My pumpkins

Asking for advice

It seems that someone in our house has a bad habit. Already, at the ripe ole age of 4.5, O has a habit that she cannot control. Nail biting. Nail nibbling. Nail picking.

She's always had somewhat of an oral fixation. When we took away her pacifier at 11 months, she started chewing on her blanket and her bear (her lovies). When her hair got long enough, she started chewing on that. Somewhere along the years, she started biting her nails. It was a nuisance, but it was normally solved by making sure I cut her nails as often as I could. However, now, some of her nails are almost non-existent.

O has now progressed to chewing her toenails. Disgusting, I know. Definitely something that most parents do not want to admit. However, her little tiny toes are suffering and I MUST speak out in hopes of saving her pinky toenail from destruction! (that, and its really, really, nasty when she wears flip flops all day and then does it. talk about germs. ick!)

So, my call to you is this: help a momma out! Have any of you dealt with this issue? Any advice? any things on the "do not do" list? Help!!

Our new ride

E and I are not the most decisive people when it comes to big decisions or big purchases. Big purchases are hard especially hard when you're handing over cash. We shop around, and around, and around. We get stressed. We get frustrated. We get irritated.

We also get UNdecisive. We waffle. We waver. We get wishy washy. Should we buy the newer van for twice as much, but half as many miles? Should we buy the older van, that costs half as much and is super clean? Save some of our car savings and put it towards a newer/nicer van in a year or two? Its a production that I, honestly, would rather avoid.

In the end, after much discussion and prayer, we are left with nothing but a sense of peace with our latest decision. Peace that surrounded us both after we left the car dealership and headed to a late dinner at McDonald's (where my kids, who were tickled pink, were rewarded for good behavior with their very first happy meals. They've shared one once or twice before, but never got their "own".) We both climbed into the booth, getting ready to dive in to a much belated dinner (after eating lunch much earlier than usual) and let out a collective sigh. A good sigh. One that said "I'm happy with our decision" while at the same time saying "I'm so glad this is over!'

So, now our new-van-owner selves venture onto the next big decision- the baby's name.

A and O getting ready to ride in the van for the first time

Our grandpa-gold van. It, in fact, was owned by a grandpa. Which, turned out to be a HUGE benefit for us. Its super clean, and very well taken care of.

Funny quotes

O: "Daddy, how old is Jesus?"
E: "well, he's really not an age. He's just always been."
O: "oh, so he's kind of like a zero."

O: "Daddy, what are your favorite colors?"
E: "probably red and blue. what are yours?"
O: "well, pink- that's the one. Purple, that's the two. Red, that's the three. And yellow, that's the four"

E: "A, did you get a shot today?"
A: "yes. A flute shot."
E: "what kind of shot?"
A: "a FLUTE shot"

Me: "A, what do you want to do today while sissy is at school?"
A: "I just want to go get some coffee and go home"

Me: "A, let's get your shirt on"
A: "no! I don't waaaant my shirt on."
Me: "well, you have to cover up your belly button!"
A: "I don't waaaaaaaant a belly button!"

Introducing myself

No, this isn't a belated "getting to know me" blog post where I tell you all about my life history. Although, maybe I should do one of those sometime... But, alas, that sometime is not today.

Yesterday I attended a new women's bible study that just started up (for the year, they've done this study before) called "Mom to Mom". Its based on the Passages from Titus 2. In Titus 2, it talks about how older mothers, wives, etc. should mentor younger ones. That principle, is basically what the entire study is based upon. During the study, we'll watch a dvd, follow up with group discussion, then break into smaller groups for small group discussion.

Side note: (In the past, they've had a rather large group of women (I know because I was working in the nursery, watching their children. :) ) and I was surprised to see only about 7 younger moms and 3 mentor moms. That's a rather "intimate" number for a church our size. )

Yesterday was mainly spent trying to get to know one another through introductions and discussion of random topics. Normally, when someone asks me to introduce myself, and include how many children I have, I don't mention the babies we lost. Its not one of those things I do, like "Hi. Nice to meet you. My name's Tracy and I've had 6 miscarriages." For one, its embarrassing. (Don't ask me to get into this. I'm not really sure why it embarrasses me. Maybe because my body likes to kick things out??) Two, I almost always cry. Three, I find it makes other people uncomfortable (the crying and the miscarriages).

Lately, however, I've found that the babies I have lost have changed who I am, spiritually and emotionally. Can I honestly tell someone about myself with out mentioning them? Can I open myself up and be sincere about issues I struggle with daily if I don't include something so life changing? I think the answer to those questions is: no. I can't. If I want to get anything out of this bible study, the mentoring, and the fellowship of moms, I have to open myself up and show my scars. I have to introduce myself and my family by saying:

"I'm Tracy. I've been married to my high school sweetheart for 6.5 years. I have a 4.5 year old, a 3 year old, 6 babies in heaven, and one baby boy due in December."

(Interestingly enough, I found out later in the bible study that two of the women who were in the bible study had seen the same RE as me. They also both went through a few rounds of IVF. )

Viability

I've been meaning to make a post about this since, well, I hit the "viability" marker on Thursday. However, time kept ticking, tick, tick, ticking away and it got lost in "things to do" list. But, here we are now. Better late then never.

I've been making these little "short goals" for my pregnancy since the day I got the news that I was carrying another child in my womb. "let me make it to six weeks!" then "let me see the baby on the ultrasound!" then "let me hear the heart beat!" then "let me make it past the first trimester!", etc, etc, etc. But, one of my major "goals" was 24 weeks. Its the point that they term the baby "viable". meaning, they'd actually try to save the baby if it was born today. The baby would have a chance at living outside of the womb.

Now, I realize that it may seem a bit odd to just want to make it to viability. Obviously, I want to make it further. But, there's a sense in relief in just *knowing* that if I gave birth, this baby could survive. For someone like me, who has lost so many babies before they were "viable" this is huge. It gives me hope. It gives me a sense of peace.

But, what kind of "goal maker" would I be if I was content at 24 weeks? My new goal, is 28 weeks. That magical gestational number that raises the odds for this baby bumpkin! Then, the new goal? Who knows? Maybe 33 weeks (the week I went into labor with O).

Whatever the goal now, though, I thank God that my body has kept this baby safe thus far. It still never ceases to amaze me that this baby boy is still inside, still alive, and still loving his momma. God is good!

A personality change

We're back from our vacation. We had a fabulous time. It was full of sand, water, sun and good food. It was so beautiful and while we were there I felt so blessed. Blessed to be able to afford a vacation, blessed to be able to watch (yes, watch!) baby boy dance around in my uterus from the outside, and blessed to have such a wonderful family.



I had my fair share of fun in the ocean, and my fair share of time relaxing in a beach chair on the sand. But, my attention was never far from my children, even when they were under "daddy's watch". Its not that I didn't or don't trust him, its just that I worry. I worry about my two babies being sucked under, or swallowing too much water. I worry, and I worry.

I guess it was in the midst of worrying that E and I had an interesting conversation. He said, and I quote, "you weren't always so anxious about the kids. Just in the past two years you've started to worry more." To which, I responded, "oh yeah?" Playing innocent is best, I think. He responded back "yeah. You used to be more calm about this kind of stuff. I wonder what changed."

He may wonder what changed, but I don't have to. I know. Before two years ago, I hadn't experienced the extreme hurt of loss after loss. Before two years ago, I had very little happen to me that was "bad". Around two years ago is when I discovered that even babies can be taken from us. Babies that didn't wander too far in the ocean, or swallow too much sea water.

So, yeah, I've changed. I worry about my kids more. I worry about my husband more. I worry about those I love more. Because, I know, (more intimately now,) life is fleeting. Life is unpredictable. Life is fragile.

I've got sand in my pockets

and pretty much every where else you can imagine. I'll post more insightful things once I get it all out. (oh, and when I get my laundry done.)