The Caitlin Post

Prelude:

It seems like my mind is always racing. Gotta do this, gotta do that, gotta do it all NOW. Some days I feel like Wonderwoman because I manage to to crawl into bed feeling successful and accomplished with my day. Being a Working Mom (and no - that probably shouldn't be capitalized, but I think it ought to be, so I will take the literary liberty and do so on behalf of all Working Mothers out there) is a challenge.

With all the things on my plate, this blog often suffers. Poor blog. I keep telling myself, "Don't be like some of those other bloggers out there in cyberland that create a blog, abandon it, and then write a lame apology post saying 'life is crazy' and that is why I didn't post anything for 9 months". Weak!

This brings me back to the fact that my mind is always racing. In my mind, I have about 20 blog posts swirling around just waiting for me to compose. I admitted this to Aunt Caitlin and said that one of the yet-to-be-written posts is about her. She reminded today that she is still waiting for her post. That was the gentle nudge that I needed to get my fingers typing. I hope this post lives up to the hype.

Dear Layla,


I love you. I love everything about you - from your microscopic pinky toenail to that one super long strand of hair that grows just above your right ear. You are perfect and you can't do anything wrong.

I am sure that Daddy feels the same way. And your grandparents. And the rest of the family. And your Aunt Caitlin.

In fact, if anything were to happen to Daddy or I, I'm sure Aunt Caitlin would swoop in and raise you like her own daughter without any hesitation whatsoever. I'm also sure that Aunt Caitlin would swoop in and raise you like her own daughter even if Daddy and I were perfectly capable of doing so. She wouldn't really need a reason to take you. She would just do it.

My relationship with Aunt Caitlin began at the gym. We were pretty good friends who hung out, ate Mexican food together, and talked about baby stuff a lot. She asked the best questions about being pregnant. Questions like, "Do you think she can hear me?" and "How does she poop?" and "Does she have prune fingers like we do when we sit in the bathtub for too long?" I thought she was hilarious. She told me that she wished she could talk to you the moment you were born so that she could ask you about your time in the womb. Oh my God - just thinking about potential conversation makes me giggle.

So when it came time for me to sit through an all day New Baby class and Daddy couldn't go, I asked the one person who was almost as obsessed with your development as I was: Aunt Caitlin. She agreed. That was when we took our relationship to the next level of "Spend the Whole Day Together".

She made that day of sitting around listening to the do's and don'ts of baby stuff a blast. We were both repulsed by the video of the OB/GYN yanking a baby out by it's head, in love with the super cute couple that sat near us (She was the classic blonde and he was the dark, Persian-type. I'm sure their son is a studmuffin!), and eye-rolled the hippee couple that swore they were only going to use cloth diapers for their son because they were so much cheaper. Pa-leeze! Cloth diapers?! What do you do with a dirty, cloth diaper when you are in the middle of running errands?! Anyway. . .

During one of the activities, we had to get a baby doll to practice diaper changing and bathing. Aunt Caitlin wanted the big Black baby who looked about 2, but I wanted the little, cute one that was smiling. She teased me that I wanted that one because it was White. With that, we took our relationship to another level of "Make Slightly Inappropriate Digs At One Another Without Anyone Getting Upset".

At the end of class, the instructor had all the pregnant ladies sit on the floor so that the partners could give massages and shoulder rubs. That is something we did not do. We did not go to the level of "Give Friendly Massages in Public". That would be going too far. LOL!

Aunt Caitlin was the Assistant Birthing Coach, ready to jump in the delivery room if Daddy failed and needed to be subbed out. She was the first person to give you a bottle. She was the first person to babysit you for the day while I went to work. She was one of the first, non-family person to hold you.


You love her. I can tell by the way you smile when you see her or hear her voice. When she sees you, she always calls you her best friend and says that she loves you. And I know that she means it too.

Your relationship is at a level that I can never mess with.

Love,
Mommy

6 Months Old and Still No Baby Book . . . Who Really Cares Anyway?

Dear Layla,

I am just not into scrapbooking. There are plenty of women that are, but I am just not one of them. They spend hours (and a lot of dollars) buying all those cute papers, stamps, and little do-dads to make really intense scrapbooks celebrating all the details of their child's life.

I don't get it. I tried to "get it", but I failed. Miserably. I bought some special paper so that I could scrapbook about my honeymoon with Daddy. That was as far as I got. Yep - that's right. All I did was buy the paper. What an epic fail!

So it should really come as no surprise that I haven't made your baby book yet. You are 6 months old without a baby book. I have saved little things, like your hospital bracelet, footprint paper, and even the measuring tape the doctors used in the delivery room. I've also taken a gazillion pictures, but I've done nothing with them. I've literally done nuh-thang with those pictures. They are still on the memory card and there's no telling when I am going to print them.

With all that being said, I love, love, love Smilebox. It makes the cutest, little photograph slideshow thingies, which is wonderful for those of us who can't scrapbook. Below is the Smilebox I made for you to celebrate your 6 month birthday. So what if you don't have the traditional baby book with all the ridiculous cut-outs, fancy papers, and stamps?! You have the next best thing - Smilebox slideshows and several videos on Youtube. Welcome to the world honey - it's 2010 and this momma has gone digital.

Love,
Mommy

This free digital slideshow generated with Smilebox

Move It!

Dear Layla,

I got an email last week from some baby company titled, "The 7 Types of Crawling". All I could do was think, "What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks are they talking about?" I didn't open it but now I wish I had.

Seems like you had a very important phone call to make on Saturday and you needed my cell phone pretty badly. It may not have been real crawling, but your belly-scoot/worm-wiggle method got the job done. Bravo!

Now that you are starting to really move around, let me make you another promise: I will never strap you into one of those child leash thingies. They are just creepy.

Love,
Mommy

Happy Half Birthday

Dear Layla,

G-Ma surprised us all when she planned a Half Birthday party for you. We were in Nashville for the Gator game and she pulled out a cake from her suitcase. No, she didn't bring a cake with her from Florida - that would be crazy. What would be crazy is if you DIDN'T like the cake icing. You loved it and practically chewed G-Pa's finger off.

Time to start planning your 1st Birthday party. . .

Love,
Mommy

Happy Fall Ya'll

Dear Layla,

In the Fall, our Saturdays are usually consumed with Gator football. So, when there is a bye-week, your Daddy and I get to see how non-football lovin' people live. This year we took you to the Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch. You were not very impressed and actually kinda fussy.

I hope this becomes a Fall family tradition. . . . perhaps with you in a better mood next time.

Love,
Mommy

Free picture slideshow personalized with Smilebox

Cereal: Part 2

Dear Layla,

It didn't take long for you to love cereal. Just two attempts, in fact. At this rate, you may become one of those 500 pound ladies who seek diet advice from Oprah. Yikes! Let's hope that the only time Oprah gives you something it's a free car or trip to Australia. Now THAT would be awesome.



Love,
Mommy

Cereal: Part 1

Dear Layla,

This is the video of your first bites of solid food. You were totally grossed out. You will notice that a few minutes into the video that my cell phone rings and I have a brief conversation with G-Pa while feeding you. That, my dear, is called "Multi-tasking".




Love,
Mommy

"Lay"la No More!

Dear Layla,

So after a month of trying, I finally got video footage of you rolling over from belly to back. However, I atill can't seem to capture you rolling from back to belly. That is something you only do during the darkness of night in your sleep. Come on, girl! Work with me!!

Now that you are starting to really move around, you aren't "Lay"la but "Rollover"la. No, I wasn't the clever one that came up with that, it was Uncle Jason. It was pretty appropriate.




Love,
Mommy

Drop It Like It's Hot!

Dear Layla,

Exercise is great for people of all ages, including infants. Way to go girl!




Love,
Mommy

First Bath AKA First Torture

Dear Layla,

Here is the video of your first bath at home. You were quite upset with every bath for several weeks until one marvelous night at G-Ma's house when I finally learned the trick for a happy bath - to hug you while bathing you. You are such a awesome cuddler!







Love,

Mommy

Morning Talk Show

Dear Layla,

Who needs "The View" when I can have this as a morning talk show?

Love,

Mommy

Tom Cruise Doesn't Know $#@$ About Postpartum

Dear Layla,

A few years ago Tom Cruise went insane. He was always a bit of a weirdo, but he really took it to a new level. It all seems to have gone downhill for him when he started dating Katie Holmes. Now I was a big fan of Katie Holmes back in the day. "Dawson's Creek" was the show! But, as it turns out, dating Katie made Tom crazy or maybe he went crazy from Scientology. Either way - he's a nut job.

At the height of his craziness he did an interview with Oprah where he started jumping up and down on her couch like a two-year old on his parents' bed. He did this to proclaim his love for Katie. Umm . . . why didn't he just take her out to dinner, get her name tattooed on his arm or buy her something shiny? That's all pretty normal behavior. Couch jumping, as a general rule, shouldn't be the manner in which a man shows his love.

He did another nutty interview with Matt Lauer on the "Today" show. This interview accounts for two instances of insanity. First, he used the word "glib". I didn't even know "glib" was a word so I thought he was being extra-insane by making up words on national television, but as it turns out, it's a real word. Secondly, he made several comments about Brooke Shields and her postpartum depression. She used medication and therapy to treat her condition. Tom Cruise, being a board certified doctor and all, criticized her treatments. Oh wait - he's not a doctor, he's just crazy and perhaps thinks he is one. Why did he think he had any authority to talk about postpartum?! He is crazy, crazy, crazy.

Postpartum effects mothers in different ways. Some women can have feelings of helplessness, shame, despair and perhaps thoughts of suicide. I never experienced anything quite so severe, but I did experience some feelings of postpartum.

It began the day we brought you home from the hospital. Daddy suggested that I ride with him to pick up something for lunch. All I had to do was sit beside him in a car, drive to Firehouse Subs, and return to you. I thought it was a great idea! G-Ma and Omi were going to watch you for that short trip so I didn't need to worry about a thing. I had my shoes on and ready to go when a wave just washed over me. I literally couldn't move. Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't leave you. We had spent 3 days in the hospital together and the thought of leaving for those 30 minutes made me lose control. I cried huge crocodile tears. I cried so hard that I cried myself to sleep. After that nap, I didn't feel refreshed or relaxed, I cried a little more because I embarrassed myself in front of my family. It was a sad day. My grade for the day: F. "F" for failure to do anything.

I finally worked up the courage to leave you on Mr. Mike's birthday. G-Ma was still in town and couldn't wait for Daddy and I to leave so she could have you all to herself. I got dressed-up, kissed you good-bye, and headed out the door with confidence. I kept telling myself, "Just make it to the car. That will be better than last time". Well, I did make to the car! Score! However, I did cry three times and asked Daddy to call and check on you once. My grade for the day: C. "C" for crying when I should have been enjoying my friend's birthday cupcakes from Muddy's. No one should cry while eating cupcakes. . . that's just a rule.

A day or so later, Daddy and I attempted a lunch date again. There was no excuse not to go since G-Ma was in town so off to T.G.I.Fridays we went. My goal was to get through a meal without crying. That was a struggle. First the hostess tried to seat us at a high-top table. I was near tears. I knew that I couldn't sit on a hard surface like that after having you just a few days prior. But, I was a brave girl! I calmly took a breath and said that I needed a booth. No tears! Daddy explained the reason and she sat us at a comfy booth with a television nearby. I only remember the t.v. being close because it brought me to tears. I had made it through my entire grilled ham and cheese (I craved grilled cheese during my pregnancy BIG TIME!) and salad meal, and was waiting on the check when a commercial came on that sent the tears flowing. In the commercial a woman was at the hospital and had just given birth. Her husband must have given her some amazing Hallmark card for Mother's Day because she read it and started crying. Just seeing the happy couple and their sleeping newborn made me cry. My grade for the day: C. "C" for copycat crying.

Now please understand that my postpartum symptoms were probably on the mellow side but I felt out of control. I just couldn't control my emotions. It is something that I am still struggling with today and you are two months old.

But at least I didn't go completely crazy like Tom Cruise.

Love,
Mommy

Breaking Up is Hard to Do, Part 2

Dear Layla,

It's pretty hard to believe that you've been here a month. It's also pretty hard to believe that it's taken me a month to complete this post. How do I begin to tell you that I loved you during my pregnancy but even more now? I don't know how that's even possible, but it is. The simple fact that you are so stinkin' adorable helps.

During Part 1 of this letter I wrote about us "breaking up". It's now time for me to tell you about your actual birth day. Unlike the sleek dramatizations created by 20/20 or Dateline with the cool cut-aways and edits, this is just a story. It may be "just a story", but it was one of the greatest days of my life.

You were scheduled to be induced on Monday, May 3rd. At my last appointment the previous Monday, Dr. Byrd didn't think you would sit still and wait. This sent shock waves through the family. Your Grandparents (That's my parents. Can you just name them already?!? For the sake of future letters, I will call them G-Pa and G-Ma. You can change this whenever.) were flying into town from Jacksonville, Florida, Uncle Jason was flying in from Washington D.C., and Daddy's Grandparents, Mom, and brother were driving from Pensacola all on Saturday. If you decided to grace us early, they would have missed it. I prayed all week long for you to wait until Saturday.

Saturday came and you were still tucked neatly into my belly. You are such a perfect child!! :-) Despite major, I mean, MAJOR flight delays -I'm talking many hours of flight delays and missed planes all due to tornado warnings - all the family members made it to Memphis for your big day. Once everyone got here I gave you permission to make like a baby and head out! Buzinga!

You didn't listen. We waited all of Saturday night. No action other than the massive storms, flooding and tornado threats. We waited all of Sunday. No action other than massive storms, flooding and tornado threats. Do you see a pattern here?! Sunday night we all went out to dinner at one of my favorite places called Boscos. It was our Last Supper of sorts. You had decided to wait until Monday.
So as Daddy and I went to bed Sunday night, we set the alarm wicked early - 3:00 am to be exact. I think we just laid there talking about you for hours. How could we not? We were like kids on Christmas Eve trying to sleep but just too anxious about getting that new bike/video game/Barbie/whatever that we had begged Santa for.

When the alarm went off, Daddy and I slowly got ready. I don't think I said anything. I was purely lost in my thoughts. We woke up G-Pa and G-Ma, took one finally picture as a couple, got into the car, and headed to the hospital. I still hadn't spoken to Daddy. I wasn't mad, just in a daze I guess. Daddy decided to drive through Shelby Farms. It was still pretty dark yet, but I still looked for the horses. I thought, "One day she'll want to ride the horses. Won't that be fun?!" As we passed a nail salon, I noticed the "Open" sign was still lit from the previous day. I said, "Wanna stop and get a mani/pedi together?" Yep - that was the first thing I said to him. Charming.

After checking into the hospital, the nurse took your Daddy and I to the delivery room. I was then started on pitocin and told to wait. After nine months of waiting, we had more waiting to do. Dr. Byrd arrived around 8:00. He decided that I was still at 2 centimeters dilated and that he would come back around lunch. He told us that if everything continues as it was, then you would arrive around dinner.

You, as always, had different plans. At lunchtime, Dr. Byrd told me that I had dilated to 9 centimeters and that I would begin to push in about an hour. I was shocked and for what felt like the 100th time, I cried. We were going to break up within an hour!?

Thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, labor and delivery went really smoothly. It wasn't anything like in the movies. The scene of Katherine Heigel pushing in the movie "Knocked Up" kept flashing in my mind. She screamed and swore. I did not. There wasn't any yelling or cussing out your Daddy. We were actually laughing. We were able to listen to the sound of your heartbeat beat through the contraction monitor. It sounded like a galloping horse. G-Ma and I kept laughing about it. Daddy and I commented several times that you were going to be in our arms within a few moments. And when I heard your scream, I felt such joy. I was so thrilled to know that you were here! I said, "Oh my gosh, she's here!" Instantly Dr. Byrd replied, "No she's not! She's only half way out. Just give me a little push". You were only half way delivered and already alert! Guess Dr. Byrd didn't need to stimulate you!

During the whole pregnancy, Daddy said he didn't want to look as you came out. He was certain it would gross him out. G-Ma gets nauseous at the sight of blood so I knew she wouldn't look. They both surprised me on that day. After hearing you scream and Dr. Byrd say that you weren't fully delivered, they both peeked. I forget what Daddy said, but G-Ma's comment was priceless; she said, "Oh my gosh! This is amazing!" It was awesome!

Once you were completely out, Dr. Byrd placed you on my chest. All I saw was your butt rather than your sweet face. Don't get me wrong - it's a perfectly nice butt, but it wasn't your face. A nurse then came to get you, clean you, weigh you, measure you, and do other things to you that prevented me from seeing your face. Daddy got to hold you once she was done. I was so jealous! He was holding you and I still hadn't seen your face. I asked him to come hold you beside me. So it was while you were in Daddy's arms that we saw each other for the first time. That was our first family moment.

Now, there will be some women that will read this letter and scoff that I had an epidural. To them, I scoff back. I mean, seriously ladies - I had an epidural and perhaps you didn't, but didn't we both leave the hospital with the same thing . . . a baby? You don't get some gold medal for pushing for hours until you reach the point of pure exhaustion. And, as I previously discussed, Layla was a perfectly healthy baby. Moving on . . .

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind. Family and friends stopped by to meet you. Snuggling with you became everyone's favorite hobby. It was great. And after two nights at the hospital, we brought you home. Daddy and I had arrived at the hospital as a couple and left as a family.

Greatest. Break Up. Ever.

Love,

Mommy

Breaking Up is Hard to Do, Part 1

Dear Layla,

It was a week ago that I scheduled an induction for Monday, May 3rd at 4 am. 4 AM?!? It was that hateful, yucky nurse that I don't like that set that up. I swear that woman has it out for me.

I was so excited to know exactly when you would come. I am such a planner. Not knowing when you would arrive was making me feel a little crazy. Well, not crazy, more like CRAZY! I was obsessing over very little tiny thing: gotta pack the bag, gotta wash and iron the clothes (Let me just say that I haven't turned on the iron in months, but you needed ironed things!), gotta put the cradle together, oh, and gotta eat more chocolate! Perhaps the last one wasn't totally necessary, but I was determined to make those last few days of diet-free eating count!

But that was then and this is now. . .

Yesterday Dr. Byrd told me that you probably won't wait until Monday. Hole-Lee-Crap. You are down in the birth canal and I've dilated 2 centimeters. I called Daddy as soon as I left the doctor's office. He said, "But that ruins our plans!" I calmly replied, "I don't think she gives a damn." You, little missy, are in control of our lives yet again. So much for my scheduled induction and plans for a easy, relaxing week to prepare for your arrival. I am back on the edge and all plans are off. Urgh . . . but in a good way of course!

Although I am so excited to meet you, see you, cuddle with you, and strap you into your Baby Bjorn thing and walk around with you hanging from my chest, I am really going to miss you being in my belly. I feel so connected to you. I can tell when you are about to move and kick. I get this soft, floaty feeling and then *wham* you let me have it. Occasionally you kick so hard that it makes me yelp. People turn around so fast. I guess they fear that I am going into labor.

I am really going to miss moments like that. I know that you can't stay inside forever but I don't know if I am really ready to break up with you. Once you are born I will have to share you with other people! Blech! Don't get me wrong - I am not scared of labor and delivery. I am just sad that our exclusive time AKA pregnancy time is ending. It makes me sad.

Just like the title suggests, this is only the first part of this letter. I will write to you again after we "break up".

Love,

Mommy

Daughter Should Be Like Daddy

Dear Layla,

March 1st was your Daddy's 28th birthday. I think he would have loved a new computer or a puppy as a present, but he got yellow cake with gooey chocolate icing instead. Oh well. Perhaps you and I can bake his favorite apple and chocolate chip cake for him next year. And yes, I will let you lick the spoon. All that stuff about E. Coli from raw eggs is garbage. I believe some greedy woman made that up so that she could lick the spoon and not have to share with her children.

I once forgot Daddy's birthday. Probably not in the sense that you are thinking though. We were meeting with our wedding photographers and they asked me to fill out some paperwork. One of the questions asked for Daddy's birthday. When I saw the question, my mind just went blank. I couldn't remember if it was March 1st or March 2nd. I literally just sat there and stared at the paper until a few tears started to roll down my cheeks. I was so embarrassed. Daddy still liked to tease me about it. Even the photographers teased me at the wedding.

Daddy is a great guy and the love of my life. I am certain that you and Daddy will be close. Sometimes when he comes home, he asks about you. He'll say, "How are my girls?" and kiss my ever growing belly. I can tell that he is just as excited to meet you as I am. And that makes me happy.

There are certain things that I hope you inherit from your Daddy. He is a wonderful man and great role-model. Here is my list of qualities and characteristics you should adopt to be Daddy-like.

* His love for my Mom's cooking - Daddy is a walking garbage disposal and can eat just about anything including gooey, soupy birthday cake icing. However, he gets super-excited to eat at my Mom's house. Her cooking is absolutely delicious and Daddy has never left a crumb after finishing a meal prepared by my Mom. You will send her over the moon if you enjoy her cooking even half as much.

* He always checks the mail - This my sound completely dumb, but I love it. I tend to forget to do the little things around the house, like checking the mail and paying the bills. (Did I really just refer to paying bills as a "little thing". Whoa!) Daddy does these things without me asking. If it wasn't for Daddy, our mailbox would be overflowing with junk mail and Chinese take-out menus from the 4, yes count 'em, 4 Chinese joints in the neighborhood. I hope you learn to remember to do the little things like he does.

* He does the dishes when I cook - We have a deal that if I cook, then Daddy cleans. This rocks! I get to make the mess and he has to deal with it. Yippee!! You will make your future spouse very happy if you know how to compromise and work as a team in the same way Daddy and I do.

* He loves Mexican food - Mexican food is my favorite and Daddy loves it too. It is crucial that you love salsa, chips, tacos, burritos, and enchiladas or you just might starve. Ok, so we won't really let you starve. We'll try to sneak in a Happy Meal into Mexican restaurants for you to eat. Just learn to love Mexican food and help things easier for us. Thanks!

* He understand electronics - For me, all I need is a T.V. with cable. For Daddy, he needs surround sound, speakers, HD, an I-phone and all that Best Buy stuff. He even has a huge plastic bin just filled with cables. I think the bin looks like a tangled mess of black wires. Why must all electrical wires be black anyway?!? Daddy doesn't see it as a mess at all. He actually knows the purpose for each one. When you get old enough to own (and need), having his ability to master electronics will really come in handy. Lord knows that I won't be able to assist you at all. I'll just tell you to call the Apple Genius people - whoever they are.

* He is wicked smart - Daddy can read some complex, obscure text and be able to break it down so that I can even understand it. He is really great at this! Receiving this talent from him will really help you while pulling those all-nighters in your dorm room at UF.

* He thrives on helping others - Daddy is the kind of guy that will give people the shirt off his back. He loves to help others achieve their goals. He is a talented personal trainer who wants to see all of his clients improve in their lives. I hope that whatever it is that you do professionally, you are able to inspire people around you the same way Daddy does.

* He makes me want to be a better person - I hope Daddy inspires the same in you. 'Nough said.

Love,

Mommy

The Unknown

Dear Layla,

Let's just be honest, Daddy and I know almost nothing about babies. You are our guinea pig. Our lab rat. Our test subject. We know that we're going to make a ton of mistakes and pray that you turn out okay despite our mishaps. Please try to remember the good times during your childhood if you ever end up in counseling as an adult. We'd appreciate that.

Or, if you want to do us a favor, could you be born as a well-mannered, toilet-trained 2 year old? I know I would feel a lot more confident if that were the case. No, you don't want to do that for your Mother?! You want to be born as a normal, naked newborn?! Fine then, but I DID warn you.

Throughout my pregnancy I have been shocked by all the things I didn't know about babies. My only experiences with babies has been through babysitting in high school and holding some one's baby for a few minutes. I am certain that there is more to raising a child then changing, holding, feeding, and burping but that is all that I really know. In fact, I learned just a few weeks ago that I'll have to wash your clothes in special baby-friendly laundry detergent. Shocking!

My knowledge on pregnancy is just as limited. I have already learned so much in these 7 months. Below is a list of the things I've learned/experienced that I wasn't prepared for. Consider this my "Dummies Guide to Being Pregnant for the First Time".

• Boobies - They will grow. Basically that's all you need to know. One day I went to bed with my ordinary little A-sized boobs and woke up with C's. I felt like Jennifer Aniston in the movie "Bruce Almighty" when she bounced up and down and exclaimed "Look at them!" because her boobs had grown overnight. I went shopping that very weekend to purchase my first over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder and placed my pitiful, little bras in the back of my undie drawer. According to all the pregnancy books, I'll be wearing those little ones again real soon. Dang.
• Heartburn - You will have it . . . a lot. I never knew what heartburn was before getting pregnant. I could eat spicy food with hot salsa poured on top and wash it down with a shot of Tabasco without problem. You, my dear, changed that big time. I didn't even know what was happening when I experienced heartburn for the first time. I'm an idiot. For almost a week I tried to sleep while propped up with multiple pillows to ease the pain. Finally, after dinner one night, I told Daddy that I felt like I could spit fire. That's when it hit me that I was having heartburn and should get some Tums. I now eat 2 or 3 Tums a day because heartburn sets in after almost every meal. Just the other day I got heartburn from eating one Hershey's Kiss. ONE HERSHEY'S KISS?! Are you kidding me? I've heard that you will be born with a ton of hair because of all the heartburn I've had these months. Guess I should stock-up on ponytail holders.
• Belly Button - It grows too. For some people it may seem obvious that your belly button would grow right along with your belly, but I never really thought about it. I still can't believe the size of my belly button. Daddy likes to tease me and stick his finger in it to measure it's new size. I'm secretly afraid that one day he'll stick his finger in and it will go so deep that my belly button consumes his whole hand much like a black hole. Then again, my big, new belly button is still better than getting an outie.
• Water Works - I have cried and cried throughout these months. Sometimes it's for no reason at all. During dinner with Daddy and Uncle Jason around Thanksgiving, I just started crying. Daddy just told Jason, "She does this" and he was right. I DO just cry without reason. The pregnancy books warned me that my emotions would be really out of whack, but nothing prepared me for the buckets and buckets of tears that I have cried because of nothing. It's been bizarre.
• Naps - I only thought I had out-grown them. Even if it is only for a few minutes, taking a nap has been a glorious thing. I have always been a heavy sleeper (I slept through a hurricane in college) and being pregnant has only amplified things. More than once I've fallen asleep on the couch only to have Daddy wake me up to say, "Go to bed" and while staggering to bed, notice that it's only 8:30 at night.
• Aches and Cramps and Pains, oh my - Daddy and I are exercising people so feeling sore wasn't anything new to me. But being pregnant has taken "soreness" to a whole new level. At least once a week I wake up with severe leg cramps that bring tears to my eyes. (See what I mean about crying?!) And no, bananas don't help. Also, my hips hurt all the time. I feel like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz without his oil. My legs are so tight that it hurts to walk. After just a few steps, my legs seem to loosen and I can walk and run without problem, but its those first few movements that hurt like heck. Daddy often tells me to let him know if he is walking too fast, which is sweet and embarrassing all at the same time. My waddling must be annoying.

Okay, so there you go Layla. That is what I have learned about being pregnant. I have really enjoyed being pregnant so please don't think otherwise. And as far as learning about actual babies goes, I'll have to wait for you to arrive to work on that. Or take a parenting class - which ever comes first.

Love,

Mommy

Genetics

Dear Layla,

There are some things that we can't control. Things like eye color and height are predetermined for us based on our genes. I remember reading in some Science textbook that "genes are the building blocks of life". Daddy and I are worried about one gene in particular - the eyebrow gene. We both have thick, black eyebrows and we fear that you will be born with two fuzzy caterpillar-like eyebrows across your forehead. But, like I said, it's out of our control. Blame it on your genes and not us. I'll buy you some pink Tweezers for your first birthday to make it up to you.

There is one gene that we are quite proud to pass onto you. It's the Florida gene. Scientists know nothing about this gene and they'll look at you like you're insane if you mention it. Daddy and I know it's legitimate. Layla, although you will be born in Tennessee, you are a Florida girl. Can't genes be wonderful?!

Because of the Florida gene, you will love all things Florida-related. The beach, sunshine, convertibles, tank-tops, flip-flops, the smell of sun screen, Florida orange juice (because there IS a difference in Florida's OJ and evey other kind), and many other things will make you extremely happy just because of their connection to the greatest state in the country. Those are just some of the genes characteristics.

Perhaps the best characteristic of the Florida gene is your undying love for the University of Florida. All things orange and blue will be wonderful to you. You will want to name your teddy bear Albert. Daddy and I will be able to soothe you by singing the Florida Fight Song. Tim Tebow will be the subject of your fourth grade biography report. A trip to Gainesville will be as exciting as going to Disney. "Go Gators" will be your first sentence. It's all in your genes. Your welcome Baby Girl!

Daddy and I are both graduates of the University of Florida. We met at college and even got married on the campus. UF is in our blood and it will be in yours too. As I am writing this you are only seven months along in the baking stage, but Daddy and I have already talked about you going to college. We hope that UF is where you decide to go. We've just got to figure out how we're going to pay for it.

Love,

Mommy

What's in a Name?

Dear Layla,

Hannah Anna Emmons. Try saying that three times fast - Hannah Anna Emmons, Hannah Anna Emmons, Hannah Anna Emmons. Isn't it a good time?! Daddy and I wanted to name you Hannah Anna Emmons just because it's fun to say. For years we told people that we were going to name our future daughter Hannah Anna Emmons. Most people groaned. We loved seeing their reactions. Priceless stuff!

Of course we weren't totally serious, only just a little bit serious. We honestly loved the name Hannah, but when Daddy's cousin named her daughter Hannah, we had to go back to the drawing board. This is the story of how we picked Layla Beth Emmons as your name.

When we found out that we were pregnant, Daddy and I began thinking of names. Many people warned us that choosing a name would be a struggle. However, we thought of a boy name instantly. So instantly in fact that it was almost scary. I don't think we have ever agreed on anything so quickly. Daddy and I have a harder time deciding on what to have for dinner than picking a boy name. What the heck?! If you had been a boy, you would have been named Noah Chandler Emmons. We liked "Noah" because it is just so stinkin' awesome and "Chandler" after my maiden name. (Perhaps you already have a little brother named Noah Chandler Emmons. That's creepy to imagine Little One!)

This is just a side note . . .

The only bad thing about getting married and being a girl is having to change your name. Okay, so you don't HAVE to change your name but I wanted to do the traditional thing because I like to keep it old-school. Anywho - I had a decision to make: to drop my middle name Nicole or my last name Chandler. What to do? What to do? What to do? I made Daddy make the decision for me. I told him that if a dropped Nicole then I wanted to name our daughter Nicole and if I dropped Chandler then I wanted to name our son Chandler. He chose Chandler. I guess that if I get really technical we named our future son way back during our engagement.

The hunt for the perfect girl's name was on! I found myself checking out the names of female waitresses, store clerks, TV personalities, cartoon characters, whatever. I even paid extra close attention to sports announcers who I normally ignore because they annoy the crap out of me just in case they mentioned a girl name that could be The One. It was life-consuming.

While watching a Gator game, I fell in love with the name Riley after the too-cute-for-words Riley Cooper. Daddy even thought that Riley would be a great name! Wahoo! Next mission: select a middle name.

Needless to say, Riley didn't stick. Mission Middle Name: failed. It was back to the drawing board again. I feared that we would never decide and I would be forced to sign your name as Baby E on your birth certificate.

Everyone had an opinion about a name. We had quite a laundry list of potential names, but nothing seemed to fit. One day I timidly suggested the name Layla. It was a name that I have secretly loved for years. During my third year teaching one of my students had a sister named Layla who was just precious. She was a super sweet girl. All teachers know that there are certain names that are cursed and the children are destined to be awful. Just ask a teacher - we know what's up!

Layla is also the name of an Eric Clapton song. I always wanted my name in a song and thought it would be a great gift to give my daughter. Wouldn't it be just too cool to have your hunky boyfriend sing Clapton's song to you? Perhaps he'll look like Riley Cooper! Oh the cuteness!

Much to my surprise, Daddy and other family members liked it. I was thrilled! A name that I have adored could be The One! Holy friggin' crap! It was now time for a second attempt at Mission Middle Name.

We chose Beth in honor of Daddy's Grandmother named Elsbeth. Omi, as we call her, raised your Daddy. She is very special to Daddy and deserving of a namesake as sweet as you. I know that you will grow up to make her very proud. Mission Middle Name: accomplished. Whew!

So there it is Layla Beth - the story of your name. I hope that you love it as much as I do. Just think, you almost ended up as Baby E Emmons. I couldn't do that to you because it would just look too weird on your college diploma from the University of Florida, but more on that in a later letter.

Love,
Mommy

The Girl Code

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

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

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