School!!

Here in Italy kids start school very young...usually at 18 months.  We decided to wait about a year so Miles just started this month.   He is going to a small private school run by the sweetest nuns I've ever met.  It has a beautiful garden out back with slides and swings, and they have chickens and turtles and birds.  He was a little nervous the first couple days but now as soon as we get out of the car he RUNS for the door.   Here are a few pictures from his first couple days:

All ready!  It was so blurry because he wouldn't hold still. :)

Walking him to school the first day

His class made this poster...aren't their little hands SO CUTE?!! Miles' hand print is the red one near the top.

Miles and his teacher.

Boy or Girl?

Ever since I found out I was pregnant I have wondered if this wee one is of the male or female variety.  I have my hunches, as do others...but we don't know for sure yet.  But that hasn't stopped my curiosity.  So I began snooping on the web for old wives tales and the like...so see what I could find.  I know they are not 100%...it's a 50/50 shot.  But it keeps me entertained for the next four weeks until we know for sure. 

The one that I find all over is the Chinese Prediction chart...it is supposed to be super accurate but you have to use one that calculates your lunar age, not just your calendar age.  The Chinese think it's a GIRL. 

The Mayan Gender Predictor...legend has it that the Mayans determined a baby's sex by looking at the mother's age at conception and the year of conception.  If both are even or both are odd...it's a girl.  Of one is even and the other is odd...it's a boy.   At conception I was 32, and the year is 2013...so according the Mayans, it's a BOY. 

And now for some old wives tales:  First up is beauty.  It is said that if you have never looked more beautiful you're carrying a boy.  But if you've developed icky skin and you are feeling a little less glamorous it's a girl.  Well, I've been broken out for three months and when I wake up I look like an extra from the set of The Walking Dead...so I'm going with GIRL on this one. 

Next is leg hair.  Legs looking a little like a National Forest?  Must be the extra testosterone.  Let's just say I need a waterproof weed wacker these days....BOY.  

Dad's weight gain is a funny one.  Is he getting chubbier?  It's a little girl.  Is he staying slim?  A boy.  Well...Nathan has thoroughly enjoyed my eating for two...and he was cursing his church pants Sunday because none of them fit...GIRL.  

Sleeping patterns.  This one I had never heard of before my friend google.com alerted me to it.  Apparently, if you prefer to sleep on your left, it's a boy...right, it's a girl.  I have been lucky enough to still be able to fall asleep on my stomach...but I usually wake up laying on my back or my right side.  GIRL

Morning Sickness.   This Old Wives Tale states that if you had a smooth pregnancy with no morning sickness you've got a wee lad, and if the sickies had you down you've got a lass.  Well...I was best friends with the bathroom floor for months...so GIRL.  

Cravings.  Sweet= girl.  Salty= boy.  I've been craving pickles and anything sour...so I guess that means BOY.

Moodiness.  Supposedly carrying a little girl adds to your hormone cocktail and makes you moody...calmer dispositions are due to a little boy.  I've been grumpy as a bear cat.  GIRL

Heart Rate.   If the heart rate is above 140 it's supposed to be a girl...below 140 a boy.  I was at 136, then 140, then 150.  So this one could go either way. BOTH

 Then there's mother's intuition...I've been thinking pink all along.  GIRL



What about you?  I'm curious to know what you think this wee one will be...boy or girl.  Drop me a comment or use the handy poll on the right and let me know. 

Glucose Fun

I went to the doctor last Friday for my 15 week check-up and he was slightly concerned about a couple symptoms I was exhibiting.  So he told me he was planning on me doing the Glucose Test at 20 weeks but the symptoms made him want to push it up.  I showed up to the lab at 7:30am Monday morning after 12 hours of fasting expecting to do the 1 hour test...well to my surprise I had been set up for the 3 hour test - oh joy.  At least I brought a big book to read!  

The first needle stick went well...then came the sugar drink which actually wasn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be.  Sure, it's sweet but it wasn't horrible.  The second needle stick was quick, hurt a little...then started to ache.  It cause this lovely souvenir:

The next two rounds of blood drawing were not so nice.  Four sticks for the third round and three needle sticks for the fourth.   The poor phlebotomists...they could NOT find a good vein.  They ended up having to take the fourth draw out of my hand.  OUCH!  

I finished my four hours of solitude and headed to the car where I scarfed down the snacks I'd brought.  Apples and peanut butter had never tasted so good in my ENTIRE life.  It had now been 16 hours since I had eaten...and even pre-pregnancy that would have been no bueno.  Now that I have little Skeletor to answer to it wasn't pretty.  

The following day my doctor called with the results - I had passed with flying colors!!  Yay!  I'll likely have to repeat the test at 28 weeks like a normal pregnancy...which I'm ok with...I just need to have a good talking-to with my veins.  

That little souvenir above?  It looks like this now:

 

Peace and panic in Switzerland

Remember the week I spent in Switzerland last summer?  Well the opportunity came up again this year (the Rome Temple is still not completed) and so we made plans to go as a family.  Nathan put in the leave request and it was approved.  I was excited to be able to share this time with him, and with Miles.  Then a few days before we are supposed to leave Nathan gets word that his deployment is being extended a couple days...and will keep him from going.  So now we have a choice to make.  Do Miles and I still go or do I go and leave Miles here with friends for the one night until Nathan gets home?  After much debate we decide that I should still go...and go alone.  The trip is non-refundable so someone should definitely go yet me in all my morning sickness glory trying to wrangle a very active two-year old who just learned the word NO all while sharing a twin size bed with him?  Not. Gonna. Happen.  

So I make the arrangements and start to make my packing lists.  Sunday comes, I drop Miles off, and a friend drops me off at the bus station.  The bus ride up was HORRIBLE.  Seriously...I was in tears and seriously considering getting off in Milan and hopping a train back home.  But I wanted SO BADLY - and needed, really - to go to the Temple.   So I prayed to God..."Dear God, I want to go spend this week at the Temple.  Please help me to make it through this bus ride."  The bus didn't leave our area until 8pm and we were stopping every two hours...the whole way up.  My smashed-by-fetus bladder was very grateful for the frequent stops, but herding 80 Italians through a rest stop every two hours was trying on the group leader's patience.  I was also sharing a row with someone, and sitting behind a GIANT man.  Seriously...think offensive lineman.  When his seat was reclined it came a hand width's distance of my face (put your hand in front of your face, perpendicular...notice where your pinky is? Ya, that's where the chair was.)  We didn't get to Bern until 1pm the following day.  By then my feet were swollen, I hurt everywhere, and I was long past queasy.  As soon as I got the key to my room in the hostel I went in and took a nap.  It was heavenly!  

The following morning I was able to attend the Temple.  I was overcome by the Spirit more than once...moved to tears.  It's such a wonderful place to be and I had missed it so much.  (The Swiss Temple is our closest Temple...until Rome is done)   Over the next couple days I was able to go each morning and each afternoon - which was WAY more than last year.  I soaked in the Spirit of the Temple as much as I could.  

In the evenings, after the Temple would close, I would feel lonely.  I was on the trip by myself, with a bus full of Italians.  There were a handful of Americans but they were all with people.  There were a couple times I was so frustrated.  I was so sick, and so tired, and I was hungry but didn't want to fight the crowd in the kitchen of the hostel to make something.  That's when something happened...twice...that made me remember that God knows me and knows when I am happy and when I am sad.  President Romano (our branch president...kind of like our pastor) came outside, saw me on the bench and told me in Italian that there was a plate for me at their table.  He is so in touch with the Spirit...he felt the whisperings to seek me out.  He is a man of God and for that I am so grateful.  The Italians from our branch welcomed me into their "family" (it was a hubby and wife, a few older ladies, and a couple older guys) for two meals.  Both on evenings where I was on the brink of frustrated, lonely tears.  God is good ladies and gents.  No heartache is too small for Him.  

Thursday morning I had just finished my session in the Temple...I didn't feel good.  I was crampy and just felt off.  Then I went to the bathroom and discovered I was bleeding.  My heart dropped to the floor.  I quickly left the Temple, hurried to the hostel hiding my worried, panicked tears...hoping that our room was empty.  It wasn't.  I crawled into my tiny twin bunk and willed the others to leave.  They did.  I texted Nathan.  Over the next 30 mins we played text-phone tag. He called the OB clinic and played middle man for news.  I was advised to lay still, relax, and see what happened.  If the cramping and bleeding didn't stop in one hour I was to seek medical care.  I was terrified.  I speak German...but not THAT German.  And where was the closest medical facility?  And how would I pay?  And what would happen if - God forbid - I was miscarrying.  The thought of suffering a miscarriage in a shared hostel room or on a 16 hour bus-ride home added another layer of worry to my already troubled heart.  I prayed.  SO HARD.  I begged God to spare my baby.  But I acknowledged His will and asked that if I was going to lose the baby that it would wait long enough for me to be home.  That was a hard prayer.  But I learned years ago that submitting my will to His was much easier than trying to bend His will to mine.  I prayed for comfort, and peace...and following the prayer I was able to sleep for an hour.  When I woke I went to check for blood and found no new.  And my cramps were gone.  Tears of gratitude fell on my cheeks.  I let Nathan know the developments, and then prayed some more.  Later that evening I asked one of the men on the trip for a Priesthood Blessing.  The Spirit that flowed through the blessing brought me comfort.  The words that were spoken are sacred and precious to me. 

The following day we packed up the hostel and loaded the bus.  I was adament that I needed two seats for the journey home.  I succeeded and did my best to wedge my body in positions of comfort.  It wasn't perfect but it was SO MUCH better than the bus ride up had been.  I arrived home to the loving arms of a worried husband and an excited two year old.  

I learned something in Switzerland.  Well, I guess I can't say learned because it was something I already knew.  I guess I should say I was reminded of something.  God will provide...you just have to ask.   That doesn't mean He'll always provide what you ask for...rather, He will provide what you need.  

I needed patience, and I got it.

I needed love, and I got it.

I needed healing, and I got it.

I needed peace, and I got it. 

Two lines

**this is a story about real life in which I quote my farmer/sailor hubby...those with tender ears are warned**

Remember THIS post?  Ya.  I do too.  I was crying mad, angry tears when I wrote it.  When I bought that test there were two in the box, and as I packed for our trip I had the thought to tuck the spare into my suitcase next to my giant box of Tampax.  So I did.  

Miles and I arrive in Chicago and I am EXHAUSTED, I chalked it up to dealing with JetLag with a two year old.  My boobs still hurt, which I chalked up to the impending uterus tantrum.  I have a sour stomach, which I chalked up to eating a bunch of junk.   Chicago comes and goes and still no uterus tantrum.  I almost don't even notice.  Although there are little things here and there that make me count cycle days and wonder.    

We get to Utah and more of the same.  The ladies are giant and sore...which I'm sure someone will notice.  But then I remind myself that the last time I saw any of these people I was 50lbs heavier.  I am still exhausted and dealing with waves of nausea.  I do start to suspect something may be up...especially when I get teary over dumb things.  Like the cute old man who helped me with my suitcase.  Or a commercial on TV.   Oh - and the peeing.  HOLY MOSES.  I have always prided myself on my two-liter bladder.  I could go out shopping all day, drink tons of water, eat lunch and not have to pee until we got back home that night.  Now all of a sudden I have to pee like 3-4 times during the night.  I think it could be because of my screwed up body clock...but I dunno.  

I act normal, don't hint at anything.  In fact, I had several adoption conversations with several people.  Lamenting about how I had no idea how we'd ever be able to afford another adoption.  "We can adopt another kid or we can send the one we have to college" I told my mom.  I ran two 5K's while I was there...and I was slower and couldn't run as far as I was used to running.  But chalked it up to a 3500ft change in elevation.  I also was surprised I wasn't gaining weight like a diabetic at Baskin Robbins considering all the junk I was eating (ok...it wasn't junk...but I was eating bread and ice cream and a lot of stuff I hadn't had for a year and a half).  I just thought my metabolism had changed. 

Every symptom had an excuse.  Almost.  

On the evening of the 4th of July we got together with my family for fireworks on my grandparents' front lawn.  The fireworks STUNK.  Bad.  I never remember having such an aversion to the smell of them before...I actually kinda liked the sulfury smokey smell.  Not that night.  

I decided I would wake up the next morning and test.  I stumbled out of bed for my 4am pee and sleep-drunkenly rummaged through my suitcase to find the hidden test.  I slunk to the bathroom and did my business...and watched.  Immediately the first line filled in - didn't think anything of it - it was the test line, right?  Or so I thought.  Then the second line.   Then I realized that first DARK line wasn't the test line.  I stared at the test like an idiot.  "Holy Shit" was all I could say.  I crammed it back into the package, snuck back to my room and lay on the bed.  I pulled it out and looked at it again.  Still two lines.  I immediately started composing a Vox to Nathan.  Then stopped and deleted it.  I couldn't tell him.  There was a part of me that was SO SURE it was a mistake or it wouldn't stick anyway.  So I kept it a secret...for almost a week.   

I went to Bear Lake the next day with my family.  I was so nauseous.  I almost threw up changing Miles' blow-out diaper on the beach.  My family laughed at me and thought it was hilarious.  I thought for sure someone would suspect.  But no one did.  

Nathan flew in the following week and I still had no signs this was ending.  So I got a box to put the test in and a Big Brother shirt for Miles.  When I picked up Nathan from the airport it took ALL my willpower to not blurt it out.  We made it back to our hotel, I handed him the box.  He opened it, was quiet for a second and then said "Are you shittin' me?  Is this real?  Are you...pregnant?!"  His eyes were misty and he was in shock.   We decided then that we wouldn't let the cat out of the bag until we had been to the doctor at home and made sure everything was ok.  The next week was TOUGH.  We saw ALL of my family, and ALL of Nathan's family.  And I was SO sick...and exhausted.  But we held it in...which is pretty amazing.  

We hugged our families good bye, flew home, and the following morning went to the hospital for a pregnancy test.  When the nurse called me back and said "Well, the pregnancy test result was positive" I almost fainted.  It was real.  It wasn't a delusion.  We met with the nurse two days later for lots of questions on health and family history as well as lots of blood work.  

Tuesday July 23rd we had an appointment with OB to date the pregnancy (since I haven't been regular in 8-9 years).  We got to see the little, grainy flicker of the heartbeat and I cried tears of unbelief and joy.  Baby was measuring small they said.  ::worry::   Come back next week.  That was the LONGEST week ever.  I hibernated from friends because I was sure one of them would notice my giant boobs and my sudden aversion to chocolate.  Thursday the 1st of August we went back...baby is still small, but on track for where it was the week before.  So my due date was changed and I was told everything looked perfect.  As an aside...even my A1C looked good.  I used to be pre-diabetic and after a year on Isagenix my A1C is right smack dab back in the normal range!  

We decided then was as good a time as any so we announced it to friends and extended family via Facebook & Instagram.   We were BLOWN AWAY with the love and support we received.  We are very humbled to see how many people love, care, and pray for us. 

It still feels surreal.   My mouth has a hard time forming the words "I'm pregnant".  It's a blessing we are very grateful to have, but still can't believe we are getting to experience.

We believe in miracles

More of the story to come.  Lots, lots more to come.

Kiss Me Dirty

While in Utah I ran the Kiss Me Dirty mud run with my two sister-in-laws Michelle and Kassidy.  It was SO much fun.  It was my first "mud run" type 5K but it won't be my last.  My crazy brother Mitch took pictures of us.  He would run ahead and wait at the obstacle, take our pictures, then run ahead to the next one.  He is CRAZY!  But I'm grateful he did that because we now have all these awesome pics!

 

Before the race...I was so proud of our matchy tanktops...until I saw how elaborate some of the other runners were with their costumes.  Next time I'll be more creative!

 

The first "obstacle"...there were a lot of up & over type obstacles.

 

See the yellow tutu?  There were LOTS of people in tutus.  

 

This was the first messy obstacle...no mud but our feet were super soggy after this, which made running oh so fun. 

 

We had to climb up on top of this train cargo car...and then slide down the pole.  Let me tell you - that is harder than it looks!  And it BURNS!

 

Then we came up on our first messy obstacle.  We crawled through those tubes and into a mucky muddy mess...and had to crawl under a net to the end.  All while a sprinkler was spraying us.  

 

Michelle came out almost 100% clean (how??) so Kassidy and I helped her out.  

 

The last obstacle was a big muddy pit that we had to get through while being sprayed with a firehose.  

 

Then we got Pinked. 

 

A quick run through the foam to loosen the dirt

 

We made it!!

 

Miles wanted NOTHING to do with me after the race.  

 

It was such a fun day with my sister-in-laws...and it was awesome to have my mom, dad, and brothers come out to support us.  

 

Coming and going

Sorry it's been a while...we have had a busy month!  A couple days after my last post Miles and I hopped a plane to the US for 3.5 weeks of family/friends time.  I have a post working up on that but it's not done yet.  But I felt like I needed to get this down...as I'm trying to be better about the whole "blog as a journal" thing. 

I experienced a little bit of culture shock moving to Italy.  I feel like a lot of it was tempered because of the excitement of moving somewhere new and all the fun things we were getting to see and do.  And over time I've come to accept the quirky parts of Italian culture and even love some of them.  Some.  Fast forward to our visit to the states.  I can definitely say that I experienced MASSIVE culture shock my first few days back in the US.  If people were watching me at the grocery store they probably thought I'd just been released from years in prison or had just returned from an extended stay in the space station.  I was amazed by the simplest things...the many, many flavors of Chobani yogurt, how wide the roads are, how HUGE the cars are, and my ears kept perking up every time I heard English being spoken - which was everywhere.   I actually felt a little more at home in a tiny, cramped Spanish market in Chicago where everyone around me was speaking different languages.  It felt like Italy.  

Over the three and a half weeks all of this became less amazing and I settled into a routine.  I enjoyed laying in bed while the central air conditioning kept my room cool, and woke up to steaming hot showers.  Miles enjoyed all the different flavors of yogurt (his favorite food as of late) and I loved being able to go to the grocery store any time of day or night I wanted.  We ate sushi and mexican and Chick-fil-A...played in my parents' back yard in the grass and didn't think twice about leaving a bag from Target in my car while I ran into the grocery store.  

Then we flew back to Italy.  

Let me just say that I love it here.  Most days.  And I know my crumudgin attitude is partially because of jetlag...but man alive, Italy welcomed us home with a big sticky slap in the face.  

Our car felt so tiny.  I wondered how we would fit in it.  And cars were moving so fast and so recklessly.  We got home, schlepped our stuff up 60 stairs to our apartment to be greeted by the 95*  80% humidity summer afternoon that had baked our house hot enough to melt the butter Nathan left next to the stove.  We opened the metal shutters on the windows (which had been locked shut to prevent burglary) turned on our fans, put Miles down for a nap and laid on top of the bed, willing the temperature to drop.  

Over the next week we were assaulted with horrible traffic jams, rude customer service, uncomfortable, sweaty nights, and a grim reminder of how few flavors of greek yogurt we can buy.  (We are so close to Greece...you'd THINK it would be in abundance here...)  All of these things I knew, and had come to accept, but had been replaced during my visit to the states.  So now I'm forced day by day, inconvenience by inconvenience to deal with it...and look for the things I love about Italy.  Afterall, we are half way through our tour here and I don't want the last half to be spoiled by a bad attitude.  So here it goes...a few things I've missed about Italy.  

1 - Pizza.  Seriously.  I tried to give Miles pizza once in the states because he asked for it.  He looked at what I offered him (Pizza Hut), threw it on the floor and said "NO...Pi-zza!" like I had offered him something totally different.  And it isn't just about the food.  After a particularly trying day last week we got pizzas from our favorite pizza place.  The owner was so happy to see Miles after being gone for so long, she scooped him up and gave him hugs and kisses.   They know which kind we always get, and are always so pleasant.  

2 - Our landlords.  We seriously hit the jackpot with them.  I know others would argue, but for us our landlords are perfect.  They watch out for us, but aren't nosy.  They LOVE Miles and would do anything for us.  They know I love Italian cherries so when I got home today they had a large bag filled with ice cold cherries waiting for me.  

3 - No TV.  Everywhere you go in the states there are TV's.  Sure stores have them here...but restaurants do only rarely...and they are only on if the local soccer team is playing.  And we don't have TV in our home and I like it.  It gives us more time to interact with each other instead of vegging out in front of a screen.  

4 - My kitties.  Obviously.  >^..^<


Well, that'll have to do for now.  My bed is calling...and there is a nice breeze tonight so I think our room will dip below 80!