Category Archives: Uncategorized

6 Months

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It has been 6 months, exactly, since you showed up as 2 happy, pretty pink lines. It wasn’t that big of a surprise, since I just KNEW I was pregnant with you. I was ecstatic! I ran and woke up your dad and shoved the stick in his face, saying “SEE?! I TOLD YOU!” and we laughed and smooched and snuggled and it felt so normal and so good.

We jumped headfirst into all things revolving around you. Everything I did, I had to think about you first. Can I eat this cold chicken salad? Can I use this heat pack on my back? How many crackers were too many crackers? How early can I leave work to nap without anyone noticing? Maybe I should eat some spinach. Barf. I was constantly nauseous and exhausted and couldn’t wait for 8pm every night, because 8pm was a perfectly reasonable time to go to bed, even though 6pm sounded much better to me. We bought a baby name book and went through it, page by page, name by name, trying out the ones we liked with our last name. Your last name. We planned how we would tell our families about you on Christmas, by wrapping up onesies and giving them to your grandparents as a last gift to open. We went to our first doctor’s appointment and it was confirmed again that yes, you were really coming! I drank water out of beer cans and fake wine poured from a flask to throw off any suspicion. It was the happiest your dad and I have ever been.

I am thankful for every single day I got to carry you, sweet baby. You taught me that this life is not about me at all; there is nothing in this life that is guaranteed, and you need to be grateful for what you are given every day. Everything is out of my control, and I just need to keep praising God for the enormous blessings I have been given and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The week after Christmas – and losing you – felt like a living nightmare, where I would rather be asleep and unconscious than awake and living my reality. Without you. Moving on. The following months were a blur. We would’ve been 30 weeks today, baby, you and me. I’d be feeling you rocking and rolling around my belly and I’d pretend to be annoyed but really love every second of it. Maybe I’d be having some Braxton hicks. Maybe we would know if you were a boy or girl! How I wish I knew what you were. I can’t wait to find out someday.

But now, it feels like I have lived a lifetime since those dark days. So much has happened. Somehow I kept going. I think about you every single day, baby, and I look at your picture often. But I can finally talk about you without a lump in my throat. I don’t cry every day (even though I am definitely crying while writing this). I still miss you so much sometimes it makes my stomach ache. But I finally feel some peace. I am okay.

Love you forever!

The Waffle

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I don’t even know how to start this.

I had a miscarriage. And it sucked. Still does. More than you’d even expect. It’s so horrible, in fact, that the internet won’t even tell you about it. If you googled “experiencing a miscarriage” you would find various websites telling you scientific facts: miscarriage commonly occurs before 12 weeks. More prevalent in “older” women. You will have some cramping and bleeding. You’ll get your next period in 4-8 weeks.

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December 2, 6am.

But what they aren’t telling you, is what I wish I had known, and I would love for every woman that comes after me will know. It’s the truth.

Miscarriage is the messiest and grossest and most physically uncomfortable as well as most emotionally uncomfortable event you’ll ever experience, aside from what I imagine a full-term birth to be like. I said full-term birth, instead of just “giving birth” because that’s exactly what you are doing, in the worst sort of way. You will have horrible cramps. You will bleed for weeks on end, coming and going, and presenting itself in colors you didn’t know could come out of you. Your baby gets flushed down the toilet. It got so gruesome and intolerable for me, I would make Jon come sit with me when I went to the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to experience it alone. And when you aren’t busy sitting on the toilet, you are living your day-to-day life in the weirdest way. Oh, just in the grocery store, but also having a miscarriage. Enjoying a nice dinner out with the in-laws while passing large clots of fetal tissue. I remember thinking to myself “I can’t believe how normal this is, and how normal I am feeling, I can do this. Ain’t no thing. We got pregnant quickly and it’ll happen again in no time.”

And then the bleeding slows, and stops, and then you are left behind. Alone. Where you were once pregnant, just a few days ago, you are now a lone person, empty, missing something so important to you that you can’t get back. It really hurt my heart and stomach to process what had just happened to me. And then it begins. The darkness sinks in. What happens next? After the storm is over? Can you just pick up where you left off? I thought I could.

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Christmas Eve, after we shared the good news.

I don’t even know when or where or how it began, but slowly as the days, weeks, and now months went on, I sunk into a pit of despair that is impossible to climb out of. In January we missed my “fertile cycle” because Jon was in Florida for work. In February I got my “period” 3 days after having just ovulated. March, we will see, but I have a feeling we aren’t in the clear yet as far as my body goes. In the middle of all of this, my right hip has started behaving like a little bitch, making me second-guess my decision to get pregnant and toying with the idea of getting the hip fixed, which breaks my heart every time I think about it.

This wasn’t supposed to be what happened! I had my plan! We got pregnant right away on our Belgium trip, and I felt relieved and like I deserved this, after what a crappy year it had been for me otherwise. We would have a bouncing baby waffle arriving on August 11. It would be the best thing we’d ever done. But the lingering thought of miscarriage was ALWAYS on my mind.

At this point there seem to be more good days than bad, but when they’re bad, they are debilitating. Nothing I do can take the thought out of my mind of what (I believe) SHOULD have been. I should have been X weeks pregnant (I’ve stopped counting). I should be feeling the amazing movements everyone talks about. I should be decorating our nursery. I should be excited about talking to and seeing my best friend who is two weeks less pregnant than me and taking the bump pictures we had always dreamed of. It stings. It burns. I start sobbing out of no where. I can’t function. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can hardly breathe, which how large a lump i always have in my throat. I certainly can’t form words to talk about it. Everything seems so unfair, it feels like my body is against me and the world doesn’t want me to be happy. Everything makes me annoyed and irritable and pissed off. The kids selling lemonade on our street? GTFO my yard. My dog barking to go outside? Who do you think you are, you selfish asshole. My husband who didn’t wipe the counters after he cleaned up the dinner dishes? Oh HELL NO you did NOT. My computer that dares take 3 second to load? I will pound my fists on the keyboard because clearly you’re against me too. I just can’t do it. How am I supposed to go on and just LIVE MY LIFE? And how are other people just going on and living theirs? I feel forgotten and left behind and sad all the time. Those words don’t even seem heavy enough for what I feel. It is physically exhausting to try to survive during a bad day.

My body still doesn’t seem to have recovered, because it just keeps bleeding whenever it wants to. It doesn’t help that my OB doesn’t seem to be much help. In fact, I haven’t seen her at all since before I got pregnant. I only saw and talked to the nurses while I was pregnant and miscarrying. Again, I feel like I got forgotten about and no one cared enough to talk to me.

What do i do next? Where do I go from here? HOW do I go from here? I am just supposed to… wait and see? Doesn’t anyone realize how difficult and disappointing that answer is? I shouldn’t HAVE to wait, I should be pregnant! Or at least, my body should be back to normal so I can get pregnant again! I don’t have a lot of time. My hips don’t have months or years to just… wait.

The longer I wait the harder and worse I feel. Nothing is good right now. I am just so sad.

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December 28. Baby’s first (and only) picture.

It’s been a solid 8 weeks since I last edited this post. That lonely, dark Sunday was a turning point for me, when I decided I couldn’t do this alone anymore. The next day I called a therapist, and met with her a few days later (February 18). I cried while telling her how dark everything felt, how I felt the world was against me, but left relieved knowing there was somebody else on my team. It also helped (in a twisted way) that she experienced her own miscarriage a few years ago and was currently pregnant with her long-awaited rainbow baby.

At her suggestion, I reached out to my OB for more help and to check in. I made a list of all my symptoms: Constant sadness. Tearfulness. Easily agitated. Anxiety about future pregnancies. Feeling numb. Panic attacks. Seeing it written down made it seem so real, so sad, and made me realize that I really had a serious problem. When I handed that list over (because no way I could say those words out loud), she validated all of my concerns and reassured me that everything will be ok. We created a game-plan for future pregnancies to ease my anxiety. She gave me a script for some antidepressants that I was originally hesitant about, and now wish I had gotten them months ago. I almost immediately felt stable, level-headed, and able to make rational decisions.

It is now April 12. I have been on antidepressants for 4 weeks, and have visited a therapist 5 times. Both things combined have made me feel whole again. I feel like I am waking up to life again – I am looking forward to the weekends once again. I seek out the company of my friends. I honestly answer “I’m doing fine, thanks” when asked. I am at a point where I can’t remember the last time I cried (down from crying – sobbing – many times a day). I can see the goodness in tomorrow.

July 13 – now

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July 13 – now

I didn’t meant to not blog for so long, but take it as a good sign that I’ve been so absent. My pain decreased and I was able to resume normal life!

The end of July brought a lot of triumphs for me! I saw Clohisy on July 21 and he cleared me to wean off my crutches as tolerated, as well as to start physical therapy. I also started a round of antibiotics (which eventually turned into 2 rounds) for my infected incision. Seems my body doesn’t particularly like internal stitches, because they kept coming out through the open wound. We went to Arcadia for the daze a few days later and I was able to get around VERY comfortably on one crutch (and the long drive didn’t even kill me, as long as I maintained my pain med schedule). I ordered a cane online and it was at our house when we got home, and from then on, at exactly 5-weeks post-op, I was off crutches and onto my cane! I tried to take a few steps unaided and had a HUGE limp, but it didn’t hurt too much.

I returned to work part-time on July 30! I did half days for 7 workdays and returned fulltime on August 10. Work was HARD, and not just physically. My brain felt like a pile of mush and I couldn’t figure out what had been done on my behalf while I was gone, and couldn’t get in a good rhythm. It took me a solid month to get back into a routine and confident in my abilities to produce quality work.

I started physical therapy on July 27. She had me start by doing basic strength exercises. It was fine and exhausting, but extremely effective. At that stage of recovery, you can see changes very quickly. At 6 weeks and 2 days post-op, I could walk short distances WITHOUT A LIMP! I still brought my cane to work for a few weeks because I got fatigued very easily. At 7 weeks, I could ride a bike (ok, stationary bike) 2 miles with no pain! It was about this time that I was having some nerve pain in my inner thigh down to my knee, so I got a script for muscle relaxers. AMAZING. I’ve never slept better. Just before 8 weeks, we went to a wedding in Chicago. I used my cane but was able to get around the dance floor and drink a good amount and not take pain pills! We even used the cane as a limbo stick. What a hit. Just before the 9 week point, I volunteered at the LFCS auction. I made it through almost 7 hours on my feet and woke up feeling GOOD. Granted I was on pain killers the whole night, but the point is I DID it and I felt GREAT. I even walked a mile the next day (with my cane, and it was hard), and finally traded in my elastic laces for the real deal (honest moment: tying my shoes still isn’t easy. My hip doesn’t want to bend that way). At the 9-week point, my scar had FINALLY healed and I could swim! I went to the Becker’s pool and it was HARD. I jumped in and kicked and oh man, I didn’t have the strength I needed to do that. I did some slow laps. PT kept getting harder! She had me doing balance exercises and the bike and stairs (my poor knee is suffering from weakness as well as from the extreme tight IT band).

In September, we flew to Portland for a wedding. I brought my cane and am proud to say I didn’t really need it at all. In fact, I left it on the plane when we arrived back in St. Louis and the flight attendant had to chase me down! And that was it, my cane was retired. Jon had to pull both of our roller bags because did you know it takes good balance and hip strength to pull a roller bag? It does and it was hard and a surprise. This was also the last weekend I really took pain pills to get through anything.

At 12 weeks post-op, I was able to start JUMPING! Yes, I was THAT excited. You’ve gotta celebrate the little victories as they come. It was hard, but another step up on the recovery ladder. It opens new doors and brings about a more positive attitude. I was also struggling with keeping my pelvis from rotating and was having to correct it several times a day, including at work on the floor (ask me about the time the CEO walked in on that…). At this point, it became my goal to be able to walk as far as possible without a limp or having to stop and rest. I was at about a mile. Once I could do this, I could try running!!!

14 weeks brought out the resistance bands! Talk about killer. It’s SO good for hip strengthening. I also was struggling with endurance so I started taking the stairs more often and trying to walk faster.

15 weeks post-op I went back to Clohisy for my 4-month checkup. MY BONES HAD HEALED. All the way. It was a shock! I thought there would still be some gaps. He cleared me to start walk-runs with strict instructions to TAKE IT SLOW. DEAL! I also made the decision to cancel my second surgery. My right hip has been feeling SO good and I do NOT want to go through this horrific recovery again for a hip that isn’t in dire need of fixing. I will wait and see what happens. Hopefully I’ll never need the second PAO, but chances are I will.

At 15 weeks and 2 days post-op, I took my first short jog. Tears streamed down my face and I sobbed and sobbed and was so proud of myself for how far I’d come. I can’t believe that my hip is fixed and pain-free and I am so happy I can finally move on with my life.

At 16 weeks and 3 days, I started taking barre classes. I’ve been once a weeks since then and I LOVE it. It works all the muscles I need to tone – butt, thighs, core, hips. It is so expensive so I think I’ll stick with only once a week for now.

And that brings me to now. 19 weeks post-op to the day. I have been having some left SI joint pain the last week or so and some hamstring and thigh tightness, but for the most part, I feel great. While walking, both of my hips feel the same. I still struggle with my SI joint rotating out of place and feeling off-balanced, but that’ll resolve as I keep strengthening. I keep having some joint swelling after extreme exercising (by extreme I mean a long walk or barre or a short run) so that sucks. For the most part I feel like a normal person again. I can carry my own laundry, pick up heavy things (though don’t tell my husband because I still like him to do the heavy lifting), stand for long periods of time, and just generally kick ass at life. We are going to Belgium in a few weeks and I can’t WAIT to walk unlimited miles.

Days 12 – 20: July 4-12

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I woke up that Saturday morning confused if I had taken my pills during the night or not. I guess that’s a good sign, since I wasn’t desperate to take them. I took a shower and ended up getting hot and sick in the shower! That hasn’t happened in a while, and hasn’t happened since. Jon and I decided to go to his parents house to grill out since we couldn’t do much other 4th of July celebrating. This was my first trip out – we stopped by the grocery store and the liquor store! I also put real clothes on!

Sunday and Monday were non-eventful. We went to church Sunday morning and I kept nodding off. I blame the dimmed lights and acoustic music. I came home and took a 4 hour nap. Monday, my very pregnant friend Lindsey brought me lunch and we watched Frozen. My wonderful mother-in-law also came over and pulled our horrible weeds. Today was the first day I skipped a nap and didn’t even feel exhausted! I accidentally missed a pain med dose and felt fine. I started weaning down to 1 pill if I can tolerate it, sometimes 1.5.

Tuesday-Thursday my sister was here. We went to the mall and she pushed me in a wheelchair. Went out for brunch. Ran errands at Target and the grocery. Now that my energy is back, I really love going out places and doing things.

Friday might have been my hardest day yet. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was, aside from the fact I had been extremely active the few days prior. It was my first day all alone. I cried immediately as Jon left and on and off the rest of the day. I started having some muscle spasms that would jolt my body and make me cry. Getting around was more difficult because of the pain I was in. Luckily I woke up Saturday and was back to normal. Saturday and Sunday were find pain-wise. I’m trying to take only 1 pain pill, and thinking about trying 1/2 a pill. I’m worried what I’ll feel with nothing to protect me, though I’m ready to move back into my alcohol-drinking lifestyle. Does that sound horrible? Oh well. I also hope to be cleared to drive at my doc appointment on the 21st.

I am flying to Holland tomorrow to hang out with my family while my grandma slowly slips away. I am sad to be losing her, and I am so sad for my mother, losing her mom somewhat unexpectedly, although she has been deteriorating over the past several months. I’m glad to have this time off work that I can go and be with them, though I’m worried to travel alone. Wish me luck.

“So what do you do?”

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As an introverted young adult with still no idea what I want to be when I grow up and a job that I’m not particularly fond of, this question causes me more anxiety than being asked “so when will you have babies?”.

Why does it matter what I do?

I feel like this question has become a basis on which I am judged. That whatever my answer is, will provide the asker with a quick synopsis of my education, skills, and financial situation, 3 things that don’t define who I am. This quick judgment makes me feel uncomfortable and like the person asking doesn’t really want to know about ME.

I am so much more than my seemingly dead-end job.

I am an aspiring chef!

I am a dog lover and cat snuggler.

I am a wannabe half-marathoner.

I am a lazy person.

I am a former soccer, softball, tennis, and volleyball player and dutch dancer.

I am a good listener.

I am an avid reader.

I’m the best aunt to my BFF’s little Leah.

I love spending time kissing my husband.

I love spending my summers driving to Michigan as much as possible.

I’m a pretty good sister.

I enjoy drinking beer and talking for hours.

I hate spending too much time in large groups.

I was made to be a mom.

When I get asked what I do (which happens more and more frequently as I get older), I cringe before I give a quick answer of “Oh, I’m a social worker.” I hate the response I get for that: “oh you must see such sad things!” “oh you are so selfless and patient and kind” (spoiler- I’m not really. I often tell my husband I’m a princess) “Oh that must be hard” “Do you take children out of their families?” While yes, I do see sad things, and yes, it can be challenging, my job is not my passion or life and it doesn’t define who I am at all. I’ve come to just saying “I work at LFCS” and leave it open ended and vague (I love vague and hate giving personal details about anything).

I know I’m not the only person who feels this way. My friend is in a job rut right now, too, and was instructed not to tell his Grandmother for fear of her response.

WHY?

Well, 1., because Grandma is a (wonderful) crazy person and you don’t want to hear her abrasive opinions,
and 2., because to her, your job and well-being defines success. I don’t like that.

My success will come from raising my children to be kind, gentle, and God-loving creatures.

My success comes from my AWESOME marriage.

My success comes from my friendships and relationships with my family.

My success will be once I finally cross that finish line of the half marathon I so desperately want to run.

My success comes when I try a new recipe that turns out fantastic.

My success will come from providing for my family, sure, but only so I can do the things that actually make me, me.

Don’t ask me what I “do”.

Ask me about who I am.

And then help me find a new job 😉

Letters.

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Dear Jonny B, Thank you for loving me. The way you look at me makes me melt even after 6 years. Dear weeds, we pulled and pulled until our bodies ached and you still aren’t all gone. Thanks for keeping us humble and making us work hard when we don’t want to. Dear Schlafly, you sure are a pain in our necks, but you are still the cutest and funniest pup and we wouldn’t trade you for a million bucks. A billion, maybe. 😉 Dear St. Louis, thanks for the perfect weather this weekend. Please don’t bring 100 degree days our way. Dear women’s running group, thanks for inspiring me to get involved and step out of my comfort zone and meet new people. You are good for me.

 

This weekend we: went to a Cardinals game (victory!), drank beer outside and enjoyed the first Honey Moon since 1919, cleaned out our garden beds, played at the in-law’s pool, enjoyed homemade skillet pizza and beer on our deck, went to a wonderful church service, and celebrated Father’s Day with Jon’s wonderful grandparents. We are lucky. Here’s to another week full of promise.

Dreamland

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Sorry for the lack of posts, self, you were literally poopin’ all over the world. More on that later.

One thing I really like about myself is my ability to dream extremely vividly. Maybe that’s not a personality trait, but it’s something that’s been happening forever. I used to have very frightening nightmares as a small child, but luckily I grew out of that.

My favorite part of waking up is describing my dreams to my dear husband. They are often very amusing, so I started documenting them for the blog. All these dreams were within the last month. Here we go….

I was at a reunion of some sort. There were people I knew from various stages in my life; high school, work, sports. I had to take a poop. The bathroom was occupied by my kindergarten teacher so I used a different toilet in front of everyone, which was just the toilet bowl balanced on a small table, and it fell over and got poop all over my feet. I realized my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Arndt, saw the whole thing. Then I had to take a shower before I was allowed to use the pool (because obviously it was a pool party), and everybody had to watch.

I didn’t clean my car for a really long time (that is a true fact in real life, also) and seeds sprouted in my front window. They grew to be very tall, leafy weeds. When I tried to pull them out, hundreds of teeny tiny ants fell out and ran all around my car. Maybe I should take this as a sign to both clean my car and weed my garden beds….

My boss, Christine, gave me a $150 bill (because clearly those exist) to buy cupcakes for our summer program. I’m walking around “Salzburg” (which really means a very pedestrian town, no cars) trying to find cupcakes. I get one or two cupcakes here and there but there are no cupcake-specific shops to get a whole bunch from. I run into a camp friend, Sonja, who directs me to a place in Notre Dame, Indiana. I clearly can’t go there because it’s too far away, so I return to my stack of cupcakes by a fountain and there in front of me is a cupcake store called Salt n Pepper.

I was working on a cruise ship and we had to evacuate in Saudi Arabia due to fights aboard the ship. I prepared for an interview on a new boat by bringing the lawyer I wanted to work for half a cupcake (what is with cupcakes in my dreams?). My resume was an immigration form for the USA. On my way, I lost the cupcake and couldn’t find it in the trash. Darn.

Jon and I were driving through Colorado and stopped at a park with trails and a maze (this dream was after we visited Schonnbrunn Palace in Vienna, which has such trails and a maze). We were looking at a map and heard a scuffle between two dogs. I go and tell one of the owners that maybe they should put their dog on a leash before they hurt someone. He gets angry and leaves. The other dog’s owner comes over and she is angry because she and the male owner had just had sex and were going to do it again after their dogs played. Ooops? Then we saw Sara Tucker, a friend from college.

Jon and I and several other people I didn’t recognize but were my BFFs broke into an abandoned building to explore, and then the cops were after us. We ran into a St. Louis Bread Co to hide out in a private room for lunch. Eventually they caught us, and only brought me to jail. Jail was a 7-story building with private “apartments”. Jon and one of my unnamed BFFs moved in also to keep me company. We played cards and ate the jail food, which was delicious, and my mother visited. I was worried I’d have to go to court and it would be a felony.

Mindy Kaling was in Holland regularly and somehow Jon and I became BFFs with The Mindy Project cast. I turn into Adam Palley and decide I want to date Mindy in real life, so I buy her a couple’s massage at a tiny Asian place. The Asian woman running the place turns out to be a little prudish and puts my (aka Adam’s) hands in handcuffs and covers Mindy’s poops with pasties to avoid us getting freaky. At one point I sit on a toilet that has a phone attached to the back. I break the toilet.

My friend Sam was getting married on a Tuesday and two of my early childhood friends that were sisters, Leslie and Laura, were also bridesmaids. One forgot shoes so she called the other sister to bring her shoes. She brought her moccasins. She threw them in a pool to turn into high heels and got upset when I asked what she was doing! Also at that moment my sister ran around to the far end of the pool and jumped in.

At church, a whole bunch of members were going skydiving. They left in the middle of the sermon and we all went outside to watch. In the meantime, someone called us the viking vixens. Yep.

I was at a Parade of Homes show with my brother and sister-in-laws, Patrick and Laura. We were touring a house that was designed by Lady Gaga. She designed a long, curvy lazy river pool with the house in the middle of it. The only decor I remember was a series of 3 paintings that had 2 glass bumps situated in such a way that when you stood back, they looked like boobs. We told the curator (because clearly a house designed by Lady Gaga needs a curator) that they looked like boobs and she said “No! They are NOT BOOBS!” and got very upset. We tried flipping one of the paintings upside down, but it didn’t look right. Turns out Lady Gaga is a design genius.

I saw one of my college friends and her whole sorority were doing a beauty pageant. I decided to do it, too! I show up in the full garb and eat all the cookies and wimp out and leave.

After my failed stint as a pageant queen, I went to someone’s house for a Super Bowl party. I was frying cookies (that were in envelopes with stamps on them) in cheese. Our friend James was there talking to his ex about her new man interest. He said, “I can’t believe you like him! He taped you to him with duct tape to keep you from leaving!”. Then I tried to convince Jon to write his old girlfriend a letter.

That’s all for now. Anyone else have a cookie and cheese craving? Just me? Oh…

On Be(com)ing an Aunt

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Nothing in life (I assume) will bring me greater joy in life than becoming a mom. Whether it’s creating an alien-looking creature out of TWO CELLS (seriously, what a weird concept) with the person you love most, or adopting a precious, loved child that needs a family, having somebody call you “Mommy” or “Daddy” can’t be beat. It’s crazy. And beautiful. Again, I’m assuming. The closest I am to a mother is to my two hilarious fur-babies. But, becoming an aunt is a close second, I suppose. All the perks and almost none of the work! (I say almost, because maybe I’ll change a diaper and feed a bottle. What can I say? I really like the babe’s parents.)

So, since my best friend in the whole universe (S K Dubs-Kneibel) decided to go and get herself knocked up, I compiled a list of emotions I have been having and the chronicles of how we discovered she was with child and other cool aunt-things. It was a cold, January day. I had just left her the day before after a fantastic drunken weekend (and by drunk, baby K, I clearly mean everyone except your mother had a single glass of wine. All of your aunts and uncles are responsible humans, and definitely would never pee under a stairwell or play hide-and-seek or take a video of a hairy butt. Definitely not.) where we had joked she was pregnant just one month after her fantastic wedding and honeymoon. “No way!” she said, “it wasn’t the hole-y baby on my Fertility Tracker those days!” She went to Target and got 4 bottles of wine (got to restock after that completely sober weekend) and a 2-pack of pregnancy tests. Since she wasn’t working at this time, we were texting all day. We chat about our excellent weekend, Heather’s bachelorette party coming up this summer, her nanny job she is starting soon. You know. The important stuff. Finally, after a little persuasion, she decides it’s time.

“Here we go!” she says.

Here are some screenshots for emphasis.

baby1

In case you can’t make it out, there is definitely a plus-sign on that pee stick.

baby2

Definitely pregnant!

So many tears! So much swearing! So much initial denial! But also SO much joy, happiness, and love. A baby. A BABY.

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For the rest of the day our conversations consisted of many a “Holy Shit” and a bunch of “OMGTHERESAFETUSINYOU!” and definitely a “Lydia is a good name for a girl”. But mostly, we shared our excitement together in a way that only best friends can. Baby apps were downloaded (7 for her, 0 for me), celebratory glasses of wine were poured (7 for me, 0 for her), 4-week-old fetus pictures were googled, and we discovered she was due on September 29. MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. If that’s not a sign from God that this was meant to happen, nothing is. We also planned how she would tell Brad, her darling husband. Because he is an athletic trainer at Notre Dame, Sam decided on a Notre Dame onesie in the oven (get the joke? in the oven? like a bun? whatever dude).

But that’s her story, not mine.

onesie

It’s crazy. Literally in the span of two minutes, life is completely changed forever. My best friend, who had just weeks before joined the Mrs. club, was becoming a mom- just like that. It’s one of those moments no one can prepare you for. You feel things you’ve never felt before, you cry tears that you don’t know from what part of your soul they’re coming from. Is it happy? The happiest! Is it confusing? Heck yea. Is it scary? Especially when you remember all the wine you drank just two days prior (again, Baby K, still only talking about me here. DEFINITELY not your mama). I am SO excited for my best friend to become a mommy. If you’ve ever spent more than 60 seconds with her, you know that she is meant to be one. And someday, I can’t wait to join the Mommy club myself. In the meantime, I will love the shit out of this lil pookie.

Love you already, my sweet nibling!