Carseat Shopping with Preschoolers- Britax Endeavours

As you know, I’ve been confined, a prisoner, if you will, on bed rest for the last month. For someone who LOVES baby things and happens to be pregnant…and in need of baby things…this was torture. So, one of my first stops on my first day of freedom was Buy Buy Baby to check out all that has changed since Bug was cooking in my belly. And, woah! It’s a LOT! One of my favorite things we checked out was the new Britax Endeavours infant carseat. This seat goes from 4-35lbs, which for a mama with a high risk of birthing a premie, this is great news!


Obviously, Bug exceeds the max weight limit! But he approves the comfort level!

With the steel anti-rebound bar, there is 30% less rebound in a front or rear crash.

Even Chuck could maneuver its user-friendly design.

“Baby” the cabbage patch doll appreciates the safety measures present both with or without a base. With latch or auto seatbelts, Baby is riding with exceedingly high safety standards.

Chuck really enjoyed learning about how she can help take care of her new baby sibling in this #1 safety-rated seat. Bug, on the other hand, enjoyed torturing his sister. What can I say, they were stoked to get out of the house, too! I dare you to watch to the end without laughing!

Carseat Shopping With Preschoolers- Video


*I was compensated to check out this rad seat. All children and their wackado behaviors are my own.

30 Days

Thirty days of confinement, rest, restrictions and caution. Thirty days of figuring out a new normal and a new sense of purpose. Thirty days to dwell in my thoughts and fears and hopes for this baby and our family.

I haven’t done them well. I don’t know how one does. Two young children who need every piece of me that I can’t physically give and one deep-rooted character of pride sitting in my heart; these have been my companions. I didn’t realize how dependent I am on being INdependent until this last month. Ladies from bible study asked 10 times before they finally TOLD me they were coming to clean my kitchen. A meal train that ended up being a literal lifeline for my family was set up without me signing off…and I am so, so glad. Several friends grocery shopped, played mom-taxi and entertained my minions…all just by DOING. Because, you see, if there is one thing us moms are great at, it’s LOOKING as if we have it all under control….even if that’s not logistically possible. So, I dedicate the last thirty days to those who just DO. Thank you.

Now, the next thirty days? Who knows?! I was tentatively released from strict bed rest! It turns out the complete placenta previa that was aggravated by a pretty large subchorionic hematoma just…moved. I mean, last week it was bad. Really, really “you’re gonna have a c-section if you don’t go into preterm labor before,” bad. And this week, God said, “move!” and it did! Even my high risk doctor was surprised at the level of progress. The hematoma is still there and relatively large, but without the concern of the previa, it’s not as big of an issue right now. I am still on “light duty,” but I am able to leave the house. I can take Chuck to our Classical Conversations community day without reprimand and I can resume our normal dance/Awana/mops routine. Most exciting to me….TARGET! I know, so basic, right? But really, Chip and Joanna have been waiting for me. I must go!

I am 18.5 weeks at this point and while spending so much time with my own thoughts, I began to count down to different milestones. The most pivotal of these to me is 24 weeks. Twenty four weeks…the point of viability. The placemarker in gestation where I will never hear the words “there’s nothing we can (will) do. Just go home and manage your expectations.” Those words still burn in my ears after our traumatic night in the ER in Vegas. So, 24 weeks comes, get this, on Dec. 24! My little minnow will be statistically “viable,” a saveable miracle on Christmas Eve. How’s that for divine?!

This Sunday, Bug turns three and I can’t help but remember these milestones with him. His pregnancy was easy, for the most part, until the end. When I was 18 weeks with him, we were camping out in the mountains near Kern river, roasting marshmallows, blissfully unaware of just how much could go wrong. And here we are with this one, thanking God for each day closer to viability. It’s that way with life in general, right? We go along whistling until someone bumps us…and then someone bigger, then maybe a car or truck and then the whole dad-gum train runs us flat over and we are like, “good grief! I get it now! Life isn’t promised. Each day is a complete and utter gift. I get it.”

So, on Sunday, we will celebrate another gift of a day with our baby (middle) boy and we will once again get on our knees to thank our Heavenly Father for all the days we’ve had, and hope to have, to bring glory to Him, raising our tribe, sewing seeds of grace and mercy and working so very hard on clipping those ties to pride. Grateful for days and the ways, He shows us gently (or sometimes not SO gently) the reflection of the parts of ourselves we need to give to Him. I do get it now.


Secondary Infertility and losses

Last summer, I decided to take a break from facebook. We had just experienced the heartbreak of our second miscarriage. The ridiculousness of political rants and petty complaints became a very unwelcomed distraction from processing our pain. Leaving was good for me. I learned to cling tighter to my Savior, instead of drowning my mind in constantly refreshing my feed. Brent and I worked through our raw hurt together, again, this second time, and came out on the other side stronger than ever.

Then, it happened again. And again. And again. And again. During this year hiatus, we have grasped to a tiny life, five different times, only to be shattered as it slipped away. That’s six in total. Six babies in heaven. I’m still jaw-dropped at those words. Our most recent beloved went to be with Jesus this month, almost a year to the day of his sibling.

I’ve been reminded over and over again that God put us on this earth to live in community, to glorify Him. His love is only reflected by ours. So, this village, the people who’ve brought coffee or embraced snot-drenched sobs on their shoulders…these are the Hands and Feet. These are the ones who, without always the right words, show with action, the cross. Thank you.

There’ve been other tragedies and joys and endless hours of news, both personal and public, through the last year. It’s documented in my heart, instead of my page. Our actions, and inactions, haven’t always been understood or appreciated by those around us, and that’s ok. Healing and grieving and growing are processes, undertaken in intimacy with Jesus. Everyone does it differently. But, all you who’ve suffered, too, know, I know. And I love, too.

My babies all have names. They’ve all been loved for every second of their existence. Every bit of their being was felt and cherished. They will be remembered at due dates and loss dates…even if I have to reference my “list,” because there are so many. What mother doesn’t remember her baby’s birthday? I’m trying.

So, I suppose the point of this is…well, I’m not really sure. Maybe to try to express courage? Or insight for those who’ve wondered? Or just to document some late night, wine-induced rambling from an aching mama-heart.

Chuck and Bug are our world. They perfectly stretch our parent wings and if they complete our family, we are joy- filled. But, we stand in utter confusion at God’s plans for our family. It’s a sense of paralysis. So, I humbly ask, for those who’ve walked through the fire of secondary infertility or recurrent losses, please reach out. I need some anecdotal hope, one way or the other.

And to my husband, thank you for being mine. Thank you for holding my hand so tightly when I’m crashing to the ground. Thank you for carrying the weight this year. You have. All of it. This life hurts, but it’s also full of sweet, sweet joys and I’m so glad you’re the one by my side for them.


Mother’s Day and a message from Dr. Chuck

Mother’s Day is one of those holidays that carries mixed emotions for many folks. While some are over the moon to celebrate their first of many special days as a mom themselves, others are grieving the losses of their own mothers, grandmothers, children who MADE them mothers or the babies who they never got to hold in their arms. Still others are praying for the 7 millionth time that THIS will be the year they get to be called mama. That was the case for my cousin, who, for as long as I can remember, always, always, always wanted a baby of her own. For 20 plus years she and her hubby struggled with infertility and baby loss and the horrible, wrenching pain that comes with knowing you have the heart of parents, but not the baby to fulfill the role.

Until this year! This year, in January, God picked THEM. They received the call that a birth mother wanted them to parent the sweet baby girl she would soon be bringing into the world. Can I just tell you what immense joy has surrounded my family at the arrival of baby Smiley. I can’t even describe the divine hand that was so apparent throughout the process, but I can tell you, that THIS was the most memorable of mother’s days for her. So, as my cousin was one of those children mourning the loss of her own mother on the day, this year the sting was accompanied by sheer happiness as she spent the day with her sweet baby girl.

Hers is a story of hope and as I held my own mixed emotions on Mother’s Day, I saw in my cousin’s story a huge motivation to choose joy. On Sunday, Hfoe took Chuckles and me to the beach after church. We decided on arrival it may have been just a little too windy and cool for bathing suits, but we did dip our toes in the water and chase a screaming Chuck as she darted away from waves. After our beach shenanigans, we decided to head to the marina, where, on a whim, I said I wanted to rent a paddle boat to putter along around the big boats and to see the sea lions up close. It was perfect. As we peddled peacefully around million dollar yachts, Hubs did the bulk of the work, C steered and I took a quiet moment to think about Blue. I know our baby blueberry made us parents of two nuggets and in my mind I celebrated that as we watched sea lions bark at lurkers nearby. I may never have gotten to hold her or hear her call me “mama.” She will never give me a scribbled Mother’s Day card from the nursery at church, but in my heart I know I will see her again and celebrate with her in Heaven. So, for my first Mother’s Day as both a mother to my most favorite runtly and a mother to one gone too soon, I smiled. I laughed with my honey and giggled at my sweet girl as she was so excited to steer the boat and “do it myself!”

After our paddle boat ride, we were famished! All I really cared about was getting some nourishment, but we took a walk to the end of the marina and chose an upstairs restaurant with a killer view and a 30 minute wait. At first, the wait time was a little daunting with our squirmy toddler, but when our “first available” seating preference yielded a prime spot on the patio overlooking the water…we knew we had scored! The kid was behaved, the fish and chips were delish and the scenery was perfect. All in all, the day was made really great by my handsome hunter-fisher-outdoorsman-extraordinaire. HE was, by far, the catch of the day! Ha! I had to throw out the cheesy obvious line! Oh, and I forgot to mention the AMAZING surprise of the morning! He had worked in cahoots with our photographer who had taken an impromptu photo of Chuck and me at her 2 year photo shoot. It wasn’t a shot I had purchased because it wasn’t in the budget, but I loved it. Well, he bought it! And on canvas, none-the-less. AND, he did it all without me having a clue WEEKS ago! Isn’t forethought the BEST gift ever! Sorry girls, he’s taken!

So, as we drove back home we talked about what this next year has in store for us. We have lots of big things coming up and we decided that maybe we should go ahead and let y’all know the biggest of things…right here. Well, we will let Chuck tell you.

She has a budding fascination with doctoring. I blame it on her talking Doc McStuffins stethoscope. There’s not much cuter than a two year old with a lisp asking to listen to your heart. Or in this case…


Dr. Chuckles confirms: Baby Brother or Sister to arrive on Turkey day.

That’s right folks! It has happened again and boy was that fast! I am already 12 weeks along and we have seen the heartbeat twice. We are feeling confident in this little bean and we are secure in the knowledge that only God knows His plans for our family. Soooo, prayers for stickiness are appreciated and cherished!

P.S. I wanted to take a second to say thank you to all of you for your support and prayers through what has been the hardest life event for our family. As we anticipate the arrival of this next gift, we celebrate the love that has surrounded us from even places and people we would never have thought to search. And, now, we choose JOY!