Dear Layla,
I know this may sound morbid and awful, but there is one important thing I want you to know in case I don't make it long enough to tell you in person: Please remember that girls should be nice to other girls.
Yes, I hope to live long enough to witness you go to prom, graduate from college, get married, and have kids, but I also don't know God's Plan for me and you. Perhaps our time together will be long (*crossing my fingers*) and that will be magical. But if it isn't meant to be that way, please remember to be nice to other girls. I like to think of this as Girl Code.
If all girls were to adhere to the Girl Code then such stupid shows as "The Bad Girls Club", "Jersey Shore", and basically anything considered reality television on VH1 would cease to exist. Why can't girls just get along?!? Why must they fight and argue to make each other miserable? I just don't get it.
Oh, sweet Layla, please try to break the cycle of being mean. Just try to be nice. If you see a girl with lipstick on her teeth, tell her. This is being nice. Who would want to walk around with red lipstick stains all over their pearly whites? If a girl who looks like one of the hippos from Disney's Fantasia asks you if she looks fat in her new outfit, dodge the question. This is also being nice. Change the subject to how the color compliments her eyes or the outfit makes her boobs look great.
See the difference? You don't have to be mean! It's a win-win!
I only bring up the need to understand the Girl Code because some women were never taught this important lesson. I know this personally and became a victim during the early stages of my pregnancy with you.
I was only 6 weeks preggo when I started to announce my pregnancy. Most women were quick to congratulate me but there were others who thought it would be appropriate to talk about miscarriage. Though it's true that the risk of miscarriage is high during the first trimester, I found the constant reminders from other women to be a direct violation of Girl Code. Why did they feel the need to burst my preggo bubble?! Urgh!
There are many examples of how the Girl Code was ignored during the beginning of my pregnancy. There was the woman who commented, "I lost a baby that was 6 weeks old" when I showed her your blinking dot ultrasound at 6 weeks. Another woman told me that she miscarried multiple times before carrying a baby full-term. The nasty comments were coming at me like a rainstorm on a spring afternoon - they were unavoidable. It got so bad that I felt guilty for being pregnant. I refused to talk about being pregnant unless someone else bought it up in conversation. I quit reading my pregnancy books. I was a miserable person who just wanted to be happy.
Perhaps my lowest point was one night around the 8 week mark. I had come home from work after enduring several miscarriage comments. Daddy was at work, so I was alone until dinner. I tried to get my mind off the miscarriage topic, so I turned on the T.V. for a distraction. I ended up dropping the remote and the channel changed to a info-merical for St. Jude's Hospital. (This is not unusual since we live in Memphis. St. Jude is a wonderful place of hope and healing! Daddy and I donate to St. Jude because we believe that it is a great place where God moves and daily miracles happen.) I got sucked into a story about a girl born with a terminal disease who is a patient at St. Jude. The story was wonderful, but it broke my heart. I couldn't help but to think, "If my baby DOES survive this pregnancy, she could be sick like the girl on television!" All I could do was cry. I literally cried so hard that I couldn't breathe. My heart ached. I sat in the living room, the only light was from the television (Darn Daylight Savings Time and the light switch being SOOO far away from the couch!) and cried, cried, cried. Daddy came home to find me in this pitiful state. This made me cry more. His hugs and Taco Bell made me feel better.
Just thinking about that night makes me a little weepy. It was perhaps the lowest point of my life, not just pregnancy.
Promise me Layla that you will remember the Girl Code. I am sure that there will be girls that come along in your life that will hurt you. Just do your best to not hurt others. Some girls will get pure enjoyment out of making other girls miserable. Sure they may end up on some crappy reality television show, however it's not worth it. They will expect to get money and fame, but really all they'll get is ridicule from Joe McHale from E!'s The Soup.
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Will Uncle Jason Be An Uncle or Aunt? That was the Question!
Dear Layla,
The instant that I learned that I was pregnant, I wanted to know if you were a girl or a boy. Pink or blue, pink or blue? Aaack! There are some women that are strong enough to wait until their child is born to learn, but Mommy is NOT one of those girls. There are also some women that claim to "just know" their child's gender. Mommy is NOT one of those girls either. We had to wait to learn that you were a girl. Here is that story:
Well, before I get to the story, let me tell you about your Uncle Jason. Uncle Jason is Mommy's brother. He is a super smart guy with a great sense of humor. When Daddy and I were trying to get pregnant, Uncle Jason would tease and say that we would make him an Aunt or Uncle one day. The joke caught on among the rest of the family too. It was always so funny to me. In fact, it is still funny to me.
The night that I got 3 positive home pregnancy tests, I tried calling him. He didn't answer so I left him a message to call me back, no matter the time. He didn't return my call. I just figured he was out being a social or doing something too awesome to talk to his lame sister. I vowed to call him in the morning on my way to work, no matter the time. He needed to know that you were coming, NO MATTER THE TIME!
Turns out that he was brushing his teeth when I called. (Us Chandler off-spring have this thing about teeth. We rarely get cavities, never needed braces, and judge others by the quality of their teeth. Teeth are important DANG IT!) I told him that I was pregnant. After a series of "No Way!" and "Are you serious?" and "That's awesome!" I told him that your Daddy and I were going to make him an Uncle or Aunt in the spring. Ha!
Anywho, back to the real story. . .
At the 15 week mark, I was scheduled to go back to the doctor for some routine blood work. They were testing to be sure that you were healthy and the risk of any birth defects. Pretty normal stuff. As Dr. Byrd and I were leaving the examination room, Amy approached us. Amy is the Ultrasound Tech and Mommy's new BFF. She walked up to Dr. Byrd and begged him to let her try. He handed her my file folder and wished us luck. Your Mother, the clueless parent, had no idea what they were talking about.
Amy grabbed my hand and took me into the ultrasound room. She said, "Let's see if we can find the gender!" OH HOLY CRAP! Daddy had dropped me off at the doctor's office and went to Best Buy to kill time. (Best Buy is Mecca for men. For women, a good shoe store is our Mecca. One day you'll understand.) Daddy would kill Mommy if he were to miss this ultrasound! I quickly texted him to get the the office pronto. To buy time for him, I stalled Amy. "Oh Amy! I thought you couldn't learn the gender until 20 weeks" and "Can I go to the bathroom" (see previous post about PEEING) and "Justin is almost here. . . I swear!" were my tactics. It worked.
With Daddy finally there, we began spying on you. That is what I think about ultrasounds - they are tools for parents to spy on their unborn children. I love spying on you! (Perhaps you should hide your Diary in a REALLY safe spot. Consider that a warning.) You were sitting criss-cross and breech. The most worstest, awfullest position for learning a baby's gender. You were NOT going to make this easy.
Amy then poked me with the ultrasound tool, had me lean back. . . waaaaaay back, and started talking to you. You finally stretched your legs and popped your thumb in your mouth. Precious! For only a second, your legs were nice and straight, and then they were criss-cross again. Amy, the miracle worker she is, managed to catch the all-important glance she needed. She said you were a girl, but that she was only about 90% sure. She wanted a better look, so she went back to poking and I went back to squirming around on the paper-covered chair.
She also started talking to you again. She said, "Come on little one! Open your legs!" I believe that it was in that moment that Daddy proved that he was going to be A Great Daddy - without missing a beat, he told Amy, "You are the ONLY person that will ever say that to MY daughter!"
Well, she didn't get the better look that she was hoping for, but was able to tell through other ways that you were a girl. The "other ways" included a bunch of medical stuff - blah, blah, blah. You'll have to talk to Daddy about that because I was tuned out. Mommy was officially in Baby Girl Heaven.
On the drive home, Daddy and I called our families. I called my Dad first. (By the way, he needs a Grandpa name. Best of luck to ya girl! You aren't even here yet and you already have work to do!) He needed to know that he was going to be a Grandmother, then called my Mom at work so that she could celebrate being a Grandmother among her co-workers and friends, and then called Jason so that he would know that he was going to be an Aunt.
And the joke lives on . . .
Love,
Mommy
The instant that I learned that I was pregnant, I wanted to know if you were a girl or a boy. Pink or blue, pink or blue? Aaack! There are some women that are strong enough to wait until their child is born to learn, but Mommy is NOT one of those girls. There are also some women that claim to "just know" their child's gender. Mommy is NOT one of those girls either. We had to wait to learn that you were a girl. Here is that story:
Well, before I get to the story, let me tell you about your Uncle Jason. Uncle Jason is Mommy's brother. He is a super smart guy with a great sense of humor. When Daddy and I were trying to get pregnant, Uncle Jason would tease and say that we would make him an Aunt or Uncle one day. The joke caught on among the rest of the family too. It was always so funny to me. In fact, it is still funny to me.
The night that I got 3 positive home pregnancy tests, I tried calling him. He didn't answer so I left him a message to call me back, no matter the time. He didn't return my call. I just figured he was out being a social or doing something too awesome to talk to his lame sister. I vowed to call him in the morning on my way to work, no matter the time. He needed to know that you were coming, NO MATTER THE TIME!
Turns out that he was brushing his teeth when I called. (Us Chandler off-spring have this thing about teeth. We rarely get cavities, never needed braces, and judge others by the quality of their teeth. Teeth are important DANG IT!) I told him that I was pregnant. After a series of "No Way!" and "Are you serious?" and "That's awesome!" I told him that your Daddy and I were going to make him an Uncle or Aunt in the spring. Ha!
Anywho, back to the real story. . .
At the 15 week mark, I was scheduled to go back to the doctor for some routine blood work. They were testing to be sure that you were healthy and the risk of any birth defects. Pretty normal stuff. As Dr. Byrd and I were leaving the examination room, Amy approached us. Amy is the Ultrasound Tech and Mommy's new BFF. She walked up to Dr. Byrd and begged him to let her try. He handed her my file folder and wished us luck. Your Mother, the clueless parent, had no idea what they were talking about.
Amy grabbed my hand and took me into the ultrasound room. She said, "Let's see if we can find the gender!" OH HOLY CRAP! Daddy had dropped me off at the doctor's office and went to Best Buy to kill time. (Best Buy is Mecca for men. For women, a good shoe store is our Mecca. One day you'll understand.) Daddy would kill Mommy if he were to miss this ultrasound! I quickly texted him to get the the office pronto. To buy time for him, I stalled Amy. "Oh Amy! I thought you couldn't learn the gender until 20 weeks" and "Can I go to the bathroom" (see previous post about PEEING) and "Justin is almost here. . . I swear!" were my tactics. It worked.
With Daddy finally there, we began spying on you. That is what I think about ultrasounds - they are tools for parents to spy on their unborn children. I love spying on you! (Perhaps you should hide your Diary in a REALLY safe spot. Consider that a warning.) You were sitting criss-cross and breech. The most worstest, awfullest position for learning a baby's gender. You were NOT going to make this easy.
Amy then poked me with the ultrasound tool, had me lean back. . . waaaaaay back, and started talking to you. You finally stretched your legs and popped your thumb in your mouth. Precious! For only a second, your legs were nice and straight, and then they were criss-cross again. Amy, the miracle worker she is, managed to catch the all-important glance she needed. She said you were a girl, but that she was only about 90% sure. She wanted a better look, so she went back to poking and I went back to squirming around on the paper-covered chair.
She also started talking to you again. She said, "Come on little one! Open your legs!" I believe that it was in that moment that Daddy proved that he was going to be A Great Daddy - without missing a beat, he told Amy, "You are the ONLY person that will ever say that to MY daughter!"
Well, she didn't get the better look that she was hoping for, but was able to tell through other ways that you were a girl. The "other ways" included a bunch of medical stuff - blah, blah, blah. You'll have to talk to Daddy about that because I was tuned out. Mommy was officially in Baby Girl Heaven.
On the drive home, Daddy and I called our families. I called my Dad first. (By the way, he needs a Grandpa name. Best of luck to ya girl! You aren't even here yet and you already have work to do!) He needed to know that he was going to be a Grandmother, then called my Mom at work so that she could celebrate being a Grandmother among her co-workers and friends, and then called Jason so that he would know that he was going to be an Aunt.
And the joke lives on . . .
Love,
Mommy
When Two Became Three
Dear Layla,
Creating this blog was something I wanted to do for you. I wanted to write my memories of you so that one day I can share them with you. I have these visions of you reading these letters and falling in love with them. You love them so much that you will turn to me and ask, with joyful tears in your eyes, if you could share them with your classmates during Show-and-Tell. (Note to self: buy a "World's Greatest Mom" mug NOW!) There is also this nagging side of me that suspects you will find the stories, pictures, and videos posted on this site totally embarrassing. Since it is likely that I will embarrass you throughout your childhood and teen years, I have decided to press on. Please forgive me! (Note to self: cancel order for the mug until later date.)
It only seems fitting that my first post should tell you about the night I found out that I was pregnant. After all, that is where it all begins.
Your Daddy and I had been trying to conceive since February and it was now September. Sure, there are plenty of couples that wait for months, even years, to conceive; but to us, those 7 months felt like FOREVER! There was a time or two that we thought we were pregnant only to be disappointed. So, when I was late in September, I didn't allow myself to get excited. (I will explain the term "late" to you on your wedding day. Until then, don't ask.) After two weeks passed and I was still late, I decided to take a home pregnancy test.
It was a Thursday night. Daddy and I had just finished dinner when I announced that I was going to go take a pregnancy test while he did the dishes. You see, Daddy and I have this deal - I cook and he cleans. It is a wickedly awesome agreement that I love. So, I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick. "Don't get excited. Don't get excited," was my mantra during the test. After peeing, I put the test on the back of the toilet - on top of a wod of Kleenex, of course! Just laying it on the toilet is just plain GROSS! Anywho - while I waited for the 3 minutes that it takes for the test to work, I decided to brush my teeth. For someone as impatient as me, 3 minutes is too long. With toothpaste foam still in my mouth, I peeked at the test. Much to my joy, it said "Pregnant". I could have choked.
Quickly I spit and grabbed the test and ran into the Living Room. Once I saw Daddy standing at the sink with suds everywhere all I could do was drop to my knees and mumble, "It's says 'Pregnant'." "Mumble" is the best word here because I literally couldn't talk. Daddy and I just hugged and giggled, but then decided to do the responsible thing and take another test, just to be sure.
However, I just could not pee. Even after drinking 3 glasses of water, I could only get a few tiny drops on the testing strip. I wasn't surprised that after 3 minutes the test gave me an error message. So, Daddy and I jumped into the car, drove around the corner to the little Neighborhood Wal-Mart, and bought another box of tests.
While standing in line at Wal-mart I felt an urge that I have now, after almost 6 months, come very accustomed to feeling. It was the urge to PEE, not just pee, but PEE. I had to PEE so bad that I feared my eyeballs would float away from my face. On the drive home, I tore into the packaging (Darn things are WAY hard to open, by the way) and then ran to the bathroom to pee.
Daddy and I decided that if the test was pregnancy-positive then we would call our parents. We were even holding our phones while we waited. Those 3 minutes felt like an eternity. Once "Pregnant" popped onto the screen, I ran into what will be your room and called my Mom (Your Grandmother, who, by the way, doesn't have a Grandma name yet. She is letting you name her. No pressure!!) Even though it was about 11:00 EST and I KNEW what she was doing because she was probably doing the exact same thing that 90% of the people living on the East Coast were doing, I still stupidly asked "What are you doing?" I don't think I waited for an answer. I just blurted out in a single breath, "I-just-took-2-pregnancy-tests-and-they-both-said-pregnant-so-I-am-having-a-baby!"
We then talked for a while about what to do next. I was ready to go shopping for little, tiny things right then and there. I didn't care what time it was or how early I would have to wake-up for work. She suggested that I call my doctor in the morning to make an appointment to confirm things. After talking for about 10 minutes, I felt that urge again - the urge to PEE. Not wanting to end the conversation, I took another test while talking. (I am one talented lady! And yes, I did tell her what I was doing.) The test said "Pregnant" and I was still just as surprised as the first time. Daddy and I barely slept that night.
About a week later, I went to the doctor. He had me do a pee test (Shocking!) and ultrasound. Daddy and I saw your tiny blinking heart. All I could do was giggle at the monitor. I had wanted you to come along for so long. In that one moment, my heart was so full of love for you.
So, after 3 positive home pregnancy tests, 1 test with an error, a doctor's visit, and an ultrasound showing a tiny blinking dot, I learned that my life was about to change in ways I could not imagine.
Thank you.
Love,
Mommy
Creating this blog was something I wanted to do for you. I wanted to write my memories of you so that one day I can share them with you. I have these visions of you reading these letters and falling in love with them. You love them so much that you will turn to me and ask, with joyful tears in your eyes, if you could share them with your classmates during Show-and-Tell. (Note to self: buy a "World's Greatest Mom" mug NOW!) There is also this nagging side of me that suspects you will find the stories, pictures, and videos posted on this site totally embarrassing. Since it is likely that I will embarrass you throughout your childhood and teen years, I have decided to press on. Please forgive me! (Note to self: cancel order for the mug until later date.)
It only seems fitting that my first post should tell you about the night I found out that I was pregnant. After all, that is where it all begins.
Your Daddy and I had been trying to conceive since February and it was now September. Sure, there are plenty of couples that wait for months, even years, to conceive; but to us, those 7 months felt like FOREVER! There was a time or two that we thought we were pregnant only to be disappointed. So, when I was late in September, I didn't allow myself to get excited. (I will explain the term "late" to you on your wedding day. Until then, don't ask.) After two weeks passed and I was still late, I decided to take a home pregnancy test.
It was a Thursday night. Daddy and I had just finished dinner when I announced that I was going to go take a pregnancy test while he did the dishes. You see, Daddy and I have this deal - I cook and he cleans. It is a wickedly awesome agreement that I love. So, I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick. "Don't get excited. Don't get excited," was my mantra during the test. After peeing, I put the test on the back of the toilet - on top of a wod of Kleenex, of course! Just laying it on the toilet is just plain GROSS! Anywho - while I waited for the 3 minutes that it takes for the test to work, I decided to brush my teeth. For someone as impatient as me, 3 minutes is too long. With toothpaste foam still in my mouth, I peeked at the test. Much to my joy, it said "Pregnant". I could have choked.
Quickly I spit and grabbed the test and ran into the Living Room. Once I saw Daddy standing at the sink with suds everywhere all I could do was drop to my knees and mumble, "It's says 'Pregnant'." "Mumble" is the best word here because I literally couldn't talk. Daddy and I just hugged and giggled, but then decided to do the responsible thing and take another test, just to be sure.
However, I just could not pee. Even after drinking 3 glasses of water, I could only get a few tiny drops on the testing strip. I wasn't surprised that after 3 minutes the test gave me an error message. So, Daddy and I jumped into the car, drove around the corner to the little Neighborhood Wal-Mart, and bought another box of tests.
While standing in line at Wal-mart I felt an urge that I have now, after almost 6 months, come very accustomed to feeling. It was the urge to PEE, not just pee, but PEE. I had to PEE so bad that I feared my eyeballs would float away from my face. On the drive home, I tore into the packaging (Darn things are WAY hard to open, by the way) and then ran to the bathroom to pee.
Daddy and I decided that if the test was pregnancy-positive then we would call our parents. We were even holding our phones while we waited. Those 3 minutes felt like an eternity. Once "Pregnant" popped onto the screen, I ran into what will be your room and called my Mom (Your Grandmother, who, by the way, doesn't have a Grandma name yet. She is letting you name her. No pressure!!) Even though it was about 11:00 EST and I KNEW what she was doing because she was probably doing the exact same thing that 90% of the people living on the East Coast were doing, I still stupidly asked "What are you doing?" I don't think I waited for an answer. I just blurted out in a single breath, "I-just-took-2-pregnancy-tests-and-they-both-said-pregnant-so-I-am-having-a-baby!"
We then talked for a while about what to do next. I was ready to go shopping for little, tiny things right then and there. I didn't care what time it was or how early I would have to wake-up for work. She suggested that I call my doctor in the morning to make an appointment to confirm things. After talking for about 10 minutes, I felt that urge again - the urge to PEE. Not wanting to end the conversation, I took another test while talking. (I am one talented lady! And yes, I did tell her what I was doing.) The test said "Pregnant" and I was still just as surprised as the first time. Daddy and I barely slept that night.
About a week later, I went to the doctor. He had me do a pee test (Shocking!) and ultrasound. Daddy and I saw your tiny blinking heart. All I could do was giggle at the monitor. I had wanted you to come along for so long. In that one moment, my heart was so full of love for you.
So, after 3 positive home pregnancy tests, 1 test with an error, a doctor's visit, and an ultrasound showing a tiny blinking dot, I learned that my life was about to change in ways I could not imagine.
Thank you.
Love,
Mommy
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