Early Morning Ruminations

It’s 5:30 am, and I’m awake thinking.  My husband is feeding our daughter the milk I pumped at 5:00 and I’m supposed to be writing for NaNoWriMo, but I’m having a hard time concentrating.  I woke up to this.


I don’t have cable TV, so I didn’t see the news until I woke up.  As I sat there in the dark and began to scroll through my Facebook, I was overwhelmed by #pray4Paris posts, and as I learned about what I happened I was astounded once again by the capability we humans have to hate one another.  I don’t know why these terrorists killed so many people, and what the answer is to this crisis.  I see my friends demanding that the President take action.  But what exactly is he supposed to do?  The killers are dead or in hiding, and no official terrorist organization has claimed responsibility.

Sometimes I feel like Americans expect us to go busting into a country at the slightest sign of trouble like:



But it’s not that simple.

But another thing I noticed along my feed was the plethora of posts praying for people we don’t even know.  As appalled as I am by the amount of hate humans can express towards one another, I am always overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of love we shower over people in need.  I’m glad to see that America is offering aid to those who need it, and that we stand ready to help in any way that we can.  We don’t have to rush over there, guns blazing in a blind rage.  But we will be ready to stand beside them shoulder to shoulder if they need us.

And of course because we aren’t all in the military or part of an organization who has the means to “actually” go over there to help them, there are other ways that you can help.  How can you help?  Donate to the French Red Cross.  The American Red Cross is not accepting donations at this time for the Paris attacks, but the French Red Cross has already mobilized to help those in need.  They can certainly use our help.

Donate to the French Red Cross Here

That’s not the only thing on my mind though.  I’m participating in NaNoWriMo this year, and it’s tougher than it’s ever been for me.  For those of you reading who don’t know what that is, NaNoWriMo is a writing competition that takes place during the month of November.  You have exactly one month to write 50,000 completely unique words in the form of a novel.   You can’t have pre-written anything either, although you can brainstorm.  I’ve successfully completed NaNoWriMo in 2011, 2012, and 2013.  Last year I was too pregnant and too tired to compete.  My brain was being sucked dry by my growing daughter.  So this year since my body is my own again, I decided to compete and I’ve been consistently a day behind.  It’s very hard to keep up with the writing quota when you’re caring for a baby.  🙂  I’m not complaining.  It’s just a fact.

I’ve noticed things that have changed about my life since Lilly was born.  I don’t write that often.  I don’t blog that often.  I rarely play video games anymore, and my house is always a mess.  (although my house was always a mess before, but now I can blame it on being a mom)

But none of those things bother me.  My daughter is the most exciting thing in my universe and I couldn’t be happier.  She is healthy, extremely happy, and just the most beautiful little girl that I have ever seen.  She fascinates me more than anything, and she is everything that I ever wanted.  I knew I wanted to be a mom, but it wasn’t until she was born that I understood just how much I could love someone, and it is overwhelming.  A friend of mine once told me that being a mother will make you feel more vulnerable than anything you will ever experience again, and she was right.

My daughter is 8 months old now if you can believe it.  She’s crawling (guh!), standing up with the aid of furniture and is saying “mama” when upset and “dadadadadada” 90% of the rest of the time.  My husband is pleased.  🙂

Here are some updated photos of everyone.


Who had a Harry Potter party?  Um…WE DID!  Yeah, we’re that cool.  Be jealous if you weren’t there.  Message me if you want to be next year.  🙂


Guys, I can’t even!  She’s going to be running all over my house at any second!


And some super sweet cuteness.  Finger painting in the bath tub.  Don’t worry, it was just yogurt and food coloring.  She ate most of it.

Let’s start today on a good note.  I’m going to say a prayer for Paris, send a donation to the French Red Cross, and try to get my word count in before I get distracted again.  Peace.


I Do it Myself

This Thursday will mark my daughter’s first month of life, and my first official month as a mother.  It’s been very hard to keep up with my normal hobbies.  It was even hard at the end of the pregnancy when all I wanted to do was sleep.  It didn’t help that my last two weeks were wrought with consistent early labor contractions.  I had to work from home for the last two weeks.  Not fun.  I’ve learned that although those hurt, they’re nothing compare to active labor.  However, there’s nothing like walking and having your stomach seize up like a charlie horse in your stomach.

Anyway, my mother friends warned me that the first couple of months of having a baby would be survival mode.  Boot camp.  Hellish even.  I nodded in agreement, and secretly hoped that Lilly would be that one exceptional baby that slept through the night, hardly cried and ate really well.  Of course she wasn’t.  She’s a baby.  I certainly got the latter though.  Our Lilly eats her weight in mama’s milk every day.  Check out my cutie pie before I get into my topic.


At birth she was feisty already!  Just like her mama!


She’s super cute all the time.


So this brings up my discussion.  Pride.  I don’t know if it’s postpartum or hormones but I doubt myself A LOT.  There are times where I look at her and the tears well up because I’m just so freakin tired.  I worry that I’m not enriching her enough, or that I literally just feed her and put her down to sleep.  I worry that I’m doing the bare minimum, and that I’m a bad mother.  Turns out most moms feel that way, and that’s just what newborns do.  They eat, poop, and sleep.

But here’s where pride comes in.  I had a cesarean.  Little girl was not so little.  She was born at 9 lbs 6 oz with a cord wrapped around her neck, so she didn’t come out the natural way.  Sure c sections aren’t as big of a deal as they used to be.  Incisions are so much smaller, and it took them less than five minutes to get her out, and much more time to put me back together.  Regardless of how much easier they are to perform, you’ve still undergone major abdominal surgery in which layers of muscle and skin were cut through.

Far too many women try to get back to their normal routine too quickly, only to end up back in the hospital.  Myself included.  I was warned!  But I was too proud to ask for help.  Justin went back to work after a week, and although my sister came on the weekends to help me, I was still easily worn out.

I thought I was fine.  All new mommies are tired zombies.  Little did I know then that the stress and fatigue causes mastitis (infection of the breasts).  Next thing I knew, my poor boobs were red, painful and swollen.  I was miserable and within a day I was at a 101.4 fever being whisked to the hospital by Justin at 11:00 pm with the baby in the backseat.  I spent the next three days in the hospital fighting a resistant infection that took three separate antibiotics to kill.  A week later, I just now finished taking the last of my pill antibiotics.  I’m so lucky to have a responsible, helpful husband that took care of Lilly 24/7 in the hospital while I lay there shivering, sweating, groaning and crying.

I had people offer to help me before I got sick.  I should have taken them all up on it.  People offered to come over and clean, watch the baby, or just let me sleep.  But in my mind I was fine!  I almost felt semi back to normal, and who on Earth feels comfortable with a friend coming over to clean your house?  Not me!  I’d rather parade myself outside naked then let someone clean my house.  But there’s my pride again.

I finally let go of that pride in the hospital.  It wasn’t about me.  Lilly is my number one priority now, and I can’t take care of her if I’m sick.  I can’t keep her happy if I’m sleep deprived and nodding off while holding her.  I let my sister come to the hospital at 5:00 am so Justin could shower and head off to work.  I let my parents buy me a full list of groceries, and when I got home I let my sister deep clean my house as disgusting as it was while my parents cleaned out my fridge.  I haven’t been afraid to give Lilly to Justin when he gets home if I need to shut my eyes for just a few moments.  Those are the things I have to do in order to take of her.

My sister made a good point to me at the hospital.  It’s like when you’re on the airplane and they tell you that if the oxygen masks come down, to put one on yourself before putting one on a child.  You can’t take care of the kid if you’re passing out from oxygen deprivation.  The same goes for everything else.

A women named Colleen that I met on the bus told me something wise once, and it was her advice that finally sunk in within the last few weeks.  She told me to let people help me if they offered.  She said that God put that act of love on their heart.  That it does you no good to deny them that help.  That if you keep denying the people that love you that act, then they ‘ll eventually stop offering or caring.  So I let my sister help me, and I let my parents spend their money on me.  Was it hard?  Yeah!  I felt like I was swallowing a big pill every time I agreed, but each time it made my life easier, which in turn helped me care for my baby.

This should apply to everything in life.  If you find yourself in trouble, and those that love you are offering to help, LET THEM.

End rant.

Oh, and here’s more pictures as a thank you for reading.  🙂  Maybe I just like showing off my adorable offspring.








The Mythical Paternal Instinct

I have a bone to pick with society.

We are a society filled with women screaming for gender equality. Women want to be seen as equals to men in all aspects. We want to be seen as more than baby making factories and taken seriously. I understand this. I agree with this. Women want to be able to be a mom, a physician, an attorney or whatever they want to be. I have no problem with this. But it seems like through all of this a double standard has been created when it comes to birth/parenting.

It seems like women have decided that pregnancy/childbirth/infant parenting is for the mother alone. It’s like a right of passage reserved for only women. Yes, only a woman can give birth, but we shut the door in the faces of men who want to be involved. (No, this is not about my husband being banned from the baby shower. I agree he’d be bored out of his skull once he got there.)  This is about the one too many freakish statements I’ve been told over the last 7 or so months regarding my husband.  I’ve been unsettled too many times during my pregnancy by friends who make statements like,

“I mean it’s nice, but I find it unnerving when a husband is so involved in a pregnancy. It makes me wonder if he has some weird motive…”

“There’s something wrong with a man who is that excited about being a dad.”

Or blanket statements reflecting their own marriages like,

“Be prepared to do everything yourself.”

“Sure your husband says he wants to help now, but just wait until it’s 3am and the baby needs a diaper change. You’ll be the one doing it.”

These kind of statements have been usually followed up with a backtracking statement like,
“But no offense to Justin. I’m not talking about him.”

Really?  Then why did you say it? That’s like when you insult someone and follow it up with “No offense.” If you didn’t mean it as it was said, don’t freakin say it.  Let’s keep our insecurities to ourselves shall we?

When I hear these things, I tend to cock my head to one side in confusion. Why wouldn’t my husband be excited to be a dad? Why wouldn’t he be just as over the moon about this as I am? We both wanted this baby right? We both were devastated by every negative pregnancy test while we were trying right? This wasn’t a one sided thing. If it had been, I would have remained on birth control.

Why is it strange that he’s been to every single scheduled appointment, that he gushes over every tiny article of clothing we’ve been given, or that he touches my belly every day without fail to say hello to his unborn daughter?

Yes, I acknowledge that there are plenty of men out there who don’t take an active role in pregnancy/child rearing but there is nothing wrong with a man who does. It doesn’t make them less masculine. It doesn’t make them strange or unnatural. I don’t know if it’s a hormonal or genetic thing, but that is something to be celebrated not condemned.

Let’s look at from this aspect.  When a woman abandons her child (the way my husbands mother did), she’s a monster.  When a mother hurts her child intentionally or neglects her baby, she’s terrible.  I don’t disagree with this.  But when a father barely involves himself in bonding with his child, or leaves the family for the mother to raise the kid, we all tend to shake our heads but shrug as if it were to be expected.  That phenomenon is strange to me.  Those people have problems.

Whatever happened to paternal instinct?  It’s a real thing.  It’s supposed to happen.  Science says it’s normal.  So why do we brow beat men who are trying to let nature take its course into thinking that they’re less masculine, or weird for doing so?

When it comes to pregnancy everyone immediately flocks to the woman. Yes, that’s where the baby is located, and the mother is going through all of the physical/emotional symptoms, but don’t count out the dad! How nerve wracking it must be for the dad during a pregnancy. He’s completely helpless. He has literally no control over the entire situation. He has to rely on the mother to take care of herself, and wait patiently for close to a year hoping that everything will turn out fine. He doesn’t get to feel the baby moving until much later into the pregnancy, and he has to stand by watching during the birth, hoping that the mother’s body does it’s job getting the baby out alive. At least the mother has some form of control. We make the decisions on what to eat, what vitamins to take, and making sure we tell our doctor if something seems amiss.

I really liked hypedad’s blog post about being an expectant father. Why does society always count out the dad?  Why is it weird for a dad to be so involved.

I don’t even want to ask my friend what she meant about fathers having a “weird motive” when they’re excited about being a dad.  I’m glad she didn’t clarify.  What on Earth could she have meant?  I’ll just go out and say it.  If you think a dad who wants to be involved in his daughter’s life has intentions of a sexual nature, then there is something wrong with YOU, not him.  Has society really twisted our minds that much?  How disgusting.  What other possible weird motive could that statement insinuate?  Sure she backed it up with a “Of course I don’t mean that about Justin.” but still.  Just making that statement alone is insulting in itself.

Or to the other statements.  To automatically assume that he’s going to leave me to do all the work in the middle of the night.  Or that I’ll be the only one feeding her, changing her or snuggling her.  Just because you had an absent husband doesn’t mean that I will.  Maybe there’s something wrong with your man.  Not mine.  I know plenty of friends who have very involved husbands.  Their marriages are healthy and happy.  These men are football loving, beer drinking, video game playing, all American dudes.  So where is the problem?

Justin is excited to hold our baby girl.  He’s excited to have tea parties with her and he’s not afraid to admit it.  He wants her to be smart and love legos the way he did growing up so they can build castles or space ships together.  He wants to send her to science camp, watch her paint with mommy, and see her grow right before our eyes.

If you think there’s something wrong with that, then maybe you have problems.

End rant.

Mommy Diaries #2

Okay, so Justin has insisted that I write another mommy diary.

So today’s topic is about symptoms.  I gotta tell ya, what is supposed to be such a natural process seems SO UNNATURAL when you’re in the thick of it.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve experienced a weird symptom only to be told it’s normal and think “Wut?”  “Really???”

Here’s the thing.  Most of your mommy friends are going to lie to you when they’re pregnant.  A lot of pregnant women will smile and say “Great!” when you ask how they’re feeling.  If we’re acquaintances or just friends that will be my automatic response.  For me, great means, my baby is active an healthy, and that I’m grateful not to have any complications.  If we’re close friends my face is going to sag, and I’ll tell you that I’m worn the eff out.  I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a big baby/whiner by nature.  I have a high tolerance for pain, but really hate being uncomfortable.

But bless those mommies for keeping a positive face.  In reality I guarantee you they are at some level of uncomfortable.   My theory is that they really want you to join the mommy club too, and are afraid if you really knew just what your body was about to endure, you might change your mind.

Now we’ve all heard about morning sickness, and how badly it can ravage your body.  I’m extremely fortunate to have missed that awful symptom.  I did get nauseated several times in the beginning, but it passed.  I never threw up.  Thank God.

Other common symptoms that we hear about are the fun ones like moodiness, acne, bad drainage, heart burn, hemorrhoids, giant boobs of doom, breast pain from the giant boobs of doom, fatigue, and feeling like you want to eat an entire pizza all by yourself.  (Don’t do it though.  It’s a trap!)

Now not all women get the same symptoms, and not all women get certain symptoms at the same time.  It’s really tempting to call a formerly pregnant friend and say,

“Did this happen to you?”

But it’s so hit or miss, that you’d be better off just asking your doctor.  Just don’t Google.  Google is not your friend.  It’s your frenemy, pretending to be your friend with it’s plethora of information, but it’s not really.  If you end up Googling a pregnancy symptom, you are likely to think your baby is dying, or you’ve developed some kind of cancer on top of your pregnancy.

So far I’ve experienced two not so common or widely talked about symptoms.

Venous insufficiency.  That’s where your blood vessels become relaxed due the hormone relaxin, (original name right?) preventing your vessels from constricting while you walk the way they’re supposed to so that your blood will push back up your legs.  So when you walk, all this excess fluid and blood begins to pool in your legs.  If left undiagnosed or untreated, you can develop a blood clot.  You don’t even want to go there.  You’re screwed if you get a blood clot.  So what is there to do about it?  Well you get to wear yourself a brand new sexy pair of support hose!  Support hose are so tight that when you pull them away from your skin and let go, they snap.  They come in sexy colors like black and old granny tan so that everyone will know you’re wearing them.  My personal favorite is the old granny tan.  I wear those a lot.

My second symptom that I’m still adjusting to is rib pain.  As the baby gets bigger your rib cage expands much larger than its original size.  Depending on where the baby is sitting, your right sided rib muscles can stretch out as this happens and even tear!  At some point, your abdominal muscles can separate from one another.  Fun right?  For me, this has been awful.  It causes a lot of nerve pain and feels like you scrapped the skin just under your boobs across the concrete.  Anything touching it hurts, and bras are the devil because they touch it.  But you learn to adapt.  When I’m on the couch, I lean to the right so it stretches out that side.  I try to wear loose clothing, and avoid letting anything touch it when I’m at home.  I also put ice on it.  But that’s about all I can do.

Another thing no one tells you.  Middle of second trimester and on it’s like someone is squashing your lungs.  Have fun walking around very far!  It’s like you were running!  You’ll certainly be huffing and puffing.  And sorry, a correction here.  At that point you no longer walk.  You waddle.  Yes, like a penguin.

People also rarely tell you that your hips will separate.  Yes, I said separate.  That fun hormone relaxin?  Yeah it relaxes your ligaments and tendons around your hip bones too, allowing them to come apart to make more room for the baby.  Hence the waddle.

People who have never been pregnant like to tell you just “enjoy your pregnancy”, and not to be in a hurry for it to be over.  Really?  Cause I’m so ready for my little girl to stop putting her feet up into my rib cage (or her whole head maybe).  I’m ready not to have to need help getting up from a low couch.  I’d also like to be able to hold my pee for more than thirty minutes.

Most importantly I’m ready to meet our little girl!

So yeah!  Fun stuff that your body does when it’s growing a baby!  Thank God you get a baby out of it.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world though.  If you really want a baby, these symptoms are just trivial temporary matters.  They won’t last forever!  Even if it feels like it.  I keep reminding myself that.

Mommy Diaries #1

So I’ve been meaning to write a blog post since I learned that I was pregnant, but it just kept getting put off by other things.

Mostly being pregnant and thus being tired at the end of the work day.  Unfortunately, my book editing has also been put off.  But not for long.  A long Christmas weekend gives me no excuse to procrastinate!  My editor and I anticipate the release of The Mages’ Circle to debut before March at the very latest.  Meaning that it needs to be published before the little one is born!

I just wanted to document this crazy pregnancy journey to get a start on what will be my mommy entries in the future.  This is a bit long.  Sit tight.

I cannot begin to express how thankful I am that this journey finally got its start.  From my Endometriosis diaries (which you can read about in earlier posts) to the recovery/trying to get pregnant part, this seemed like it would never happen.

It’s a terrible feeling being told by a physician that without their help, your percentage chance of getting pregnant is 0%.  Not 1% or even 10%, but 0%.  And that his help will cost roughly $2,000 each time you try.  For us that meant a new credit card or a loan for one try since none of this would be covered by health insurance.  What was worse, that even with his help he said our chances only increased to 8-12%.  What small percentages!  It didn’t seem worth it.  I have too many friends who are going through that same struggle, heartache, and financial burden with no end results.  So we decided not to.

We both started eating better, exercising daily and decided to stop thinking about getting pregnant.  A few of my friends (to my surprise) were concerned and even irritated by our decision to hold off on trying the invasive route.  But I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, when it is supposed to.  Instead, I focused on my book, and then out of the blue I got a cycle that shouldn’t have happened on time the way it did.  We’d been working on our lifestyle changes for four months without fail.  I was really proud of us.

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My irregularity is the one thing I can count on if that makes any sense.  (the PCOS books claimed that if I changed my lifestyle habits that my cycles would start to regulate, but I was stunned when it did)  I instantly called my gyno and asked if we could try the Clomid medication (an ovulation stimulation med) just one more time.  She happily obliged, and this time I took a different approach to how I looked at it.  Instead of it being a hormone based fertility drug, it was a vitamin.  A vitamin that I’d only take for a few days, and that I would forget about.  Justin and I decided to stop thinking about it, and we didn’t at all for a long time.  We focused on work and going to the park each morning to exercise.  It wasn’t until weeks later that I was at work with terrible cramps, expecting to start the most horrendous cycle of my life that I thought something might be amiss.  My breasts were hurting so badly that even a thin shirt caused me issues.  I remember telling my older sister that I was so mad that my endo pain was flaring up again.  It was like a slap in the face and a reminder that my endo could also cause us trouble with getting pregnant.

I’d actually gone to see my gyno the week before regarding abdominal pain, but their pregnancy test came up negative.  I am an impatient person.  I was pissed about it of course, so Justin and I were talking about maybe bypassing the whole treatment route and going straight to in vitro fertilization (IVF) or even adoption.  We just didn’t want to be that couple, ten years later, deep into debt with no results.  And what good is getting a baby if your bank account is severely in the red?  You have to pay for that baby somehow!  After research and many phone calls to clinics, we weren’t sure what to do.  Adoption was going to set us back 20-30k, and IVF was going to put us in the hole anywhere from 13-20k.  I could cut the cost in half if I donated some of the eggs they retrieved (and yes we were really considering this despite the outcry of some of our friends and family).

After finding a clinic with good reviews we decided to go do the IVF route.  It was going to be cheaper than adoption, and we were going to start with applying for a bank loan.  That house would just have to wait.  I had decided that I would tell my boss the next day so that he wouldn’t be alarmed when I began to miss work due to the many appointments that would ensue.  Not to mention the potential days I might be missing because of negative side effects from the many drugs I’d be placed on.  I’d heard horror stories that terrified me.

All day my brain was encouraging me to just take a test.  Now this sometimes happens to me.  A lot of sometimes actually.  I’d make jokes to people that First Response and EPT might actually know my first name because of how many tests I’d purchased in the past on a whim.  It became a “this will make me feel better” expense, often like chocolate to some people or fried chicken.  So I gave in, bought the test, and went home.  I even told my older sister that I was going to take one, and she told me not to get my hopes up as I had so many tests before.  I sat on my couch and downed a large cup of water, deciding not to take the test until after the show Black Box was over.

When I took the test, I didn’t even look at it when I set it on the ground.  Normally, I would stare at it, willing the line to change into a plus sign.  I’d wait the full time listed on the box, all the while checking it every few seconds.  I even came up with little unspoken rules in my head.  Maybe if I didn’t look at it until the time was over, it would work.  Or maybe if I stared at it the entire time, not blinking it would work.  This time, I just wasn’t in the mood.  I was tired.  It was my millionth or so test.  I hadn’t even bothered to mention that I was testing to Justin.

So when I glanced down from the book I’d started reading and saw the plus line staring up at me, stunned doesn’t begin to describe the feeling.  I blinked.  I shook my head.  I picked it up and stared.  I screamed.  I laughed, and then I started hyperventilating with joy.  I won’t lie and say that I told Justin first.  Yes, shake your heads at me.  Justin was upset with me for it, but forgave me.  In my defense, I had to wait three hours for him to get home, and I was NOT going to tell him that news over the phone.  So I called my sister, crying and laughing at the same time.  I scared the shit out of her.  She thought something bad had happened.

I couldn’t wait to tell Justin.  He’d been having a terrible day.  A manager at work had quit earlier that week (no notice), leaving them short handed, and he’d had to work the entire day.  Open to close.  Back in September of 2013 I’d bought this mug from Etsy.


I hid it in the closet, and pretended it wasn’t there so I’d have it when I needed it.  I grabbed the mug, rinsed it out, and got ready to fill it with hot chocolate to surprise Justin.  This video is from that night when he found out.  (in the video he’s trying to take off his shoes and work stuff, while I’m pestering him to drink the damn drink!  I made an excuse in the video that the cup is for his french press, which he knew he would be getting for our fourth wedding anniversary only a few weeks away.

Once Justin knew it was just a long wait for the 12th week to pass.  Each day I prayed to keep the baby safe and sound because our chances of miscarriage with PCOS were 40%.  Many close friends and family told me not to get excited until after then because of that chance.  I was just happy that my body had figured it out.

Finally we were able to tell Justin’s grandmother who had been recently relocated to Florida from Texas due to the loss of his grandfather only months before.  We were so sad that we couldn’t visit in person to tell her, and even sadder that we wouldn’t be able to tell his grandfather.  We bought her a quail egg with a note inside that read “We’re Pregnant!  Estimated March 2015” and watched her open it over Facetime.  It was SO special.  His grandmother had lost the ability to read due to having Dementia and Parkinson’s Disease, but she was able to read this note.  It touched us even more.  Here is his grandmother finding out with the aid of his aunt Shannon, who was in on it.

For my parents we told them on their wedding anniversary which matched up perfectly with our 12 weeks date.  We bought them each a mug that said “Grandma – Est. March 2015” or “Grandpa” same thing.  They were both so confused!  Only a week before, my father had asked how long we planned on trying before I would decide to get a hysterectomy since that’s one of the few things you can do for Endometriosis that has some permanent effects. Weren’t they surprised! 🙂 This is the first grandchild in the family on my side.

Since then our little girl has been growing and thriving by leaps and bounds each day.  Sometimes I look down as my stomach and I can’t believe she’s already so big!  Or that she’s going to get bigger!  Check out the cute photos of our Lilly, expected on March 12, 2015.

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We’ll have a more updated one in a few weeks.  Right now we’re at 29 weeks.

Here are some fun photos I’ve uploaded comparing her size to fruits and vegetables.

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This last one was taken on Christmas.  🙂

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We can’t wait to see how the rest of this progresses.  More updates to come!  Thanks for being a part of it with us.



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