this is what the shutdown really looks like

Do you want to know what a government shutdown will look like?  It looks like this...

Because my husband works for the DOD, he faces an indefinite furlough from his job.  We've already weathered the furloughs related to the sequester, and those took a massive hit on us.  Now, we're facing either A) complete financial ruin due to a total loss of income or B) a complete upheaval of our entire lives.

If Thomas's office is closed indefinitely because of the shutdown, he will be looking for another job.  Because all of the jobs in the local area in his line of work are directly tied to RAFB, there would be nothing here for him.  He could look in the surrounding area, but then he'd have a costly commute and the chances that he won't be making as much as he is now, putting even more financial strain on us.  The more likely scenario would be that he would need to take a job outside the area, probably Atlanta.

We own our home and would have to sell it.  Houses in our neighborhood take a while to sell, and it would take some time to get the house ready to sell.  In that case, it looks like my husband would be living temporarily in Atlanta alone, without me and without our daughter.  She and I would remain here, trying to sell this house, our home, where we began our family--the only home Charlotte has ever known.  Until the time the house sells, we would be paying a mortgage and rent for a place for Thomas to stay, not to mention utilities for both locations.  Again, furthering the financial strain.

And for anyone who asks 'well Bria, why don't you go to work?', my answer is simple.  With my degree and education, I still would not be able to find a job that pays enough to cover the loss of Thomas's income.  Not even close.  (Even if we weren't in this situation, it makes more sense for me to stay home with Charlotte, since I'd likely only be making enough to cover daycare costs.)

So here we are, discussing how we'd market our home and how we would deal with being separated from each other and how we'd pay for two residences on an income similar to the one that pays for our single residence now.  The little money we had saved was used to help us recover from the sequester, so we have nothing left in reserves.

The worst part?  Our daughter would go days at a time without seeing her father.  As someone who was once in that position (my father lived in Warner Robins during the week and came home on weekends), I can attest to how difficult that is for a child.  I would miss my husband terribly, but the thought of my daughter missing him is heartbreaking to me.

I'm sure there are many, many other stories like ours and many, many that are worse.  We are grateful to have one another and to have some sort of options, but this is harder than anyone not in our shoes can possibly imagine for us.  I wish I had a way to tell our story to the politicians who are more concerned about political capital than about the security and stability of the American people.  Maybe then, they'd consider finding a middle ground that wouldn't cause anyone to have to make the decisions we are contemplating now.

fantine and cosette

'les mis'.  yeah, i know.  you know it's my favorite musical, that i know all the words to all the songs, that i used to daydream about being in the show.  i feel the emotions in the music...the sadness and the loss of those you love, the hope and dream of a better life, the desire to fight for what you believe you deserve.  eponine's wish to be loved?  i get it.  valjean's work to be a better man?  makes sense.  but it wasn't until recently that i truly understood fantine and the agony she endured.

the pain of her love and her loss wasn't hard to comprehend.  i think most all of us have endured such a loss at one point or another.  what was beyond my grasp until now was her desperate desire to protect and care for her child, no matter the cost.  yes, i understood--theoretically--that a mother would stop at nothing to make sure her child was safe.  i'd seen it in my own mother, saw it in my friends who had children...and yet i myself could not understand that relentless drive to do any and everything for my child.  that is, until june 23rd of last year.

i would walk through fire for charlotte.  i would give all of my money, time, energy, everything for her.  i would kill to protect her.  i would die for her.  willingly and without question.  i almost did and would do it again.  there's nothing i wouldn't do to protect my daughter, to take care of her, to make sure that she has everything she needs and never goes without.  sacrifice, starve, suffer...i don't care.  i don't know a mother who doesn't feel exactly the same way.

today, while sitting on the floor playing with charlotte and listening to the 10th anniversary concert soundtrack, i cried for fantine.  not during 'i dreamed a dream', which is lovely and powerful (example: anne hathaway's shiny new oscar).  no, my tears were flowing during 'fantine's death'.  listening to her not only hallucinate seeing her precious child playing as she gets ready to sing a lullaby, but hearing her beg valjean to take her daughter into his keeping, to raise her and love her as his own as she waits for death...it just broke my heart.  how very much fantine loved her cosette!  she worked tirelessly--both in legal and illegal venues--to provide what she can to care for the best thing in her life.  and in the end, when her life was ending, she made the final sacrifice to give her child--the light of her sad life--to a man she knew would be a father to her and would love her without letting her forget about the mother she lost.

when i look into charlotte's eyes, everything fantine did makes sense.  it makes my heart ache to think of what that sacrifice must have done to her and what a incredible sense of loss she must have endured.  it's the better spirit that comes of being a mother, one who loves her child more than anything in the world, that makes such an action possible.  what an amazing testimony to the strength of a mother's love.  charlotte is the best of my life, and though giving her up for any reason would feel like dying...well, i already said it.  there's nothing i wouldn't do for her.

what's in my diaper bag?

ok, y'all know me.  i love bags.  no one should be surprised by this.  as such, i knew when i was pregnant with charlotte that i had to find the perfect diaper bag.  i was blessed to be given an awesome diaper bag with charlotte's name and an owl embroidered on it by my bff kathryn, but when charlotte got older and needed more stuff, it ran out of room :/.  i went through...i have no idea how many bags.  i loved them all for different reasons but couldn't find the one bag that had it all.

until...

someone at skip*hop must have been following me around on my search, because they designed a bag that finally met my needs and looked awesome doing it.

this is the skip*hop grand central diaper bag in cinnamon.  it has about a billion pockets (no, not really, but i'm not sure how many) and holds everything i carry easily.  i'm a serious overpacker and this bag can handle it.  i love it.  it's made from an easy to clean material (just wipes off!  awesome!) and the straps have a nice drop length.  the bottle pockets on either side are insulated and are large enough to hold two bottles in each.

the bag has three compartments.  the two outer have snaps that hold them closed, and the middle one has a zipper.  it also has two zip pockets on the front and a slip pocket in the back.  i use the front compartment for my things, the middle for diapering supplies and toys, and the back for food/snacks.

so, what exactly am i carrying around these days?

in the front two pockets, i keep things i need to get to easily.  in the top pocket, i keep clorox wipes and pacifier wipes.  in the bottom, a burp cloth and a travel sprayer of lysol.  i usually keep a bib in there too, but i had to use it.  

 the insulated pockets on the sides are huge.  in one, i keep two of charlotte's bottles.  we use the playtex drop-in nursers, and i fill them with 6 oz. of water before going out.  in the other pocket, i keep her sippy (water with a splash of juice) and the innobaby pack and smart filled with sweet potato puffs from happy baby and gerber strawberry yogurt melts.

 first compartment: neutrogena shine control pressed rice powder, my keys, nyx mega shine lip gloss in golden pink, a pen, arrisse lipstick in wink, lypsyl beeswax lip balm, advil, nivea creme, and my wallet.

diapering supplies:  skip*hop changing pad (detached from a skip*hop pronto), honest company healing balm, 5 size 3 pampers cruisers, huggies wipes case with huggies one and done wipes in cucumber and green tea, a sleeper, huggies disposable changing pad, tide to go pen and a gallon size ziploc bag.

toys (and a couple of things i forgot in the last picture):  itzy ritzy snack bag in whale watching pink, sophie la giraffe teether (full sized sophie is hanging out in the car), bright starts teething rings, monkey rattle, haba color snake clutching toy, aden and anais swaddle blanket, taggies blanket, booginhead sippiegrip straps, baby buddy secure-a-toy, baby einstein take along tunes, garanmals teething book, arm and hammer dirty diaper bag dispenser, babyganics daily moisturizing lotion.

health and grooming:  carter's swaddle blanket (pink flamingos!  so cute!), contents beauty case, japonesque hippo hairbrush, contents of medi-buddy first aid kit including bandaids and stickers, boogie wipes, baby tylenol and syringe, infant gas drops, hyland's teething gel, boudreaux's baby kisses, humphrey's teething strips, camillia, a thermometer, red cross nail clippers with magnifier, safety first comb.

foooood: itzy ritzy snack bag in cupcake couture, skip*hop zoo bib, baby mum-mums, oxo tot formula dispenser, playtex drop-in liners, nuby infant forks and spoons, piyo piyo baby food scissors, two sprout baby food pouches, gumdrop teether pacifier on a booginhead pacifier clip.

hanging on the outside of my bag is a purell hand sanitizer (not pictured) and this jujube paci pod, where i keep two pacifiers that charlotte just like chewing on.  the yellow has an owl on it--so cute!

so moms, what's in your diaper bag?

A REAL Baby Story: The Birth of Charlotte Grace

I know this is really overdue, since tomorrow Charlotte will be 7 weeks old.  (Where does the time go?)  I also know that something like 2 people who weren't there when this happened might actually care, but I know there is more than one mama-to-be on my friends list, and I thought (narcissistic much?) that telling our story might help someone.  I don't know about that, but here's what I do know:  I wanted to absorb all the birth stories I could while in the late weeks of my pregnancy, so maybe this will do someone else some good.

Here's the first thing you need to understand.  I was in prodromal (early and, as Dr. Bradley might have said, 'putzy putzy') labor for two weeks.  TWO.  WEEKS.  Yeah, see, that part?  Not so much with the fun.  Day after day of 'is this it?', holding my figurative breath and waiting, only to get...nothing.  Nada.  Zippo.  The emotional toll is rough enough...add to that the quite painful contractions that went on and on and on and on...well, you get the point. By the time the week of our first predicted due date rolled around, I was exhausted and more than a little rattled.  This would prove to be a problem later.  On Thursday, June 20^th, my midwife stripped my membranes in the hopes of getting labor started since we were facing a potential induction (I had gestational diabetes, and with that comes the concern of early placental failure, a real risk that I was afraid to face) and she knew I wanted a totally natural childbirth (NUCB).  Immediately afterward, I began having strong contractions, so we got excited that it might have worked.  After an hour or so, the strength wore off, though the contractions kept coming in an uneven rhythm and lacked any feeling of pain.  In fact, they felt good—tingly and warm.  I figured if this was active labor, I was set!  I knew there was more to come, however, and settled in for a long labor.  As the day went on, however, the contractions really died down, and by that night, they had completely stopped.  I was heartbroken and incredibly disappointed because I’d been so excited.  I cried myself to sleep that night thinking that was the end. 

Friday, my husband’s office threw us a baby luncheon/shower at a local restaurant, and everyone commented that I looked like I could go into labor at any moment.  I tried to joke along, but I was feeling really unwell and not feeling a lot of fetal movement, so I was getting concerned.  After the luncheon, I went home to rest and see if I began to feel better.  I got home around 12:30pm, and at 1pm on the dot I was suddenly slammed with rhythmic, cramping back pain that took my breath away.  It became clear pretty quickly that these cramps had a nicely established pattern—5 minutes apart, lasting 60-70 seconds.  I called my midwife’s office and left a message for the nurse, then called my husband at work.  I kept timing the cramping and realized quickly that I was having real back labor (hooray). For those of you who don't know, back labor is usually the result of the position the baby is in as it drops, and it feels exactly the way I would imagine being rhythmically clobbered with Thor's hammer might feel.  (I am only mildly exaggerating.)  Again, this point--and the cause behind it--becomes important later. The midwife called back right away and told me that despite my plan to stay home as long as I could tolerate the pain, she thought I ought to head over to labor and delivery because she was sure I was in active labor and it was progressing fast.  Thomas hustled home, and we put our bags in the car and headed to the hospital.  I should also point out that during this time, I talked many times to my sister, Melissa and Kathryn, all of whom were very excited and incredibly supportive.  Thanks, guys!  :)

We arrived at the hospital, where I got to declare, grinning through the pain, 'I'm in labor hooray'.  Thomas and I were escorted to triage and hooked up to a contraction monitor and a fetal heart rate monitor.  A nurse checked me (ouch) and told me I was 4cm and 80% effaced.  Charlotte’s head was also low, but not low enough.  She told me she figured I would go home and come back when things got really rolling, but that my doctor would be in soon.  An hour later, my doctor came in and checked me.  I was now a solid 5cm dilated but still only 80% effaced.  Charlotte’s heart rate was still holding steady, but my doctor was concerned about the lack of accelerations.  She told me that I was experiencing dysfunctional labor and that we could do one of two things:  either go home and wait it out, or let her break my water to try to establish a consistent pattern.  I was overwhelmed by both ideas—I was ready to move forward and get to “real” labor, but I also wanted to allow Charlotte to be in charge of her own birth.  I was confused and a little scared, so I started to cry.  I asked my doctor what she would choose in my place, and she told me that she would choose to have her water broken and in fact had when she was in my shoes during her own natural labor.  My contractions were still coming hard and steadily, and she was sure this would help me progress.  Thomas and I asked for some time to discuss our options, and in the end decided to trust my doctor’s extensive knowledge and have my water broken.  Off we were sent to a labor room to settle in.  

We went over our birth plan with the nurses that were there, even though they were about to change shifts at 7pm.  The primary nurse was incredibly skeptical of the plan to go natural and even told me that she’d never seen a first time mom come in with that plan and follow through.  I was glad she was about to leave!  She set me up with a Heplocked IV (after the 3^rd attempt, she called another tech, thankfully!) and then my doctor came in to break my water.  She told me it wouldn’t hurt—liar!  Well, the breaking of my water didn’t hurt, but having her hand where it was did!  Then, the contractions exploded, and I was scared I couldn’t go through with the NUCB.  I started crying and telling my husband that I wanted the epi, and he did exactly as I had asked him during our childbirth classes—get me to try “just one more thing, just one more contraction”, and then we would decide on the epi.  He calmed me down just in time for the arrival of my doula and my new nurse, who was a huge fan of the idea of natural childbirth and made it her mission to see me through.  By then, the rest of both sides of the family had arrived, and things were moving along slowly, but moving.

I walked the halls for ages, bounced on the birth ball, swayed in place and got in and out of the tub, all in an effort to progress my labor.  After a couple of hours, my brilliant doula Lisa suggested using a breast pump to get my contractions into a stronger and more effective rhythm.  My nurse brought it in and I got started.  That worked—a little too well!  My contractions got twice as strong, and I was struggling to breathe through them.  I spent 15 minutes using the pump at a time and dealing with incredibly unpleasant contractions.  I really didn’t want to use the pump again!  It worked, so I would use it every hour for 15 minutes at a time while laboring in the tub to try to ease my pain.  My nurse checked me again and I was thrilled to hear I was 8cm dilated.  Progress!  At about 1am, endorphins kicked in and I started feeling really good—like Wonder Woman!  My birth team (Thomas, Lisa, Calley, Melissa and my awesome nurses, Jenn and Jessica) put on a 90’s playlist and danced and sang.  We were really having fun, and I was breezing through my contractions.  My husband and I even slow danced to a romantic song—just us in the room, dancing together and enjoying a few moments alone before we became parents.  It was probably the highlight of my labor.  Then, at about 3am, I hit transition—HARD.  It was nasty and dark and ugly and I was feeling out of control and scared.  Time lost all meaning and I remember very few specifics about it.  I remember my husband crying to my sister that he was having a hard time seeing me in that kind of pain, and I remember briefly seeing my father during one contraction and watching him get upset at the sight of me struggling.  The only other thing I remember was hearing my late mother’s voice telling me that she was proud of me and that I could do this, not for me but for my baby girl.  Hours went by, and as the sun was rising, I was checked again.  8cm…no more progress.  By that point, I was completely exhausted and my contractions, though still steady, were no longer effective at advancing my labor.  I expressed concern to my birth team that I was already so tired that I was afraid I’d have no energy to push, so my nurse suggested something to combat my nausea and help me rest.  I agreed and once it was on board, I was able to doze for a few hours. 

Around 11:30am, my doctor came back in and checked me again.  No progress.  She did an external examination as well and told me as best she could tell, not only was Charlotte posterior (hence the back pain and contractions), but her head was transverse in my pelvis and she had a nuchal hand on top of it.  Remember how I said her position was important?  Yeah.  She was at an angle in there and was wedged in fairly tightly, and she was sunny side up--face up instead of down.  (A nuchal hand just means that her hand was on her head--ever since the moment the child grew her hands, they've been in her face.  Even now, she does it.)  Because my doctor was such a big believer in natural birth and knew how much I wanted that, she was upset on my behalf but advised me that a c-section was the safest bet at this point.  My husband and I talked it over and agreed that this was all we could do.  She called for the epidural and then (I found out later) went out into the hall and cried out of sadness and frustration.  I got the epidural and had a chance to speak to everyone who was waiting for the baby’s arrival.  The timing could not have been more appropriate—my blood pressure began to drop and along with it, Charlotte’s heart rate.  Suddenly, the “this is our best option” became “this is happening NOW”.  My family and birth team gathered for a prayer and I was whisked to the OR.  First cut took place at 1:44pm and Charlotte was born screaming at 1:53pm.  7lbs, 5.6oz, and 20.25” long with a head full of golden brown hair and the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.  She was and is healthy in every way.  

I'm not going to go into all of the issues after her birth--this isn't the time.  This is just for celebrating the miracle of my little baby and the work that went into getting her safely--by me, my birth team and my doctor, who I firmly believe saved Charlotte's life.  It was an incredible experience from start to finish.  I recovered well from the surgery and feel totally fine physically.  Emotionally, my recovery has been a little rougher.  I am disappointed and sad about the outcome of my birth experience, but I had nearly 24 hours of natural labor, and I am so proud of what I learned my body and spirit can do as a result.  I got the best of all birth worlds in one shot!  In the end, my daughter arrived healthy and safe, and I am working through my feelings about the birth with the help of a lot of loving and supportive people. 

So there you have it--the epic drama of the arrival of my first born child.  It was a wild ride, and when I think back on it, I'm happily startled at everything I was able to do.  So many people figured I'd never make it without an epidural, but I did until the time came when I had no choice.  (By the way, that was one heck of an epidural--I was numb all the way up to my shoulders!)  I am more proud of myself for getting through it the way I did than of anything I've ever done in my life.  Charlotte is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm so blessed to be her mommy.  Raising her is going to prove to be the ultimate adventure, and Thomas and I can't wait!

feeling awfully emotional today...

i recognize that this is neither 1. new or 2. news to anyone who knows me.  today, however, is a bit of a struggle.

i am facing making a pretty difficult and unpleasant decision.  i am getting a new car.  for most people, i know this would be an exciting time and a happy choice, but it isn't really for me.  i love my car, but it's having some pretty expensive issues and we just can't justify the price to fix the problems when balanced against how much it's worth.  so i'm faced with letting grover, my big blue monster, go.

this is harder than it probably should be because my mom actually 'picked out' my car.  shortly before she died, we were at the dealership looking at cars, and she looked down the row we were near and said 'what's that?' and pointed to a blue suv.  the salesman led us to a bright blue dodge nitro, which she (and i) loved the second we got in it.  i test drove it with her riding in the backseat, windows down, sun shining and radio playing.  it's a wonderful memory of a time that was the calm before the storm, the light before the darkness.   i have cherished my car ever since, because not only is it a great car and fun to drive (or it was, anyway), but because she loved it so.

i know that if she were alive today, she would tell me i'm being silly and that it's only a car.  she would want me to drive something safe and comfortable, especially with Charlotte on the way.  (i haven't had a working air conditioner in two years.  i got used to it, but i cannot subject my infant daughter to that kind of misery.)  so tonight, Thomas and i are going car shopping.  i have my eye on a pretty sweet hyundai santa fe at lowe toyota, so we'll see.

all day long, i've been thinking about the day i bought the nitro and how much fun i had driving mom around.  i know i'm sad for a much deeper reason than the car.  i'm sad because my mom never got the chance to meet my husband.  she never saw me in my wedding dress or saw my baby bump get bigger or saw her granddaughter kicking and squirming on an ultrasound screen.  except i think she did, from a comfy seat in Heaven.  but i didn't get to see her see any of that, and that hurts.  trading in the car is one more reminder of the mom i don't have here with me anymore, of the days when she was healthy and alive and full of life and joy and so, so much love.  the car is symbolic of what i've lost.

maybe now it's time to find a symbol of all i've gained.

we miss you, mom.  we love you, always.

why my little miracle is a true miracle

i'm quite sure that everyone is sick of hearing me talk about my pregnancy.  i try not to overload anyone.  but now, more than halfway through with this whole deal (i'm now almost 24 weeks along), people like to ask questions, and i don't mind answering them.  talking about her makes her more real, and i fall more in love with her every day.  even with all the people congratulating us and asking tons of questions, i feel like people don't know why it is we feel little Charlotte is such an incredible gift for us.  some of this may be tmi, and i apologize for that.  if womanly functions make you squeamish, you might want to turn away now.

in early 2006, my period stopped.  just, out of nowhere...total halt.  it had been irregular for as long as i could remember, so at first, i wasn't concerned.  i was so busy with work and my friends and family that it seemed less of a problem and more of a blessing, and i lost track of the amount of time i went without a period.  time passed, far more than i should have allowed, and before i knew it, it was summer.  one excessively warm morning in july, i awoke to pain so severe it made me vomit.  when i was finally able to pull myself off the bathroom floor, i realized that my period had started.  the cramps were unholy, and the amount of blood seemed a little much, but i assumed it was all due to the length of time that had passed.  i cleaned myself up, took four advil, and went to work.

by the time i arrived at the office, i already needed to change my feminine protection.  as the morning went on, i went back and forth to the bathroom a number of times...enough to catch the attention of my boss.  she asked me what was wrong, and tired and feeling awful, i told her.  she was immediately concerned and advised me to go to the doctor.  when she heard i didn't have an ob/gyn, she gave me the name and number of hers.  i called and once i explained the situation, i was set up for an emergency appointment.  there, i was thoroughly examined and given a diagnosis:  polycystic ovary syndrome.  multiple cysts on both of my ovaries that were affecting my hormone production.  it explained both the missing periods and the mega bleeding i was dealing with then. i was scheduled for surgery right away--a d&c, to clear my uterus and stop the bleeding.  i was told that had i not come in, the results could have been much more dire.  i was hemorrhaging  from a pressure bleed in my uterus and could easily have bled to death.

the surgery was relatively easy.  the recovery was harder, with terrible cramping, more bleeding, and an adverse reaction to the antibiotics.  the emotional recovery was much worse.  at my post-op followup, the doctor advised me that it was highly improbable and in fact unlikely that i would ever be able to have a child of my own.  if i did manage to conceive, i would probably miscarry before the end of the first trimester.  i was absolutely destroyed.  for months afterward, the sight of a baby, the sound of a child's laugh, even seeing baby clothes in the store would set off a torrent of tears.  i struggled to understand why God would allow someone who had so much love to give to a child to suffer such a fate.  this contributed to the distance i felt forming between me and God, making the idea of worshiping Him that much harder.  (that's a story for another time, though.)  slowly, i tried to climb out of the dark, deep hole i found myself in, and i put the idea of having children away, believing that it wouldn't matter since i would be single the rest of my life anyway.

fast forward to 2009, when i met my husband.  before we ever got engaged, we had a long talk about the future and what we wanted.  Thomas wanted children, and i had to explain my painful secret to him.  he was amazing in reacting to the whole thing, and he told me that we would adopt if need be.  he didn't care where the kids came from as long as they ended up with us.  i had already realized what an incredible man he was--this just sealed the deal.  we decided that after we got married, we would give getting pregnant a shot after we'd been married a year.

less than two weeks after our one year anniversary, the word 'pregnant' appeared on the digital pregnancy test i took.  and now, 6 months later, i feel my little girl, my princess, my Charlotte Grace nudging at the inside of my belly as i type this story out for you.

all children are blessings, yes.  and they are all miracles.  mine just happens to be a little more miracle to me. so yeah, maybe i am a little biased.  ;)

it's bright out here! (says me and the baby)

i know.  don't start.  i'm a slacker.  i think that for once, i have a pretty good excuse, since i am growing a totally new human being inside me.  a perfectly healthy, two dimensionally beautiful, 185bpm heart rate having, spinning, twisting, shy and silly little person who has taken over my heart so completely that she is in everything i do.  i've seen her head, her chin, one shoulder, her spine, her ribs and the two tiniest and most delicate feet i've ever laid eyes on.  (yes, for the purpose of this blog and for ease of wording, i'm sticking with the feminine.  besides, my mommy intuition says this wiggleworm is a girl.  sorry in advance if we're wrong, little Liam baby.)

no one ever told me about the weird quirks of pregnancy.  sure, everyone talks about the constant peeing, the morning sickness, and the fatigue.  i've never heard anyone complain about being 10 degrees hotter than the air around you.  i only get cold when the temperature gets below freezing.  right now, it's great.  come may or june, i could spontaneously combust.

and the 'growing pains'.  these weird, pulling, stretching pains.  i wait in fear for the next sneeze, trying to be prepared for a potential explosion.

the stopped up nose.  it needs to stop.

i complain about these things, of course, and there are more 'quirks' that irritate me (see: spontaneous projectile vomiting and bone deep fatigue), but seeing my baby swimming around in there makes it all worth it.  and today, while sitting and procrastinating this week's homework assignment (i. hate. statistics.), i felt this...flutter.  like butterfly wings in my belly.  like tiny little bubbles.  now, i know what you're thinking.  it wasn't gas.  i know what gas feels like.  i asked two different women who had children, and they confirmed it for me.

it is very likely that i felt my child move today.

if that's not enough of a reason to keep me busy, i don't know what is.