Introduction: Our Brazilian Food Baby

Hello all, there is someone I would like you to meet.

Here on Life As We Know It, she will be known as Miss Zell or perhaps even just Miss Z. because sometimes I am too lazy to type out the other three letters.

She was NOT HAPPY to be kicked out of her watery abode. And she made sure EVERY one knew it.

Our little lady took some time joining us.
And not just by missing her due date and having to be forced out--and even in her ousting she took her sweet time joining the rest of us...but in general, she was a long time coming to our family.

You see, I thought we were done--DONE--having children.

That's all. Case closed. Sell the baby gear!

But then, waaaay back in July of 2011, Dr. C and I took the family on a vacation to Utah. We celebrated our anniversary while we were there and Dr. C's parents were kind enough to watch the kiddos while we went out to eat Brazilian food at one of our favorite restaurants.

And while we were there...Boom!

Out of NOWHERE, I felt very strongly that we should have another child.

But seeing how I still was recovering from our last pregnancy and childbirth--the one that brought us our sweet and sassy Miss Banana; the one that aged us 100 years in her first year of life--we hesitated.

Ok, ok... I hesitated.

Dr. C was all for it from Day One. But being the fabulous husband that he is and knowing that my nerves were just barely getting over their frayed state from the previous two-and-a-half years...we put the idea on the back burner.

All of the pictures of Miss Z in this little pink and white outfit were taken by the hospital phootographer who works for Bella Baby. Didn't she do a great job? Don't worry though, I bought them so I am free to use them here.

The waaaaaaaay back burner.
With the flame off.
In fact, I completely pushed the idea out of my mind.

Because at that point, having another child was crazy talk.

And then, Dr. C and I took a lovely little trip to San Antonio. And guess what we did there?

That's right.

We ate Brazilian food.

 That night, I had dream after dream about another little one being in our family.

I blamed it on that darn tasty Brazilian lemonade.
(Non-alcoholic, in case you were wondering.)

 After that, I did what any self-respecting mother with a little bit of PTSD from her previous pregnancy would do:

I STOPPED eating Brazilian food.

 And then...life got busy. We moved from the South to Iowa.

And once again, the baby idea got pushed waaaaaay back.

A Brazilian food restaurant opened near my parents' house and Dr. C suggested that we go while we were there visiting.

Um, NO. 
It will tell me we should have another baby! 
We just moved! 
We were getting settled into our new house!
I don't even know the neighbors yet!

But apparently--by this point--just the mere mention of Brazilian food would send me a night full of baby dreams.

I held them off again.

And then, my "alien abduction" symptoms started getting worse.
And instead of having baby dreams at night, I would wake up not being able to feel or move half of my body.

I'll take those baby dreams back, please.

And so began a different adventure--one in which I became very much like a baby myself. An adventure that forced me to re-evaluate what I thought was "hard".

When I came out of surgery and knew that I was alive and moving and still me...Dr. C and I knew it was time to embrace those Brazilian food thoughts and dreams. We decided that when I was healthy enough--our little one that had been waiting so long, should join our family.

No more excuses.
No more waiting.
No more back burner.

JUST EAT THE BRAZILIAN FOOD. 
Which I did, at the luncheon for my brother's wedding.

We were pregnant a week later.
Go figure.

Which is why it is ironic that after waiting more than two years...I had to kick her out in the end.

Maybe she didn't mind the wait after all.

This picture looks so much better with four loveys, don't you think?

Thank you, Brazilian food, for helping us get our little Miss Zell into our family.
I'll take another lemonade.
(But hold the baby dreams...because Miss Z doesn't let me sleep long enough to dream anyway.) 

Eviction Notice.

Dear Baby #4,

This is what I look like today at 39 weeks pregnant:

See that big bump there? Yeah, that's you.

And this is your eviction notice.

Please note that at the doctor's office today, my belly is measuring 2 weeks ahead of schedule and during an ultrasound, the doctor estimated that you are already weighing over TEN POUNDS.

It's time to come out, Little Lovey.

It's time.

Don't get me wrong, I have been able to get a lot of things done while you have been enjoying your current abode. Your siblings made homemade snow globes the other day:

And T-Man and Fearless performed in their school concerts:

T-Man even had a speaking part during his program--which he delivered perfectly, using inflection and everything. You would have never known he was nervous!

And last week we traveled the 2 hours and 45 minute drive to your Grandma and Grandpa's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Unfortunately, my camera battery was dead for the dinner itself, but it was revived in time for the pie pictures.

In case you were counting, there are 18 pies there + cookies. Yum.

This is the pie that I made--Caramel Apple Cherry.

Baby #4, I really really really thought that all the good food and yummy pies were going to entice you to move out. So much so, that when I started having contractions every 10 minutes at the end of Thanksgiving dinner, Dr. C hurried and packed us all up, we got in the car, drove home the 2 hours and 45 minutes so that you could be born at our hospital and with our doctor.

We were supposed to stay at your Grandma and Grandpa's house until Saturday.

But you...you wanted me to go home. So home we went and after 5 hours of regular contractions...they fizzled. You decided to snuggle back into where you are and let me continue to be your hostess.

Thanks for that.

Since we were home early, we picked up our Christmas tree over the weekend and decorated it last night:

And since you should be moving out into the world with the rest of us soon, I'll give you a little heads up about some differences between your father and I. Usually, I spend 3-4 hours putting the 1300-1500 lights on our Christmas tree. I firmly believe that Christmas tree lights should be able to be seen from outer space. But this year, with you throwing off my center of gravity and making my belly stick into the tree, your father--who has no desire to triple our electric bill in December with oodles and oodles of lights--put 900 lights on the tree in about 45 minutes.

You can draw your own conclusions about what these differences will mean to you for your future.

Also this year, because my ability to move quickly is greatly hampered by your continuous presence in my mid-section, I let your siblings decorate the tree any way they wanted. This means most of the ornaments are at child's-eye-level. They loved it. You could have watched them and we might have even helped you put some ornaments on the tree too if you were on the outside.

If you had moved out, you could have been in this picture with your siblings.

Your father and I have been working to make life pleasant for you out here. And while your nursery isn't completely finished, we've made a lot of progress. Enough progress that you can come out now.

Dr. C painted the changing table, I recovered the changing pad, and made those storage bins from scrap fabric and cardboard. Those bins were the Pinterest project from the Dark Side. But I stuck with them because I wanted things to be nice for you. You're welcome.

I found flowers like these on Etsy for a gazillion dollars and I thought I could make them for you myself. So I did. The vase I found at a thrift shop and it was an ugly brown green color. Your father painted it white for you.
You're welcome.

Yes, I know I need to put a real picture in that picture frame. And I know I need to put some cute decorations in the bottom. But if those minor details are what's stopping you from joining us, we are going to have problems. Just FYI.

We didn't get a before picture of the crib...but it was the same brown as the other furniture. Your dad painted it for you...I made the crib skirt, the crib sheets, and the quilt.
You're welcome.

We also made coordinating cornices for your windows.
You're welcome.

Your room isn't completely finished, but after painting, sewing, and refinishing...we are done with it for now. When you come out and join the rest of the world, I will finish it.

In addition to all of that, I spent almost a whole week cooking food to put in the freezer for your family so that I could spend my time focused on you once you arrived. I don't even know how many things I made, but our upright extra freezer is jam-packed, waiting for your appearance.

And so I will conclude with the same thing that I opened with; an eviction notice:

Baby #4, you are hearby required to exit your current residence by December 10th. If you do not make this exit willingly, I will be taking more drastic measures and unceremoniously kicking you out.

This is your final notice. You have been warned.

Much love,
Your Mother

Not-So-Current Events.

With my first three children, my body handled pregnancy really well. Sure, I got uncomfortable...but I was only a little sick and I had the energy to do pretty much whatever I wanted.

I was a baby making machine!

This time? Not so much. More like...

I think I'm going to diiiiiieeeee!!!!

Ok, not quite that dramatic, but definitely much harder this time around. I don't know if that's because I'm 4 years older than I was last time or because my "alien" is gone or because I was still recovering from surgery or a combination of all three, but Oy! it's been harder.

Which means I have good intentions to write and post but then...I fall asleep on the couch instead.

So sorry, my friends.

Tonight, I'm avoiding finishing another project for the baby room so I thought I would post some of the latest goings-on in our family; despite the fact that they are no longer current events.

So let's go waaaay back to September and our first Buddy Walk in our new state:

It was a beautiful day for a Buddy Walk and the turnout was great! We did learn though that all of the activities really take place before the actual walk part. Unlike all the other Buddy Walks we've been at where they walk first, then play after. So the kids were slightly disappointed that we pretty much missed all the fun stuff. Next year, we'll know better.

They did manage to squeeze in some bounce house time which, for them, was the highlight of the event.

Now onto October...

Last year, I didn't do a lot of the fun Fall stuff. So this year, I tried to make up for it a little. I made at least three batches of pumpkin bars, pumpkin scones, and drank apple cider by the gallon. Last year, we missed our annual pumpkin-carving...but this year, we got it done.

Miss B was not impressed with the pumpkin guts.

Sorry for the blurry picture...but it's a ghost, Cinderella, and some bats.

Another funky picture...but it's the uncarved pumpkin for Baby #4, a spider and a traditional jack-o-lantern.

And I got to agonize over Halloween costumes again. The boys still let me influence their costume choices and Miss Banana just likes to wear dresses...so this year we went Ancient world with a gladiator, Cleopatra, and a roman solider.

I got Miss B to wear the black wig and she actually kept it on! And while she likes to put on my make-up herself, she was not a fan of me putting make-up on her and she will cry/yell/kick when attempted. Lesson learned.

T-Man took his role VERY seriously.

We also did a little hay ride and put up fall decorations. Much more festive than last year!

The month of October was also Get-the-Baby-Room-Ready month...but most of the before/after pictures of that project are on Dr. C's phone so those will come another day.

(As long as I don't fall asleep on the couch instead.)

Create.

 It always takes a while after moving to a new place it to feel like Home. I go to my house but it just doesn't feel like Home. It always takes awhile to meet new people, make new friends, to make a new little niche for myself and feel like I belong--like I'm Home. After our many moves (we've moved seven times and have lived in six states in our 11 years of marriage. Wowzas!), I recognize this phenomenon and you'd think I would be used to it. But even with all that moving experience under my belt...it's usually takes at least six to eight months before I'm Home.

This move is no different.

Even though it takes months, I have learned a how to make the time more joyful while I dig in and learn to make our new state Home, a way to keep myself from feeling lonely and wishing that I could return to any of the other places where I've left part of my heart.

I create.

One of my favorite people in the world, Dieter F. Uchtdorf, said this about creating:

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty

You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.

 And that is my task. To create a new Home out of this new house, new town, new state, new people. And slowly, I am getting there. I always feel rejuvenated and energized when I finish a project--when I have taken something raw and turned it into something beautiful. I feel more at Home when I have created something that was not there before.

For the past few weeks, I've been working on the concrete-type of creating--trying to make a cute nursery for this little one who should be making her arrival in 10 1/2 short weeks.

I started with a baby quilt:

And from there, decided that I might as well make crib sheets to match it:

I used this DIY crib sheet tutorial. As my kids would say, it was "easy-peasy-pumpkin-sqeezie".

Next up is a crib skirt out of this unorganized material:

And Miss Banana...always my little helper-creator, decided to create a little photo bombing:

She really just wanted the camera all on her, so happily, I obliged...because, really, who can get enough of this cute face?!? 

I know I can't. 

Plus, she is one of my 3 and 3/4 favorite creations (with her brothers and soon-to-be-sister rounding out that list) so she fits right in with this post.

Miss Banana is also my little kitchen-helper-creator, and this morning we created these delicious pumpkin scones:

And through those efforts of creating something tangible, I can feel the intangible creating is going on as well. It is happening when Fearless helps me thread the elastic through the crib sheet casings, or when Miss B sticks her head in the bowl to lick out the last of the pumpkin scone glaze, or when T-Man wants me to teach him to how to tie a quilt--little by little, those events and memories are creating this new place into Home.

Life is a Miracle.

This morning I woke, stretched luxuriously across my bed, and then realized what day it is:

September 25, 2013.

I checked the clock:  6:30AM.

I instantly flashed back to that date and time one year ago when I was lying on a hospital bed, telling the nurse that Dr. Brains might as well just shave my whole head, and making small talk with Dr. C and my parents while we waited for the orderly to wheel me away to the operating room.

As I laid in bed, remembering those moments...I kept circling back to one thought:

Life is a MIRACLE.

I am reminded of this every time I brush my hair in the morning and feel the clydesdale-sized-horseshoe-shaped scar that runs across my head--a reminder that my chance at this life could have been over, or very dramatically altered. Instead, I emerged relatively unscathed with only short hair, a scar, and the loss of feeling in my left leg. But who cares?  

I'm alive.

I am reminded that life is a miracle every time I listen to T-Man--who recently turned NINE years old (!!!I have been a mother for NINE years!!!)--explain his new idea. His mind is constantly working on a new way to improve the world and is full of enthusiasm and optimism for a bright future. He sees a problem, tackles it from all sides, examines the possibilities and solutions. Then, he emerges triumphant, full of confidence that his solution will, in fact, change the world as we now know it.

I am reminded that life is a miracle every time I watch Fearless perform acrobatics on the swing set. He prefaces each new daring act with "Mom! Watch what I can do!" Then flips his body in ways that make my heart stop. Somehow (so far!) he always lands on his feet, grinning from ear to ear--fascinated and amazed at the many ways he can make his body do what he wants it to do.

I am reminded that life is a miracle every time I help Miss Banana get dressed and I see the 5-inch long scar zippered down her chest--more of a badge of honor, really--that signifies her battle to continue living her daring adventure. It serves as a constant caution to never forget that several times we've come this close to living our lives without her.

And today,  I was also reminded that life is a miracle as I got to take a good long look at Baby #4...the little one that is squishing my insides and melting my heart with each kick of her little feet. Dr. Babies here in our new state thought it would be good for my peace of mind if we did a Level II ultrasound to really check her out and make sure there were no foreseeable surprises. Somehow, by a tender mercy, the appointment was scheduled for today--the one year anniversary of my new chance on life.

As we looked her over...and saw  that she has hair and that she can open and close her tiny little fists and that her heart has four chambers...the tears rolled down my cheeks at the sight of this new little life just waiting for her chance to have a daring adventure. If this day a year ago had gone differently, I would have missed out on an opportunity to see what she will make of it.

Life is a miracle.