baby crowning.

Especially that last one.

Next time I'm going to say "Oh, no, I'm just bloated and really gassy."

And then we can all feel awkward together.


What are your experiences with this question? Have you ever been the one who asked, and then regretted it? Because, honestly, I have too.

Or do you have a question you dread more?

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Scream It Out

I don't think "Cry It Out" really describes what just happened during nap time.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Bums are ALWAYS funny

I didn't realize I was having a plumber moment, until I felt two little hands and heard her yell "Bummm!" 

Then she collapsed in a fit of giggles.

How are bums funny already? And who taught her that?

Kurt thinks maybe it's just a universal truth. "Bums are always funny."


Do you guys have any funny bum-related stories? I'd love to hear them!

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Gender Disappointment

It was a crazy moment. He wasn't shy at all.


"Well...that's a boy all right."

I walked Kurt back to his office, and the whole way we were both just in shock.

"We are going to love him...right?"

"Yeah. We will. Probably?"

First of all, we are super grateful for this little guy. And he looks healthy, which is such a blessing.

But, you know how some moms just "know" what they are having? That was me. On a deep, instinctive, apparently non-existant level, I just "knew" we were having a girl.

People are so excited for us. Especially for Kurt. But really? He wanted a girl, too. A few weeks before we found out that this baby even existed, he had made this offhand comment:

"Syndil is so great. Let's just try to have only girls."

And he meant it.

"Ok, deal. I'll provide one x chromosome, if you provide the other."

Then we shook hands. With spit. 

I held up my end of the bargain.

Back when we found out that Syndil was a girl, Kurt was in shock for a few days.

"But... I don't know anything about little girls. I don't know how to be a dad to a little girl."

It didn't take her long to win him over.

So, we were in agreement. All girls, from now on. I was thinking somewhere from 3-5 of them. And he was open to that idea.

But now, those dreams have been scattered in the wind like tiny drops of boy-pee, shooting in every direction during a diaper change.

Not only will Syndil not have a sister close in age to her, but we are faced with the reality that she may never have a sister at all. It's possible, but not guaranteed. And that is a hard thing to think about.

Kurt and I are both sad. I know we will be happy once we get used to thinking about him as, well, him. And after he is born we won't be able to imagine our lives without him.

But for today? I miss the little girl I thought I was carrying.

Have you guys ever experienced gender disappointment?

If so, you might relate to this post about Gender Disappointment by The Badass Breastfeeder. I know I really did.

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