4th of July

Every year, Kenneth's mom's family gathers at his grandpa's beach house on the 4th of July. It's a big family, so there are people everywhere, and there's often a line for the bathroom. The house is pretty rustic-- it was never meant to be used so often or by so many people.  But the tradition of gathering as a family each 4th of July makes it a very special place all the same. 

24 week picture. X just keeps getting bigger.

Some of the family at our spot on the beach. (Later that day, when the tide was in, the fire was put out by  the waves. When it's high tide, it's really high tide.) 

Juniper spent lots of time playing with Henry, a chocolate lab puppy--the new addition to Kenneth's aunt & uncle's household. This was Henry's first time in the water, so Juniper was supposed to teach him how to play fetch. Unfortunately, he got distracted and wandered off down the beach with Kenneth's uncle running after him. 

Kenneth used his eagle scout skills to help save fire #2 after the 1st one was covered by water. Unfortunately, we had to head home before we got to enjoy the s'mores made by the fire. Or many of the fireworks. But it was still a great weekend and a great day with family. 

Sticking to my guns

The pictures have nothing to do with the post. But isn't Juniper funny?

I'm finally starting to get to the point that I'm obviously pregnant. You know how when you think someone might be pregnant, but you're not sure and don't want to be rude just in case they happen to just be putting on weight, so you don't say anything? I guess it's obvious enough that I'm pregnant, not possibly-maybe-could be just putting on some weight, because I've had 2 work acquaintances (volunteers) say this week after taking one look at me "Oh my gosh! You're pregnant!" After which, they start rubbing my belly (without asking-- yikes!-- not sure how to politely avoid the belly-touching. Family and friends who ask first = no problem. Strangers and acquaintances just grabbing my belly = weird). Anyway, next, inevitably comes the question my co-workers and those who volunteer or serve as Elders with the church ask next...

"So what's your plan? Are you coming back to work, or...?" 

I'm not sure if this is a pretty normal question to get as a pregnant woman-- even now, when most moms work outside the home in the US, or if I get it more often because the culture at work (co-workers and the congregation) is full of stay-at-home-moms and moms who work part-time. Chances are, if your husband works for Microsoft or any of the other tech companies in the area, you can get by just fine or better than fine with one income or 1 1/2 incomes-- and that's the case with a lot of people in the city I live/work in. So it's understandable that people ask. But either way, my impression is that a lot of people assume that I'll be quitting my job or cutting back on my hours. So, usually I find myself  answering by making justifications and lengthy explanations on our decision for me to continue working full-time after I return from maternity leave. 

And then I realized yesterday what I was doing. I'm trying to prevent these people from judging me and our parenting decisions by rationalizing, justifying, and explaining our decision. Kenneth-- he doesn't usually do this, but around almost everything that I know is seemingly controversial or bucks others' assumptions, I find myself doing justifying our choices.

But that's the thing. The fact is that whether our kid has a parent at home raising him full time, or whether we choose to send him to a daycare or hire a nanny, whether I have a midwife or an OB delivering me, or whether we choose any number of other "controversial" decisions as parents, it shouldn't matter to anyone. Our kid is going to grow up with 2 parents who are involved in his life, love him, provide for him, and prioritize raising him to be a considerate, responsible, productive member of society. If we fail in doing any of that-- then sure, someone should point that out, and we should listen and possibly change what we're doing. But those should be the only things that matter to anyone else-- if we're doing that, then we're doing our job as parents. 

 While I'm sure over the coming years, there are going to be lots of things that I resolve to do, not to do, or do better as a parent, here's what I'm going to start with. I'm going to stick to my guns. No rationalizations-- for anything-- necessary. Hopefully Kenneth will keep me accountable so I can break this habit, but it wouldn't hurt if you guys helped too. :)

(P.S. Pictures from shower #1 with the Ellises and other more fun stuff coming soon. But I have to grab photos from Ken's computer, etc.)

Popping + anatomy scan ultrasound

13 weeks

17 weeks (and this is after a HUGE breakfast) 

19 weeks

20 weeks

Oh, hello baby bump. You've officially arrived.

********************

We had our last official ultrasound on Friday, and Kenneth and Kenneth's mom were there for it. He showed us his boy parts--- it was very obvious; even if we hadn't wanted to know it couldn't have been helped-- he wanted to show off. The other fun part was seeing him suck his thumb. I teared up because it made things all that more real to see X doing something babies outside of the womb do ... Kenneth was asking if this was normal, and if it meant we were going to have to wean him off the thumb later.

The also checked him out to make sure all parts were there and in good working order-- and the good news is that everything looked great. They checked his brain, heart, lungs, spine, and then measured his head, brain, and chest circumference, and the length of his femurs-- and everything was perfect.  2 arms, 2 legs, 10 fingers, 10 toes. It was pretty amazing getting a sneak peek at him. Oh, and apparently he now weighs 10oz... based on my current size, I would've guessed he was closer to a pound by now, but apparently not. (Btw-- 10oz is exactly where a 19.5 wk baby should be.)

Anyway--- pictures. I think he has Kenneth's nose and my feet based off the pictures, but we'll see.

This one is squarely on his face. (Turn your head to the right to see it.)  Usually they only pick up bone and tissue, but they even picked up the lens of his eye on this one. And his mouth is open. The result is a Terminator looking baby. Yikes! 

FOOT! A teeny little 3.5 centimeter foot!

Lessons learned since becoming pregnant

1. People -- strangers or friends-- have opened up more than I ever thought possible as soon as they found out I'm pregnant. Sometimes it's horrifying, and sometimes it's heart-warming, but it always surprises me how all of a sudden the comfort level people have with me changes.
2. At some point I felt like I must watch a birth video. After all, this is going to happen to me, right? I should know what I'm in for. This was a terrible, terrible idea.
3. I may have lived a life mostly without body issues before. (And for that, I am truly grateful.) That time is now over... I definitely have body issues now.
4. Maternity leave: Are there any more stressful words? Prepping for maternity leave is currently a more stressful idea than birth. Not as frightening, but more stressful.
5. On a related note, United States maternity leave laws are downright shameful. We should be better than this. And that's comparing it to what we in MUN used to call "less developed countries" like Angola and El Salvador. Don't even get me started on what the US is like compared to Europe-- it's enough to make you pack your bags for Scandinavia and renounce your US citizenship. Check out this table on Wikipedia and you'll see what I mean. Anyone else want to join me as I write a letter to my congressman, both senators, and the president?
6. Morning sickness: it's just not for the first trimester.
7. Babies are expensive...starting with the first prenatal visit. Talk about sticker shock.
8. The first ultrasound, the first heart beat you hear, the first movement-- there's nothing like it. Absolutely nothing. It seems like those things are the ways God shows me that the morning sickness, the doctor appointments, the tests, the financial planning, the new apartment searching, the new aches and sore areas, the ways it's pushed me outside my comfort zone... all of that is worth it.

And since I haven't posted these yet, here are Baby X's 12 wk ultrasound pictures-- lips! nose! brain and eyes! spine! and those blips above him-- those are his arms and legs moving around!

We went to Ireland...

After dropping our luggage off at the hotel in Dublin, we dragged our travel-weary bodies to the Guinness Storehouse and brewery. We ended the visit there with a pint of Guinness and the best views of Dublin at the Gravity Bar. (Well, pint for Kenneth... I got only a few sips.)

Back in the 1700s, Arthur Guinness signed a lease with the city of Dublin to use a few hundred acres of land to brew beer. The lease was for 9,000 years at 45 pounds per year. Obviously, Guinness isn't likely to move operations elsewhere any time soon. The lease is the picture above.

The next day we visited Kilmainham Gaol, a debtor's prison until the late 1800s, and in the years leading up to and during the fight for independence from England, the prison where political prisoners were kept. The conditions were terrible-- 5 people to a cell, cold, damp, and dark. Makes you wonder why anyone ever broke a law then. Touring it wasn't exactly romantic, but it did give us a better idea of the history of the country we were in. The chapel above is where the prisoners were given last rites before being pushed out the doors behind the alter to be hanged.

The Jameson Distillery wasn't as fun as the Guinness Brewery. It was a little too cartoony and Disneyland-esque. Definitely a disappointment, but there was free whiskey (for Ken) at the end.

Kilkenney Castle, in Kilkenney, where we stopped on our way to Waterford. We should have stopped there rather than going to Waterford. Waterford was totally disappointing, except for the crystal factory, which was very cool.

They don't make anything here anymore besides prestige pieces (trophies, very special/very expensive orders) and special orders of archived designs, but that means they have their very best artisans there. They're apprentices for 10 years before they start cutting pieces for sale, they don't use templates. And everything Waterford makes (in Waterford or elsewhere) is handmade. Look at that guy engraving up there... no gloves, no templates, and every cut precise.

We stopped here, at the Rock of Cashel or St. Patrick's Rock on the way to Dingle from Waterford. St. Patrick baptized a pagan king here, and that's when most of Ireland became Catholic. Up on that hill is a cathedral, the archbishop's castle, and other buildings where church officials lived.

This is the cross that marked the spot where St. Patrick baptized the king.  It had been outside for 1000+ years, but they brought it into the museum on the hill to protect it. Then they put a replica outside.

Scene from on top of the Rock of Cashel.

Scenes from Dingle. We LOVED Dingle and spent 3 nights there. It's a small town (1000+) on a peninsula on the west coast of the island. The people there are native Gaelic (Irish) speakers, but everyone speaks English too. Kind of like Quebec. Anyway, we loved Dingle because this is where we actually started to feel like we were actually in Ireland-- interacting with Irish people, experiencing the Irish countryside, etc. 

While we were in Dingle, we took 2 day trips driving around the Dingle peninsula, and then we did the Ring of Kerry the following day. The Ring of Kerry is a lot more popular, but I don't get why. Dingle was much more beautiful.

We decided to slow down a bit while we were in Dingle. We opted out of going to Northern Ireland except for Belfast (though we still weren't able to get there on the day we planned for it). Instead we spent more time in Dingle and planned for a couple of rest days in Dublin before heading home... anyway, pictures from the Dingle Peninsula...

SHEEP!

I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but the water in some areas was the same crystal greeny-blue that you see in Hawaii. I thought the sun had to be strong enough and the water shallow enough to create that color and clarity in ocean water, but apparently not. It was beautiful.

On our "self-guided tour" of the Dingle Peninsula, Rick Steves directed us to an old church down an isolated lane. This didn't look right, but we stopped anyway and started walking around. When we got to the back, there was a sign that said "Private Property! Go AWAY!" Oops. (I'm pretty sure only squatters lived there considering the condition of the place, but it was still enough for us to hightail it out of there.)

Ring of Kerry

We stopped for tea at a REALLY fancy hotel. It was the fanciest place Rick Steves has ever sent us to. We were a bit unprepared to be surrounded by 70 year old Englishmen in suits reading the newspaper before they left for the golf course. Not while we were wearing REI clothes designed for travel... (um, in other words, we were not fancy.) It was a nice little stop though.

The Roaming Gnome... yes, we brought him with us, and we still did the whole trip with just a carry-on sized suitcase each. 

St. Bridget's Well. I don't remember what St. Bridget did here, but I wanted to visit because I was born on St. Bridget's day... I'm Irish, etc. etc. The walls of this little cave are lined with mementos people have left while praying there for a miracle.

If the water didn't look so septic, I might have touched it and made a little sign of the cross on myself. But I couldn't do it. I was afraid of picking up a disease. Ew.

We stopped at the Cliffs of Moher on our way from Dingle to Westport. We went to Westport, the biggest town in County Mayo and on the northwest coast of the island, since Ken's great-grandparents emigrated from County Mayo to Montana (so his grandma was 100% Irish). Westport was nice, but it was no Dingle.

Back in Dublin, we went to the breakfast place we should've visited all along. Everywhere else we went, our breakfast options were a pastry or the "full Irish"-- Full Irish means sausage, Irish bacon, eggs (fried, unless you asked for something else, and the eggs were always served on top of toast), brown bread, grilled tomatoes, black and/or white pudding. Basically, grease with a side of grease. Not easy when you're still dealing with morning sickness. This place though had variety. It was lovely. (Sidenote: I plan NOT to have eggs for breakfast for the next month.)

Also-- I went to Italy and came back determined to learn to make my own pasta. And with a newfound love for pecorino. I came back from Ireland with a love for brown bread and butter from grass fed cows. The bread is nutty, hearty, and wholesome.  The butter everywhere in Ireland was creamy and had a richer color too. Yum. 

Last day in Dublin, walking home from the trendy part of town, where we had our last Irish dinner.