All you need is love

Nice sentiment, Paul, John, Ringo, and George, but it couldn't be more false.

The past 2 months have been the hardest of my life. I have been sick before, but never for an extended period of time, and never like this. I have battled nausea and fatigue nearly every moment of every day. As I tell Marty, if every pregnancy were like this, the world would be filled with "only" children.

One of the hardest parts has been the absolute loss of energy. I can't seem to do anything I need to do, let alone anything I enjoy doing. Gone are the days of sipping good coffee, reading books in bed after Will is asleep, going out to dinner with my little family. Instead, if I'm not working, chances are I'm in bed, sleeping or zoning in front of the TV. I eat meals in there, play with Puppy in there, even work in there when I can. The only thing I have managed to keep doing is feeding, bathing, and rocking Will. I refuse to give up these "tasks" because they help to nourish and heal me. I adore being a mommy and I can't lose sight of why I'm going through all this.

Along with the sickness and loss of energy, though, has come a dependence on the care and help of my husband. This is truly difficult for me because I'm a nurturer at heart. I want to be the one taking care of someone, anticipating needs and providing comfort. Instead, I have become the unwilling but oh-so-grateful recipient of Marty's care.

I believe not only that everything happens for a reason, but that things happen for multiple reasons. God is a multi-tasker! This period of illness has taught me to pray for strength. It has given me new perspective on priorities. It has taught me, even in the midst of horrible discomfort, to be grateful for the wee baby that I'm carrying, because I remember all too well the pain of not being pregnant when I wanted to be. But most of all, this illness has taught me what a beautiful marriage looks like when "in sickness and in health" becomes reality.

From the beginning, Marty and I have always enjoyed passion, interest, companionship, and of course, love in our relationship. But it's not all you need. When the hard times come, you absolutely must have patience, kindness, compassion, humility, self-sacrifice, and a keen sense of humor. Every single day, my husband shows me these things. He is tireless and uncomplaining in all the things he does to care for me and Will. In short, he has taught me more about a loving marriage in the last 2 months than in all our time together thus far.

My Marty, I love you so much. You'll never know how grateful I am for your generous love toward me and your undying patience. I'm in awe that I get to have you for my very own, for all time.

(sorry for the blurry picture but our digital camera died and all we have is Marty's trusty iPhone! I was pregnant in this picture but didn't know it yet. That glow soon turned green!)

Home

I've been thinking on the topic of "home" for the past few weeks in a way I've never done so before. From the moment we found out that Will was on his way, Marty and I have been talking about where to raise him and our other (future) children. We've talked about family, church, schools, communities, geography, politics, safety, you name it -- anything and everything that influences how you function inside and outside the four walls and a roof you call your home. The most obvious place to call home was, of course, Indianapolis; my family lives there and the only other option would be Mississippi, and Marty has stated vehemently more than once that he'll "never live in the swamp again." So, even before my first trimester was over, we fixed our trajectory on Indiana and never wavered. In fact, I felt true grief that circumstances wouldn't allow for me to deliver Will in Indiana, surrounded by family and friends and just...familiarity.

Well, to make a very long story very short, things have changed. Without going into great detail, my parents came down for an unexpected visit a few weeks ago, sat down in our living room, and gently suggested we perhaps not move back to Indiana. The reason why? Because in a couple of years, they won't be there. Neither will my sister Sarah and Garrett and their brood. Where will they be? It feels funny to say, but they're moving even further south than where we currently reside -- North Carolina! There are many, many, many reasons for this move, but the primary one is my nephew Ethan. North Carolina offers him the best chance for a mainstream education, the best therapy for his autism (they utilize something called the "TEACH method"), the best opportunity to learn and grow and achieve his full potential. He's simply not getting any kind of decent opportunity from Indiana's special education track, and the curriculum only promises to get worse, and downright awful by the time he's in 3rd grade. And because my parents are nearing retirement, and because they refuse to live without their grandchildren (by their own admission, so cute), they're seeking a big change and thus, the big move south.

Without missing a beat, without so much as a moment's worth of hesitation, we happily decided to make North Carolina our new destination as well. In fact, our compass spun so quickly I got a bit of whiplash -- and I suddenly had the clearest perspective I've ever had when it comes to "home." All this time, I've been keening like crazy to call myself a Hoosier again, and suddenly I realized, I don't even care about that so much, I just care about living near my family. But even that is secondary. In all of the conversations that ensued, I further realized that I just want to be with my Marty and our Will. I want us to have a family adventure all our own. In all the planning and plotting to provide Will the best growing-up situation and as a result, setting our sights on Indy, I never sat and actually had this thought -- and shame on me!!! Of course, I'd be lying if I said I don't want to be near my family -- I absolutely do and Marty shares that desire. So, in a couple of years, we'll pick up stakes and mosey on down the trail. But in the meantime...oh, in the meantime, we've decided to choose the best place for us to be right now.

And not only have we found a great place, I've also stumbled upon the greatest sense of contentment I've ever had. A scant 2 and half years ago, I was perhaps the most miserable person I knew. I was in a sham of a marriage, unable to have children, lonely at home and sad at work and depressed everywhere in between. I fixed a fake smile on my face for the world to see but cried constantly on the inside, knowing in my deepest soul that my life was nothing that I wanted it to be. And now here I am, those 2 and a half years later, married to the love of my life (just know that I type that with tears in my eyes, because this man is genuinely a prince among men), listening to my baby son coo in the other room, and looking at the pictures I'm about to show you. I'm just so happy, because I've found my true home, my family with Marty, and together we've found a physical home, those four walls and a roof that will shelter and protect and embrace us for this next chapter in our lives.

And so, without further ado, meet my loft in downtown Kingsport:

7-foot French doors that are our front windows (follow me, I'm going to slowly spin to the right around the great room)

The windows now closed so you can see the restored hardwood floors and the exposed brick wall


The area that will be our dining room


Kids, meet the kitchen of my dreams: stainless steel appliances, extra-tall espresso-stained cherry cabinets, custom concrete countertops, and the coolest pendant lights you'll ever hope to see hanging above your sink


Another view of the kitchen, and if you look up, you can see the exposed wooden beams/rafters


The view down the hallway (doors lead to master suite, Will's nursery, guest bathroom, and laundry closet)


The area that will be my office (excuse the presence of the leasing agent, who may be my newest friend; her name's Samantha, she's lived in Europe, she had a private Christian school upbringing [I kid you not], and she's already invited us into her loft [she lives here too] and she might just be the coolest chick ever)

Finally, the living area, with those majestic windows open again (we have 2 sets of 2).

So why did y'all go for a loft?, you might ask. Well, we tried to get a house. Tried several times to find a decent home to rent, but OH. MY. STARS. I've realized something. There are a lot of people in the world who don't live clean, sanitary lives. To put it simply, there are just a lot of GROSS people out there, and I'll be darned if I'm going to rent a house from someone whose basement smells like dirty animals. In our quest to find some new digs, I haunted Craig's List and we went on several jaunts to see places, and we (read, I) kept getting more and more frustrated. It wasn't just once that we drove away from a place with me in shock and/or tears! Then one night, we saw the ad for these brand-new lofts, converted from an old furniture warehouse. By the time we called, there was only ONE left. Marty went and toured that same day, and we signed our lease on Friday, the same day I got to see it for the first time. With absolutely no sense of propriety, I got to the great room and started jumping up and down in sheer joy. My greatest feeling isn't joy, however -- it's gratitude. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me home.

And thank goodness my blog is private, because I can share with y'all our new address (we move in December 1st):

The Conways

217 Broad Street, Loft 206

Kingsport, TN 37660

Now, one last and completely unrelated photo. This is Will with his beloved Dr. Terry, his pediatrician. I'm not kidding when I say that they love each other. I think the photo says it all.

Miscellaneous pictures

"Look, Nana, we match."

Sleepy puppy. (One of Will's nicknames.)

Our family. (Please ignore the stringy hair and bags under my eyes.)


Just baptized! Pastor Harmon, who joined me and Marty in marriage, performed the baptismal ceremony and it was so very sweet.


This is his just-opened-eyes look.


Tired but happy, happy, happy.


I love the wedding ring and baby toes -- they represent the greatest blessings in my life.

Our hero, Dr. Pickler. Seriously, I love her -- she was so awesome when I needed her to be.

The best picture of all -- he gave my mom his first "official" smile.

Who's watching the first NFL preseason game?

Will and his daddy, of course.

Birth Story, Part 2 (a reluctant telling)

Me and my little dream come true

It's hard to believe a month has passed since Will came into our lives. I can hardly fathom how fast infants grow, and in some ways I want time to slow down, but in other ways, I want more distance between me and the day that Will was born. I keep putting off writing the rest of his birth story and sharing it here because in all honesty, it was the scariest, most pain-filled day of my life. The only shining point was the moment that Will was born and I heard him cry...at that moment I was on an operating table, limp with exhaustion, simply worn out from labor that had gone nowhere. When I heard him cry, my own tears fell -- tears of such unbelievable relief, because I knew I had delivered him safely into the world and he was no longer in danger inside of me. Any woman who has experienced pre-eclampsia or even the threat of pre-eclampsia knows what I'm talking about -- there is nothing quite like knowing that your body is slowly becoming a toxic environment for the child you so desperately love and want. In the days leading up to his birth, I felt truly betrayed by my body. I couldn't understand why my blood pressure, which had been textbook-perfect up to 38 weeks, was suddenly climbing quite steadily toward toxemia. And the betrayal I felt eclipsed the day my labor was induced. I'm going to give the short version of what happened, because I just don't like re-living it.

I spent the day on massive amounts of medicine that were supposed to tell my body to deliver Will -- only my body didn't quite get the message. I had contractions -- very painful contractions, in fact -- but contractions that accomplished nothing. My body didn't dilate and Will didn't descend. After 14 hours of labor, I was only at 4 centimeters. After 14 hours, after going through 2 epidurals (the first failed and the second one wasn't administered for 2 hours after the failure of the first), periods of vomiting, and body-shaking, teeth-chattering pain, I was running a fever, Will's heartbeat was decelerating with each contraction, and suddenly I was wearing an oxygen mask -- after all that, I knew I was done. Dr. Pickler came into my room and I knew she had come to talk realities with me. I was ready to beg for a C-section but I soon realized that begging was unnecessary -- she was in full support of doing one and I barely listened to the benefit-risk-ratio speech that she gave. I said "Let's do it" and quite literally 5 minutes later I was watching Marty don scrubs and I was being prepped for surgery. Ten minutes later I was in a freezing-cold operating room, nodding my head to the anesthesiologist that I couldn't feel my legs or belly. Fifteen minutes later, right before she hung the curtain, I locked eyes with Dr. Pickler and she winked at me. Funny, but that wink communicated so much -- it said, "I've done this a zillion times and I'm going to take care of you." Then the curtain was hung, Marty sat down behind me, and I felt the first sensation of the C-section being performed. I felt pressure, then lots of pressure, then tugging and pulling, then I heard Dr. Pickler say, "Well hello, cutie-pie," and I heard my son take his first breath and let it out in a precious little cry. He was taken immediately to a warmer and I looked back at Marty and said, "I'm fine, please go to Will." Marty got up and then my nurse, Teresa, who had been such a help to me all night, ducked under the curtain and crouched down to squeeze my shoulder and she had watery eyes when she said simply, "Congratulations." A few minutes later, Marty came around the curtain and perched my little boy on my shoulder, and as I laid eyes on him for the first time, I was shocked at how beautiful his little face was. Of course I expected to love my baby no matter what his appearance at birth, but it's true that C-section babies are really more adorable because they don't get squished! More than that, I saw his stunning blue eyes blinking at me, and I kissed his unbelievably soft cheek, and I couldn't believe he was mine. I had tears streaming down my face and all I could think to say was, "I love you my little William." All too soon Marty had to give him to the nurses because my surgery was finishing. I was rolled to one side so my epidural could be removed, and I remember thinking, don't take that away so soon! Because of a previous "chemical reaction" to morphine I was not put on the morphine drip post-surgery, but rather given an IV injection of a different painkiller. The last thing I remember in the operating room was my teeth starting to chatter again...then I woke up back in my room, in the worst, most terrible pain I've ever experienced in my life. Understand that I've had my appendix taken out and I've had a softball-sized cyst removed from my right ovary -- abdominal surgery wasn't exactly new to me. But I'd never felt anything like this and I couldn't understand why I wasn't being given painkillers. I was in such a fog but I knew that the only person with me was Teresa, and I looked over and saw that she was injecting something more into my IV. Because my teeth were chattering so badly, I struggled to tell her, "I'm in terrible pain." She nodded her head and told me she was administering painkillers every 5 minutes, and she had just given me all she was legally allowed to. Then Marty came into the room and quickly saw that I was in a bad way. Teresa explained to him that I'd already been given all the medicine she could give me and she was going to have to leave for a minute to get permission to administer a different medicine. I don't remember much after that. Marty says I looked at him and said "Help me" and then passed out from the pain. He says I came to and then passed out once more before Teresa was back to give me something else. Whatever she gave me finally worked because I felt the pain level go down just a notch and the relief was tremendous. We still don't know why, but the initial painkiller I was administered following surgery just didn't work, and as Teresa said, I came down from the epidural and suddenly "felt everything." Anyway, I must have dozed for awhile because the next thing I remember is a nurse wheeling Will's bassinet into my room and my family being there, speaking quietly in the soft light. The nurse put William into my arms and I started rocking him gently and touching his face. I felt like we both had just survived a tremendous ordeal and I felt badly that he had experienced any stress from the whole thing. Then I remember smiling to myself and thinking that parental guilt starts right away!

And there you have it -- Will's birth story. I hope it doesn't scare anyone away from having kids because it goes without saying that getting William was worth all of it. You hear horror stories about births and I reluctantly find myself in possession of my own such horror story. But, like Marty has said to me since, anything worth having is often something we have to struggle to get, and getting Will here was a mighty struggle. So will I face this struggle again and have more kids? To answer that, I first want to point out that I shared a happy picture above to show that a month later, the struggle is beginning to fade from memory -- well, at least the sharper edges of it. And secondly, here's a final anecdote from the story...I remember at last getting the green light for the second epidural and sitting up in my bed to curve my back over and be administered some blessed relief -- I trembled through another contraction before I felt the bee-sting of the needle, and then I looked at Marty and said, "You know, after all this, I still want more kids." Marty smiled and said, "Honey, you're more of a man than I am." The doctor (a man) behind me joined in and said, "It's so true -- if it were up to men to have children there would be no people." It's one of the few things I like remembering about that day -- I know I was a real trooper. I felt the strength of my maternal instincts and the power of womanhood in the hardest thing we're called upon to do. I've heard that some women who have C-sections feel like their surgery was somehow a cop-out; trust me, I am NOT one of these women. Because trust me, enduring a C-section is no picnic! And for me, for this birth, it was the obvious, clear, correct choice. And now that I've had one, I'll always have the option to give birth this way again. That's a decision we'll make later on when we get there, but I like to imagine that the next time I give birth, it will be something that happens in a scheduled way, with lots of drugs (that work), and in a manner that I'm now accustomed to -- so that might answer that! I think I'm entitled to an easier birth next time, don't you think? :)

The must-haves

Oh the things I need!

(Will's now-famous "oh" face)

Yes, still avoiding the second half of the birth story...but in the meantime, I wanted to write down for the sake of expecting friends and my own future reference those things that have been indispensable to me in my first weeks of motherhood.

The Swaddle Designs Ultimate Swaddling blanket. (You can see Will's in the picture above.) I want 10 of these but right now have just the one, and use it night and day. It's the perfect size and weight and softness.

The Boppy. We received the Boppy "bare naked" pillow and a slipcover, and have since bought another Boppy (one for upstairs; one for downstairs) and 2 more slipcovers. I simply couldn't do without these pillows (and the slipcovers since breastmilk and spit-up are quite inevitable) -- they help my back and keep Will at the right height and angle for nursing. I know some women don't like them but I just LOVE them.Soothies. I was unsure about using pacifiers but then motherhood (a.k.a., reality, hits and you find yourself in need of something to comfort the baby for 5 minutes while you change a diaper or whatever) and Will just loves these. In fact, he prefers them to other pacifiers. Maybe it's because you can stick your finger in the nipple to hold it in place? I don't know the magic of Soothies, I just know they work.

My glider. My parents bought us this Dutailier glider and ottoman, and it has saved my sanity at 3 a.m. feedings because it's so comfortable and warm and cozy; it's the next best thing to actually being in bed. In other words, it takes the edge off having to be awake at 3 a.m.! Even if you don't want to spring for the Dutailier, I highly recommend having a glider of some kind. Beg, borrow, or steal one of these!

A Medela breast pump. My BF Kate told me a handful of times prior to Will's birth to just go ahead and get one, but I kept balking at the expense. Then I had a baby who wanted to be fed constantly, sometimes every hour throughout the night, and I just couldn't keep up anymore. My OB finally talked me into it, telling me I would recover much faster if I could get more sleep, and to let the Daddy take a couple of nighttime feedings with a bottle of pumped milk. Probably more than any other item, this breast pump has saved my life! And while I know you can get cheaper manual pumps, I am now getting 6 ounces of milk from my pump within about 10-15 minutes, and that's a precious amount of time to sacrifice with a newborn on-hand, so I can't imagine needing to use 30-60 minutes with a manual!

An excellent Daddy. Oh my goodness, where would I be without my Marty? Even though he must get up for work every day, he will still take one feeding at night for me so I can get more than 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

You will laugh, but...Ina Garten. Yes, it's true. She's an essential baby-care item, because she's an essential Mama-care item. I've always really liked her, but for some reason, her show gives me an inordinate amount of comfort, and I watch both airings on Food Network every day. I will even try to arrange naps and feedings around the shows so I can watch her and get a television version of a hug.

Happy Anniversary, my Marty

Today is our first wedding anniversary! I would have been shocked to learn a year ago that on July 19, 2009, we'd be celebrating our first year of marriage with a 13-day-old son. And even though I've never been more exhausted in my life, I've also never been as happy. Of course, finding a diamond ring next to my French toast on my breakfast plate this morning may have launched me into a new stratosphere of happiness... Thank you for my anniversary present, Sweetheart, and thank you for a year of wedded bliss! Looking forward to many, many more. I love you!!!(p.s. -- I now owe everyone and his brother a return phone call or email. Please be patient with me as I slowly return to the world of communication from the Land of the Sleep Deprived!)

Our son

~William Champion Conway~

Born to Marty and Becky on July 6, 2009 at 11:49 pm

8 pounds, 19 inches long

"The Lord is good to those who wait for Him..."~Lamentations 3:25

In the quiet

My house is silent. I can't bear the sound of the TV or the phone ringing. I'm even having a difficult time with the kid currently cleaning out his car in our apartment parking lot, jamming to his radio. Even my brain is seeking silence from itself. I received a box of ordered books from Barnes & Noble yesterday, and one of them is a novel that takes place in 16th-century England, my favorite era in time to escape to...yet I can only read a couple pages in a sitting before I have to give up on reading altogether. I'll start a crossword puzzle -- another favorite mental escape -- and I have to stop because I can't seem to focus on a silly puzzle, because I don't want to focus on it. I just want to sit in the quiet.

Without going into all the crazy details, we found out a couple days ago that William will be born either Monday or Tuesday of next week, depending on how well -- and how quickly -- his Mama's body responds to medicine. Fortunately, praise God, the details aren't too scary, and upping his birthday by a few days is really just a measure of precaution more than anything else. I have a doctor who finally, finally stepped up to the plate and got seriously involved in my healthcare, and boy did she ever. Yes, it's Dr. Pickler, after all. How ironic that she's the one who said, "Let's just get this baby here sooner rather than later, because I'm concerned." The concern I've received all along from my other two doctors, she pours on at the end. Life is funny that way -- now it's her I want to see on Monday morning. We see her again today, just to get checked one more time so we can all feel good/reassured about my status throughout the long holiday weekend. Mostly, we just need my BP to stay at least where it is, if not climb down a few points. If all is well, the next time we see Dr. Pickler is when she'll check me in the hospital on Monday, to see how well I'm progressing in my labor. I can hardly believe I just typed that.

And this is why I'm craving silence. Have you ever nurtured a dream your entire life? Have you ever, for the sake of sanity, had to relinquish that dream? Ever had to let it go because you had to face the reality that it would never be fulfilled? I have. I did. All I ever wanted, from the time I was old enough to dream, was to have a loving husband and sweet babies of my own. Everything else was always, only ever going to be icing on that cake.

I thought I had that cake, once upon a time. I thought I was working on it, at least. Then a few short years ago, I watched as it -- the cake, my life -- crumbled into a million pieces around me. I had no hope of creating a new one; survival was my only goal. Then astonishingly, I did -- I survived. Then, in the midst of achieving survival, I felt the whisper of Jesus Himself..."I came so that you might have life, and that you might have it more abundantly." Really, Lord? You mean me? Shouldn't I be punished for letting it all fall apart? Haven't I utterly failed? Don't I deserve to live out my days in isolation, feeling the weight of my failure? Surely you don't mean to bless me after all that has passed?

It is glorious to me to imagine the smile on my Lord's face as He heard these prayers, and then rubbed His hands together and got started showering me with blessings. First, He eased my mind about the things in the past, and gave me forgiveness for my errings and peace about the things that were not my fault. Then, after He'd healed my heart, He led me straight into the arms of my Marty. Here I am, nearly two years later, and I am still astounded at the gift I've been given. Never, never, never was a wife happier and more assured and more content in the love of a husband. In the words of Jane Eyre, "I am his life as fully as he is mine." I never thought to be able to experience such a depth of love; some days my heart could break at the power of it. I remember thinking, and saying aloud to Marty, if this is all I'm ever given, I am truly a woman blessed beyond measure. Then, miracle of miracles, the one dream I had been forced to abandon so long ago and had no hope of resurrecting...we had the promise of a child -- our child. And of course, I met this promise with all the fortitude of a leaf on a windy autumn day. Even after all the Lord had guided me through, I doubted His goodness. I thought, it's too good to be true, I won't be allowed to have all that I want in life, I won't get to have this shiny new cake (a loving husband AND a sweet baby?) that suddenly appeared before my eyes. Then, week after week after week, the Lord walked me through. I watched in amazement as my belly grew; I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched on a screen my little boy wiggle around inside me. I saw joy on my husband's face and felt it reflected in my own heart. Still, the reality didn't fully set in...

...Until this week, when Dr. Pickler said, "Let's have a baby on Monday." The reality didn't slowly sink in -- it landed on my brain with a thud! It is now real to me, very real to me. Like any first-time mommy, I'm facing down a good-sized mountain of fears about the whole experience, but eclipsing this, truly eclipsing this, is the sense of awe I feel at the Lord Jesus, the Creator and Provider of all perfect and beautiful things. That He would bestow on me my husband Marty, and then give us our sweet William. That at some time on Monday or Tuesday, I'm going to experience the fruition, the blossoming, the fulfillment of my little girl's dream.

So you can see why I need to sit in the quiet. Why I can't be distracted by silly, trivial things right now. Because I am sitting in awe of a MIGHTY GOD. Who loves me. Who has blessed me.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all ye creatures here below!

Praise Him above ye heavenly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! Amen!

a scare (long story and not for the weak of stomach)

Yesterday was a very bad day.

It all started on Saturday night into Sunday morning, when I woke myself up...whimpering! I had a blood vessel in the back of my head, on the right side, that was just throbbing. I have a history of migraines and I know exactly what they feel like, and this was simply not a migraine. I took Tylenol and went back to sleep, hoping to wake up feeling better. Well, I woke up feeling worse and took a Butalbital, which is the headache medicine I was given in second trimester when I had chronic tension headaches. After some food and coffee and then a long nap, I woke up feeling even worse. At this point I paged the doctor on-call at my OB/GYN's office, and sadly, got Dr. Pickler, our least favorite. I've sort of made peace with her, attributing her business-like attitude to strict professionalism, which is certainly respectable and a desirable trait in a doctor. However, sometimes you really just want to be listened to and cared about, professionalism be darned! Let's just say she didn't listen to me, didn't ask me any questions, acted extremely annoyed to be on the phone, and then told me to either go to the ER or keep taking Tylenol and call the office in the morning. What kind of options are those? To me, it was either "go bother someone else or bother me tomorrow." Ugh. Fortunately, after more sleep, I woke up feeling a wee bit better, even though I had an empty-head kind of feeling.

Then Sunday night into Monday morning, I had the same experience: woke myself up whimpering in pain. This time, not only was the blood vessel pounding and throbbing, but I'd also lost the hearing in my right ear! So as soon as the doctor's office opened on Monday, I called and pleaded with the front office staff to let me speak to a nurse ASAP, because I was having scary head pains and aches and I really needed help. Thank God the girl I spoke with was feeling sympathetic, because I had a nurse call me back within 10 minutes. I told the nurse what was going on, and she said, "let's not mess with appointments, just come on in." So I called Marty who raced home and picked me up, and we were in the office being seen by Dr. Hinton (our favorite) within the hour. I told Dr. Hinton the whole story and he started out by looking in my right ear, but he couldn't see anything because of too much gunk (sorry to be gross!). Then he touched my head and asked, "have you been running a fever?" And I had to confess that I didn't know, that I hadn't even thought to check. "Well you're burning up!" he told me, and had the nurse come in and take my temp, which was 100.1 degrees. Not too bad, but not good in a pregnant woman, for sure. Then Dr. Hinton started moving my head in different directions, and when he pushed my head back toward my spine, I had pain shoot down my spinal column, which he noticed when I flinched. He moved my head around again and then pushed back, and the pain was worse the second time. Dr. Hinton kind of made a face and left the room for a minute. When he came back in, he sat down on the stool and said, "Well, I'm sending you to the emergency room. I have a very real concern that you may have viral meningitis." I looked over and saw all the color leave Marty's face. Of course, this set off a rush of questions, but Dr. Hinton could only answer so many because he was going to hand me over to another, different set of experts.

So we walked out of the office and to the car, and I called my mom and I think I nearly scared her to death. I could tell she was extremely upset when I got off the phone with her, even though she was trying to hide it. So we showed up in the ER, only to have them send us to the Women's Center because of my obvious late-term pregnancy. We got to the Women's Center, only to have them tell us that we needed to go to the ER. By this time I was already losing patience -- my nerves were already fraying because of course, my head is still pounding at this point! -- so I told the Women's Center admin person that the hospital needed to figure out who would see me, and then someone needed to take me to that person because I wasn't going to keep walking around with a pounding headache and suspected meningitis. Sorry -- I needed to indulge in a bit of a diva moment! (I could tell my hubby thought this was pretty hilarious.) So I got wheeled back to the ER and was shown to a room about an hour later (and you all know how slow time progresses in a hospital, so it felt like 3 hours). After filling out paperwork and waiting another hour in my ER room, a nurse practitioner finally came in and asked me a million questions and told us she'd be working with an attending physician (who we never saw) on my case. She went ahead with the suspected diagnosis of viral meningitis and started all the testing. One of the first things she decided to do was have one of the nurses irrigate my ears, so she could get a good look at my inner ears. While one nurse, Tony, started on this, the other nurse, Rob, got started on my IV and bloodwork. Tony was quiet as he went about his business, but Rob was very talkative and very interested in my case. He offered all the insight he could give, then got my IV line going with absolutely no problems and no bleeding. I was duly impressed! Meanwhile, Tony got my left ear irrigated and my inner ear looked fine, so he moved on to my right ear. Here's where we're not exactly sure what happened: a) either Tony gave up because he encountered a mass in my ear canal, or b) Tony decided to finish later because it was time to take me to radiology for a CT scan of my brain. Anyway, off we went to radiology, and we met another great guy who was the CT technician. He had me sign a waiver form about how much radiation my unborn child would be exposed to (talk about guilty feelings as a parent, oh my GOSH), and then he got me settled on the table and piled lead blankets on top of my belly. At first this was okay, but as they scooted me back into the machine and I knew I'd have to lie still for 5 minutes, suddenly it dawned on me that I couldn't take a deep breath. Then just as suddenly, my little William started flipping out and trying to turn himself in any number of ways, and I realized he could feel all that weight on him and it was making him uncomfortable, too. At this point, I could barely breathe and I felt so bad for the 2 of us and I knew I was on the verge of tears, I started singing "Jesus Loves Me" in my head and praying, praying, praying that these horrible 5 minutes would pass immediately. Finally when I couldn't take it anymore, I cried out to the room in general, "I can't breathe!" The tech said, "oh we're done, I'm coming!" and rushed into the room and got the lead blankets off me and helped me sit up, and he realized that I was sweating and crying and breathing fast, so he got me a cold wet washcloth and got me wheeled back out to my husband as quickly as he could. I grabbed Marty's hand and said, "Look, this is just a headache. These people need to figure this out right now and stop torturing me and stop stressing out my baby!!!" My poor Marty, all he could do was comfort me and assure me that they'd figure it out as soon as they could. They wheeled me back to my ER room, and within a half-hour, my bloodwork and CT scan had all come back with negative/normal results. All along the plan had been to ultimately do a spinal tap on me, which is the definitive method for determining meningitis. However, Rob was the one who gave us the test results and right away he recommended against pursuing the spinal tap, since all my other tests were within normal parameters. Fine by me, I said, but what's causing the headache? Rob started to conjecture a bit and theorized that a hormonal shift in my body, due to labor being somewhat imminent for me, could be causing a very bad hormonal headache. Well, I wasn't buying, and I could tell Marty didn't believe it, either. Heck, I could tell Rob didn't quite believe it. So Rob left to get the nurse practitioner to come in and chat, and Marty got up to go update my mom. While he was on the phone with my mom, she asked him if anyone had ever finished irrigating my right ear. Marty said he wasn't sure, but he'd make sure it happened. Marty came back in and said to Rob, "did her right ear ever get looked at?" And Rob looked at it and could tell it wasn't fully irrigated yet, so he set about finishing the irrigation process (which hurts like the dickens, by the way, since they shoot a huge needle of cold water and hydrogen peroxide right into your ear canal). Finally Rob said he could see a mass plugging the canal, and finally he got it pulled out, and when he did so, I got immediately dizzy and nauseated and disoriented. Then he quick-looked at my ear and said with triumph, "There's your problem, baby-doll, that's the worst-looking inner ear infection I've ever seen!" This is apparently what happened...at some point on Saturday, my infected eardrum perforated and burst, and bled into some surrounding ear wax, causing a build-up of dried blood/fluid that plugged up my ear canal. Because of this mass, I didn't experience the normal dizziness/disorientation that occurs with an inner ear infection, because my tympanic membrane was being held nicely in place. However, this caused a massive headache, a fever, feelings of pressure in my neck, and of course, the loss of hearing in my right ear! Unfortunately for me, this so closely mimicked meningitis that it became the concern and the target of investigation. Unfortunate, in that it caused hours and hours of panic and fear and worry that I might have bacterial meningitis, which is beyond scary in all its implications; that I might have viral meningitis and be looking at an emergency C-section; or that I had something else equally scary and equally threatening to our unborn baby.

So...you can imagine the relief we felt when we got a very simple explanation for a mysterious headache. After a course of pregnancy-safe antibiotics for the infection and some ramped-up Tylenol for pain, I shall be good as gold and quite healthy when I go to deliver a baby in about 3-4 weeks. What a huge, huge relief!!!

Morals of the story:

1. You know your own body. If you have a gut feeling that something isn't right, keep demanding diagnostic procedures and tests until something is found. Several people tried to convince me that my headache was just a "different-feeling migraine." Um, what about that fever then? I knew, KNEW, this wasn't true. I knew something was off, something was different, something wasn't right. Keep the medical staff attending you on their toes until they find something! Believe your instincts!
2. Don't let a doctor blow you off. Go to a different doctor, even in the same practice. Don't worry about ruffling feathers.
3. Stay as calm as you can, even in the face of truly frightening scenarios. Pray, pray, pray. Jesus is near!

the May list, in June

What we're watching: Well, with The Office and 30 Rock and American Idol (less said on that last one, the better...whatevs, America) already on summer hiatus, there's just about zilch to watch. So we're falling back on our favorite basics: Food Network (we can't get enough Ina Garten and Paula Deen in my house) and HGTV, of course. The one TV show I'm watching (I can't say that Marty actually watches it...he dozes throughout and makes a comment now and then) is the new season of Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood. I can't help it, I love this girl. She just cracks me up, and I'm obsessed with the decor in her bedroom. It's a little too Hollywood for me, but it's definitely French-inspired, and I just heart it so. I wish I could find pictures of her little conversational area...great chairs and a great rug!

You can see the fabulous headboard and the lovely blue on the walls.

More of that delicious blue paint color, plus ivory curtains (on my wish list), and gold lamps (we have burnished gold lamp shades on ivory porcelain lamps).

What I'm reading: Speaking of Paula Deen...

I'm reading her autobiography/memoirs, and whoa, there's a lot more to this lady than even I thought, and I knew that there was a lot going on in there. What a life she has led...and what challenges she has overcome. This woman knows poverty and depression and hopelessness, and still kept fighting for a dream. So very inspiring...and quite funny, too. I recommend it, but remember, she's a sassy woman from the South, so those swear words slip out now and then!

What we're spending on: Baby equipment, what else? I can't believe how much stuff you have to have for a baby, and we're not even getting everything "out there" that we could possibly be guilted/swayed into buying by the baby-advertising machines (and even word of mouth). I mean, we didn't want to go with the cheapy $99 Graco carseat, nor could we afford (who can?) the $3000 Bug-a-Boo strollers, so we went upper-middle of the road: a Chicco Cortina travel system.A salesperson could only sell me so much on ergonomics and such things, but safety? Yeah, that's a big deal to us. The car seat base on this system was rated #1 in safety!

What we're saving for: a house. Now that we've really created a home together (furniture, kitchen supplies, electronics, etc.) -- and I have to remember sometimes that we haven't even been married a whole year yet -- it's time to start really plugging away at our savings for a house. This little boy inside of me needs a backyard and a swingset in the not-so-far-away future! I'm already mentally going through some of my favorite neighborhoods on the southside of Indy to show Marty...

What I need to do: Oh, the to-do list is still a mile long, but we seem to be getting little bits done here and there. We want another few long stretches of time of dealing with the basement (yes, the EVIL STORAGE ROOM has kind of taken over the entire basement), and I think we'll actually have purged through all the stuff we need to get rid of, stored and organized everything else, and then we'll create a nice guest suite for visitors when they start coming in about a month or so!

What I'm thinking about: the fact that my maternity leave starts a month from today. Oh hallelujah! I keep saying that phrase, but it means so much to me to have this light at the end of the tunnel. I mean, Will is going to come whenever HE decides to come, but Mama can take off work on her own timing. The way it looks right now is that I'll have at least a week off, to myself, before Will's due date. I'm going to put a whole new spin on relaxation: I just might spend entire half-days in the bathtub reading. I can't wait!

Things I've learned this month: That physical limitations are real and can't be ignored. We didn't end up going to Charleston this past weekend because my body simply couldn't do it. In fact, the trip from a couple weekends ago was still affecting me physically late last week -- I feel like I only bounced back just a couple days ago from that huge excursion of energy! With all the swelling I'm experiencing, plus the nearly 6-pound baby I'm carrying, plus the Southern heat of May/June (it's 86 degrees here, y'all!), there's just no way I can be out and about for hours at a time. It's very frustrating -- oh, the things you take for granted until you can't do them anymore -- but I'm learning to listen to my body and obey its signals, so I don't end up doubled-over with Braxton-Hicks contractions, sweating like a pig, and puffing for a good, deep breath. In the middle of a store. With people watching. Not good!

What I'm happy about: This is so expected and cliche, but I can hardly think of anything else these days -- getting my baby OUT! I don't want that to sound ungrateful, because my gratitude for this little blessing is deep and wide, but at this point in pregnancy, when you feel like your body is a joke, and energy is a myth, and you can actually see how big your baby's feet are when he pokes them out just under your ribs, it's just TIME to go ahead and have a baby already. Like I told my mom, I didn't pray all those years for pregnancies, I prayed for babies! So I think it's not TOO bad to simply want him on the outside of me, rather than where he is now, pushing my diaphragm up into my throat, my bladder up into my stomach, you get the picture. :)

Babymoon!

Here's a rundown of our babymoon...

• We didn't get on the road until Saturday at noon. This pregnant body moves like a tortoise these days, plus I really wanted pancakes for breakfast. Then of course, you know how you can't leave your house until the kitchen is cleaned, sofa cushions rearranged, bed made, and your iPod loaded up with new tunes? Ugh. My pet peeve as a little girl was how long it took my parents to get going on the morning of a vacation; I would dance around in eagerness while they loaded coolers and suitcases, singing "let's goooooooooooo already!" Now I get it. Anyway, we finally got on the road and because it was Memorial Day weekend and a certain husband of mine is trying to obey speed limits these days (I'll let you guess why), we arrived exactly 5 hours later. What was a 3.5-hour trip in my flawed memory from March is actually a 4.5-hour trip that was extended to 5 hours from the law-obeying and pit stops and traffic. I was able to sleep a good portion of the way, though, and a nap in a sunny, moving car is always one of my favorite ways to sleep (I know, I'm weird).
• So we arrived at our hotel and checked in, then I drove downtown to give Marty his first peek at downtown Charleston. I'm amazed at my inner GPS system; it rarely fails me. I've visited Charleston a dozen times or so, but I haven't driven all that much during my visits, so I'm very thankful when landmarks and streets come so easily to memory (how did the length of the trip get so morphed, though?). We parked along the Battery and watched sailboats and motorboats and pelicans all doing their thing along the Ashley River, then it was off to the Mustard Seed (restaurant) on James Island to meet Leslie and her boyfriend Alex for dinner. And here's where Trip Disappointment #1 comes into play: we failed to take pictures of our evening, and then the next day, too! We only got pictures from Monday, which I'll share when I get to that point, but we just kept failing to pull out the silly camera. Anyway, we had a fabulous time with Lessy and Alex (we heart him!) and laughed our rears off all the way from sitting down through coffee and dessert. You know, you really appreciate friends so much more when you're isolated in a tiny Tennessee town most of the time!
• Sunday morning we woke up to a drizzly rain and a very heavy, overcast sky -- we checked the forecast and sure enough, rain was predicted until the middle of the week. And here's where Trip Disappointment #2 came in...in the words of Jane Eyre..."there was no possibility of a [photo-shoot] that day." I called Leslie and she, Marty, and I did a round-robin kind of conversation in which we decided to a) call off the shoot (meant to be outdoors) for that weekend, and b) meet back up in Charleston next weekend. That's right -- we're going BACK to Charleston next weekend. Besides the drive, and the fact that I'll be further along and bigger, there's really nothing impeding us from going back, and Marty is actually quite pumped about it. We really had THAT good of a time! (Not to mention that the forecast for next weekend is filled with sunshine...)
• So...we decided on doing some indoor activities, including practically my favorite thing to do in Charleston -- shopping on King Street!!! We started out in that mecca of French country furniture and accessories, Pierre Deux. Kids, I've been getting their catalog for probably a decade, but have never once purchased anything. That all changed on my babymoon! One of the greatest things about my husband is the fact that he and I share the same sense of style and taste in most everything, especially in home decor (Marty's Aunt Becky is all about French country, and Marty was her shopping companion for many years in New York, so he had quite an education at the feet of a master!). Anyway, we spent nearly 2 hours in the store, debating purchasing this or that addition to our home. We finally decided on two red toile lamp shades, on sale 20% off. If I hadn't been pregnant and already tired, I would have jumped up and down and clapped in sheer joy! Then it was on to Brooks Brothers, and it was time to spoil my husband for awhile. Wives out there, I'm sure you know how great it feels to let your hubby run a wee little loose in his favorite store, whether that's Best Buy or Home Depot or, in my Marty's case, Brooks Brothers. I sat in a leather chair sipping my Starbucks iced coffee, just enjoying every second of the ear-to-ear grin splitting my husband's face. It was worth every penny we spent! (Not to mention the fact that he looked so darn sharp when he walked out of the house this morning...) Then we were off to Kids on King, a sweet little baby boutique. There we found the cutest little newborn formal attire, so we bought William his baptismal outfit (nope, not a long white robe; just a cute little baby-blue, starched-cotton one-piece with a white collar). We also found infant crib shoes in white leather to go with his outfit. I can't wait to see how he looks in it! I'll take a picture and post it soon, but definitely later since this post is already approaching boring in its length...(sorry, it is my journal, you know!)
• Next it was off to Magnolia's, a quite famous restaurant on East Bay Street in Charleston. Here's the dinner menu, because I want you to see how uniquely Southern yet completely gourmet this restaurant is! We had fried green tomatoes for our appetizer (YUM-MEE) then Marty had the Grilled Yellowfin Tuna while I had the Shellfish over Grits. We were both so impressed with our meals that we were speechless at first. I've never tasted such fabulous scallops in my life, and the experience has sparked a new craving for scallops! (If only I could get that lobster sauce they served with the scallops...)
• After we rolled out of the restaurant, we decided to close out the day with a walk on the pier at Folly Beach. I have to tell you that Charleston, and especially Folly Beach, are "touchstone" places for me. I have pondered my life at various turning points right there on that sand, and most recently, pondered it right before I met Marty and my life changed forever. So visiting Folly Beach with Marty felt like closing a circle that had always been open and hanging before he came into my world. The rain was holding off again by that point but there was another big storm building in the horizon, so the fishers and surfers were out en force. We sat on the pier and watched the surfers catch the waves, and just talked about life and the coming arrival of our son. It's just so very nice to watch the ocean and dream with one's honey. Ahhhhh. :)
• Finally, before this post outgrows its welcome (too late!), we woke up Monday morning/Memorial Day to an overcast, muggy day. We knew we had to leave by noon in order to have some lazy time at home, so we planned an early-in-the-day expedition out to Ft. Sumter. And here are the only pix captured on our babymoon!

Charleston, aka, "the Holy City"

Marty enjoying the boat ride, in what I call his "JFK" pose. :)

Boat hair!!!

Ft. Sumter from a distance...

...and Ft. Sumter close up.

The king captures the castle...

...and then threatens to take Charleston, too. :)

A 200+ year-old fireplace -- can you imagine the stories and secrets it's heard? From both Union and Confederate soldiers!

A view of the Cooper River Bridge (sits just to the right of Charleston downtown, looking from the harbor) from the ramparts(?) of Ft. Sumter.

• Marty and I both found it very meaningful to be at Ft. Sumter on Memorial Day. All weekend we'd been engaged in something of a Dixie vs. Yankee debate about the legality and morality of secession, and visiting Ft. Sumter really brought home to me the awesome task that Lincoln faced in preserving the Union that had been so carefully built by our founding fathers. And how that same Union, which would become the 50 United States of America, would be fought for and kept safe from enemies by so many succeeding generations, including both my grandfathers and both of Marty's grandfathers. We remembered them all (my Grandpa Waltz is the only one still with us) on Monday, and were so thankful for the time and energies they sacrificed and the blood they spilled for this country and for us. Thank you again, Papa Conway, "Pop" Lucic, Grandpa Wood, and Grandpa Waltz. You are an ongoing inspiration to your grandchildren! We love you!
• And there you have it, kids. No maternity pictures yet, but hopefully those are coming soon! To be continued next weekend...

If he's not the cutest baby in the whole world...

Look at my sweet little William, smiling in his sleep. Boy, did he ever give his ultrasound doctor a hard time getting this image! For more than 20 minutes, Dr. Gorrell nudged and poked and prodded, had me turn quarter-turns every couple minutes, even putting me mostly upside-down at one point, just to get Will to put his little hands down from his face. Finally, finally, finally, I nudged him myself on his bottom (the doctor showed me where to nudge) and Will put his hands down and both Marty and I gasped as we saw his precious chubby cheeks for the first time.

This mommy just can't wait much longer to plant a million kisses on those chubby cheeks!

Updates

First off, the missing picture:

~30 weeks~

(right before getting into that PT Cruiser and driving 7 hours to Indiana!)

Secondly, Marty's office baby shower: We had such a great time. The office ordered up a good old-fashioned Southern BBQ lunch, with pulled pork BBQ, baked beans, potato salad, cole slaw, sweet tea (all those kind of fixin's). Then we had vanilla and chocolate cupcakes for dessert. Personally, I drank diet/caffeine-free Coke like it was water (probably should have just had WATER), but it tasted so amazingly good to me. Then it was time for the gifties, and we were once again overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness of those whom God has filled our lives with...

Marty handed me presents and we took turns opening them and reading the sweet cards.

This was a cute little ducky-themed gift. Inside the package I'm holding is "The Fuzzy Duckling" (the Little Golden Book). I had this book when I was little and I think I read my Little Golden Books for years and years. This particular one came with a matching onesie! The little ducky that Marty is holding is actually a bottle holder -- you stick a bottle down the ducky's mouth and your child can hold a friend while he drinks his bottle. So cute!

Few things delight us like big ole boxes of Pampers. This was a box of size 2's, which is where we're shallowing in the stock-up pile. Yay for diaper stocking!

Among the other gifts were treasures such as a onesie that says "When God made me, He was just showing off" and another one that proclaims "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I love these little "statement" onesies. I gave Marty a onesie for Will (pre-Father's Day) that says "If you think I'm cute, you should see my Daddy." We also received some football-themed items, much to Marty's delight. He is so excited to sit down with his son on NFL opening night and introduce Will to the wonders of football. :)

Here's me with Marty's dear friend Brian, the other lawyer in the office (who has a little boy and gives us great advice!):

It was so much fun for me to see Marty's friends and coworkers spoil him and love on him like they did. I know what a jewel of a man I have, but it's so lovely to experience others appreciating him, too. Thank you so much, Tennessee Department of Labor! You guys rock!

Finally, a few hours later, we went to our 32-week appointment at the doctor's. We saw Dr. Pickler again, who is the most business-like of the 3 OBs we see, but she can be pretty darn funny, too. Stats from this visit: 1) my blood pressure is staying almost exactly the same, and I'm so thankful for this -- 108/64; 2) I gained 3 pounds -- not loving this, but I know this is super-normal for mid-third trimester; 3) my fundus measurement was 34 cms, exactly what Marty and I had predicted in the car on the way to the office. I seem to be staying right at 2 cms ahead of my gestational progress. The only thing that bothered me this visit was Will's heartbeat, which Dr. Pickler first found at 117 bpm. This really scared me at first, since his heartbeat has never been that low, but Dr. Pickler stimulated Will with the doppler and she says he must have been sleeping, because he woke up, moved around, and his heartbeat went straight into the low 140's. She said that a reactive baby like that is a good, healthy baby, and I will just have to take her word for it, I know. I can't quite get that feeling of worry out of my mind, though...

~32 weeks~
(in the doctor's office)

One other thing I forgot to mention -- we "graduated" from childbirth class on Monday night, with a certificate and everything! So many baby doings this week that I failed to mention one of the most important ones. My brother-in-law John asked me what this actually "certifies" us to be or do, and I said, I really think it just certifies us as "not completely ignorant on the methods of childbirth." I really enjoyed our classes, even though the final night was both scary -- we watched a video where they spare you NOTHING in the ways of sounds and images -- and delightful -- we toured the Women's Center and saw birthing rooms, and most importantly, the nursery. There was a little peanut in there, just under 7 pounds, and he was squirming in that wonderful infant way in his bassinet -- it was all I could do to resist the urge to go scoop him up and coo at him. My maternal urges are crazy-strong right now! Just a few weeks to go, just a few weeks to go...