It was high time we had a girl (Part I)

November 2013. Nathan had just turned one.  I was pretty certain that there would be another Vandabailey before his second birthday came around. I promised myself that I'd wait and take the pregnancy test on Veteran's Day--because I always found out about prior pregnancies, even the one that didn't work out, on notable dates. I'm all about streaks.  But I just couldn't wait. So I took a test three days early. Then I promised myself that I'd keep it to myself until Veteran's Day.

I lasted about six hours.

We went to the temple that evening, and I thought it would be the coolest thing ever if I told Allan IN the temple. You know, so the big reveal would be a celestial reveal.  Turns out the beautiful woodwork, luxe upholstery, and sparkling chandeliers didn't help soften Allan's stress. I believe his first words were "But we already have a baby..." I don't blame him. I'm a really horrible case of pregnancy. It was also 9pm and we hadn't yet eaten dinner. Lesson learned.

Reality soon set in-- But he adjusted and I panicked. I also threw up. I also became slightly emotionally unstable. I knew it had to be a girl.

An appropriately scheduled Valentine's Day ultrasound confirmed my suspicions. We celebrated that night with Cherry 7-UP. I was concerned, however. How on earth could I raise a confident, well-adjusted daughter in this world? I have so many hang-ups about who I am, and I don't want to pass my insecurities onto my children. Daughters are particularly vulnerable to their mother's feelings of self worth, I'm certain.

A friend of mine shared this thought: "Your daughter will be her own person. She will probably be very different than you." So simple, but her inspired counsel marked a turning point. My fear completely vanished.  I was so excited to find out who my daughter was and what she had to offer this world.

As we approached the final stretch and I began to panic that she would fall out of me in the van on the way to the hospital, I frequently called the nurses and scheduled extra appointments with my OB. He was wonderfully patient with my neuroses, telling me that this was the same song-and-dance he goes through with any patient pregnant with their fourth or beyond. I just kept praying and praying that I would know when to head to the hospital. I am embarrassed to recall how much I discussed my symptoms and paranoia with friends and family. It was all-consuming. Every day starting in mid-June was an agonizingly slow day.

Sadly, I don't have any pictures from this pregnancy, except for this lovely neck-on-up shot. Baby girl, I was a ripe pregnant momma. I assure you.

 

Just start writing.

How does one attempt to catch up after almost two years of silence? I've wanted to start blogging again for a long while now, but so many things have kept me back. First and foremost, the overwhelming thought that it has to be perfect. Same old story, I know. Who does it have to be perfect for, you ask?

Me. Because I hate anything less when it comes to reading my own writing. A negative side effect of my love of language, I suppose.

I've thoroughly enjoyed going through old posts, and I realize how much I will forever treasure the words I've written. I remember so much more of Jack's early years because I documented them. Life started getting really blurry during Micah's first year. I'm convinced that it would be far less blurry had I consistently written about our life at that time. My journal is more personal--not as many anecdotes about the kids, and certainly no pictures (save a few toddler scribblings when my back was turned). It reminds me of the thoughts going through my head these past years, but doesn't help conjure up memories of our day-to-day life.

So here we are. Now.

Actually, I lied. This was the kids two months ago. But Micah still undresses at inappropriate times, Nathan still things everything is hilarious, Jack still tries to be the perfect example, and Astrid is still adorable. So, I'd say it's still where we are now.

Accolades for the eldest.

Jack's reading has taken off this year. At the beginning of the school year he tested at a mid-second grade reading level. By late fall he was testing at fifth grade level. He may be able to read at that level, but it doesn't mean he's interested in fifth grade topics--or long books.

However, he's plugged away. His teacher has recognized his desire to be a six-, now seven-year-old boy and has really encouraged him to find books that excite him but also push him just enough. I've loved to watch him learn from the books he's reading. Some days he'll ask me about The Revolutionary War, other days he'll tell me how Egyptians took the brains out of mummies (well, pre-mummy, I suppose).

There's another girl in Jack's class who has been with him since preschool. Caitlin. She reads at his same level, and they have been wonderful for each other. Jack came back from Thanksgiving break with a pile of books he'd read. He was bragging to her about how he was just about to earn nine accelerated reader points. She retorted in a sassy tone, "Well, did you CHOOSE to read them? Or did your parents MAKE you?" (She was also the one who warned me against selecting the mango creme Girl Scout cookies when I gave her my order..."They taste like chapstick," she said.)

I love her. I hope they go to the prom together.

Mrs. Gartung, his teacher, asked us to come in this afternoon for a special surprise. She had custom cupcakes made, bought ice cream, and asked the principal to come and present Jack and Caitlin with trophies, inscribed with their names. The whole class clapped and cheered for them and then partied outside.

Jack was on top of the world.

I'm feeling sad as this year draws to a close. His teacher is incredibly talented. I love helping in the classroom and watching her teach. She brings out the absolute best in Jack. She texted me this last week: "I know Caitlin and Jack are going to be something amazing when they grow up. They came in with the skills and ability, but I don't care. I am still hanging onto them. I will always be their first grade teacher. I will be so proud when I go and find Dr. Jack and Professor Caitlin. I am so honored to have that privilege. They are and always will be my kids too. :)"

That made me a little weepy...can you blame me?

Here are some picture from the afternoon.

Micah patiently waiting...or, rather asking me when he can go play on the slide.

Nathan patiently waiting. He was actually being patient.

Where's dad? I'm sick of you telling me I can't play on the slide...

The best part about this picture is the fact that almost every single kid is staring at Allan. He walked in and one kid stood up and shouted, "HOLY COW, Jack! Your dad is TALL!!!" Then they all got giggly...including Jack.

Ladies first...

Jack's moment...He was blushing, by the way. How far we've come. Last year he had to visit the principal's office. Now the principal visits him.

Caitlin has her pose down.

Posing with Mrs. Gartung outside at the end of the day.

Six months.

A few photos from the past few days.

First rice cereal feeding.

Success!

The mood was right, as was the lighting, clothing, and color scheme. Oh, and bathed.

I'm a wee bit obsessed with his eyes. They are so precious.

I squealed when I pulled this off of my camera.

To say we love Nathan is an understatement. Someone asked me today if he's the happiest of all my babies. I told her that to the best of my recollection they've all been squealy, smiley, giggly babies. Am I a lucky mom or what?