Lookin' Fly in the Three-Piece Suit

Last weekend, James made his first trip to Wisconsin.

Whoever said traveling with a newborn is easy was about 75% right.

He slept most of the time. He rarely cried and if he did, it was because he was too cold/hot, wanted a bottle, or fussed right before he fell asleep. For the most part, it was a fairly easy thing to do.

But 25% of it is all LIES.

Stopping to change a diaper isn't just changing a diaper. It's the planning that goes into when you are going to change that diaper. It's the planning on what you can do on that stop beyond changing the diaper. Do we have to go to the bathroom ourselves? Eat? Get something to drink? Fill up with gas?

Mapquest said it would take us 7 hours and 39 minutes to make it to Mishicot, WI.

It took us 10. At one point, we had an HOUR LONG stop, simply because we needed to eat, and we couldn't eat on the road because we also had to change him. And feed him.

There were tears along the way. Lots of me jumping from the front seat to the back, either to pump, feed him, just check to make sure he was ok. There was some laughter. But nothing compares to the video that we made when we were absolutely exhausted, just after we got there.

And the sight of my little boy in his three-piece suit was something to behold. Too cute!

In other news, I'm down 6 pounds, so I'm finally UNDER 170. Barely. By a pound, if my boobs are empty of milk. But it's still under 170.

Woop woop! Here's to 6 more in the next few weeks! I'm hoping by the time school starts (did I mention, Dad, that I took your advice and took the job?) I hope to be down to my pre-pregnancy weight. Which is still above where I want to be. So we'll see....

We will see...

The Battle Against the Bulge

And no, I'm not talking about bulging diapers. Although, that can be a battle all in itself. Of course, many times, this mom is so anxious to get her little man out of his diapers, he pees mid-change anyway. I've never had someone pee on my hand as much as this little guy. Thank God this hand works as a great shield.

But I digress.

I'm talking about my weight. And yes, I know that there's plenty of time for me to lose it. Several people say, "9 months on, 9 months off!" and "your body has changed, it takes awhile to get back to normal."

Well, damnit, I want it back to normal.

I can successful squeeeeeeeze myself into one pair of pre-preggo shorts. And no, I will not go out in public in them. But I can do it.

There are a handful of skirts that I can get around my huge hips. Thank God for my love of empire-waist dresses, as those are coming in handy right about now.

I still have to wear REAL underwear because I'm still "leaking." I hate panty lines and even the underwear that "swear" against panty lines still create them. And no, I'm not buying sizes that are too small...

Well, maybe I am? But again, I digress.

So I weight 175. One hundred. Seventy-five. Pounds. Holy crap! I thought I'd never see the day! Some people still ask me if I'm pregnant. Really? Really? Screw you and the horse you rode in on!!!

I've been counting my calories (though being very careful not to overdo since I'm breastfeeding and have been battling to get my milk supply up), and I've been trying to get out and walk walk walk. When it's nice. And not hot. And I'm not sweating all over the place.

My husband is incredibly sweet and says, "You still do it for me, babe!" Yeah...too bad I don't feel the same way about my body.

My vagina is still incredibly sore, requiring baths both in the morning and at night, and "rinsing" after using the bathroom, plus the "pain spray" after every pee.It's annoying.

The one good thing from this weight is that my boobs are FANTASTIC!! I mean, fantastic. I have always wanted bigger boobs and now I have them.

However, not a whole lot of my shirts fit because of the gigantic boobs. But that, I can deal with.

In all of this, I gripe, I moan, I feel sorry for myself. When really, I need to remember that I'm "fat" because I had a "baby." Yeah, a baby. Who cries. Sometimes a lot. But he's awesome in the end. He's 5 weeks old and we're still going strong. I still love being a mom, I still feel important and at the end of the day, we love looking at each other. Just looking.

And cuddling in the mornings. My favorite part of the day because he's wide awake and we can hang out and he coo's at me.

I love it all, even with the added weight of everything. Pun intended.

James Thomas and the Practical Guide to Parenting: One Month

I've been thinking a lot about the crazy things you do for your child as a mom. Who in their right mind would wake up every three hours normally? Not anyone of sound mind, that's for sure. But low and behold, James cries in the middle of the night, I'm jumping out of bed without a moment's notice. Usually I'm wide awake, ready to face whatever thing he needs from his mommy. Poopy diaper? Annihilated. Hungry? Taken care of. I'm like Super Woman. Move the hell out of my way. When my baby's crying, there's no stopping me.

Unless I'm really, really tired. And then, there's a lot stopping me.

So here's James' Practical Guide to Parenting, as written by James.

1) Stop killing yourself to change the crib sheet every time my diaper leaks. Just start me at one end of the crib and work me down to the other. Then change the crib sheet.
2) It is ok to simply rinse the bottle you just fed me with to fill it, again, with formula. It will not kill me, I swear.
3) You make up some silly-ass songs. But I absolutely love them. My name is James *clapclap* I have a rash *clapclap* On *clapclap clap* My ass. Someday this will be what we call an oldie-but-goodie.
4) I am a newborn and I have mood swings. Deal with it.
5)  Sometimes I like the sound of my own voice. And the current timbre of my voice is "cry."
6) Yes, there are times that I like Dad more than you, and vice versa. Don't take it personally.
7) I cannot believe you have stooped to the level of licking your finger and wiping my face. Thought I'd never see the day.
8) Someday, I will not appreciate all these cutesy outfits you have put me in. And yes, I'm glad when Dad steps in and says you can't put me in something.
9) I don't know why you freak out about me possibly freaking out during thunderstorms. They are thunderstorms. I'm not freaking out. Why are you?
10) I love that all you let me watch is National Geographic, Animal Planet and The History Channel. Those shows are badass!

And so it goes.

There are so many other things you are starting to do.  A month has flown by and this morning, you smiled at us. A genuine, non-gas-related, longer than 2 second smile. We were over the moon! There have been some trying times, too. Like when your mom forgot to take the plastic wrap off the pork roast and cooked it for four hours before she realized it. Luckily, it was the non-melting kind, but led your dad and I to get on each other's nerves and in response, hate each other for about 3 hours. But at the end of the day, we love each other and decided to eat the pork roast and then never speak of the incident again. Looking back, we were both just really tired.

But tired, mad, sad and more tired are all wrapped up with a giant ball of elatedness that you're finally here. You're ours! And we couldn't be happier.

In other news, I can't help but notice that on your one month, a young, male cardinal showed up at our house. At first, we were laughing because it seems as though he loves to harass Kinnick since Kinnick can't seem to work up the speed to actually catch him. It's not as easy as the little,defenseless bunnies he seems to massacre every night while the neighborhood is sleeping. However, I noticed on Saturday that when I got up to feed you at 5:30 a.m., there was the cardinal. Maybe 3 feet from your window, looking straight in, chirping away with all the other birds in the morning. It was striking being so close on a tiny branch, and I noticed it right away!

It stayed there the entire time I fed you, while I changed you, and then disappeared when I laid you back in your crib. I tripped, exhausted, back into our bedroom and there, on the pear tree branch right outside of our bedroom window was the cardinal. And yes, there was no mistaking it was the same cardinal. Same horn of red feathers on his head, same size, chirping away! I couldn't believe it! There are only two cardinals, a male and female, in our neighborhood, two bluejays and a handful of other birds. It was the same cardinal!

I climbed back into bed, laughing to myself.

Hiya to you too, dad. Good to see you and thank you for watching over myself and James, and then showing back up to tell me I'm doing a good job. Sometimes, it feels like I'm not and I'm the worst mother in the world. Like when I don't necessarily know what to "do" with James - he can't see that well yet, but will this toy or that activity mat keep his interest?

I haven't seen you for a few days, dad, but I know you'll be back just when I'm feeling extra exhausted, sort of defeated and really overwhelmed. Thank you for that.

Thank you thank you thank you for that.

Maverick and Goose

Maverick and Goose

On Friday night, your one-week birthday, your daddy and I thought we would introduce you to some classic movies on Netflix. Unfortunately, mommy barely made it through Top Gun and our Classic Movie Marathon was over, but nonetheless, it was a good time.

I thought I would take a photo to commemorate the event.

You even sleep alike!

Even moreso, though, is the fact that you and your daddy ARE like Maverick and Goose. Inseparable. He loves you with everything he has and then some. He holds you when he can, kisses you in a way that only your daddy would, and holds on to you tight whenever he gets the chance. Beyond that, you two are like peas in a pod. You have his disposition: nothing really bothers you and you're usually as calm as can be. You sleep alike, you look alike and it's been so much fun watching your dad love on you.

He's so incredibly proud to have a son.

Mama and her Cuddly Bear

I, too, am very fortunate, and I love being a mom. Even the projectile poop last night, even the three diaper changes in under three minutes today, even some of the fussing where I'm unsure as to what's going on! It's amazing and I love it! I love washing your bottles, pumping milk knowing that I'm your sole caregiver, washing your clothes.

I love every second of it. I gave you the gift of life, sure, but you have given me a greater sense in life. I am so thankful for that.


I love you!

James Thomas and the Phantom Booger

You're heee-eerreee!!! You made it out into the world and we couldn't be more happy!!!

On Friday morning, I woke up about 1 a.m. with contractions. Again. Oh my, how I was getting tired of these "fake" contractions. Would you just make your appearance already??

By 4:30, these contractions were anywhere from 7-10 minutes, but they were excrutiating. Seriously, these were fake?? I knew that I "couldn't call" the OB/hospital until they were 5 minutes apart, but just when they would get down to 7, they would take a 15 minute break and then a 20 minute break, then they'd be back down to ten.

But they would last FOR-E-VER. I became so frustrated I crawled out of bed at 4:30 and started up the shower. I had read somewhere that a warm shower/bath would help to alleviate my contractions and possibly make them go away altogether. If they were fake...

And so, crying, I ran the shower and woke up your dad. He asked me what I was doing and upon my answering, could tell I was crying. So he came into the bathroom with me to sit out my frustrations and hopefully help me through some of these contractions and in time, see them go away.

I must have looked pathetic sitting in the shower, on a towel b/c I couldn't keep myself upright. Crying because I was so tired and frustrated and in so much pain. Once I got out, I crawled back into bed. Miserably, I crawled back into bed. I was done with being pregnant.

Somehow, I got to sleep for a few minutes (definitely no more than an hour) and laid in bed until 11:00 a.m. By that time, the contractions were no more than 10 minutes apart, but the pain factor had been ramped up and beyond that, they were lasting more than 3 minutes. I was crying out in pain, and your dad came in just as the first part of the contraction was at it's peak. Yes, first contraction...

I told him he needed to call someone, I couldn't take this anymore. He asked me who and I yelled at him, "THE HOSPITAL!" So he called and simply said, "Hi. My wife is in excrutiating pain." He then told them how far along I was and they told us to come in. Thinking, hoping, praying they were going to keep us, I had him pack everything up while I laid in bed, enduring wave after wave of pain.

We got to the hospital about 12:00 (noon) and I was still in tears. I had not showered for a day and a half, I had been crying for since almost 1:00 a.m., and I was wearing my pajamas. We got to the front desk and I told them who I was and why I was coming in. Through the tears, I told them that I knew the magic number as 5, but I had been having contractions about 10 minutes apart and lasting for what seemed like forever.

They took me into triage and the nurse checked me. I was 5-6 cm dilated. Holy crap! I thought. Then I was ecstatic. They had to keep me at 5-6 cm dilated. I felt like I was being watched to make sure these horrible contractions were actually lasting, but the nurse couldn't pick them up. I only had one "horrible" contraction while waiting in triage and that was enough for the nurse. She came back in and said:

"Ok, we have a room for you! Looks like you're going to have a baby today!"

Oh my god, we were going to have a Baby. Not just a baby, but a Baby. With a capital B. B for "responsiBle for another human life."

But I didn't have much time to think about it as I was hurried down the hallway.I was asked beforehand if I had wanted an epidural. I said ABSOLUTELY. I wasn't about to push a watermelon through my kiwi with no drugs!

On our way down the hallway to our end "suite" I had another contraction. Nurse Vanessa was so sweet and said, "We can stop if you need to," and true to form in the time of crisis, your dear old mom said, "Nope. Just gotta. power. throughit." And power through it, I did. We got to the room and I asked the nurse if I could possibly take a shower. I didn't want to power through a birth and then not have any energy to take a shower, only to be skanky for a couple more days. No thanks.

And so my adventure into motherhood truly began. I got my IV, the epidural was in place, the dr. broke my bag of water and in less than 4 hours, I went from almost 6 cm dilated to 10 cm dilated.

Your Grandma Terri got there right at 5:00, which was right before I was about to start pushing. She said hello, then went to the waiting room, hoping not to have to wait too long, I'm sure!

So at about 5:35 p.m., I started pushing. And I worked hard. But your daddy worked equally as hard. He held my leg, held my back, and rooted me on. True to form, your daddy's encouragement, tough love and support got me through one of the biggest moments of my life. I truly think that sometimes he was put in my "path" because I needed someone like that.

I didn't dare open my eyes, and I kept being asked if I wanted a mirror. Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want a mirror!!! Why on earth would I want to see that? Out of sight, out of mind. So I concentrated on pushing. I told the nurses when I needed to push. I pushed as hard has I could and apparently became very vocal. I pushed and pushed and pushed. But you helped because it was very apparent you were ready to come out into the world.

Your head began to "break through" shall we say, and I remember distinctly telling the nurses to just grab it. One of the nurses said, "There's nothing to grab onto, honey." Well FIND SOMETHING! I remember thinking to myself.

At another point, there was a shift change and doctor who broke my water was not the doctor who was going to be delivering me. They couldn't find Dr. Bellaire, and I was on the verge of pushing the head out. I remember the nurses making me breathe through a couple contractions - not because they were painful, but because the urge to push was overpowering. So I breathed through them. I centered myself and made sure to not push.

Finally, the doctor made her appearance, and had to put on her scrubs. I began to tell the nurses that I had to push, and the doctor said, "Just wait! I have to put my scrubs on!" I remember answering, "Well HURRY UP!" I apologized for that later... but seriously, you didn't have your scrubs on upon walking into a birth?

So there it was - all sorts of people were in the room, but I was in the zone. And I pushed without taking a break - once, twice, three times. I remember twirling my finger in the air, signaling I was going to push again, and I did, a fourth time. And all of a sudden, one of the nurses said, "Open your eyes!"

So I did. And there you were. Sliding out and into the doctors arms. I had told the nurses that I wanted you put on my chest immediately, and your daddy wanted to cut the cord. Neither of those things happened. Instead, you were whisked to the table, where the nurses began rubbing you down. You weren't crying. Why weren't you crying??

Your dad bent down and I could tell her was on the verge of tears as he said some lovely thing to me that to this day, I will probably never remember. I just remember he was so excited, overcome with emotion and so obviously proud of me. It was a lovely, lovely moment. I finally asked him to go check on you as I had finally heard you cry, but I knew that there was a reason you didn't get to cut the cord and a reason why they didn't put you on my chest.

You had your umbilical cord wrapped around you neck, causing the doctor to cut it as soon as she saw it. Because of that, in combination with the fact you didn't cry right away, they needed to put you on the table to make sure you were ok.

And you were. Not just ok, but you were perfect. I asked your dad to go check on you and make sure you were all right, and a nurse answered that you were. But he's your daddy. And I needed to know from your daddy, not some stranger who had been holding my legs back.

There you were, all 8 pounds, 14.5 ounces, and 21 inches of you. I can't believe you were almost 9 pounds! It was incredible and YOU were incredible! My life changed, officially for the better, at 6:38 p.m. on May 11, 2012. Your dad went over and videotaped your weight and there you were. They wrapped you up and you came over and they put you on my chest. And you were beautiful! PERFECT!

After that, it's all a blur. Lots of friends came to see us in the hospital. Grandma Mary is absolutely smitten with you. Your dad is over the moon for you. I am in complete love with you. Grandma Terri thinks you're beautiful and I know Grandpa Tom had something to do with how perfect, sweet and innocent you are.

Everyone says that you don't know love until you have a child. I always thought it was a feeling, but now, I realize it's something bigger than yourself. Something incredibly beautiful and now, I know.

I love you, James Thomas. I am so incredibly fortunate. You are so perfect. Perfect.

Fast forward to the homecoming and beyond: 
 
Since then, it's been amazing. We came home yesterday and it was fun to take our first car ride with you. We were so careful, it's so funny! You're not going to break, but we just want the best for you. The absolute best. I love you. Love love love you!

Last night, your daddy, who has been incredibly confident up until this point, had a bit of a freak out. And somehow, we totally switched roles, and I was the one who ended up calming him down. For some reason, the nurse made mention at the hospital that sometimes, newborns have phlegm and other things that might get "stuck" in their throat, and because you're still learning your swallowing reflex, you might have a hard time actually swallowing. This might cause you to stop breathing and if that happens, we just need to put you in an uncomfortable position with your head lower than your body and rub you vigorously to make you cry. That will keep you breathing.

Oh lordy. So last night, your dad swore you had a booger in your nose that was keeping you from breathing well. And truthfully, you did sound a little stuffed up, but I wasn't too worried about it. But your dad was all of a sudden on alert, at nearly midnight, with the fear that this phantom booger might keep you from breathing. So I got up, went over to him, grabbed you out of his arms and "got his head on straight," as he told me tonight when we were talking about it.

Which made me realize that I'm lucky that Grandpa Tom has given me some of his confidence that you will be all right. I don't need to freak out about every little thing and you'll be fine, if we give you everything we have and then some.

So in all, you've been a great baby and we're very fortunate. I cannot imagine what life was like before you, even though it was only a short while ago.

I love you, James Thomas! 

40 Weeks + 4 and What's This "Prodromal Labor?"

Well well well, Baby Engels, you still have yet to make your appearance.

I went to the doctor on Monday and he stretched me, again. I'm not sure if he stripped my membranes, but he definitely did something down there! And nothing happened!!! I was expecting bright red blood, floods of mucus-y discharge and even more so, your birth. But there was nothing! Nada!!!

But on Monday night, I started having contractions. Then I was able to sleep through them, and woke up at 5:00 on Tuesday morning with contractions that took my breath away! "This is it!" I remember thinking.

Nope!

I called in sick to work, to essentially start my "Maternity Leave" and came downstairs to eat something. Yep, I was still having contractions! I did some things around the house, gliding around because I was so excited. Only to be incredibly disappointed not even four hours later. The contractions went away. I was devastated.

And then they started back up again!!!!! But it was nothing to get excited about...


This went on all day. ALL. DAY. Finally, a little after midnight, with absolutely no progression and only steady contractions that came and went, I was able to get to sleep.

Only to bolt upright in bed (as much as my 40 week pregnant body will let me "bolt" at this point...) at 4:00 a.m. to a contraction that was incredibly painful.

And here it was again. The same thing. Only to end about 6:00 a.m., when I fell back to sleep. I awoke at 8:00 a.m. and had more contractions throughout the day. I made your dad go with me on a walk, and about noon, my contractions took off. They were coming about every 7-10 minutes and incredibly painful. Your dad was awesome, talking me through them and making sure I was breathing, which is very important to the health of YOU.

I finally called the hospital at about 4:00 p.m. frustrated that this had been happening for about 12 hours off and on. I was frustrated and concerned for your health and what did the hospital tell me? "Not until they're 5 minutes apart and painful." Um, these are fucking painful. What the hell? But I hung up with them, discouraged and pissed off. Your dad suggested we do something to get my mind off of it. So I cleaned the floor, he helped me, and we made dinner.

All the while, I was still having contractions that were painful to the point where I had to bend over and support myself on something. They took my breath away.

I walked around the house and your dad timed them. 5 minutes, 5 minutes, 5 minutes, 7 minutes? Then 12 minutes? Then 3 minutes, then 4 minutes, then 5 minutes, then 4 minutes. It went on like this for hours. It was painful, exhausting and emotionally draining. Each time I would get closer to 5 minute contractions for about a minute each for an hour, it would change. Each time I went to the bathroom, it felt like I was having a contraction. Each time I got up or changed position, it would be one or two extra minutes that it took to have another contraction.

Talk about frustration.

Then I had a freezie pop (your dad and his freezie pops!) and it was delicious, so I had another. And they started to subside. I could feel my body starting to relax. I sat down and nearly fell asleep because I was so tired.

I did some Google searches on this afterward, and Prodomal Labor is what I came up with. What exactly is it? Essentially, it's also known as "false" labor, although there's nothing "false" about it, or otherwise known as "early labor," which is the labor that prepares your body for active labor. Some women go through it all in one fell swoop (early, active, post-baby) and some women, like me, get to put up with it for days or WEEKS before giving birth. So when people say, "I was in labor for 36 hours before I gave birth" they actually aren't too far off. Usually the contractions aren't consistent and they are usually between 7-10 minutes apart, no more, no less. It's to ready your body for labor. So this might explain all the cramps I've been having for the past 2 weeks. Braxton Hicks contractions are essentially the same as prodromal labor.

It's excrutiating.

However, after my rest last night, I feel good, but I know if I do anything "extra" today, it will send me into these contractions again. And I can't do it. Not for three days in a row.

So here I am, on the couch, blogging, relaxing, watching TV and patiently waiting for your arrival. After the past 48 hours, I can wait a few more to have you in a pitocin-induced, epidural haze.

And even though I can wait, I can't. I am so excited to have you and I already love you to pieces!!!

40 WEEKS!

Mama Engels at 40 Weeks!

40 Weeks pregnant. Forty.
That's a long time to be pregnant!

I've been thinking a lot about this post. What on earth am I going to write about? What should I want you to know when you read this 25 years down the line when you're expecting your own little bundle of joy.

You already know how you came to be, how we announced you, how I enjoyed (and didn't always enjoy) being pregnant. How I've waited for you, how I'm sad that your Grandpa Tom isn't here, how your dad and I are trying to do those "couple" things for the last time, how I'm elated to give your daddy the chance to be just that - a daddy.

So I guess there's just one more thing to write about. Your daddy.

1) Your daddy knows just how to handle me. Somehow, he's got it down to a fine art. For instance, tonight when we went fishing (to celebrate your due date...hilarious!) I got frustrated and somehow your daddy picked up on that very quickly. So what did he do? Blamed it on the fish, just like I was doing. Just so I wouldn't get so frustrated. He's too kind to point out my flaws.
2) Your daddy can act exactly like a big kid. Another example from our fishing excursion today: your daddy didn't want to go, but I was getting hungry, tired, and very crampy from contractions. So he said, "Just let me try and get rid of this worm" and dipped his pole and line in the water. I was thinking he just wanted to snag it on something. Nope, he was definitely still trying to fish. Without re-baiting his hook, but by using what he had left. He didn't want to leave, and he didn't want to waste the rest of his worm. Hilarious!
3) He is so excited for you to get here. I can see the disappoint when each day goes by and you're not here. I know he's going to love you with everything that he has and then some. I'm so glad that I finally put away my reservations, stopped letting life pass me by and gave him this beautiful gift. And myself. I can't wait to meet you!
4) I call him putt-putt, but I wish I had even the smallest amount of insight into situations that he has. It seems like every time I get worked up about something, he has a different way of looking at it that's more kind, sincere, and thoughtful. He makes educated decisions after weighing all the facts, and if there's anything I have learned from him, it's that you always, always make decisions after gathering the facts, not the opinions.
5) He is one of the most supportive and loyal people I have ever met. Because, once again, he takes the high road and always, always tells me, "Keep your side of the street clean." Sometimes he's so wise, I wonder where he hides that little boy that occasionally comes out to play.
6) I admire his tact, his ability to deal with people and his integrity. Sometimes, I can't believe how lucky I am. It hasn't always been this way between us, but now that it is, I can't ever see it being another way. Every day when I wake up, I love him even more. I know when I see him hold you, I will love him even more. I love him even more, every day. It's a lovely feeling.
7) There is something about being 100% completely yourself with someone. There are people with whom I am 90% real with. But with Eric, he knows all my secrets, flaws and fears, and yet he still loves me with everything he has. So I'm safe with him. And there's never a time that he doesn't love me. He always shows me respect, always treats me with kindness and makes sure I am happy. I cannot be more thankful!
8) He is so funny!!! He has some of the sharpest wit, funniest comebacks and overall, always makes me laugh. There was once upon a time where we didn't really laugh all that much, but we do now, and it's the most glorious thing. I love love love laughing with your dad, and it's one of my favorite things to do.
8) Your daddy is my best friend. I may not always like him and the things he does or the flaws he may have, but overall, he's my best friend. He encourages me, he supports me, he throws me a bone when I get frustrated over something stupid (i.e. the fish incident today...) and I can't think of anyone who will be a better father to anyone. I have seen him in just about every role and I cannot wait to see him in this one. He will be fantastic with it.

In other news, last night, we were watching the show Long Island Medium. Eric asked if I believed in that type of thing. I said yes and he replied with the fact that awhile back in our relationship, I had seemed so on the fence about it. I told him that was definitely before my dad died, and now that he is gone, I have seen things and felt things that you can't really explain. And it's my dad. I know it's my dad.

So I went on to say how I thought my dad had a hand in us having a baby boy. Because I knew my dad wouldn't give me a girl! He knows me too well. Eric came back with, "Maybe your dad gave us a boy because he didn't want me to be alone!" HILARIOUS! And it was with that comment that I am always astounded by his insight in things. That's exactly what my dad would have done. Not that he didn't always look out for me, but we're also talking about your grandpa, who patted your dad on the back when your dad asked to marry me, and said, "Well...good luck!" HA! So maybe you being a boy is my dad being humorous, but especially supportive. That would be just like your grandpa to joke like that. Ohhh, chuckles...

Otherwise, I'm just going to enjoy the time I have left with your dad. Because I know once you get here, it will be the both of us, together, but not really focusing on the us of things, but more on the you of things.

I love you already! Can't wait for you to be here!!!