She Laughs…or Rather Cries…at My Routine

My day starts sometime after 7am. Light is just starting to find it’s way through our larger, south-facing front window into our living room which is generally littered with small cars, stuffed animals leftover from before-school morning cuddles, and the occasional chocolate milk sippy that wasn’t put away before leaving.

Sometimes there are Legos that get stepped on. Those mornings are sweary.

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I don’t ease quietly and serenely into my day. No, I wake up to a hungry and angry baby girl shout-crying into my face via the monitor on my night stand. As I blink away the sleep, she gets crabbier.

I mutter something like, “I’m coming, Alice,” as if she can hear me…or would care if she could. You know what? It’s hard to pee when you’re trying to convince your brain you are indeed awake and not still dreaming all while trying to hurry because the boss has not gone from crying to some sort of shrill wail that makes it sound like feral cats are about to attack her.

Once I get my bathrobe on, the coffee going, the Today show on, and the bottle in the baby’s mouth, I can say the day has begun.

This has been our only consistent routine since the little lady joined our household seven weeks ago. Every other attempt I have made to find some sort of schedule or regularity in our days is thwarted by Little Miss Alice.

During week six, I thought we finally had it. Every day she was taking a lengthy snooze in her rock n play in the morning while I cleaned or baked or wrote or read or also snoozed. The afternoons were lazy. Since I was so accomplished in the morning, we usually cuddled together on the couch for some Netflix or History channel or Tiger ball game or just silence. Sometimes I read my book while she was curled up in my arm, sometimes I slept.

On the days Eddie doesn’t go to the after school program, we would go pick him up then come home to start dinner while Eddie entertained Alice.

Things were breezy, man. Totally breezy. I even made a laundry schedule and a “chore” list for each day (example: Mondays = groceries, and doing Alice’s laundry along with a load of our laundry…the darks, yo).

Then week seven happened.

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And I remembered that babies are on their own schedules, and sometimes that means lengthy fussy times because OMG LEARNING ALL THE THINGS AND GROWING IS SO VERY HARD AND EXHAUSTING AND I JUST NEED TO CRY ABOUT IT, MOMMA.

I showered less last week. I slept less (exhibit A = the giant bags under my eyes in that picture up there). I got WAY less done. I said, “Oh, Baby Girl!” a LOT. But by Thursday we were finding our way again.

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She was still a mad head and didn’t want me to put her down, but dude. Life needs to continue. So the Moby wrap was taken out of the car (I use it for shopping with her), and I threw her in it while I made dinner. She still fussed a bit, but it worked well enough until her daddy came home and could properly hold her and whisper in her ear that she was pretty.  Which she likes, of course.

The week wasn’t all bad, after all. She cried a LOT, but she also laughed for the first time. I was singing “Three is the Magic Number” and “I Love Rock n Roll”.  I am telling myself that she laughed out of pleasure and not because my singing was so bad.

Alice has begun to coo constantly at me and Cortney and her brothers. She definitely recognizes me and Cortney when other people are around, and seeing her brothers after they’ve been gone all day is sure to elicit smiles.

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I also read that she can now appreciate colors and textures, so I busted out the activity mat…or the gym, as we call it. She found herself in the mirror and smiled immediately, which is funny because neither of the boys ever cared one speck for that mirror. Of course my baby girl would find it and love it.*

All the new stuff made her tired and cranky though, as I said. So the week had highs and lows. I spent a lot of the time holding the baby.

With Eddie this would have sent me into a rage-filled spiral. With Charlie I learned that the bathroom filth will be there tomorrow. With Alice I am practicing what I learned. I didn’t even worry about the bathroom or the dusting. It never crossed my mind to worry about it not getting done.

I just scooped her up and patted her butt until she fell asleep in my arms.  Then I dozed off too. Or read a book. Or watched some TV. Because I knew she would wake up sad if I put her down.

So I just didn’t put her down.

I don’t know what week eight will bring this week, but I am sure not going to count on anything other than a baby who will eat, sleep, poop, and cry…but not in that order. At least not in that order every time.

 

 

*Fun fact: to get me to stop crying as a baby/toddler, my parents would plop me in front of a mirror. I would sit and smile at myself forever.

‘Twas The Night Before Alice

Dear boys,

Tomorrow is the day. Our world will change and our family will be complete. Tomorrow is Alice’s birthday!

I know we are all excited and even a little nervous. We think we know what to expect and we have planned as much as we can, but we also know in our hearts that there are no guarantees. Things could go awry quickly. There is no reason to expect it, but we just don’t know.  So we go into tomorrow with excitement and hope for a healthy baby and mommy.

But there is more, right? We can only guess at how our life will be different. We don’t know. Will Alice be a happy, content baby or will she have colic like Eddie did? Will she be easy to take out of the house, or will she be needy and fussy? We will find out soon!

I have a lot of emotions tonight as I write this. I look around me and see our life. There are Charlie’s trucks and Eddie’s backpack. I see Daddy’s french press and the tablet charging. Our life is nice and routine. We know how to be a family of four: Mommy, Daddy, Eddie, Charlie. Tomorrow it all changes.

How can life be so normal and yet on the verge of such change?

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Boys, I want you to know how thankful I am for all three of you. I know I’ve complained a LOT during this pregnancy, but you have all been so unbelievably helpful and supportive.

Eddie,

You are my number one. You made me a mom almost six years ago. You have been by my side helping and loving on me through this whole thing.

Many times you have said, “no mom! I will get that. I don’t want you to bend too much!” or “I just want to be helpful so you’re not so tired.”  I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to just grab you and squeeze you. How did I get so darn lucky to have a boy so sensitive and giving and kind?

When I have broke down in tears because I feel like a failure of a mom, you have put your hand on my arm and said, “you’re not THAT bad, mom,” and made me laugh. You seemed to always know when I needed a good snuggle, and you never complained that I fell asleep on the weekends during Charlie’s nap leaving you to watch Netflix and play Legos by yourself.

You are a wonderful big brother to Charlie, and I just know you will be everything to Alice too. You already love her so much!  You tell EVERYONE you see that your “very own baby sister will be borned on March 6!”  You told everyone in front of church on Sunday, you’ve told all your Zkids teachers and Mr. F, and you’ve told all your friends. You’ve even told people who you don’t really know!

In the past weeks our conversations about her have increased. You have wondered about her voice and her eyes. You have asked what her laugh will sound like. Eddie, you are amazing.  When I was sick, you worried about your sister being sick too, and admitted that you were afraid she might die in my tummy. That night we prayed together and you asked Jesus to keep your sister and mom safe. I can’t tell you how full you  make my heart, my Eddie Bear.

I promise to still make time for Mommy & Eddie time because our conversations mean so much to me. You made me a mommy and I will never ever take that for granted.

Eddie, you were born to be a Big Brother

Eddie, you were born to be a Big Brother

Charlie,

Oh my sweet little Charlie Bird. You fill my life with exasperation and laughter. You rage fiercely and love even stronger. At a week shy of turning three, you don’t fully understand what is about to happen to our house. Not as much as Eddie understands, anyway. You once told me you don’t like babies because “they get on you.”

However you get very excited to tell people about “Baby Alice!” and how she is coming. You pat my belly and kiss it and say your sister is in there. You have finally given up the nursery as not your room anymore, but that of Baby Alice.

Each time someone gifts us a tiny pink something or other you hug it and say “aw cute!”

Losing the baby status is going to be hard for you, Mr. Charlie Bird. Your love of being small and cute is pretty evident. You use that cuteness whenever you get a chance–although it works better with every other person (your dad included) than it does with me because I’m totally on to you, son.

You are going to love your sister, but also insist we put her down. You will want to give her kisses and then ignore her for your loud trucks. You will make her pretend food and then get angry that she is taking attention off of you. Maybe my predictions will be wrong, but I know you pretty well, my little boy.

But you are quite the lovey bug too. I know once she gets older, you will love on her like you do with Eddie and Dad Dad and me. Floppy newborn will probably not interest you much, but when you first make her laugh, your relationship will change forever. Your love languages are laughter and touch, which makes me think I will have to play defense against your tight hugs and sloppy kisses. But guess what? She will love them. Eddie might be her protector, but you will be her laughter.

Charlie I promise that you will not get shoved to the side. We will make time for Boy Time and Mommy & Charlie time. I will still cuddle with you in the chair before bed and read you stories when you ask.

That smile and that skrunchy nose. Oh Charlie.

That smile and that skrunchy nose. Oh Charlie.

Cortney,

Oh my sweet husband. I don’t know if I have the right words to even begin to tell you how much your love and support has meant to me. Not that this is different than any other area of our relationship, but more times than not I have been reminded how lucky I am to have a partner who is truly my partner. Someone who doesn’t keep score or hold on to hard feelings, but someone who gives everything he is to our team.

You have put up with my complainy, sucks at pregnancy self THREE times and you still love me and want to hug and kiss me every day. That is not too shabby. And I will say to you, WE ARE DONE! As of tomorrow, this is it. No more Pregnant Kate. You get your wife back. You know, sort of. After all that postpartum stuff, that is. But yay! End in sight!

I have spent the past nine months thanking you and apologizing to you over and over. You have picked up so much slack it’s like I wasn’t even here a bunch of the time. I know this burden has weighted on you, but you never say to me, “it’s too much. I just can’t.” Instead, you look at me and say, “it’s what we do. We are a team. You grow the kids. That’s your part.” In fact, just today you thanked me! I asked why and you said, “for growing the humans.”  And I laughed.

That is how we have always gotten through all of this hard stuff: laughter. It must be why our kids have such hilarious senses of humor as well. In all things we find the funny. That is a true gift.

My favorite thing is that through this pregnancy, I have come to re-realize that you are indeed my very best friend in the whole world. I would never want to go through life with anyone other than you.

I hope you know how appreciative I am of everything you do for me and the boys and for Alice. You are going to be the most amazing Dad of a Little Girl. I am sure of it.  You already deal with me and my crazy, what’s one more lady in the house, right?

I promise you that I will keep laughing with you (even when the postpartum hormone rush makes me cry at things like shoes on the wrong feet). I promise to go on dates with you SOON. And I promise to pat your cute butt at inappropriate times, per usual.

Let the weirdness march on!

Let the weirdness march on!

Boys, I am both terrified and thrilled that we are adding a new human to our house of crazy. Sluiter Nation will be more complete when we bring home that pink little bundle.

Just make sure not to run her over with a Tonka truck and I think we will be good.

I love you all so much. Thank you for being the best dudes a lady could ask for.

Now…on to a new adventure!! On to Wonderland with our Alice!

Love,
Mommy/Kate

Packing for the Hospital

I’m days away from having my third baby (ON FRIDAY!  WOOT!), and I decided it was probably time I start thinking about packing for the hospital.

Eddie was the only baby I actually went into labor with (if you don’t count my early labor with Alice), so he was the only one I packed a bag for and then just waited. He was also the only one who I packed an actual suitcase for…AND the diaper bag. I laugh every time I think about it.

Seriously? New mom much?

Seriously? New mom much?

I packed a million things, you guys. In my defense, the internet told me to. Really! If you go to BabyCenter or google what to pack for your hospital stay, you get these LISTS! ALL OF THE LISTS! WITH ALL OF THE THINGS ON THEM!

Whenever I look at this picture I roll my eyes because WHERE DID I THINK I WAS GOING? I had no reason to think I would have a C-section at the time, so this was all for one, maybe two, nights? Plus I think I packed 10 different outfits for Eddie. In the end, I didn’t put him in “real clothes” until we were leaving.

And then even WITH a C-section and staying three nights, I didn’t read a book!  I didn’t do a million clothing changes. In fact, I just sat in my gown until the last day because I couldn’t wear it home.

Charlie was a planned repeat C-section. I packed my bag the weekend before (my C-section was on a Tuesday). The bag (just one) that I packed was a Thirty-One Utility Tote. Not even the giant one, but the medium one. I knew I would be there for three nights, but would probably stay in my gown until after the first night because of the IVs and the catheter.  I packed a LOT smarter the second time around.

And this time around, I’m even smarter. Less is more, in my opinion. I mean, the hospital really has almost everything I need.  This is my list:

  • two pairs of comfy jammy pants (one to wear in the hospital, one to go home in)
  • two comfy jammy tops (see above)
  • fuzzy socks
  • a bra and a pair of granny undies (because C-section incision)
  • breast pads
  • shampoo and conditioner in small, travel-size bottles
  • my own soap (otherwise you have to use hand soap. not cool) and face wash and deodorant
  • a brush and a pony tail holder
  • a little bag with lip balm, my meds, and my reading glasses
  • a jammy for Alice
  • my cord blood collection kit
  • a blanket to tuck around Alice because it will be cold when we go home
  • my phone & charger and maybe my Chromebook.
  • my own pillow

That’s it.

Ready to go!

Ready to go!

I have really simplified since my mega-suitcase fiasco from six years ago. I feel like the simplifying isn’t just with hospital bag-packing either. As far as most outings with kids/babies go, I don’t go as overboard as I did with Eddie. Instead of packing the car with every single piece of baby gear we may possibly need, I usually just throw my Moby in the back and shove some diapers, wipes, and bottles in the diaper bag.

How about you? Were you an over-packer when it came to your hospital stay(s) or a “simple” packer?

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Don’t forget about the March Book Shower!

Musing at 34 weeks, 3 days pregnant

I feel like a large, useless blob.

I know, I know. I’m not “useless”. I’m growing a human. I KNOW.

As a self-proclaimed mega fan of being lazy, I really suck at it when it’s thrust upon me. Under normal circumstances, I will gladly and enthusiastically take a day to sit on my butt with a cup of tea and a book and a nap. However at this sage in my pregnancy I want to do all the things and I can’t.

For me, pregnancy brings a whole bag of emotions the largest and most pronounced being guilt.

The thoughts come fast and in no particular order. It usually starts because I am sitting on the couch looking around at all the things I want done: dusting, vacuuming, walls washed, lamp shades cleaned, leather furniture cleaned, floors scrubbed…is that a fruit loop? When did we last have fruit loops in this house? Aw geez.

I can’t do much.

For one, I have something wrong with one of my knees. They can’t really do anything about it until after pregnancy, so we are just sort of babying it until then, half-hoping it’s just loose ligaments that will feel better after baby is born. But because of it, I am not just a waddling pregnant lady, I am sort of a limping one too. I’ve been told to give up stairs as much as possible.

That combined with the largeness of my belly (I’m measuring 2 weeks ahead), makes sitting on the floor an impossibility as well.  Ok, getting UP from the floor is the impossible part. Also not Ok anymore is being on my hands and knees to help look for a small toy or to scrub floors the way I want them scrubbed.

Saturday while Cortney was out getting groceries, I thought I would show him some appreciation for all the work he has put in to make our house run smoothly while I am entering the “Useless” phase of pregnancy by baking him the chocolate chip cookies he’s been craving. I figured cleaning up some of the kitchen while at it was no big deal. Then I got it in my head that picking up my 31-pound almost 3-year old and dancing around the kitchen to the Beatles was Ok.

It was so not Ok that I got crampy and awful feeling for the rest of the day.

I spend a lot of time saying “I can’t, I’m sorry boys.”

I see the stuff I want to clean and scrub–partly because I am feeling all nesting-ish, but because normally I would do those things on the weekends. And even though he says to do it, I don’t want to add those things to Cortney’s already long To Do list.

I feel guilty not doing “my share” even though logically I know that by growing a baby, I am doing “my share” right now.

And then I start to hate pregnancy.

So there’s more guilt there. As far as nature is concerned, my children should not be possible. I needed medical intervention to keep them alive in my belly AND to keep them (and me) alive through the birthing process. The fact that we have two healthy boys and a little girl on the way is nothing short of a miracle.

How can I hate that? Why can’t I just sit back, enjoy it, and glow like I should?

So I am a ball of emotions. Those emotions make me cry. I’m ready to be done being pregnant…which also makes me feel guilt, by the way.

I want to clean my house and have a baby.

But of course it’s not ever that simple.

Growing a Sluiter

Because my blog went wonky for a few months, I haven’t been putting many pictures up. BUT that is FIXED! So I can finally share some bump photos.

I had my 28ish week OB appointment yesterday along with my glucose test (which I passed!  Woot!), and I am measuring at 30 weeks.  That is exactly how I was with both boys. I was was always measuring 2 weeks ahead by this time.

Check out all three pregnancies…

20weeks

So here we are at 20 weeks.

 

I would say that my level of caring what I looked like took the biggest dip with my Charlie pregnancy. Either that or I was just gross that pregnancy.

and 24-25 weeks depending on when I remembered to take the picture.

and 24-25 weeks depending on when I remembered to take the picture.

I don’t look as bad in that picture with Charlie. But I hated my hair. Never make a decision to chop off all your hair when you are pregnant.

and this is where I am with Alice now...the 28th week.

and this is where I am with Alice now…the 28th week.

These pictures crack me up because I can’t stop looking at how young and dumb I was when I was pregnant with Eddie. I had no idea what was coming. I know that sounds cliche, but I just didn’t.  And with Charlie I was already tired thinking about what he could be like as a newborn (Eddie was a colicky mess).

This time, as my OB says, I am a veteran. I know both the difficult and the easy things that could lie ahead. Because everything is looking great and exactly how I carried and measured with the first two, my OB has even spaced out my visits for me so that I don’t have to come in so often just to be measured. That means I only have maybe 5 more OB visits and then the C-section on March 6.

For those keeping track, that means I only have 10 more weeks left. Ten weeks from today will be my last day of teaching for this school year.

And then Alice will be here.

Our family will be complete.

A Little Bit of Girl

About four years ago one of my very great friends found out she was not having just one girl, but two! I got so excited that I just started buying baby girl things.

I got the girls pillow case dressed from Etsy, blankets and burp clothes from a friend, and just sort of sighed deeply at all the cute assuming I would probably not get to do this for myself.

Of course, I was wrong as is evidenced by the fact that a little Alice is growing (and moving!) inside of me as I type.

Last night our families got together for our monthly night of delicious food–her husband is the best cook I have ever met–kid fun, adult time for cards, and so many laughs.

As we were standing around chatting while dinner cooked, she came out with some things for Alice.
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Those dresses, blankets, and burp cloths are the ones I bought four years ago for her dear twin girls. She saved them in case I ever had a girl. I didn’t want to get all emotional on her, but I had completely forgotten about these gifts and I hugged them close to me. I’m pretty sure no one noticed that my breath was taken away and my eyes momentarily filled with tears.

I held the shoes in the palm of my hand while I thought of the seemingly hundreds of boy shoes I have in a tub under Eddie’s bed. I looked at this single pair of girl shoes and almost lost it.

It’s real.

I’m having a little girl.

We will bring her home and she will live here beside the two boys who are already bigger than the space we have.

She will carve out her own special place in this family.

She.

 

The Last Time

I have been asked a LOT if, because we are having a girl, this will be our last pregnancy.

It will most likely be our last pregnancy, but not because we are having a girl.

When I was pregnant with Charlie, Cortney made no secret about the fact that he would be perfectly happy with just two kids. Two boys. The Sluiter Boys. The Sluiter Brothers. A family of four.

I said I wouldn’t know until he was here, and less than two hours after he was born I finally looked up from staring at his wrinkly newborn face with tears in my eyes and said, “this can’t be my last baby.”

Within a month of finding out I was pregnant with Alice, after barfing for the thousandth time in a day plus running after two boys and breaking up bickering all day, I announced, “THIS IS IT. I can’t do this again. The first trimester is too dang exhausting. This is the last baby!”

And Cortney rejoiced. In fact, I had to tell him to maybe hold off on making any “appointments” until after the baby was here.

So the decision to be done after three was made long before we knew #3 would be a girl.

I thought I would be a lot sadder about going through my LAST pregnancy. I didn’t mind being pregnant with the boys once I got through the evil first trimester, but this time EVERYTHING has been different. For one, the first trimester ended and while I do barf less, I still get gaggy at random times–especially if I am congested and can’t breathe out of my nose.

I’m also just as exhausted as I was through the first tri. My doctor tested my iron, but it turns out I’m just exhausted. Working and having two kids at home knocks me on my butt. The eight hours of sleep I make myself get per night is not cutting it. In fact, I find myself struggling to stay awake while I drive to work at 6:45am, and when I get home I’m useless. I can’t bring myself to empty the dishwasher or reload it. Making dinner is a huge exertion, and getting Eddie to get his homework done, both boys to have baths, and both boys in jammies by bedtime takes all the strength I can muster. Then I almost fall asleep on the couch until I just go to bed.

And I can’t keep track of anything! I have missed appointments (even with the reminders); I have missed turn in deadlines for Eddie, and I have missed deadlines for myself.  I have had a blog that is half-broken for two months now and I just don’t have the energy to get anyone on the phone and crab about it because I will probably cry from being so tired and over it.

I am also starting to feel BIG. At 22 weeks, I caught myself waddling in the hall today. WHAT? Going up and down steps is starting to wind me and lifting Charlie (or too many books) gives me a cramp.

I know! This is a rant of whining!  Which is exactly why every time something hurts or I want to lie down and cry (or sleep), I tell myself: “this is it. The last time.”

What I will miss is the excitement of that ultrasound around 20 weeks. The feeling of the baby moving and grooving inside me. Of being one with another person. I’ll miss the help my students give me because watching me try to bend is too ridiculous.

I’ll miss the back rubs that Cortney gives me (without me even having to ask) and the way Eddie says, “bye mom and Alice!”

Even though I feel like my body is mad at me for being pregnant, I know it will be a little bittersweet once Alice is here and I know that I will never be a home for a growing human again.

Cortney and I always said we would know when we were done, and we just know.

Alice is the last piece of the Sluiter Family Puzzle.

We just know.

ramblings of a pregnant mother

I haven’t written much about this pregnancy.

Sorry, Alice.

In the beginning, when I had time, we weren’t public with it and I was sick as a dog. Once I was free to write all I wanted, I was so busy I wasn’t sure if I was wearing pants most days (I assume I was, or someone would have said something. I hope). Then when I was aching to write, my dang blog broke for almost a month.  It’s back. Sort of. I still can’t post pictures.

This pregnancy has been…different.

I am not sure how to put into words how it’s been different though. I was super sick in the beginning, just like with the boys, but it was different. Less puking, more inability to do anything.

With the boys, I worried about the typical things–probably more so with Eddie since he was my first pregnancy to make it past 10 weeks. With Alice, I have been a ball of anxiety. I was terrified they would find something wrong at the ultrasound.  I was sure something was wrong because I didn’t feel her move much (now she is out of control, just like Charlie was). Before that 20-week ultrasound, I couldn’t shake a feeling of dread.

Thankfully the ultrasound and the confirmation that everything looks “just right” from the OB has almost entirely wiped out that feeling that something is just not right.

Up until the ultrasound I was just not letting myself engage in this pregnancy. It felt an awful lot like my first two pregnancies that didn’t make it.

It was not until I saw her–found out that she was a SHE–and saw that all her organs and limbs were normal. That my placenta was normal. That my cervix and ovaries all looked normal.  It was not until then that I settled in to the idea that Alice is our third baby. She is the last piece of the puzzle that is Sluiter Nation.

I began to think of pink and purple and ruffle buns and lace. I began to dream of a three generation photo with my mom, me, and Alice.

I still start to laugh when I remember that the baby growing inside me, wiggling and kicking and hiccuping, is not a boy.

The ultrasound tech had asked if we wanted to know the gender and we had said, “yes!”

She was busy measuring bones and checking organs. She was measuring the femurs and I knew that we would be able to see what was there (or not there) soon because we were in the lap region. At first baby’s legs were right together. Then suddenly they parted. The tech froze the image and said, “what do you think?”

“There are no boy parts there!” I almost yelled.

“nope,” she said with a sly smile.

“So…it’s a girl?” I asked all confused. I mean, I KNOW what it means to not have boy parts, but don’t we have boys? Isn’t that what we do? I was so confused. I had been thinking of my third boy for a long time.

“It’s a girl,” she confirmed.

I started laughing. Hard. I started laughing so hard, in fact, that my belly was jiggling and she has to wait to continue her measurements. Tears were in my eyes from laughter. I looked over at Cortney and noticed he was also wiping away a few tears, but his weren’t because he was cracking up. That made me laugh harder. Not at him, but because…a GIRL. A DAUGHTER. How could this be real?

It’s been almost two weeks and I still can’t quite believe that a little girl will be joining this family.

I have a lot of thoughts, both funny and serious, about this thing that I will be: A Girl Mom. Hopefully I will write them out.

In the meantime, I am going to go ahead and give in to my cravings for Skinny Pop popcorn, Oreos, and coffee.

Boy…Boy…??

Yesterday was the big ultrasound.

All was healthy and well.

And then we found out the sex of the baby.

And I laughed so hard that the ultrasound tech had to wait until my tummy stopped jiggling to continue.

Because there were no boy parts.

We are having a girl.

Alice Katherine Sluiter.

A GIRL!

(I can’t upload pictures to the blog right now, so if you want to see how I revealed it on the facebook, head over to my Sluiter Nation page).

No Guarantees

::Looks around::

It’s been awhile since I wrote anything here. That’s because my blog got hacked and I couldn’t log in and then when I hired someone amazing to help, she found buggy wonky files all OVER the place. It’s like my blog got Ebola. It was a process, but we think it’s all clean now.

In the past week or so, my mind has been in over-drive which means I was sort of an anxiety ball without my blog to vent on. Sure, sure I could have hand-written my thoughts or opened a document and typed there, but this little “new post” window has been my therapy couch for the pat 7+ years, and I just don’t do as well writing elsewhere.

I know. I’m weird.

Anyway, one of the big things on my mind has been baby #3.

Today is the day of the Big Ultrasound.

Everyone asks, “are you going to find out the sex of the baby?”

The short answer is yes.

The longer answer is, yes, but we are most concerned with the health of the baby.

I know everyone says that–shoot, we were those people with our last two pregnancies–but most people are first and foremost excited about seeing the baby and/or finding out the sex. Everyone knows that the real reason for the ultrasound is to check on the babies growth and well-being, but because it seems like the health of the baby by 19-20 weeks becomes presumed and just SEEING the baby becomes the bigger deal.

Like I said, even with the loss of pregnancies, we felt pretty safe by 20 weeks in our past two pregnancies with the boys. We were most excited to see our little baby and find out about his parts.  With Eddie I thought we were having a girl. With Charlie, I knew it had to be a boy from the minute I got the positive pregnancy test.

Once I made it past the first trimester, I wasn’t really that concerned that anything could go wrong.

A year ago, we lost my niece, Bella. She was born asleep because she had Turner Syndrome, something my brother-in-law and sister-in-law found out at their 20-week ultrasound.

No, I am not necessarily afraid that our baby has Turner Syndrome, but I have been reminded that getting to the 20-week ultrasound is not a guarantee of a healthy baby. Just because my check ups have been find–we hear the heart, I’m measuring correctly (ok, a week early…but that was how it was with both boys), and I feel ok.  That is still no guarantee our baby is healthy and Ok.

This entire pregnancy has felt different, and for me “different” means bad. At least that is where my brain goes. It’s strange because I was WAY sicker with Charlie and way more moody with Eddie, but somehow this pregnancy makes me nervous.  Maybe it’s because we keep saying it’s the last, and I am afraid that I am jinxing it (even though I don’t believe in jinxes). Maybe the baby isn’t a boy (like I predict), so the pregnancy is different.  Maybe it’s all in my over-analyzing head.

Whatever the reason for it, I am nervous for this ultrasound.

I quite honestly do not care if we are having another little dude or if we are getting a girl (although truth be told I will be SHOCKED if it’s a girl). I really just want to know everything is Ok. Everything looks normal.

I’ve been afraid to get any baby stuff out or look at what we need or what needs to be cleaned, because I am scared.  Even as I type this I can feel that little guy (or girl) moving around, so why can’t I shake the worries?

It will all be cleared up at 3:30pm today, though.

And I will share here…after we let family know.

So far I think boy, Cortney thinks boy, Eddie is hoping girl, and Charlie doesn’t want a baby to take his room.

Someone will be right. Let’s pray it’s not Charlie.

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