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