My Love Below

my journey through motherhood and other complex matters

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Currently Grooving To

This new Justin Timberlake album is everything. No, I  mean it. I instantly get happy when I’m listening to it and I can’t keep still. It’s like something just grabs hold of me and suddenly my shoulders are pulsating, my head is bobbing and I’m mouthing the words (even if I’m fumbling through them) like I am seated front-row at his concert. Lord, let his inevitable tour make it to The H.


My favorite tracks, in no particular order: Let the Groove In, Mirrors, Pusher Love Girl, Spaceship Coupe and That Girl.

I think JT just brought music back. {snickers}

What are you favorites?


I’m back . . . Sort of

I’m six months into this thing called motherhood and by the date of my last entry, you can see that’s it’s been a pretty long time since I’ve put my thoughts to electronic paper. Let’s just say my schedule has been pretty full. I did plan on blogging about Baby T’s entry into the world, his firsts, the baby blues (aka Postpartum Depression), re-entering the workforce, yada, yada, yada. Instead, I’ve spent the last six months trying to balance motherhood, marriage and employment all while trying to be a good daughter, sister, American citizen and a child of Christ.

Lord help me!

Let’s just say no one is perfect and I’ve had my shortcomings, but who wouldn’t? Have you tried this thing called parenting? It’s a strong drug with a crazy trip, and boy is it expensive!

Anyway, I’m posting this entry to let you all know that I’m back. Who cares? Well, those who bought tickets to this crazy side show, that’s who. You know, the ones out there who know me well, who thought I’d never get married, let alone have a kid or be able to balance it all. Not naysayers as such. I’m talking about serious non-believers. Let’s face it back in the day I was a selfish, goal oriented, single, motherless “young lady” FULL of dreams and ambitions who could not conceive that there was a single nurturing bone in her body.

Fast forward to December 2010 and . . . well . . . you have a woman whose heart is a bit softer. She’s a bit sleep deprived from early morning feedings and sweet conversations that are always lost in translation, because who can decode giddy jibberjabber from a happy baby? What can I say, he’s a talker. Have you met his daddy? She’s had to adjust to occasional disorganization, a fete with in itself, 10 minute showers, missing most of her friend’s joyous occasions and scarfing down meals in 15 minutes or less to keep her baby on “somewhat” of a schedule.

Lord, how did my mother do it all or appear to do it all? She was a swan, paddling like HELL under water and even on her worst day, if there was such a thing, she was the BEST.

Each atrium of my heart is full of something greater than love. And even on my worst day, I know that in Miles’ eyes I’m supreme. His smiles turn me to mush and with each milestone I feel proud that God has granted me this extraordinary experience.

Now, back to this blog thing. . .

I can’t promise you that each post will leave you warm and fuzzy, because if they did, then I’d be lying about this whole thing. I’d hate to delude some poor girl who is thinking about taking on such responsibility. You can say that this may be the strongest form of birth control yet! Needless to say, every day is not a bed of roses. What I can promise to do is be honest about my experience and my experience alone.

These days, I notice every baby that passes my line of sight and it prides me to let their parents know how adorable they are. I get all wrapped up in age, discovering twins and asking about stages of development. (*disclaimer: every baby is different and doesn’t develop the same, so I try not to compare.) I baffle myself sometimes. But, that’s the effect these things (babies) have on you. They melt your heart and can leave you joyfully speechless at times. They can also make you want to pull your hair out strand by strand, but I digress. They really do make the world go round. My world at least.

My Love Has Surfaced

My Love Below has surfaced and on December 3, 2010 at 5:57 p.m., after 16 hours of labor, I gave birth to the most precious baby boy. Yes, all eight pounds of him. Since then, our lives have drastically changed . . . for the good, mind you, but there continues to be a few bumps and bruises and major adjustments along the way. Everyone knows I had a wonderful pregnancy. I gained 40 fabulous pounds (10 of which I have left to shed) and worked well up until the day before I gave birth.

Flash forward to 5 weeks later. I’m sleep deprived and dare I say already feeling a bit guilty about what has taken place in the last 20 days, and yesterday, I had a moment. I had one of those moments that I will never forget . . . I felt a bit disappointed in my role as a mother, a role I’ve only had for a measly few days now. A role in which I have the rest of my life to improve on. Humph. What’s even more interesting is that I was not alone in my feelings. Seems as though many women feel somewhat helpless at times when caring for a newborn. I’m not alone. I mean, I didn’t think I was, but the outpouring of responses that I received made me feel hopeful. I know motherhood is a sisterhood and as humans, caring for and rearing other humans, we’re going to make mistakes, even when we think we’re doing the absolute best for our children. I couldn’t contain my feelings though and wondered why we don’t address this more. Why do we, as women, believe that we have to be so strong all of the time? I’ve never been more vulnerable than I am now, as a mother. I question every day whether or not I’m making the right choices and to be honest, I won’t know if some of my decisions are the best for years to come. One of my friends got it right when she said, we act this way, because our mothers made it look so damn easy. Yup, at least mine did and I know Mrs. Sheryl did and Mrs. Girsel and uh all the other women in my life who raised children, some even did it single.

I have help (my husband) and what the heck am I complaining about again? Oh, I remember now, I thought I lived in a very organized world, one that I tried relentlessly to control. I had a baby and all that got shot to you know where. Now, I find myself planning, well hoping to get 5-10 minutes in for a good shower and a bite to eat three to five times a day (did I mention I need to do that to shed the baby weight) and hope my body and mind shut down when my head hits the pillow as soon as my son’s eyes close. And, I haven’t mentioned anything here about bathroom breaks. I would dare to say that some women probably go holding their babies on their laps. Now, that is a visual. It’s definitely an adjustment, but what I have to remind myself is . . .like my mom and Mrs Sheryl reminded me . . . this too shall pass. Never have a clinged to such a simple statement until now. I mean, it’s so true. Six months from now, when I look back on the first few months of motherhood, I’ll laugh and 15-18 years from now I’ll have a slew of embarrassing stories to share with my son . . .about my son. Each day I learn something new about his little development and each day, I do have a few laughs. Right now, at nap time, you’d think there were a slew of barn animals living in my house. The noises this kid makes as he sleeps and stretches is beyond me. All I hear is a donkey, a couple of cats and a goat.

Despite all of this, what remains the same is that my family has grown and so has my love. Day in and day out. In laughter and in,at times, tears. This continuation of my blog is just my interpretation of this incredible journey that I have embarked upon and that I share with so many others.

My Love Below makes his appearance . . . Look at those cheeks!

Black Friday Bravo

Do you really think that I would miss Black Friday?

At 37 weeks pregnant, I did the dang thang and I must say that it was so worth it to spend time with my mom and keep this after-Thanksgiving tradition alive. Thing is . . . after 5 hours of shopping, I was pooped and I think Miles noticed that we weren’t comfortably sprawled out in the warmth of our bed. At about 1:30 a.m., as I was standing in line to pay for my wonderful purchases at Calphalon, he started “a kicking” and “a squirming”. It was time to take my baby home. Throughout the night, that later turned into the wee hours of the morning, I was catered to like none-other.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” “Ma’am, do you need anything?” “Ma’am, do you need a food rub and a massage?”
Okay, maybe that last one was just a figure of my imagination, but I sure enjoyed the attention. Ladies would stop what they were doing to ask me when I was due or to let me know how brave I was. The sentiments were certainly nice to hear, but like my mom has always told me . . . “Mona, pregnancy is not an illness.” Some of you may think, true, but you should be putting your feet up. You should be relaxing. You should be getting as much rest as you possibly can. Then I have to wonder, how much rest is going to prepare me for the sleep that I am going to be deprived of in the next couple of weeks? My thought is, I better enjoy this freedom while it lasts. The freedom to get up and go, even as slow as I am currently moving. Today, I’m 38 weeks and I’m proud of the mileage of gotten these last nine months.

Mom said to me, just the other day, “When Miles is born, he’ll be born with his own shopping bag and ask you where you are going.” I just laughed and at the same time hoped that he’ll have the calmest temperament. After-all pregnancy has not slowed me down any. What it has done, however, is given me an even deeper sense of focus. It’s helped me put a lot of things in perspective. It has forced me to analyze a lot of my relationships. Some things I think I took for granted, I’ve come to really appreciate in my life. As critical as I can be, I’ve realized that solid, consistent relationships, that pose themselves as support systems are vital, especially in raising a child. So, today, I give mad props and shout-outs to my mother, Karen, Ryane and Nicoya. I have surrounded myself with great people and will continue to cherish those relationships that make me stronger and better. This also includes the relationship I have with G-O-D. How some people do it without him, I don’t know. He’s been a constant supplier of strength, peace, joy and hope. His gifts of discernment and wisdom continue to guide me everyday and those gifts will definitely come in handy when we begin raising our son. I thank Him for my husband . . . “my voice of reason” when I am irrational, which is most cases. This goes without saying that God gave me exactly what I needed. Run tell that Antoine Dodson!

So, this holiday season, I am overwhelmingly thankful. At the end of last year, all I wanted was to do was get pregnant. A few major changes later, including losing jobs and gaining better ones, our prayers were answered. No, it didn’t take long, but if you only knew . . . (in the words of MTV’s Diary) You think you know, but you have no idea. The timing couldn’t be better and it’s not how we planned. That’s the funny thing about all of this. We plan and plan and plan some more, not realizing that God has the ultimate plan and His plan is always better than our own. Things happen when they are supposed to.

I didn’t think that I would end this blog entry with a testimony, but all of our lives are pretty much testaments to what we thought would never be possible. At this moment, could you have ever fathomed where you are now? Just imagine what’s to come. That’s what I think about when I think about my boy . . . what’s to come. A lot of trial and error. A lot of laughter and joy and subsequently, a few tears and pain.

I’m so full (Saints you know what I mean.)

Just a brief update on Miles . . . He’s the size of a watermelon and I can definitely confirm that from the many times I had to run to the bathroom during Black Friday shopping. He might have a little hair on the top of his head and if the old wives tale is true, I’ve had the heartburn to prove it. I watched what I ate this whole pregnancy, because before being with child, I suffered from acid reflux on occasion. In the last few days, it seems as if water alone gives me indigestion. I can only conclude that Baby T will have a head full of hair. I believe Miles sleeps with his fanny in the air. Yes, because each morning I wake up with a small mound on my stomach. It’s either or the left or right side, depending on which is most comfortable for my boy. I think it’s the cutest thing.

My younger brother made the sweetest comment to me the other day, or so I thought. He told me that he couldn’t wait until Miles was born. I got all warm and fuzzy inside until he blurted, because I’m tired of watching you talk to you stomach and giving us an update as to what he’s doing. Nevertheless, I continue to speak to what my husband labeled earlier-on as my imaginary friend. Hey, you get no closer to someone than sharing antibodies, right? We have the same bloodline . . . uh, literally. He will definitely know the voice of his mother, both in tone and pitch, because of all the verbal interaction I’ve had with him. I’ve read to him, sung to him, prayed for him, played with him. It’s not poppycock . . . it’s been the highlight of the last nine months of my life. So, not to take these comments so seriously, I just laugh, because after-all it is quite amusing.

Then I think I’m a SUPERHERO dang it! Anyone that can sustain life has superhuman powers. Holler at me when you can do that!

No Longer Miles Away

I am 36 weeks today . . . Woo Hoo! Any day now, Miles will be descending (AKA dropping) and I can finally get back to breathing a bit normally. Well, normally, until that oh so soon to be infamous delivery. My little man, my prince, is the size of a honey-dew and his strong kicks have downgraded a bit since he’s running out of room. He’s most comfortable on my left side, even when I try to nudge him, he makes his way right back to the place that brings him the most comfort. The last few weeks he’s been hiccuping like mad and that’s because he still hasn’t quite gotten his swallowing and sucking skills down. When he starts one of his episodes I find myself asking him if he indeed has the hiccups and then I try to soothe him by saying that eventually he’ll get it down. I guess this is the beginning of me encouraging him to stay focused on finishing the task. In this case, it’s his full fetal development. Good thing he’s not in any pain, so I’ve read. I’ve also read that babies dream. The last few weeks Miles has settled into deeper sleep patterns, even going into REM sleep. You know I think I believe it, because there are times when he is really quiet as a mouse. Nope, no movement at all, except maybe his tiny idiosyncrasies that I have yet to see with my two eyes.

Speaking of idiosyncrasies . . . I’ve mentioned this on my FB status, but never delved deeply into it in my blog. My child still has a lot of room to squirm around in. Lately, I have felt his little heel as it switches from left to right or from right to left. I equate this movement to a windshield wiper. He starts at the bottom of my sternum (the middle of the top of my midsection) and carries his little limb all the way to the right side of my belly, exactly where my elbow falls on my side. It’s a unique visual, I know, but can you imagine how it feels? Sometimes the wipers turn on when I least expect it and it’s the funniest feeling ever. All I can do is laugh and wonder in amazement.

Fast forward to 37 weeks . . .

I am, well Miles is, full-term. Which means he can come at any time. Mom says he can come anytime after 38 weeks. His godmother seems to think he’ll come December 4th. His godfather would love that since he’s an ALPHA MAN. I think all bets are placed on the fact that I won’t be having this baby the middle of December, like we originally thought or like we were originally told. I can still have faith. It would be nice for him to be born on 12-12-10, because on 12-12-12 . . . he’ll be 2. Or what about 12-11-10, which is 10, 11, 12 backwards? Either way, I can’t wait to meet him. I just can’t wait to hold him, kiss him, look into his eyes, smell him, read to him, nurture him, teach him, because I already love him unconditionally.

All his clothes are washed and I believe I’ve pretty much cleaned every article of fabric that pertains to my son. As a matter of fact, I received some wash cloths and blankets today from one of my lovely sorors and they are already in the washer. If any of you know me, you know how extremely organized I try to be. According to my list of baby action items, you know the one on, I should be washing all his clothes and blankets and wash cloths now. Ha! I will settle for getting my rest, thank you very much. One can only hope that strive for organizational perfection will continue, but some of you probably know for the first few weeks or months, it won’t. AND, it might not . . . for a while. Humph, I can only wonder, but I won’t ponder too hard.

While Miles’ co-sleeper/bassinet is up and ready in our room, I’ve just now completed his nursery. I succumbed to the pressure of the purchasing the glider. It wasn’t pressure at all, because God knows that thing is sooooooo freaking comfortable, I’m thinking about moving it into our bedroom. Anyway, I digress like I usually do . . . little MLT’s nursery is complete (as complete as it’s gonna be without photos of my little juicy fruit hanging on the wall and as finished as it’s gonna be before I go into labor!).

Drum roll please . . .

Miles' Nursery with glider

Just a few finishing touches. I love the beginning of his little book collection.

One of my favorite purchases for the nursery. What time is it anyway?

This week I’m supposed to finish sending out my thank you cards. A task I am likely to complete after-all. It is the week of Thanksgiving and the office is sure to be very quiet.

Baby Hit Me One More Time

Oh, baby, baby . . . this active little baby in my somewhat pliable belly is almost ready to enter the world. I have five, count them, five more weeks and I’ll get to meet my man face-to-face. I’m excited and uh, SCARED all at the same time. I’ve never felt such a desire to protect and nurture anything in my entire life and I can honestly say that I am not the “nurturing” type. I’m not the “comforting” type. I would almost say I’m not the “mothering” type. Oh, but my inhibitions have brought me to a whole other realm and I’m quite happy to be here. I have been pregnant for almost one full year, 40 out of 52 weeks. As Baby T’s birthday draws near, I’m wondering about those first few seconds, minutes and hours. He has so much personality in my womb. What will he be like when I see him in the flesh?

Supportive friends say that James and I will be great parents and that Miles is a lucky (blessed) little boy. I often wonder what type of parents we will be. I know education will be of the utmost importance and we’ll train up little Miles in the things of the Lord (like our mama’s raised us), but everyone knows that there will be a time in Miles’ life where he will think he knows waaaaaaaay more than we do. He’ll test our abilities and try our patience. He’ll force us to consider and reconsider our decisions. We’ll love him unconditionally and practice tough love. It already hurts me to say that, but I know it’s almost certain to come to pass. Maybe I’m taking this way to seriously, but shouldn’t I? Some might say, child you are thinking to hard, but should I be? I mean giving birth is a blessing. Raising a child is a gift . . . and a HUGE responsibility. Saying that you are responsibility for a human’s well-being should never be taken lightly. We’ll relish the good and make note of the great that he’ll achieve. AND I’m sure we’ll make some mistakes too, no matter how much we think our decisions are the best we could make.

Last weekend we had our family and close friends gather for a co-ed baby shower. We so appreciated all the advice from new moms and seasoned “professionals”. My questions might have seemed strange, but the feedback I got was appreciated. We are really blessed to have so many people in our lives that wish us nothing, but the best. Often times, we take for granted people’s generosity, but nowadays when people do something for you and it doesn’t have to be tangible, they are often sacrificing . . . be it money or time. So, to all the friends and family who so kindly give to us on a regular basis, be it advice, tangible gifts or even comic relief to encourage us that this journey will be an awesome one filled with uncertainties and giant rewards . . . THANK YOU!

Me and the hubby at our second baby shower. Not bad for 35 weeks huh?

The Call of Duty

God bless my husband! He has been such a trooper. As I type this, I am starting to get a bit emotional. He’s gone to every doctor’s appointment, survived every mood swing and has been my shoulder to cry on (and my tears could flow at the site of seeing a baby bootie). He’s assembled baby items and researched so many baby facts, I think he himself could write a book. If you know my husband, you know he enjoyed every second of this. Fast forward to Tuesday, the day the best video game (EVER) was released, so they tell me and so I read. James just had to have it. I mean, homeboy has to have an outlet too, right? Mine “used” to be shopping. So, on our way home from work we swung by Game Stop to pick it up (I’d reserved a copy that morning). Boy was he surprised and boy was I H-A-P-P-Y! And the award for the best wife goes to . . . me!

Signed Sleepless in Cypress

It’s Saturday morning and guess who’s, guess who’s, guess who’s AWAKE?!!!! At 6:30 a.m.? Miles? Well, I think so, but I’m not sure, because as I’m typing this entry he’s as quiet as a little mouse. A few minutes ago, he was Sweating to the Oldies with Richard Simmons. I can’t complain, however, because most nights I’m asleep by 10 p.m. and have very few interruptions, before my little internal alarm clock goes off, I mean wakes up, between 5:30 a.m. and 6:30 a.m. When he’s jazzercising, I’m often thinking . . . what in the world is he doing as he takes my stomach to “the left, to the left” or makes it do the Cha-Cha Slide. I’m convinced there is a Soul Train line happening in the midst of my intestines and urinary tract and let’s not forget Mr. Bladder. Miles now feels comfortable enough to use it as a bounce house or a pogo stick. Remember pogo sticks? I digress.

Me, at the end of my 33rd week. I'm glowing?! I'm anxious.

I’m approaching 34 weeks (which means I have only 6 weeks left and two baby showers to survive) and his movements are much more profound, which means I’m getting more uncomfortable. I think I’m taking it all in stride though. I’ve had NO complications. It’s been smooth sailing thus far, so if he wants to be a little active and use mommy’s belly button as a dart board, I guess I’m okay with that. Well, in reality I have no choice, now do I?

Last night I had dinner with a friend of mine who will remain nameless. I haven’t received permission to use her real name in my very public blog, so I’ll keep it very private. Anyway, she’s also preggers. Yes, her bundle of joy is due in three weeks, which means she’s looking forward to having a Thanksgiving baby. When we walked in the restaurant together, you would have thought people were seeing two pregnant people for the very first time. Like it was almost bizarre. It was HIGH-LARIOUS to me, all that attention. I felt like the bearded lady at the traveling circus (no pun intended, because the hormones can make you appear kin to a monkey. I’m just saying). Anyway, she’s also having a boy and looks tre fabulous. She’s all stomach and told me that she’s gained quite a few pounds. I told her I heard the same thing about myself, but refuse to believe the tabloids, I mean the doctor’s scale. I told her that our little boys will grow up together. Nice to know Miles will already have a friend that I know . . . I mean, at least I know his family and what church they go to. LOL. (I think that’s just an inside joke for me.)

When I was growing up and I would introduce my friends to my mom, who is very close to God and his son Jesus, she would always greet them really kindly. “Mom, this is ‘so-and-so’ from school,” I would say and she would reply by saying “okay, nice to meet you ‘so-an-so’.” As soon as the person would leave I’d be subjected to a million questions that always followed this one IMPORTANT question . . . what church do they go to? I’m laughing hysterically as I post this. If I couldn’t answer this one question, I’d have to quickly investigate and report back on my findings. My teachers always said I was thorough with my research. Humph, I wonder why? They didn’t know Professor Lugay, I’m certain. SMH.

As we approach Halloween, I am reminded that we didn’t celebrate it. Nope, we did not celebrate Halloween. Halloween was the “Devil’s holiday.” Which, was okay with me, because I don’t like scary anything. As we got older, we occasionally snuck out to go trick-or-treating and all that, but it would most always disappoint my mother when she would find out. James reminisced about how he could dress up, but he couldn’t be anything scary. I thought, hey, that’s a good idea. Maybe we can apply that same principle to Miles. I even went as far as to say, maybe we say “Miles, you can participate in Halloween, but you have to be a character from the bible.” We live in the Bible Belt. It could work. The things is, James, reminded me, is that he just might want to be Beelzebub (aka the Devil) and asked what would we say if he did? Humph, as I ponder.

Happy Hallows-eve to all!

Thing I'm most looking forward to is raiding, I mean inspecting, his candy bag when he gets older.

Next up, Thanksgiving, ARRIVAL OF MILES and then . . . Christmas!

Who in the Hell left the gate open

Today, I’m 33 weeks. I’m in a cooking sort of mood and decided to whip up a batch of homemade jambalaya (really quick recipe found on I’m in the kitchen dicing and slicing, mixing and . . . simmering. I don’t mean the ingredients. I’m literally melting. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get cool. This is strange, because usually I’m able to relieve myself with water, a fan . . . a cold shower. Anyway, I’m a multitasker, so I run to my computer to check my e-mail and I received my weekly update from the “You’re 33 weeks pregnant!” Yaaaaay me as I continue to read . . . “You’re one hot mama . . .” Well, yes, I consider myself to be a looker, I guess. But, as I continued to read, I noticed that what was written had nothing to do with how I was looking. Supposedly, my metabolic rate has increased by 20-percent, which keeps my body begging for cool ANYTHING. I’m happy to say that while I have endured the summer heat, I will not be ending my pregnancy during those scorching months. However, I am thinking about take some popsicles to work. I already have a fan in my office. Is this what menopause will be like? Is this what my mom keeps warning me about? It’s so comical. HORMONES!

Mr. Miles (Milesy is what I affectionately call him) is at work. I swear my child knows when he’s not at home. Hopefully this is not an indication of how he’ll behave in public. Anyway, we were in the grocery store yesterday and he must have been playing with his angels. Yes, playing football. Now, that I’ve maxed out my amniotic fluid I can feel his little phalanges. Okay, maybe not his phalanges. I just like saying the word “phalanges.” I can distinguish between his little feet, fists, knees and elbows. It’s an absolutely beautiful thing. It’s almost a shame that men don’t get to experience these things first hand. I am constantly sharing with James all of Miles’ little idiosyncrasies or what I can feel of them anyway, only to notice that while excited he really can’t understand it. I hope that makes sense. Women, our bodies are AMAZING. Even when we don’t think it “looks” amazing, our body continues to prove to us how strong and magnificent it really is. God got it right!

Fast Forward to October 26th . . .

I felt my first set of Braxton Hicks contractions this morning. It felt like a mild case of cramps. Nothing too bad, but my mom told me that they get a bit severe at the end and will make you want to stop dead in your tracks. Humph, I don’t think I’m looking forward to those. Having a midwife for a mom makes this pregnancy thing that much of a reality, because she is constantly reminding me of all the things that I will experience – most of them painful. I guess she doesn’t want me to be surprised by the pain, but won’t I be surprised anyway, because I haven’t experienced it for myself yet?

Eight is Enough

I have eight (8) more weeks to go and Mr. Miles is running out of room. I can feel it in my ribs, literally. His faint kicks have turned into mean jabs and he’s starting to kick so hard my stomach is jumping and we can see his little movements with every shift of my belly. How did my doctor put it? Oh, yeah . . . “He’s BIG”

That’s okay though . . . I was 8lbs 8 ounces, my mother’s largest baby. The thing is, I don’t want Miles to be that big, because in reality, how is he going to come out? Did I just say that? Yes, I did. I keep having endless conversations about delivery and people keep asking whether or not I’ll have an epidural. Which opens up to the discussion of which option is best. The feedback is mixed of course. I hear positives from both sides and I still have no idea what I am going to do and no one can persuade me that either is best at this point. I just have to feel my way through this. Until the pain hits, I have no idea of what I can and can not take, so I choose to focus on the preparation. The things I can control, the small stuff, like his room, his childcare, his 529 college fund . . . and I will leave the rest in the hands of the almighty (like Bob Marley).

Two weeks ago, we went out to Hermann Park to have our maternity photos taken. I thought Myesha did a fantastic job. We went from the Zoo all the way to the reflecting pool and came up with some really interesting shots. These are some of the different photos that were taken. Feel free to imitate, because I sure did.

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Washing and folding . . . folding and washing. I feel like that’s all I do during the weekends. I’m constantly organizing and I’m enjoying every minute of it. Honestly, I’ve always had an affinity for organizing. To see a closet organized gives me so much satisfaction, you’d think I hit the lottery or got a promotion. Strange, but true. Those of you reading this who have children are probably thinking, “boy is she going to get a wake-up call when she has this baby. She will be so consumed with baby Miles that she won’t get enough sleep, let alone have enough time to keep the house ‘organized’.” Sad to say, I am learning to accept that reality and thank God everyday that I won’t have to raise this child alone.

Late night feedings with daddy will be great. I have a partner who’s willing to take the lead when necessary and that is such a blessing. He always tells me, if you do your part, then I will do the rest. Meaning, I’ll have to pump and dump. When baby wakes at night and needs to feed, he most certainly can’t give him what he doesn’t have. James has been gung-ho about everything baby. He’s attended every one of my appointments and has assembled cribs and now he’s working on the car seat. If you know my husband, you know the lengths he’s going to make sure his child is safe. He’s even gone as far as reviewing the car manual, deciphering the purpose of each backseat seat belt. Tomorrow we have car seat class. It’s a free session being offered by Toys R Us. It should be very informative and I’m sure we will learn something that we did not know. We always do.

Miles is quickly outgrowing his happy little home. My Facebook post describes it all. Baby boy is really trying to see how far he can stretch his legs. He has nicked my ribs and he’s aiming for my clavicle. His little kicks are more like Tyson jabs. They can sometimes be very uncomfortable and lately I’ve been talking to him about how his movements are making mommy uneasy and if he’d just shift mommy would be more comfortable, then I massage his little joints into another position. There is relief for a few minutes and then he’s right back where he started. I can’t help but laugh, because as his daddy always says . . . it’s really all about him.

*Photos courtesy of Myesha Callahan

Ramping Up the Preparation

Today, September 30th we got another glimpse of our son. His eyes were open and once again, so was his mouth. Something so cute happened. He yawned. My heart skipped a beat. He’s 3lbs 10 ounces and he’s expected to reach 7lbs 16 ounces at birth (8 lbs) and on Sunday, he’ll be 31 weeks (Me, just 30). His movement is getting more and more profound everyday and if I haven’t said this before, he hates for you to invade his space. I mean, not that is anything different from the woman who is carrying him. I often like to rest my hands on my stomach forgetting that my stomach is his dwelling space and he doesn’t like the “caved-in” affect my arms often produce. Lately I’ve wondered if he’s doing P90X with all the movement, but I know better than that or don’t I?

Anyway, I visit Dr. Adam every four weeks and there is the cutest baby store located on the first floor of the building (7900 Fannin) and they have the cutest collegiate baby outfits. The last four visits I tried desperately to get one for Miles and was unsuccessful. Well, today was my day. I got the cutest 12 month outfit by Lil Fans for Miles. He’ll love it. (side-eye)

Last weekend, James assembled the crib and the nursery is really starting to shape up. Here are a few pictures.

Miles' Mural courtesy of Carolina's Art

Furniture by Pali. . . Bedding by Land of Nod

Elephant Toy Bin

It's the accessories that make a room . . . his little toys will go in here.

If anyone knows me, you know that I’m in no way finished with this room. There are shelves that have to go up and additional accessories to be added and let’s not forget about the rocker/glider. This will probably be the last purchase, because quite honestly I haven’t been able to find a rocker/glider in my price range that I like. I’m looking for a bargain and being patient proves to be the best option when it comes to finding the right piece. I can’t be too hasty. I have 10 weeks (if the little bun can stay on this oven).

I’m posting this blog on the day we attend Baby Care Basics and Breastfeeding class. Both classes were informative, but we were also supposed to take our CPR class. Let’s just say our instructor failed to show and we’re forced to reschedule. That’ fine. Four straight hours of class on a Saturday when you’ve been out of school for fours years is good enough for me. We also had the scariest looking baby doll dummies to work with. The lesson learned? Miles will not be wearing blush and lipstick, not this hideous shade, anyway. I digress.

The scary looking baby doll we used in Baby Care Basics class.

I learned quite a bit in Baby Care Basics class, but what I took away from both classes is that spending time bonding with your baby, alone, is key. When James and I left class, we put a great plan together to ensure that we spend the most time together as a family before the intrusion of family and friends and let’s face it, having a baby is a joyous occasion. Some people go overboard, but it’s okay to turn down visits and it’s okay to turn down help. I anticipate the nights when it’s just Miles and me sitting in the rocker, singing and chatting. One person suggested that I take the opportunity to pray over Miles during those late night feedings when we’re alone with God and the creeks of the house. I plan on covering him early.

I do plan on breastfeeding, which has been me a little concerned about returning to work, but I’m sure it will all work out. I mean women before me have done it and there is absolutely nothing new under the sun, even if we think there is. Attending these classes have put some of my fears at ease and like my instructor said, “Your baby doesn’t know that your new to parenting. Just act like you know what you are doing and the baby won’t know the difference.”

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