deuce!

On a drizzly, cool October afternoon, with balloons dotting the sky and fluffy clouds rolling down the mountains, baby Deuce came Earth-side, filling our hearts and family with more love than we ever dreamed possible.

 

Squirt's last nap on the giant Deuce-belly.

My cute and excited visitor as we awaited Deuce's arrival.

The last pic of belly Deuce, just a couple hours before he arrived.

 

I've waited my whole life, it seems, for this moment.

Precious baby-guy.

So wee, even his newborn onesies were too big.

Introduction.

He made a noise...

 

Falling in love.

Welcome home, sweet baby-guy. The world will never be the same.

 

<3

next saturday

As with belly Squirt, I have entered the mists between the estimated due date and the Earth-side arrival of the little human I've been growing this year. It is, both, surreal and stressful. Once entered, you just wander blindly, not knowing what to expect or where it will end - you simply cannot know. You wonder, you worry, you dream, you wait... and wait... and wait. The mist could lift at any moment, bringing your little one into your arms for the first time! ... or it could linger for weeks, leaving you wondering every night if it will be the night. In hindsight, it is a magical time - the last moments of this strange miraculous existence. But in the moment, it can be torture - the anticipation. When will my baby come to me? Why hasn't my baby come? How will the birth go? Will my baby be healthy? I think it's impossible to not go a little bit mad while in this mist, and it is so hard to stay present in the moment and cherish every day.

As I worry and wonder and wait, I realize that, one way or another, I will have baby Deuce in my arms next Saturday (not this upcoming Saturday, but the next Saturday). Wow. Just wow. This whole pregnancy - this whole year so far! - I've been preparing for this little one. Since before conception, I've been slowly stocking up on little necessities and cute little outfits  while trying to emotionally prepare for the birth. I've been talking with Squirt about what to expect - what the birth might be like, what the baby might be like, what being a big sister might be like. But for some reason, the baby was just an abstraction. I was so caught up in getting ready, that the realness of this little one never really sank into my mind and heart. But now, over nine full months into this journey, by simply saying "I will be holding this baby next Saturday", the baby has suddenly shifted from this abstract concept to a real creature. This is a little human! A squishy, snuggly baby who will all too quickly grow from a tiny, helpless creature into an independent, unique, and spirited small human who is running around everywhere, getting into everything, and expressing very strong Opinions about life, the universe, and everything (if this one is anything like Squirt, that is). This pregnancy, and this entire year (which is pretty much how long the pregnancy has lasted), has been so surreal. It feels almost like a whirlwind dream that hasn't really happened to me. I feel almost like, at any moment, I will wake up in the autumn of last year with Squirt still two and this year still a closed door... Soon, though, very soon, things will get very real as we finally welcome Deuce into our arms and the very real realness of life as a family of four really settles. We're all pretty anxious, but also pretty excited about this new adventure and the wonderful things the lifting mist may reveal.

Totally gratuitous pictures of Squirt washing the car on a warm September afternoon...

what i can do

 "Dad! Daaad! DAD! Look what I can do!" This seems to be Squirt's phrase of the week, right before she shows off some new acrobatic feat, or interpretive dance move, or totally crazy funny face, or... well, anything. Moreso than ever, she's so expressive and adventurous. She wants, more and more, to do everything herself, learning new skills as she goes (much to my delight, she can almost make a pot of coffee all by herself!).

With Deuce's arrival just around the corner, I see that Squirt has been struggling to really understand and find peace with the big changes. It started sometime last month when she became really, really clingy with me, which quickly ramped into unprecedented separation anxiety most days. She became increasingly worried about my wellbeing and was so positive that every time I left her (even to go into another room in the house), I would not come back. Some days she's great and babbles on about the new baby, but some days she won't leave my side. We started reading books about welcoming a new baby and what to expect, and have talked and talked (and talked and talked) about what's happening, and what's going to happen. At times, she seems to understand and seems excited to become a big sister, but at other times, she is so scared of the giant unknown. Just the other day, she told daddy she thought I was dying... All I can really do is comfort and try to reassure her, but I just don't see this getting any better until Deuce arrives and she sees that everything is fine. I feel like I'm in a strange, almost timeless in-betweeney bubble right now. Deuce could come any moment... or not for another couple weeks... I want to try and treasure this sacred time - the last moments of my last pregnancy, the last moments as a family of three - but it's hard. The anticipation is so heavy that it's almost a physical presence wrapped around my family. It's such a magical, mysterious time (a friend recently referred to me, as a pregnant woman, as a miracle, which, despite openly disagreeing with, privately thought was poignant). But really, I think we're all ready to transition from this in-betweeney state of wonder and worry and welcome Deuce into the family, getting over the intial bumps, finding our new groove, and moving forward as a family of four. Soon.

Still not a morning person, especially on Mondays...

She asked dad to take this picture.

 

 

"DAAAAAAD!"

Trying to help her learn to swing by herself (I'm just over 39 weeks along with Deuce).

 

 

 

girls' weekend

Dad-o recently went out of town for a weekend-long conference, leaving 34-week pregnant me and Squirt alone for a treasured "girls' weekend." We've had a few of these, and always look forward to the special "just us" time to have marathon viewing sessions of all manner of super girlie shows, paint our nails all manner of super sparkly colors, gorge ourselves on all manner of delicious things (shh, don't tell dad), and, generally, just hang out and do whatever the heck we want to do whenever the heck we want to do it without that dad-guy being all guyish and stuff... This girl's weekend was extra special; I entered it overwhelmed by its bittersweetness. It was the last girls' weekend - the last time it would be "just us". By the next time dad-o had to go out of town, there would be another member of the family - it would then be just the three of us, but no longer just me and Squirt. That's wonderful! But there is a bit of loss to that, too. Everything will be different. So I resolved to make the absolute most of our last weekend, just the two of us. But once the weekend came, I had no idea what to do to commemorate this almost sacred last "girls' weekend". Really, in the end, we celebrated by simply experiencing it. And it was beautiful. I will always look back fondly on the very special times it was just me and little Squirt - and we'll have many wonderful experiences in the future where it's just the two of us again - but this last weekend marked the end of an era, and now we start to really prepare for the new addition, opening our home and hearts to little Deuce and the wonderful changes this little person will bring.

My little flower picked me a flower (well, the petals anyway).

 

 

 

Me, Squirt, and belly Deuce.

 

honey

A few weeks ago, I realized Squirt has an imaginary friend. Honey. For a while, she called everyone "honey," a cute quirk picked up from her new teacher at daycare. It always made me smile when she referred to me as "honey" - not something you really expect from your three year old. Before long, she stopped calling people "honey," but the word stayed in her vocabulary. She'd prattle on about "honey" this and "honey" that, and I just couldn't figure it out. I thought she might be talking about friends at daycare or role-playing her day, which she still often does. The realization that this wasn't her referencing an absent friend, but an imaginary and very present friend finally dawned on me after a handful of VERY tearful daycare pickups. When we got in the car - not when we left the room full of what I thought were her potential "honeys" - she would become hysterical about me leaving "Honey" behind in the parking lot.

One afternoon, soooo not ready for another melt-down, I just stood back and let her set the pace as we left daycare. I watched, finally getting it, as she opened the back door opposite "her" side, pretended to put something in the seat, and snapped the seat belt. Then, with no fuss, she climbed in the other side of the car and got into her own car seat. "What did you just do?" I asked as I helped her snap on her belts. "I put Honey's seat belt on." Ooooooooooh! Everything makes so much sense now. Everywhere we go, Honey is with us. His size varies, from very, very tiny, to very, very large. From what she described, he basically looks just like Sully from Monsters, Inc. - fuzzy and blue with purple spots, though I'm sure that varies, too. Every time we get into or out of the car, she has to help Honey (and trust me, it is absolutely not worth rushing or skipping that step!). Most of the times she uses the potty, she has to help Honey go, too. When we go to a park, she pushes Honey on a swing, and at mealtimes, she feeds Honey bites. I wonder if Honey is a part of her day at school... It is indescribably fascinating to watch her imagination continue to develop and sometimes catch a glimpse of the way she sees the world.

Last night, she told me a story as she played in the bath. There were dragons coming into the bath - "two of them," she pointed out, with two little fingers raised. These were not nice dragons, as they sometimes are, but "big, mean dragons" who were coming "to fight!" She explained that they were coming to splash us and fight us and "ROOOOOOAR" (she is very, very good at dragon roars). They were going to try and take the baby, but it's ok because baby is in the belly and she'd fight them off. I asked how she would be able to figut two big, fierce dragons, and she said she'd use her "hero superpowers!" I asked if she would want daddy to help. Her response: "No, I can do it myself. I'm strong. I have powers!" Then, in the bubbly bath, she enacted a dramatic fight with these dragons, bubbles, water, and, I'm sure, blazing dragon fire spraying everywhere. Finally, she wipes her brow and says, "whew, they're gone now" and carries on with her bath as if nothing had happened. Like I mentioned above, watching her imagination grow, glimpsing a bit of her world, is nothing short of magical.

And now, here are just a few of the many, many, MANY expressions that come with her imaginative adventures.

Her "huh?" face.

Cheesy cheese.

 

She is a scary dragon. ROOOAR!

summertime

We have been taking it pretty easy this summer, for one obvious reason (being pregnant in the summer is not fun - I'll just leave it at that). We do have a little garden going, though it hasn't been getting the TLC it needs to produce much, and had Squirt's pool set up before the monsoons came - now we try to visit a public pool once a week, instead. I think it's worth noting that Squirt is now absolutely obsessed with dresses. We haven't been out-and-about very much at all since the temperatures started climbing, though we did ride the tram up to Sandia Peak (Squirt and daddy's first time on it!) before they closed down the mountain, which they seem to do every year around the Fourth of July. Mostly, we've just been trying to keep cool at home while fantasizing about the joys of fall - roasted chile, balloons, crisp air, pumpkin everything, gløgg! ... there's something else happening this fall... oh right, and a new baby! I've never been more eager for October!

A little glamour on the Fourth of July.

She was *very* proud of the beet she harvested.

She grew this sunflower all by herself!

Bacon!!!

 

Ready for her learner's permit... almost.

 

Warpaint! And her beloved "crabby" shirt.

So excited to cool off in her pool! 

 

 

Those cheekies... <3

ten

This weekend, I am 32 weeks pregnant. This means I may have ten weeks - ten whole weeks, ten short weeks - left in this pregnancy if Deuce shares belly-Squirt's philosophy on punctuality. Deuce's estimated due date, on the other hand, is eight weeks away while "full-term" is, technically, a mere five. But I'm sticking with ten. Another tiny human will join our family within ten weeks!

So far, this trimester hasn't been as difficult as I feared. *knock on wood* It recently occurred to me that, despite my seemingly constant whining, it certainly hasn't been as difficult as Squirt's last trimester, which is a relief. With her, my pelvic pain was nothing short of debilitating throughout the last pregnancy - oh the pain! It kept me awake at night and drained everything out of me throughout the day. Every step was a test of endurance. Very early in the third trimester, the edema kicked in and quickly got miserably out of control. My ankles, my hands, even my face... I didn't recognize myself in the mirror and, wow, it was painful! Not to mention, I had every single symptom of having developed gestational diabetes, but was never tested, so never knew. I was assured this stuff was normal, harmless, and just part of being pregnant, so I didn't even know to question the cause or try and find out what could help (stupid).

When I very first noticed the super faint positive line on my pregnancy test earlier this year, one of the first things I thought about was the misery of Squirt's last trimester - not the traumatic birth or hospital stay, not the sobering reality that I was bringing another human into the world and all of the huge changes it would bring, but that last, miserable trimester. This pregnancy quickly threw me a curve ball with horrific nausea and pelvic pain that started about five minutes after that first faint positive - I really didn't expect that, since Squirt's first two weren't that bad (heck, her second was awesome!). Really, it's been one thing after another - puking at the office (or the bushes on the side of a very busy street, or the bathroom at Costco, or...), being unable to walk far or pick up Squirt because of the pelvic pain, alarming blood sugar readings... But, unlike last time, I've determined to actually learn what was really going on and manage any underlying problem, instead of just brushing it off as "normal" pregnancy problems. I think that might be why, so far, this last trimester hasn't been so... well... terrible. Between chiropractic care, physical therapy, and being veeeeery mindful of movement, my pelvic/hip pain has been kept mostly in check - it's still there, and I do have some really rough days, but so far, it's actually better than it was in the second trimester (weird, but I'm not complaining!). Because I am pretty certain I had gestational diabetes with Squirt, I have been very mindful of my diet to ensure my blood sugars stay within a healthy range, which is probably why I also haven't really had any swelling yet. So... better than last time. My feet hurt, though, worse than they ever have (relaxin, I guess) and I struggle with insomnia - not because I'm in pain like last time, but because I just can't get back to sleep. It will be hard to resist the deep urge to slug the next person that says it's just my body getting ready for a newborn... Don't worry, I'm way too fatigued to even try throwing a punch. I'll just sit down somewhere and give them a really, really dirty look. Oh, and the on-again, off-again nausea... at least I haven't puked in any public places in a while (trying to look on the bright side).

All things considered, though, this trimester hasn't been that bad. In a way, it's actually been the most pleasant trimester this pregnancy. If it stays mostly like this, these coming weeks (and weeks and weeks) won't be as tough to get through as I feared way back in January. In fact, I'm a bit worried they'll fly by all too fast. While I'm so excited to meet Deuce (and regain something of my "normal" body once again), I'm not yet ready to give up having Squirt all to myself (not dismissing daddy, but she is undeniably a momma's girl right now). She is my best girl, my little companion, the sweetest little friend (she's also a huge pain in the butt and a giant handful, but I digress), and I'm not quite ready to give up the "just-us"ness. I absolutely know, deep in my heart, that we will all adore little Deuce, who will brighten our lives and fill our family with more love and joy than we could imagine! But... there are only so many weeks left with just Squirt and every single day is so special. Soon, very soon, she will be a big sister (which she will very proudly declare), but for now, for ~ten more weeks, it's just us.

Looking a lot more chipper than I feel...

haircut!

This is the only picture I have documenting Squirt's very first haircut:

I will save this golden ringlet for all eternity.

I have been contemplating trimming her hair for a while. ... A long while. But I could never bring myself to actually do it. I can't really explain why, but the thought of cutting her hair was so overwhelming to me and always put knots in my stomach. I knew it needed to happen sooner or later (and, quite frankly, probably sooner rather than later), but kept pushing it off, telling myself it just wasn't the right time. But Squirt's hair has been growing out very unevenly - she had a shorter layer of soft, golden ringlets that fell just at her shoulders, but a longer layer in the back that was straight, always tangly, and fell almost to her waist. She never ever ever (ever ever) let me brush out her hair or "do" anything with it, so it was always a crazy, tangled mess (which, to be honest, I absolutely adored). But she always looked scruffy, even on the rare times her hair was actually brushed out. So, I decided (months ago) I would trim that longer layer to better line up with her shorter layer - it would cut off the most tangly bit and give her more comfort, it would help her hair thicken up and grow out more evenly, and maybe it would even help her sleep better (she often slept on and then pulled her long hair in the middle of the night, which always woke her up). But I figured I'd wait for the "right" time. We could talk with her, build it up, make it a fun experience (and take thousands of pictures!).

Last night, however, the opportunity arose, and I knew I had to jump on it! Shortly before bed, she walked up to me holding a comb, her detangling spray, and a pony tail holder and told me to give her a pony tail. I'm sure my jaw literally dropped - this has never happened. So I plopped her down, drenched her hair in orange-scented detangler (she had a lot of tangles!), combed it out, and pulled it into a pony. That helped pull her short, curly layer straight, which I used as a guide to *gulp* chop off the long layer. There! Done! Just like that. I held the ringlet tightly in my hand, letting the finality of it sink in - I just gave my baby girl her first haircut. I tryied to trim and even out the ends, but Squirt was ready to move on to bigger and better things, so I'll have to come back to it later. She saw that I was holding something in my hand and asked to see it, so I showed her. "My ponytail!!! Mom!!! That goes on my head! Put it back!" (Oh my gosh, what did I do?!...) But I explained that I had given her a trim to make her hair shorter like mine and that this was what I had cut off. I assured her, I'd save it forever ("...and ever?" she asked. Yes.), then gave her a new ponytail. She insisted that it was now her turn to give me a trim and came at me with the scissors! I narrowly escaped with my locks intact, but only with the compromise that she brush out my hair (complete with copious sprays of that almost cloyingly orange detangler).

After the cut, I think I realized why - or at least one of the biggest reasons why - cutting her hair was such a big, emotional deal for me. It means she's growing up. She's not my baby anymore, not really. With that shaggy mane tamed somewhat, she looked so grown up. I saw in that face the woman she will become, and it made my heart ache. It seems like just yesterday I was marveling at her tiny head full of soft, dark, ashen hair, just moments ago I watched her dark baby hair transform into impossibly fine stands of pure gold. Now I'm suddenly the mother of a shaggy-haired toddler. When did that happen? Shortly after her haircut, as I wandered the house almost in a daze realizing how much she has grown up, and how quickly she will truly grow up, I walked in to the bedroom to find her like this:

Slow down, Squirt! Don't grow up so fast!

 

After the haircut, last night was rough. Bedtime has always been my absolute least favorite time of day. Squirt has always been a horrible sleeper, and trying to get her down for the evening has always been what I consider a novel form of torture. Lately, she just doesn't want to stop. Despite (normally) having a very consistent routine, she always wants to keep going. She'll jump on the bed, she'll insist on more books, she'll tell me (ten times) that she needs the potty (and you never, ever, ever ignore the potty request of a potty training toddler! ... and she knows that), she'll tell me she forgot to say goodnight to daddy, she'll tell me she forgot something in the car... anything to stave off lights out. Last night, though, she had a complete meltdown for 45 minutes and there was nothing I could do to comfort her. She was SO MAD about it actually being bedtime (it was actually considerably later than bedtime, which I think was the biggest part of the problem), and SO MAD at me for making it be bedtime - a few times, she screamed at me "I don't love you anymore", ouch. About halfway through the meltdown from hell, Deuce woke up. And wow, did he wake up. Given how aggressively he kicked and pressed into my pelvis, I can't help but imagine his thought process - "my sister is crying, I need to help her! GET ME OUT OF HERE NOW!!!" All I could do was lie there and wait it out as my two children thrashed away, wondering how the heck I'm going to survive similar situations once Deuce is on the outside... Interestingly, Deuce calmed down right around the time Squirt fell asleep... 

Interestingly, earlier in the week I had a meeting that kept me out past Squirt's bedtime, so daddy had to put her to bed. Arriving home just a few minutes after her designated "bed time", I fully expected her to be awake and waiting. I was met at the door with a ssssshhhh by the hubby. She was asleep. Apparently, there was almost no fuss, though she asked for the light to be kept on. I just don't know what he did differently, or why it's always so much more of a struggle for me. I'm secretly convinced he drugged her, because she was sleeping like an angel when I peeked in on her...

home stretch

Earlier this week, as time rolled ever onward, I waddled into my third trimester. As rough as the first two have been, I'm surprised that I'm surprised. It felt like every day in the first two was a test of my endurance just to make it through the day, yet despite that, I still can't believe I'm "already" in the third trimester, the home stretch!

This pregnancy has been so intense, yet strangely surreal. Given that this will be my last planned pregnancy, I went into it planning to savor it, to really treasure such a miraculous experience, but Deuce had other plans. The nausea was debilitating from almost the moment of implantation through most of the second trimester. Before that even let up, well before my third trimester when I expected it, my SI joint and hips began shifting out of place, causing pain so intense sometimes it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. And the fatigue, oh the fatigue. The level of exhaustion I've felt every single day with this one... I've never felt so drained, and that's saying something considering how very little sleep I got with tiny Squirt! Looking back from where I cling on this third trimester ledge, I do not recall a single "good" day, a day where I could truly "enjoy" the wonder of what my body was doing - because every day, my body was doing *something* that made me wonder if I could even get through. Squirt's pregnancy, which had it's challenges - especially in the last trimester - looks like a cake walk compared to this one. Given how unpleasant my pregnancy with Squirt became in the third trimester, I'm pretty apprehensive of how much *worse* this one can get. I'm hoping, though, that maybe I'll still get a golden trimester. Most women have theirs in the second, when they feel great. Maybe I'll get some of that in the third! One can hope. I still want to "savor" this pregnancy...

Every time I catch myself complaining about how rough it's been, I do, however, remind myself to stop and realize exactly what I'm doing - I'm growing another little human! I watch Squirt go about her adventures and realize that I'm doing THAT again! And that is amazing. I am connected to this tiny little soul, providing it's every need. As I watch Squirt in her attempts at world domination, I realize that soon there will be four little feet, four little hands, two bright smiles melting my heart. I am giving her the gift of a sibling while she and Deuce are giving me the gift of more love than I ever imagined possible. As I connect more with this little human inside of me, I am realizing that your heart doesn't portion out the love you already have when you grow your family; rather, your heart grows exponentially to love even more. And that is what makes the last two trimesters melt away. Looking back, I would go through everything I went through bringing Squirt into the world a million times for her. And, really, I would go through the last two trimesters a million times for tiny Deuce. These little ones are worth it all. So I will keep climbing up that steep slope to the peak while trying my best to enjoy the view along the way.

Contemplative Deuce at 27 weeks.

 

whatever

Whatever. This is a new term Squirt discovered this past week. It's first use was: "What-evah, dad. What-evah." I think I speak for both of us when I say that I don't know if we should laugh or cry at this new development... both, probably. Similarly, when she's upset with someone, she'll tell them she's not their friend. Fickle three year old. A few weeks back, I even got an "I can't love you" when I really ticked her off... Note the use of "can't" - not only is she so upset that she no longer loves me, she actually can't love me. *sigh*

But she's not always a little toddler monster. So often, she is a vibrant ball of energy. One of her favorite games right now is to pretend to be mommy or the teacher - you know she's playing this role playing game when she starts calling you "honey." When that happens, don't make the mistake of calling her by her name. Trust me on that one... I've had to relocate several of the pots in one of our kitchen cupboards because, gosh, it's her car, honey. She uses it to drive her honey's (usually Lambie, but sometimes another random doll) to "school", where she promises she'll come back later (and like every good mom, she always does). I enjoy watching her pretend to be mom or teacher because it gives me a glimpse into her day. She plays out various interactions she's had throughout the day (at least in the instances I know about, often verbatim, just with her as the mom and me or Lambie as her). It's interesting to see how she processes frustrating situations, like potty accidents or disagreements with other kids. If I want to know what's *really* going on with her at daycare, I just need to sit back and watch - sooner or later, she'll play out whatever situations really resonated with her.

That said, it really is delightful to just sit back quietly and watch her play. She is so imaginative and enthusiastic. There are dragons in the bathtub and fairies in the flowers. She can see thunder and has long conversations with Deuce, who talks about how crazy life is in the belly (and she talks all about her day, often in more detail than she actually tells me). She also has a "ghost friend" who lives in the bedroom by the window and keeps us safe while we sleep (he magically appeared the first day I cracked the window so the swamp cooler would cool the room)... She is always up to something, always exploring, always trying to find new things to do, which can be pretty exhausting. As always, it's so easy to get mired in the stressful, tiring parts of the day that we overlook the truly beautiful moments, which are countless. I just need to take a tip from her when I'm getting caught up in the stress of the moment and just shake it off with a big what-evah. These beautiful moments are too fleeting to be overlooked.

Not entirely sure what I stumbled upon in the back yard... whatever.