Super Noa Sunday

As of 2014 I will forever love Superbowl Sunday and Groundhog Day. Last year they happened to occur on the same day AND this also happened to be the day that we found out that a tiny little microscopic Noa Lou was in our lives.

here is my commemorative post from this past weekend

We went to watch the game at our BFFFamily's house where I started feeling queasy and promptly barfed to usher in the pregnancy. Maybe it's mental, but this exact thing happened the day we found out about Layla (although I barfed before the test there) with pimiento cheese. I guess I barf the day I take the first test and then real morning sickness doesn't start for about a month. 

Noa's pregnancy was actually a shock since we had tried the two previous months but then decided to stop. because I really wasn't feeling like having a baby anymore. Well, whoops, I guess we didn't fully stop...everything.

We were napping after church that Sunday and one of my best friends, Natalie, was due to go into labor with her third any second and I had been thinking about her a lot. I had a dream during this nap that I don't remember the details of, but I woke up from it and knew I just violently wanted a baby.  In that same moment I felt a little twinge of nausea, but refused to get excited because my boobs were already hurting in preparation for my period. But wait...*grope, feel* are they even MORE sore than usual?

I had a test left over from the actual trying so while Jesse slept on (he gets so mad when I take tests when there's no chance of a baby...he says, "here, why don't you just pee on this $5 bill!?) I went into the bathroom to check--still 99% positive I'd be seeing a negative since there was really only one "time" that could have possibly caused it (Atlanta Snowpocalypse, anyone?)

I left it on the counter and watched as the great tide of urine wicked its way up the stick, immediately leaving behind the first pink control line and then right on its heels, the test line coming in slower but undeniably. I felt that magical swoop like when a boy you like asks you out, or before a first kiss. 

I always tell myself (when not pregnant) that when it happens I will create some elaborate surprise for revealing the news to Jesse, yet, being able to keep secrets from him for maybe 12 seconds, I've always had to immediately abandon that dream. I thought frantically in the bathroom about at least a meaningful way to let him know, quickly did some math and determined my due date would probably be early October, near our anniversary and decided to play it that way.

I went ahead and secretly video'd it too...which turned out to be the best idea.

He's saying something about me being sure I was going to start my period there at the end because I had already been a lunatic on him that day for something stupid and apologized, thinking it was the PMS demons. 

And that moment it where the dreaming of this little fuzzy bundle began. Such a beautiful mindjob to think that it was her in there, even then, making those lines turn pink, that cheese dip come flying out, and that papa of hers elated and amazed.

Cheese dip-fed, free range. Super indeed.

Nesting Infesting

Y'all.

Y'ALL!!!

You almost literally will not believe what happened to/atop of us this week...until I show you pictures.

Let's set the stage: I am 37+ weeks pregnant. Getting up out of a chair is cardio for me these days (which is why I mostly DONT get up). My kids sense this weakness and therefore their powers grow ever-stronger by the day as they realize they can run much farther amok and I am helpless to stop or retrieve them. I have just 4 office days left to train my temporary replacement so missing work to stay home is so not an option right now.

On Monday I decided to be super productive. I finished up the last (HURRAY!) of my Etsy orders and turned my attention to a jumbo KitKat breaking down half of the studio room into what will be a quasi-nursery with enough space for a crib when Noa eventually moves out of our room (bedside-sleeper for the first few months).  I also needed to set up all of our Fall decorations around the house that we had just hauled down from the attic and were just sitting in a big bin in the living room depressing me instead of making me feel all the cozy clichés of autumn like they were intended.

So I was in-process for awesome. But with me, this usually means I have just made a big mess getting everything spread out before me so I can form a battle plan. It's about to all go into new and clean and wonderful places, but for now it's just a teased-out mess. I'm so totally, gonna get back to it and finish it wonderfully.

I stopped at 1pm to go get the kids from school. As I am in carpool line the School Director comes up to my window. This is unusual but not unheard of. We are friends.

And then she says, "I have some bad news. Both of your kids..."

And my mind is trying to finish this sentence:

 "...attacked classmates today and are now expelled." 

"...attacked each other in the hallway and are now expelled."

These attack/expulsion scenarios are as far as I get when the REAL predicate of the sentence falls from her lips:

"...seem to have lice."

Jaw: dropped

A thousand deaths: died

10 years: taken off my life

Skin: Crawling

Noa: clawing her way back up the birthing canal all, "ummm, okay, no, I think I'd rather not come out after all. I'm good in here."

But the first thing I say? "Oh my freaking gosh, I think I have it too."

My head has been itching like MAD for a week or so. The pregnancy websites say this can happen in late 3rd trimester. Hormones can even cause scalp psoriasis and crazy-itchy dryness. I had complained to Jesse about had bad it was and we lovingly began calling it "my mange." We went so far as to have him examine my scalp for crazy rashes or even bugs and there was nothing. So even when the kids began scratching  their heads rather more than usual, I just didn't think anything of it. (Like a big dumb, dummy, dumbass).

But now the perfect little tetris piece slides down into place and it all makes sense. (Prepare for your head to itch badly as you read this. It's inevitable).

I get up to the front of carpool line to pick the kids up, and the director shows me in their hair what they had seen (Judah had been crazy ape-scratching so his teacher had asked that he be checked). I was expecting plague-like proportions of buggy-hoards to be traversing his scalp, but actually it was just tiny specks attached to some hairs about an inch from the scalp. This was my first lesson in Lice Education 101 (I stand here 4 days later holding a Doctorate Degree from the School of Hard Knocks Nits).

I am just mortified and apologizing profusely to both of their teachers and the director, and I am brought up short by how they are all saying, "No, no WE are sorry!" I'm like, wait, our family exposed yall to this scourge and you are saying you are sorry for us?!?!

I should have taken this as a sign of what was to come. The teachers knew...oh, yes, they knew what was in store for us.

I have never had lice. Not as a kid, not never. My kids have had the warning letters come home saying there was a confirmed case at the school, but preventing it is way easy. We just got this kit from the drugstore and sprayed them before school each day and cycled in the shampoo during regular baths. Easy as pie.

Yeah, but once you already have it? My parking lot phone research was quick to inform me: DIFFERENT BALLGAME.

We headed to the store to get a treatment kit and I braced myself for one horrible day of work: laundry, vacuuming, treating, combing, coaxing, bribing. 10 hours later I fell into bed exhausted. Everything had been sanitized or quarantined and I had spent 6 hours in my kids' hair combing out nits and the occasional live bug (can't even believe that sentence is something I am typing) and sweet, uninfested Jesse had uncomplainingly treated and combed all of MY hair when he got home.

i'm covered by the  "in sickness and in health" clause. also by jesse's neverending grace and love and awesome.

The house was destroyed. The baby and fall stuff was still scattered everywhere but forgotten.   There are trash bags full of stuffed animals and pillows all in quarantine. Fast food detritus on the counter because, yeah right, who is cooking during THIS!?! All hopes of "productive" have fled and we are on hardcore survival mode.

But it was worth it. Once the kids are treated and nit-free (gag), they are good to return to school. So when I woke up--sore beyond belief from being bent over the kids' heads for hours and from nonstop housework--I was tired but relieved that the nightmare (nit-mare? sorry) was behind us.

Dropoff is at 9 am. At 9:15 my phone rings. Yeah, they found a live bug on Judah.

I think my low point in all of this was when I went to the director's office to pick them back up, and my kids are sitting on the floor like happy little sprites (praise jesus they are too young to understand stigmas..Judah was happily announcing "Bugs laid eggs on my head and now they are HATCHING!") and I just plop all 90 million pounds of pregnant, hormonal me down next to them and start crying the director. "I dont know what else to do. I could not have possibly done more."

One thing my research had found was that this will often become a weeks or months long ordeal. If you miss one egg, the cycle can start all over again. And I am just extrapolating this out and realizing it's only going to get harder. That I'm getting less and less functional, and OH YEAH, there is a newborn about to jump on the scene as well. I just CANNOT keep doing this only to have it fail time and again.  All that effort and work wasted.

After pulling it together--now I am readily accepting all of the staff's sweet, "I'm so sorry" condolences. I start researching some more. I need another option because this has gotten way bigger than I have the capacity to handle right now. Turns out there are services and places just for lice treatment! Who freaking knew?

The price list was a little scary, but I am calculating the physical and emotional toll that just ONE day of DIY treatment took on me and the kids and Jesse and our house, and the hours spent, and the work and school missed, and the absolute NEED for this to be over and done with before the baby comes, and all of a sudden $150 per head and a guaranteed cure in one day seems pretty worth it.

And I know that everyone has a DIY home method they swear by: olive oil, Cetaphil, tea tree oil (we actually use this as preventative).mayo, vinegar, etc. I looked into these and they all looked pretty viable, but I just did/do not have the time to implement even one of these messy options and just hope it would work I  needed something I KNEW would work, and physically removing every trace of varmint by hand from our heads was the only way out for us when I needed a final, sure cure that very day.

Enter "Elimilice" (Love that name. Clutch branding, bros). They are Atlanta-area only I believe, but there are similar salons all over as far as I know.

*NOTE: I am writing this allllll on my own and received no discount or compensation for blogging about this place (though if I had been smart I might have asked beforehand because it was pricey...though worth it).*

Horrible, almost-funny irony: Elimilice is opening a branch 5 minutes away from us...in two weeks. Right now the closest one was an hour and half away. NO MATTER: nit-pickers can't be choosers! Off we went, stopping only to pick up a box of Dunkin' Donuts Munchkins for lunch because I just could not be waving this white flag any harder, yall.

We arrived and  I just remanded us into custody of the capable hands of professionals. "I can't do this myself.  Please fix us."

And over the next 3.5 hours they did just that. All three of us sat in a room together and had a technician work on us individually. Judah happily and quietly played iPad, and Layla, sensing a captive audience chirped, talked, sang, and performed her heart out in a never-ceasing and loud display of showing-off that nearly broke my brain.

I realized that I could never have combed the kids hair as thoroughly as was needed to completely eradicate this scourge. I didnt have the tools, the facilities or the skill to systematically go over every single hair multiple times. They treated us all with a conditioner type stuff (the whole shebang is all natural) to start with and let it sit for a while. This is a special stuff containing an enzyme to dissolve the glue the holds the eggs onto the hair shaft (I know. I'm dying too, having to read that..and I lived it!) so that they would come out when combed.

little lice spa babies.

After each and every stroke, the techs would rinse the comb into a bowl of clean water. They would do the entire head and then check the bowl. If there were nits or bugs they would repeat the process, going until an entire head's worth of combing produced water with no evidence. Judah had three rounds, and Layla and I had two. They said we all had really light cases (pride points? but, no, there are none to be had in this ordeal).

They said that it was no wonder I didn't get all of Judah's because his hair is so very thick. My parents, Jesse and the teachers had suggested shaving his head just to end the entire saga for him, but I absolutely couldn't. He is my little Samson, and his hair seems such a part of him! Plus, with the baby coming, there are going to be pictures taken that will be around forever! Unless a life is on the line: his lush locks remain!

The kids finished faster than me because my hair is so long and so tangle prone due to highlights. My tech had my hair so sectioned off and organized to be able to scour every millimeter of hair, that it was seriously impressive...if not super cute.

it was a rough couple of days.

The kids got to go into a special playroom JUST for the lice-free and they had a blast for an hour while I finished up. They also were thrilled to be treated to free snacks during the process (they had been offered DVD players from the start, but since we had brought our iPads, we didnt need them).

We left with scalps singing from being combed raw and clean, and with a guarantee that the process would work. We had to come back for a followup check and had to bring Jesse since he lives among the infested and would have to be checked and treated if necessary. Additionally we have to use the preventative stuff we already had on hand going forward so that it won't get passed back (I'm praying it was never passed from my kids to anyone else) or reinfested in any way, and we will need to do comb-through checks once a week.

At our followups we were declared still clean and Jesse smugly listened as he was declared never-infested to begin with (he's become a total Calvinist about the whole thing. He thinks he's elected to be more lice-resistant than us).

We marched proudly back into school on Wednesday and dared anyone to scorn or shun us (PS, this would never happen bc the staff is awesome and they keep the identities of the infestors confidential...I am exposing myself here). We have the cleanest heads in all the land, dammit!

It's funny because you hear all your life that lice has nothing to do with cleanliness, hygeine, socioeconomic status or anything controllable (you'd have to live the life of a hermit to 100% protect yourself. People being around people is what causes lice). And I totally believed that and tried to never judge when there was an outbreak. But knowing it's not their fault didn't stop me from branding the unknown child/family as  "UNCLEAN" in my head.

After taking a turn as the leper, it was really important to me to come out loud and, well, not proud, but just loud. One of my favorite bloggers, Rebecca Woolf, dealt with lice in her family (4 kids) for THREE MONTHS doing DIY treatment, and was just so upfront and honest about it that it super impressed me, and helped to break down a lot of the hush-hush shame that surrounded lice (it doesn't hurt that she is gorgeous  and brilliant and fashion-y and an amazing mom, and yet they STILL got lice. Those things shouldn't matter, yet i'll admit they did in my judgemental brain ).

So here I am saying it: The Dukes got lice.  It sucked.  What's more, we seem to have been Patient Zero at the kids' school since no one else has reported having it. I am sorry to all the other families who got the note from the school, and had to take preventative precautions. But I am also saying we kicked its ass and it's over. And that if your family gets the lice-whammy through no fault of yours, considering skipping the hassle and hours and mess in your own house and just let the pros handle it.

I have readjusted my hopes and again hope Noa will have hair when she is born, now that the threat has passed. The autumn decor is cheering me up daily from their appropriate positions around the house, and there is room for the crib and all of the baby clothes in the 3rd bedroom. Life has now returned to the crazy-insane abnormal normal that is life.

Suck it, parasites (just the figurative "it," not my family's scalp-blood. mmmkaythanks).


Have yall battled this beast? Dealt with prolonged recurrences? Been shamed by the L-word? Let's talk about lice!!!

If you read that whole post without your head itching then you are a jedi.

Change of Plan?

I've never had an epidural. Both Judah and Layla's labors were extremely focused on letting my body go through the labor and delivery process on its own. The name of the game was as few interventions as possible. 

In fact, my entire birthplan for Layla's delivery was, "I'd like this birth to be exactly like it would be if it was 1000 years ago...except, just, you know, in a hospital."  That got some fun looks from the staff (but it worked! All I had was an amnihook...which could have been made from a river reed from the Euphrates... so it still works).

By the grace of God, awesome coaching from Jesse, and it being way too late for an epidural by the time I started begging for one (both times), I delivered both kids without pain medicine. With Judah, I did get Pitocin (the smallest dose possible) to speed up labor, as my water had broken and the hospital has a limit on how long you're allowed to have broken water without progressing  to a certain dilation.

It was getting the Pitocin that made me think that completely unmedicated childbirth (no Pitocin) would be different or less painful. This was why I so wanted to deliver Layla old-timey style (spoiler alert: it wasn't the Pitocin after all that was to blame; it was the 8 lb human moving out of my vagina that was the cause of the pain. SHOCKING).

I remember being in recovery, maybe an hour or two after having Layla, and saying, "You know, that was fun and all utterly horrendous in every way, but I think if we have another baby, I might go for the epidural."

And Jesse was all:

he even stormed out of the room just like that. ;)

We changed practices when we found out we were pregnant with #3. We moved to a group that has midwives as well as OB's. I hadn't loved how weird I was made to feel in an OB-only practice that didn't have a ton of experience with the kind of birth I wanted.

This message of, "um, sure okay, you can have your baby like that," from some doctors there turned into full on pressure from them during my labors to let them intervene, to give drugs, to hurry up, and made the whole thing pretty stressful (as if it isnt enough on its own!) as I was made to feel like sticking to my birth plan (strange and foreign as it seemed to them) and letting my body try to do its job in its own time was putting my babies in danger (I never heard anything conclusive on this "danger" or any concrete symptoms of babies in distress, so I didnt appreciate them playing that card). We figured a blended practice with midwives and OB's working side by side would be much more receptive.

As the weeks of this pregnancy passed, I thought more and more about what was most important to us and to me (of course, always/only assuming healthy baby/healthy momma foremost). The more I weighed things, the more I felt like I wanted to allow for an epidural this time.

I have written about how with neither Judah nor Layla did I have that glowing, magic moment of being handed my fresh-from-the-womb baby and it just rocking my world. There was no happy crying or serene Mother Mary feeling of meeting them. This is because I was out of my mind with the sudden transition from worst pain of my life into disbelieving "it's over?" I was shaking uncontrollably and couldnt even really absorb that there would be no more labor and that the baby was HERE.

over 2 hours after Judah's birth when I came out of the OR and anesthesia after needing to have a very complicated tear repaired.

Now, I wasn't catatonic. I did breastfeed both babies immediately and do skin to skin and look at them. But I was so utterly flustered and still in panic-mode, that it was kind of just robotic, and I didnt enjoy those first moments like possibly I should/would have had the labors not been so all-consuming. I really grieved for these once in a lifetime moments afterward.

finally falling headlong in love with her...45 minutes after birth. I hate that she's in a plastic box and not MY ARMS.

So at the top of my "What do I want this time?" list was to be present emotionally and mentally for the moment of meeting Noa.

To be honest, a big part of my two natural deliveries was an element of  "let's see if I can really do this." Let me assure you, that is all gone now. I clearly CAN do it (what does that even mean? My uterus is efficient and by the time I was begging for drugs, there were humans hanging out of me and it was too late...not a lot of heroism or willpower on my part involved).

I've done it twice. I have that experience. It's in the scrapbook (as are the tatters of perineum that I blasted through in a pushing frenzy to liberate myself from hell). And weighing all the factors, I don't feel like the benefits outweighed the drawbacks for us.

I wouldn't say we regret the path we took with the first two at all. I love knowing that I felt everything in the process from beginning to end (even if it was torture) and that I have that in common with women throughout history. And boy are there women who make natural, crunchy, hippie birth look beautiful and calm and peaceful and it's just so obviously a great fit for them. And yet I am a high-strung, panic-prone control freak of a sissy and after two tries, I'm open to a new birth plan that might be a more cohesive fit with my personality.

So as I'm talking to the midwives at my new practice every appointment during the first months of this pregnancy, hilariously, I start to feel pressured by them to NOT get an epidural this time! I'm all, "y'all, give a momma a break...let me win just once!" Can someone just throw me a damn thumbs up for once?!?!

As I'm all squirmy and trying to hold my ground, the midwife says, "well the first time you didn't know what to expect so that's why it was so traumatic, and the second time you thought without Pitocin it would be easier, and when it wasn't, it was really shocking and scary. But THIS TIME, you know what to expect fully, so it will be soooooo much easier."

And I'm like, wow, that is some next-level rationalization, lady. You so crazy. It's okay to acknowledge that childbirth hurts!

At my next appointment I started seeing the OB's again. P.S., I LOVE midwives. I am related to some, and very awesome friends with others, but this particular one just kept pressuring me in a way that bordered on dismissive of my feelings and options every time I saw her, and that is NOT something I am willing to deal with time time around. Burn my nursing bra and hear me roar!

The great news is that my favorite doctor from my former practice is now at my current one. She delivered Judah's placenta (I was too fast for her to make it in time to catch him!) and we love each other.  I asked her about getting an epidural and the chances that doing so might slow down labor and eventually lead to an emergency situation and C-section (which is my biggest PLEASE NO of all). This is something you hear about a lot in natural childbirth books/conversations, and I wanted to know how much of a statistical correlation there was.

The doctor said that while studies do show that epidurals result in slightly more C-sections than unmedicated labors do, that my personal history with childbirth is far more indicative of how things will probably go. She said I dilate very well, am an efficient pusher and have never had any issues that would point to not being able to progress and deliver even with anesthesia, and that these factors are far more telling than global statistics. She said, "honestly, if you don't get a vaginal birth with this practice, you couldn't get one anywhere," meaning, they are all about the vag and they are not going to just be like, "okay it's been 2 hours,  let's get you a c-section before I clock out!."

So I am planning on taking the epidural as soon as it is offered this time, and even allowing them to induce me whenever they say I'm ready.

Confession: I feel a little guilty typing that sentence out. Like I am betraying someone or some group. I have never legitimately thought less of women who get ALL the interventions just for fun or even have elective C-sections (though I was probably too prideful of my own path/choice), but for some reason I feel like my choice to go a different path this time might open me up to some judgement.

I don't like disappointing people OR feeling judged but I am committed to standing firm in the land of: "Oh well. My babymaker, my birth plan. If you don't like, go play in your own amniotic pool."

I still plan on doing some hippie fun birth things like encapsulating my placenta (totally okay if that freaks you out bigtime!), taking the primrose oil starting this week, not cutting the cord for a good while, not being separated from Noa at all in the first 30-45 minutes.  The thing is, I had wanted most of those things too in previous labors, but was so out of it that I didnt speak up (and Jesse was so concerned for me that he didnt fight for the post-birth stuff either!) and so I didn't get them.

This is likely the last baby that will come from my own body. I want to milk (right?) every memory and be as present as I possibly can, and after lots of thought, prayer and talk, we feel like this is right for us.

As a fun bonus, our photographer is doing her first ever birth session with us! I would have NEVER said yes to this if I'd planned on going natural because it's just not super pretty-looking on me, and the poignant post-birth moments that birth photography captures so well might not have even happened if I was so PTSD-feeling as I always have been before. And when there's a photographer and two big kids involved, I'd love to just cut down on the chaos and unknowns if at all possible.

yeah, no need to frame this one (but let's totally put it on the internet. hello naked haunch!) . i spy AMNIHOOK!

Now I know what youre thinking. Because I think it myself, and about 90% of jokers that I tell this to like to remind me: "Well, you might not get a choice!" or  "Noa might have other plans!" or "This is your 3rd baby, you might not even make it to the hospital!"

Yeah, thanks guys and no duh. I punch your face.

OBVIOUSLY all of this is predicated hugely on "If everything looks good and healthy and goes like we hope."  I may  go into labor at 38 weeks and arrive at the hospital at a 8cm and have it be too late to get anything but a belt to bite down on. I may run to the potty to go #2 and end up holding my baby instead, like those ladies on that show who have no idea anything is going on. There could be a freak emergency that has me forever singing the praises of Casear and his magical section!

No matter what happens, I look forward to sharing Noa's birth story afterward and comparing it with our other experiences. But it was also important to me to express where we are before anything happens and how/why we want to approach this delivery a little differently.

I think the #1 best thing I learned from all of our childbirth education and experience is that women have choices and should feel empowered to make the ones that are right for them, their bodies, and their families during childbirth.  This is a pretty cool benefit of living when are where we do.

Motherhood is a vernix-covered magic mushroom of a miracle and there is no "right" path of how we all get there each time.

I'm not sure I was on that page a few years ago, and may have been a bit hippie-judgemental and high-horsey that my choice was BEST. I hate that I probably felt that way and may have made any other momma sfeel judged in any way.

Breast/bottle, biological/adopted, c-section/vaginal, rock your momma-story how you feel is best.  Loving our babies and doing our best for them is what makes us a rah-rah team of hardcore GIRL POWER, not one particular decision in a lifetime of millions.

Now then, who wants a dose of my placenta? Take two and call me in the morning.

Naming Our 3rd Human

We are serious about names around here. Both of our big kids' names come with all sorts of built-in prayer over their identities and futures and declarations we have made about who we want them to be (I realize this might sound a little culty/commune loco--no worries. I used to be the same way until I married into this family, and was given my ration of Kool-Aid). 

We have written the stories of our processes of naming Judah David and Layla Embry, and seeing them grow up and grow into themselves, we know we made the right calls (and that God gave us these names for them) because they just SO ARE Judah and Layla (even to the folks who thought these names were straight bonkers or even ugly when they first heard them).

Now we have another baby to name! And with only 6 weeks to go, we might want to speed it up.

Third time is hard. You have to make sure the name fits with the existing kids (Judah, Layla and baby Gertrude just doesn't have the cohesion we're looking for), but maybe you've already used your super-faves on your existing children. Of course since I was expecting this babe to be a boy, we had several boy names that we LOVED all ready to go, so another adjustment to the GIRL announcement was jettisoning those gems and rustling up a girl name from scratch.

It did not ease my adjustment into the pink pool when Jesse suggested (hours after finding out the gender, when I was still dealing with my weird feelings) a few names that just repelled me--not because they are ugly in and of themselves, but just because they super duper weren't my taste for a child in our family. "Neena" and "Jael" were two that literally made me cry when he texted me. I was like, "IS IT POSSIBLE YOU WANT ME TO HATE THIS CHILD!?!?! AND ISNT JAEL SUPERMAN'S DAD!?!?!" 

He took a break from suggestions at that point.

Once I was back on planet earth emotionally and appropriately excited about this little lady, we set out with a wish list of what we would ideally find in a name. The parameters were:

1. A meaning we could feel good about

2. Unique (I'm already stressed that Layla is climbing the charts!)

3. Fitting in with our Judah/Laya theme (which I guess is a tad hippie/weird, but also classic, and having an "UH" sound at the end wouldnt hurt)

4. That indefinable X factor where it just feels like "yes, that is who this baby is."

I also looooooove unusual boy-names-as-girl-names. Not so much the ones that have already been done, but more making them up myself.  One of our closest friends is named Lukas, it has a great meaning, and I would ADORE that as a girl name, but with our last name, it could never happen. "Lukas Dukas," anyone? I also do not hate Gideon as a girl's name either. Judge if you will!

So i focused on the cool/unique side of things and Jesse went deep into the meanings (remember how went into the rabbinical notes from the Talmud for Layla's!). We both have full veto power at all times.

After I found a favorite that same day, we tossed it around for awhile. Jesse loved the meaning but we hadn't had that LOCK IT IN moment yet. Oh but it came.

So we are very excited to share with our daughter's name:

pronounced just like "Noah"

The first thing we noticed the day of the ultrasound was this kid's bicycle legs! It seriously looked like she was on a recumbent bike just pedaling her little heart out!  She has only amped up that activity since then. NEITHER of my first two moved like this. It got so hilariously crazy that I actually googled "fetal seizures" because sometimes it feels like she's quite literally having a fit in there.

the pic is blurry not because the ultrasound wand was moving, but because SHE was!

So imagine my surprise when I decided I really liked this pretty little name and went to see what it meant. It means "movement/motion" in hebrew! Um, okay that will do nicely. But I don't JUST want her to be about insane, frenetic motion--we're not looking to speak a little ADHD dervish into being (though that might be on the ticket anyway thanks to my DNA). And then Jesse found out that Noa also means "love/affection" in Japanese. Oh yes...

With typical Jesse speed and brilliance (and dashing good looks), he combined these two translations into a beautiful statement of what we want our daughter to be in her life: Love in Motion.

And obviously this name slides quite nicely into the triumvirate: Judah, Layla, and Noa.

So pretty early on we knew this was our A #1 choice. But the kicker of THIS IS HER NAME didnt happen until Jesse made a really cool family connection about a month ago. One day he said, "Hey, wasnt your grandmother's name "Genoa?" And I almost started crying! My beloved grandmother, my dad's mom, (known as Mano to me) who died when I was 11, had "Noa" built right there into her name!

looks like i inherited my gift of blinking in photos from her.

And boy was Mano love in motion. She was a sassy, classy, always-on-the-go broad whose love I felt like no one else's (that look on my face above is how I ALWAYS remember feeling around her).

My most powerful memory of her is spending the night at her house when she was dying from cancer, beautiful in her headscarf, and she heard me say something about a painful plantar's wart on my foot (geez, 11-year old Keight, have some perspective about ailments and complaints!). I will never forget her kneeling at my feet to soak my hurting foot in a epsom salt bath. If that wasnt love in motion, I'm not sure what is.

Such a poignant, Christlike moment that used to make me cry with regret after she had died, thinking I had mistreated my grandmother when she was sick, but that I now know was just one instance--in a lifetime full of them--of Mano putting her heart for others into action by serving and loving them. That is a legacy I will rejoice to see carried out in my own child.

And so we had our lockdown moment. Our baby is Noa.

We are still tinkering with middle names, the frontrunner being one that Judah of all people made up out of the blue. 

We know this is an unusual name for most people (though a friend in our small group has a sweet niece named Noa who goes to our church too, so ours won't be the very first that our church people have heard this name!) And we are already chuckling through the fun awkward silences after we tell people the name and they just so don't get it (we had this a LOT with Judah, and are much less likely to break down about it now), and the people who think that because the baby isnt born yet, the name could still be changed or that we are open to suggestions. LOL big time.

She will probably have a lifetime ahead of her saying "Without the H" and hearing the word "NO" and thinking someone is calling her. Luckily, if this gets too annoying she can just remember she is "love in motion" and not "fist in motion." 

A Pregnant Stitch Fix!

It's been half of a forever since I did a Stitch Fix post. And if you'd told me I would break that streak with a pregnant fix, I dont think i would have believed you. This is because Stitch Fix doesn't carry dedicated maternity clothes, but if you've been pregnant before, you may have found that lots of cuts of non-pregnant pieces still totally work during pregnancy--even if it means going up a size.  Plus, I wanted to have a firsthand pregnant fix of my own to be able to share with yall...so I ordered a summer box in the midst of my belly expansion AND the high-summer of Georgia.

In my notes to my stylist when I ordered my pregnant box, I decided to trust them enough to just say, "Hey, I'm gonna be HUGE, it's gonna be hot...do me right, if you dare," and then waited to see what those fashion geniuses came up with. 

Just to save you the suspense, all of these items I am showing you are KEEPERS (Layla is thrilled)! 

When opened the box, my eye was immediately sucked in by this awesome print. I was thrilled to pull it out and find that it is a flowy, happy, comfy maxi dress!

It was a deal at $60 since it makes me feel like $60 million!  I saw a photo of this dress on a non-pregnant woman and it looked fantastic on her, so I am extra excited to keep this baby rocking for the long haul. God bless the maxi.

I posted this pic on my instagram with the hashtag #pregnantjumping, expecting to find a mid-air sorority of preggos to join...but mine was the first and only pic! That's okay. Imma start this show.

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I'm pretty sure I would never leave my house while pregnant in the summertime if it werent for my trusty cadre of jersey skirts. I would just lie eternally pantsless in my house and order delivery (which isnt that far from my actual, after-work, reality ). 

I have some jersey skirts that are true maternity and some that arent. It doesnt seem to make a difference because the jersey is so stretchy that I can just hike it up a few inches to get a wider waistband for my expanding belly. 

This sunkist orange striped maxi from Stitch Fix cost more than I usually pay for a jersey skirt (at $40), but the saturated, summery color and the fact that it will definitely be a winner when I'm thinner made it a keeper.  (the necklace is from the fabulous Jones Market and I adore it!)

I love how the stripes come together in a chevron at the hip seams too

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Here was my first attempt at a Stitch Fix pregnant top:

It's white, it's jersey, it's flowy below the waist, it's long and--wait for it!--IT'S SMOCKED! Some of yall who know my violent aversion to smocking might be laughing in my face right now, but GUYS! This isnt the hive-inducing horror of the kiddie-smocked clothing that is so popular here in the deep south. CANNOT HANDLE.

This is COOL smocking that creates great texture and visual interest on the bodice of a staple white shirt sleeve top. And I feel good about being able to wear this piece after pregnancy as a more tunic-length top (which I love since my hips are the part of me I like to minimize).

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How about an accessory? Those are friendly to everyone--regardless of what may or may not be in your uterus at the time!

I received a delicate gold layered strand necklace with two chevron details.

I am writing this post away from home and realize that I never got a shot of my necklace up close, so I borrowed this photo (though I think I could rock braids like this!) source

Here is where the necklace falls on me. I love it for sneakily making me look fancier in a simple tee top than I might without it.

And this grey top is actually piece #5! This shirt is a lovely heather gray that looks like plain t-shirt material at first glance, but is actually an incredibly light sweater-type knit. Like someone took a thick sweater pattern but knitted it with eensy thin, light thread. So it looks really interesting like a sweater, but feels so light and airy-cool like a summery tee.

A solid gray tee with some character is such a great go-to layering piece and again will be great even after baby girl busts out.

extra love for the extra long hem in back. I live in constant fear of butt crack exposure! also: Birks are back, baby! I scored a used pair off of eBay and I feel so hippie german chic in them while secretly pampering my pregnant footsies.

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So there you have it-5 massive winners from Stitch Fix from a 31-weeks pregnant girl! They are warlocks who make me happy.

My other Stitch Fix Posts:

fix #11 (post preg)
fix #10

fix #9
fix #8

fix #7

fix #6

fix #5

fix #4

fix #3

fix #2

fix #1

Baby-Making

Don't you just wish this post was a play-by-play of how Jesse and I made our baby? I must dash your skeevy little hopes of a true romance essay (though Jesse could totally be a hairy-chested love novel cover model, obviously), for this is about things I made for a baby.

One of my very best friends (and frequent appearer on the blog), Lena, is having a baby girl who is due 27 days before ours! This is Lena's first baby and you know those non-mom friends you have who are so weird or hilarious or easily-grossed out about YOUR pregnancy that you are like, "wow, I cannot wait to see how you are when youre pregnant?" well, Lena is definitely one of those, and she has super-duper not disappointed in being highly entertaining as she discovers the manifold joys and WTF's of gestating a baby in your ladyparts.

Lena and her husband are godparents to our kid,s and Lena was right *there* when Layla was born as our official birth documenter. Like SHAZAAM up in the perineum with the DSLR (tell me THATs not true friendship). She wrote a wonderful and hilarious account of the birth that is all the more enjoyable when you realize the girl who penned this post 4 years ago is giving birth in 6 weeks.

Another thing about Lena is that she is one of the most generous people I have ever met and is a legendary and prolific gift-giver. So when the invitation to her baby shower arrived, I knew I had to step it up and come strong.

Here's what baby Finley Elaine has waiting for her on the other side from her Auntie K8 (the pics are crazy over-saturated and blown out for some reason and I have no patience to fix them. Apologies to your retinas):

a herringbone baby quilt that was shockingly simple to put together and then incredibly difficult not to keep for myself.

the quilting pattern just followed the zig zag of the front 1/4" from the seams on either side. the backing is a snuggly flannel in Lena's signature grey (girlfriend LOVES a neutral)

 I'm so glad I went for the single little chevron of the backing fabric within the herringbone pattern. And the black and white stripe binding is just crispy goodness.

 i added the monogram to the back side for personalization but also to prevent myself from stealing it. I had to hand-applique the name on to avoid quilt lines through the name or backward name stitches showing up on the front (if I had machine stitched the letters on...tricky conundrum)

 taking pictures of this finished project was way more challenging than expected. I spent about 15 solid minutes getting this view all set up on the wall, then waddled back into position and snapped the first pic. Are you freaking kidding me?! My head almost exploded in this moment.

I was going to just give the one gift of the quilt, but then I just couldn't stop. I haven't made one thing for my new baby girl yet, but I was off on a tear for Lena's. 

 

matching onesie and baby leggies (tutorial here from another BFF, raechel) combo. love this little ATLien already.

another combo with a bow (I am expecting a head full of hair on this babe from the get-go since Lena and Elliot have thick, lush locks aplenty)

And then one last little touch for baby's room...or I guess wherever Lena wants to put it. Her beloved NYC:

Elliot proposed to Lena atop 30 Rock and they're pregnancy announcement pic was taken there too, so it' felt right to bring a little happy, colorful big apple into baby girl's space. (pattern from my favorite shop)

The shower was unreal. I ate about a kilo of bleu cheese (unpasteurized because I'm a rebel like that) and 4 large shortbread cookies, and washed that healthy meal down with a liter (mama's feeling metric today!) of sparkling punch. Ain't nobody loves a lady-shower style punch like this chick! Lena got SO MUCH wonderful baby swag and we all enjoyed staring at her opening gifts for 2 hours straight trying not to be awkward. 

what is wrong with us? I complain, but this is a pretty spot-on representation of our whole friendship. (note to self: IRON the shirt after it arrives in the mail in its flat-packed state)

30 weeks and 40 weeks. and my spiritual gift of closing my eyes at the EXACT moment of shutter click shows no signs of diminishing. 

I'm not sure if I have ever been as excited for a baby's arrival that wasn't occurring in my own birth canal. Baby Finley hasn't taken her first breath yet, but is already crazy-loved and prayed for. I cannot wait to get my hand on that little nugget--I might not give her back...especially if she's wrapped in that quilt. 

On Losing What I Never Had

We found out back in May that baby #3 is a girl. Just like when we found out about Layla, we videoed the opening of The Envelope with this baby as well. Unlike with Layla, we decided not to publish it. I'm going to tell you why.

WARNING: Where my heart was during this is such a hard and complex and delicate thing to describe without feeling like an ungrateful bitch (hello? you have a healthy baby growing miraculously inside you!) or some medieval jerk chauvinist who only wants to produce male heirs to ensure the purity of the Tudor line. So if you're feeling angry at me, or like you need to tell me to shut up because some women would kill for ANY baby, please just pause and give me some grace and know that I've felt that way about myself already, and turns out it's basically just piling on more poison.

If you havent had this same experience (or have walked a path that would make this struggle seem like a joy to you), I totally see how it could be hard to understand how I was feeling, but please go ahead and assume I am a pretty grateful and loving mom and a general non-asshole, and would cry right there with you if I knew your stuff.  I am praying no one goes to the place of "how dare she struggle with this when...[fill in the blank with something 'worse' that someone else deals with]."  When we compare or one-up someone's pain or attempt to shame them for even feeling it in the first place we are being incredibly immature and unchristlike. When has that ever worked? At best the struggle isnt gone, it's just shut up or stuffed into the darkness. Let's let people be where they are! Your tough stuff doesnt offend me because it's about you, not me. Ditto for mine: it's not trying to beat yours or even play on the same ballfield; I just want to be open about where I am. CAN YOU TELL I'M NERVOUS TO SHARE!?!

Here goes.

For months, rather predictably, Layla had said it was a girl and Judah had said it was a boy. But neither seemed obsessed either way. Layla was characteristically kind of blase about the whole thing and just breezily certain that she was right (what an enjoyable outlook!). Judah also didnt seem to have his heart completely and utterly set on a brother, but did say a few things that maybe should have tipped us off that a surprise/ambush reveal like this wasnt the best idea for him (including praying to Jesus to "make the baby a boy"). 

When the four of us left the office after the ultrasound, we got in the car, turned on the camera and opened the envelope to find GIRL!!! Jesse and I immediately turned around to see the kids' reactions for ourselves. Layla was smiling and be-bopping around. Judah sort of looked frozen...maybe a little confused and angry.

And then he roared. Loudly. Which was weird but, whatever.  And then the poor little guy broke down crying. 

I know that videos like this where the boys all want a brother and the parents say they're having a sister and they all freak out and start bawling have straight up won monies for how hilarious they are, but in that moment, as it was happening to us, nothing was less funny. My heart was breaking for my son AND for the new baby that he seemed to be rejecting on really unfair grounds.

On top of this, I am processing my own reaction.  I had completely expected it to be a boy, so I was just downright floored on my own, but when the extra mix of Judah's emotions got thrown in on top of my shock and hormones and the buildup of the entire morning/pregnancy to this moment (and some as-yet-unconfessed feelings), I started crying right there with him.

Poor, bewildered Jesse sitting in the middle of this whack-storm.

AAAAAAND CUT! That charming home movie is complete. Call Bob Saget.

One aspect of this is what I described back before we ever found out. For those first 4 months, the baby is BOTH sexes in your mind. You get to walk out your weird little parent dreams for 2 different kids: a boy AND a girl because both possibilities are 100% alive in your heart and mind. You are mentally having twins and everything you imagine has a boy version and a girl version because both versions are equally real and possible.

Therefore, when we found out that the baby is a girl--has always been a girl--it was like the little imaginary boy version from our minds had been lost. Yes, he never really existed, but it still feels like something of a loss.

Usually (for us), the loss of this phantom other-version of our baby is overwhelmed by the hooray! and solidifying of the ACTUAL baby. With Judah I was one million percent dying for a boy and that's what we had, so I almost didnt even feel the loss of "but what if it had been a girl?" because I was crazy pumped (thank you, Lord for not pulling a gender uber-surprise on a much-less-mature-than-now 26 year old Keight who would not have handled that gracefully):

December 2008. Leaving the OB after our gender ultrasound.

When we found out about Layla, we were so freaking out of our minds surprised and giddy and HOLY CRAP A GIRL! That we just acted like lunatics.

.

June 2010 

But later on, there was a twinge of sadness to realize this meant Judah would never get a brother who was incredibly close in age. It was a very distant sadness because of how jacked out of our minds we were about being girl parents, and it almost didnt even register since Judah was barely a year old when we found out and had no clue what was going on anyway.

But yeah, this one was different and way more complicated with older siblings involved (you want EVERYTHING for ALL OF THEM!) and with my own garbage lurking in the shadows. If i could go back and do it again, first off, I would have had me and Jesse find out first and then strategize how to tell each kid. Layla was obviously easy (and i am pretty sure would have been no matter what the outcome, she just wants dat bae), but Judah is VERY emotionally sensitive, VERY competitive (he said something like "Layla won" through his initial tearful reaction), and doesnt love when emotional situations are sprung on him. 

On top of that,  I had said that I didnt care what this child was, but looking back, I know I wasn't being honest with myself. I had wanted a boy this time. Not so much that I wouldnt be excited for a girl, but enough that I would probably need some time to work through it, and definitely enough that Judah's gut reaction could set off and expose some ugly stuff hiding in me.

Here's my stuff:

I did NOT have a great relationship with my mom growing up. Jesus has done some beautiful restoration in both of us since I've been an adult and things are WAAAAAY better, but I have always feared girls because of how hard I know my mom tried to have a great mother/daughter bond with me and how heartbreaking it was for her to not really ever get it. I figured, with just one girl--Layla--I could throw all my "make a healthy mother-daughter relationship work!" eggs into one basket. So finding out that I am going to be forging this relationship with DOUBLE THE HUMANS was a little overwhelming and scary for me. Twice the chance for total annihilation!

In addition, I only ever had a brother. The whole sisterhood thing has always been a super weird mystery of foreign WTF to me. I can remember as a teen asking some of my closest friends who had sisters to try to explain to me what that whole shebang was about, because I just didnt get it (I would also ask my black friends to explain how their hair works and come away just as clueless). So the thought of mothering a sisterhood (most estrogen-charged phrase I've ever typed) was incredibly intimidating.

In the end I think it came down to bigtime insecurity that I was afraid to own. I would much rather have the majority of my children have Jesse as their role model of what kind of adult to be rather than myself. Will my daughters be like their father? OH HELLS YES (and little Judah man has plenty of mommy up in there too), but as far as learning what it means to be a man/woman, you tend to learn that from your same-gender parent, and I generally think Jesse is a way better man than I am a woman. I hear the lie that I just kind of lucked out with Layla so far because she is a little wild raspberry of awesome good-naturedness and has gravitated towards me from the get-go, but there was no way that two girls in a row could actually feel that way (or even that Layla will continue to!).

I took a lot of these initial feelings to some of my closest friends who I knew I was safe with; even with these tricky, ugly thoughts going on, they would still love me. (WO)Man alive, they were water and life for me! They all said they could understand where I was coming from and assured me I wasnt a mommy-monster who would eat her young.  The ones who have sisters talked about how special that bond is. I heard them say how special it is to have the mother-plus-daughterS dynamic within a family.  They encouraged me about my worth as a woman and as a role model for women.

That very day, I went to Target by myself to look at tiny girly things to help me get in the mood, and I just so happened to run into a close friend who just had her 3 child--and second girl- a few months ago and who I had weirdly yet to meet. It was perfect and seeing that baby was just the sweetest happiest little wake up call I could have asked for! I came home from that entire complicated day with 2 tiny girly onesies and a growing positivity for what was to come. 

The final thing that brought me solidly out of any disappointment whatsoever and into peace and full-blown excitement for how this specific little girl is going to bless our family came as I remembered the last bible study my girl's group (girls group...not a coincidence) had done. There was an exercise where you had to list the times God hadn't given you what you wanted or what you thought would be best for you. There was an overwhelming chorus of THANK GOODNESS I DIDNT GET WHAT I WANTED from all of us! 

Whether it was unreturned crushes (in a room of girls, there were lots of examples of these!), jobs lost, opportunities that fell through, our biggest takeaway was, "I wish I was better at trusting Him when I'm not getting what I want, while it's still hard." Because almost all of these "disappointments" have led to things that were much better, deeper, healthier, and God-glorifying than those that we would chosen ourselves. How much more joy could there be and heartache skipped if we learned to FIRST exercise the faith of "okay God, what you have will be better for me. I'm just believing that even though right now seems very NOT."

When I remembered how this study had obviously been preparing my heart for this exact bit of news, the last of my baby-boy-blues disappeared. I decided to just go for it and skip the crying over the boy I didnt get (a familiar refrain to my teenage self in a new form!) and to faith-jump headfirst into a gift that I wasn't totally sure of in the moment, but that I trusted would not disappoint and would likely blow away my expectations.

(Yes, I get it. Big whoop that I trusted that I would love my own child. This "feat" doesnt quite get me into the Faith Hall of Fame. It might earn me a few eye-rolls to even claim that it took "faith" to get me to a place of excitement about my own cherished baby. I am in no way trying to minimize or poo-poo what a miracle and blessing having ANY baby EVER is. And I definitely not comparing my painful stuff to anyone else's. Please just remember that I can only be where I am, and that even sharing these feelings is SCARY AND VULNERABLE!)

It's been two months since this charming maelstrom of THE FEELS, and man, it has been awesome. My love for this baby as MY DAUGHTER has grown beyond what I thought I was capable of.  Almost as wonderful has been the confidence that trusting Jesus' plan for me and tiny-lady has exposed and eradicated any seeds of bitterness, rejection, or disappointment that I know satan would have loved to have taken root in my heart before she was even born. I love that she is going to come into the world to parents who have already fought for their relationship with her.

Bring on the GIRLS!!