I wrote a love letter of sorts to Roy yesterday, and while I usually write one to each of the boys for Christmas, I realized I didn’t do that this holiday season.  So what better time to write my wonderful boys a letter than February - the month of love.  (I don’t know if anyone else calls February that, but I seem to be doing that a lot this year.)  This one is to our baby, Dean.

Dear Dean,

Our youngest, my little boy, my last baby.  It’s hard for me to believe that you are already three, because I remember your first night home.  I was nursing, and my milk hadn’t come in yet.  You were only a day old, but already hungry as a little horse!  I would nurse you, and you would fall asleep, so I tried to lay you down and get some rest.  You would sleep for five minutes and then start screaming.  I was exhausted and started crying.

“I’m too old for this!” I mumbled through my tears.

“No, you’re not.  We can do this.” Daddy reached out to rub my back, and I picked you up and put you down on my chest.  You fell asleep instantly, and that is how we slept that first night.  You curled up in a tiny ball on my chest.  Your little hand gripped my shirt, and I could feel your warm breath on my neck.  I look back on that night now with fondness.  The exhaustion forgotten, the frustration, the confusion, the fear, all pushed aside, and what I remember is how beautiful you were… how perfect.

The next day my milk came in, and you were good to go!

You were a good baby, content to just be held and loved, and you certainly had enough of that!  Daddy, Corey, and Joey would carry you around, talking to you, and you would coo right back.  Addi would hold you on his lap and point out the cartoon characters on the TV, and Hayden would lay on the floor to play with you on your little baby blankets and mats.  And when you would cry - you were hungry, or wet, or sleepy - I would go and scoop you up, holding your small, warm body snugly against my chest, and all was right in your world.

Your first birthday came and went, and then your second, and now you are three.  Potty training isn’t something you enjoy, and, in fact, just today we had this little exchange.

“Mommy, I pooped.” You came over to tell me, bringing me Addi’s DS instead of the wipes.

“You did?  Does mommy need to clean you up?”

“Yes!” You told me, running off to get a diaper and the wipes, “Here, mama!” 

I caught the box of wipes that you threw at me right before you flopped over on the floor, lifting your legs, and waiting for me.

“Hi, mama!” You smiled your crooked little smile at me as I sat down to change you.

“Hi, baby.”  I answered.

“No, baby.  You my baby!”

“You’re not my baby?” I asked you as you wiggled around on the floor.

“No, you my baby, mama.”  You laughed as the cold wipe touched your behind, and I giggled.

“Ok, all done!”  I gently swatted you on the behind and turned to throw away the diaper.

“No, mama!” You cried and grabbed for the diaper I had put up intentionally, “This one!”

“No, sweetie.  You’re a big boy now.  Use the potty, ok?  Mama will help you.” I explained.

And you folded your arms, and glared at me, “No, I baby!”

You surprise me every day with how much you grasp, how well you understand the world around you.  If you want my attention, and I am doing something else, you know to pooch out your bottom lip and look sad, and mama is right there.  You understand a closed door on daddy’s office probably means he is on the phone, and you will shush the dogs and even me if we get too loud.  You understand that when I put on my sneakers and yoga pants, we are going to the gym, and you will run to me:

“Mama, no go play and have fun.  I stay home.”  You say this as you hug my legs, your beaming face and little teeth on full view.

“Why not?” I always ask you, “Who will you stay home with?”

“I stay home with Joe.”  This is always your answer, and just so you know an immense source of pride for Joe.  Joe will tease Corey saying that you like him more because you want to be home with him.  And Joe always says ok, asking you what you want to do, giving you piggy back rides up and down the stairs.

You are a happy little boy, loved more than you will ever know.  I wanted you more than I wanted anything.  You were our last baby, and when daddy told me he wanted to have one more baby, I was thrilled, and when I found out I was pregnant with you, I was so very happy.  I was beginning to think it wouldn’t happen, maybe I was too old, but here you are, and we are so thankful.

Your oldest brother, Corey is in the middle of his junior year of high school.  He drives and is looking at taking his SAT’s.  And then Daddy and I turn around and try to get you to use the potty, not to mention dealing with your three other brothers and all that comes between 16 and 3.

One day, too soon, you will be asking us to take you to the DMV to get your Learner’s Permit.  You will ask your dad for dating advice, and we will discuss what your post high school plans are.  But right now I look at you and all I see is that little boy that needed to curl up on my chest to get to sleep.

I love you,

Mama

I have expensive taste, I admit it.  (Roy does too, but that’s another post, for another time!) I also have a husband that earns a good living, and enjoys indulging me.  Lucky girl, huh?

BUT, there are a few things I want that Roy will not pay for!  Imagine my outrage when I present him with these requests:

1) Another baby - Yes, we have five boys, I know… big family!  I have a stepdaughter, so the family is even bigger.  But I love them all to death!  I love being a mom, I love being a wife, but my last pregnancy was rough, and I decided it would be my last.  I was getting older, and I didn’t think I could take another pregnancy.  So, I reverted to asking Roy to buy me a baby from China.  (I know all about the adoption procedure, and I am just kidding around here; in no way am I disrespecting what those that have sought out adoption went through.)  Roy usually gives me a dirty look, and says, “No!  You have a baby.”  Speaking of Dean.  And sometimes he’ll throw in a “Lots of them.” Speaking of all the kids.  But today he told me, “Fine, you have $10, and 30 days!”  I was amazed!  I can’t adopt a baby for $10, silly man!  And 30 days… Hah!  His other stipulation was that the baby had to be at least 1.  He said this jokingly, but he is going to eat his words when I adopt a teenage boy (said child is obviously over 1, and adopting from the foster care system is not always an expensive process) and he has to pay car insurance for yet ANOTHER teenager!

2) New boobs - My boobs are NOT what I want them to be.  To his credit, Roy never complains, and seems happy with my boobs.  I, on the other hand, am not.  I had rockin’ boobs when I was 18 (I say so myself), so what happened?  Oh, wait!  Five big baby boys happened!  I figure just a little lift.  What can it hurt?  But all Roy will do is ask me questions: Have I researched doctors?  How much will it hurt?  If I get a lift, I will most likely need implants, now or at some point.  Did I know that?  How long will I be out of commission?  How much will it cost?  So many questions!  I just want to wake up with rockin’ new boobs and no pain.  Roy can pay for it while I’m hopped up on drugs!  But will he do it… NO!  He’s joked that I can get them if I pay for them.  He says he doesn’t think it is necessary.  And sometimes if I catch him in the right mood, he’ll tell me that if I really need new boobs to just go ahead and get them… but I don’t buy it.

3) A BMW - We bought a Toyota Prius a few years ago, and while Roy was scoping out the Prius, I was test driving a lovely dark blue BMW.  Gray leather seats, GPS, low mileage, great color… but Roy looked so excited about finding a black Prius that I put my desire for my dream car aside, and we got the Prius.  Now, I know what you’re thinking… what an amazingly unselfish act!  But you would be wrong.  See, I thought I could use that to my advantage at some point.  HOW wrong I was!  We talk about getting a new car, and I tell him I get to pick because he picked the Prius.  Instead, he tells me, “Nope, I told you to get the BMW if that is what you wanted.  You had your chance then!”  I am truly affronted by that statement.  In fact, just writing about it burns my butt!

4) A new sofa - I realize that the sofa I want is impractical at this point in our lives.  Hayden and Dean are still young, and not always careful with food, drinks, mud, etc.  However, in my defense, since we can afford the sofa I want, why the heck won’t Roy let me get it!  Know what he tells me, “I bought you a sofa when we bought the house!”  Does he not get that times change?  Tastes and trends change… LORD!  The impositions this man creates for me!

Before you shake your head and say, “What a spoiled brat this woman is!”  I am joking, this post was for fun, as these are four items Roy and I often joke about.

In regards to a baby: Roy is always sweet when he tells me that we have our babies, and in all honesty he wants time to enjoy being alone with his wife when we are older.  My heart melts!

New boobs: I can deal with pain, I don’t like to… but I can, but Roy knows that I HATE being sick.  My position, I am the mom (a stay at home mom at that!), and I am supposed to take care of my guys, new boobs will no doubt hurt and make me dependent on them for a time, and I couldn’t handle that… plus, what if they look like crap?!  On the other hand, Roy enjoys looking in Victoria’s Secret with me, and to his credit, he never blinks an eye no matter how much I spend in there.

A BMW: I know nothing about cars!  I know some look better than others, I know some are more expensive than others, but I also know that if I went to my beautiful husband and said, “I would really like a BMW.  We have the money, please.”  He would probably buy me one… after countless test drives and eye rolling from me, cause i just want a cute blue one to look sexy in while I drive it around!

A new sofa: See BMW. The same applies, as long as it is not a white sofa. Ugh! Kids.

My husband is an amazing man!  He rarely says anything when I buy my magazines, he teases me about my Michael Kors purses, but the truth is, he is the one that bought them for me.  He spoils me, and I think he enjoys doing so - just like with the kids.  I know I am a lucky woman - my husband is sexy, kind, loving, and he indulges me to my heart’s content.  I hope he knows I appreciate it, but even if we had nothing, he would still be my one and only love.

Yesterday’s post was a doozy!  Roy joked that he didn’t even want to edit it (grammar/spelling) for me as it was so long.  Today’s won’t be quite so wordy.

Dean is about to turn three.  Every time he hits a “first,” I am reminded that he is my last baby.  I won’t ever see a first step or hear a first word from one of my own children.  So there are moments I find myself becoming maudlin, even shedding a tear.  And while I am sure there are things most people can see themselves remembering fondly, I find that there are some things I never thought I would miss, that I actually miss!

I miss 3am feedings!  I nursed Addi until he was about 7 months old, Hayden until he was 11 months old and Dean for a year.  I was lucky, and all three of the younger boys took to nursing like nobody’s business.  And now with Addi being 11, Hayden 6, and Dean about to turn three, I can look back on those early months with a fondness I didn’t feel back then.  I miss waking up in the darkness, hearing those tiny cries, and knowing that the moment I picked up my babies, they would understand that all was right in the world.

I miss that first night home!  You know, the one where you are still in pain from delivery, your stomach is a swollen mess, you can’t get a brush through your hair, and no matter how many kids you have, you still feel like you can’t do this.  Roy, and perhaps many men, don’t seem to understand that as a mother, especially one that is nursing, you often worry that your baby isn’t getting enough milk, they aren’t doing it right, etc.  With me, I KNEW the boys weren’t getting enough.  The first nights Hayden and Dean were home were very similar.  My milk hadn’t come in yet, and I knew my babies were crying for food.  I was hormonal, exhausted, and could barely see straight.  I cried like a baby, and Roy fussed at me (in that moment, my only thought was… “Roy sucks!”  Of course, he doesn’t, and I realize it was just the hormones yelling).  I just wanted some sleep.  Because my milk hadn’t come in yet, there was only so much I could do, so I put my pillows against the head boards, cradled the boys to my chest and that first night, we both slept.  I miss that, them so tiny they could curl up on my chest.  The simply act of them hearing my heartbeat was all they needed.  Roy’s chest is much broader than mine and the boys could curl up there for months, but with me, I only had a few weeks where they were tiny enough to do that.

I miss my aliens! I was about ready to pop with Dean, and one night Roy and I were lying in bed.  I was lying on my back trying to work up the energy to turn to my side when suddenly my stomach became wildly distorted.

“ROY!” I grabbed his arm, “LOOK!”

“WHOA! Does it hurt?”  He looked on in alarm, as Dean shifted positions in my stomach, and my body just kept distending, and distending, and distending.  I think he was pretty sure he was about to be greeted with a face hugger. (I love Aliens, what can I say?!)

I laughed and touched my belly, which was rolling and rippling.  It didn’t hurt, it was just a reminder to me that Dean was running out of room, and any day now I could hold my little boy.

Tiny Diapers! With Dean I used cloth diapers.  Not always fun to wash, but I knew it was better for the environment, so I pushed on.  We used Bum Genius diapers, and they are adjustable, so when Dean was little, they were tiny, just like the disposable ones we used with the other boys.  I miss those tiny diapers, that looked more like a bandaid for one of Roy’s leg wounds.  Dean is almost potty trained, and while we are thrilled to be reaching this milestone, for me it’s another reminder that my baby days are almost behind me.

After we had Hayden, I thought that was it. I put off doing anything permanent, because at 30 I didn’t want to completely take away the option to have children yet. When Hayden turned 2, I would broach the subject of another baby with Roy jokingly. And he always said the same thing: “We have a baby.”

One day, probably a dreary Sunday, I was curled up on the couch watching some silly movie with Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo called “Yours, Mine and Ours.” The premise is simple- a widower with 8 kids and a widow with 10 decide to get married at their 20th (year HS) reunion, putting their two families together and creating havoc. The kids don’t like the idea, but come to realize the advantages of working together, and they live happily ever after.

“See, they have 18 kids! We can certainly have 5.” I told Roy.

“Ok.”

This stopped me in my tracks. Was he kidding? Did he think I was kidding?

“I’m not kidding. I would like to have another baby.”

“I said ‘ok’.”

And so it began. The next day I called my OB and went in for a checkup. We got the green light, and I thought it would be a snap. I got pregnant with Hayden in just a few weeks, but who knows what the deal was this time? Perhaps it was because I was older, 34. Maybe I just wanted it too much, but either way, it took almost a year. I understand that to some, especially those that struggle with fertility issues, a year is nothing, but for me it seemed to take forever. I never had issues getting pregnant before.  Of course I had never been in my mid-30’s before either.

I took pregnancy tests a few times during that year. Each time, hoping and praying with everything I had that I would see those lines, and each time I was disappointed. The first few times was no big deal to me. The fourth time I held back the tears, and the fifth I cried and cried. Roy was out of town, and Corey was the one to give me a hug. As a mother, I will never forget that moment. I decided to give up and told Roy that I just couldn’t do it anymore. We had a lot to be thankful for - the kids were all healthy and happy, we were healthy and happy, perhaps another baby just wasn’t meant to be. I don’t think Roy wanted to push me, and I couldn’t decide if I appreciated that or it made me angry. I thought if he wanted another baby as much as I did, he wouldn’t’ let me give up, but looking back, I know he simply didn’t want to push me.

After I made the decision, I felt a weight lift. But for some reason I put off calling my doctor to get birth control. One month turned into two and before I knew it, I was late. Addi came home one day and announced he needed construction paper and markers, so I took him to Target. While we were there, he found a two pack of EPT (pregnancy tests) on sale and convinced me to buy it. I did the math, realized I was about two weeks late, and thought… why not?

I got home and snuck up to our bedroom. If I wasn’t pregnant, Roy never had to know I took yet another test, but Addi beat me too it.

“I know what you’re doing in there.” I heard him knocking at the door.

“What?” I feigned innocence.

“Addi already told me… well?” He looked at me with a question in his eyes as I opened the door.

“Honey, it takes a few minutes.” I answered and sat on our bed to wait. Something told me that this time would be different. After a few minutes passed, Roy looked at me. I shook my head, and he walked into the bathroom to look. I saw him open the box and read the directions, and I figured he was checking to make sure what the negative reading was. My heart sank. He walked out of the bathroom, and I couldn’t read his face.

“Congratulations!” And he gave me a kiss. I was pregnant!

The first few months of the pregnancy were easy. Not much morning sickness, though a lot of afternoon and night sickness! But around four months I got a weird rash… and not just on my stomach, everywhere! And, boy, did it itch! Ok, whatever, but the worst part… no one could tell me what it was! I went to my OB, and they prescribed a steroid cream… nothing. I was going through a bottle of calamine lotion every other day. I tried to get an appointment with a dermatologist and had no luck. Because I was pregnant, our insurance let me extend the coverage area. Still no luck. So they let me extend it again. I finally got a wonderful young lady at an office about 75 minutes away. At this point I was in tears; she put me on hold for a minute and asked if I could come in that day. Wouldn’t you know it… Roy was in the office. I said the earliest I could come in was tomorrow, and she said no problem. Even let me pick a time that was good for me. I am still grateful to that young lady and am annoyed as all get out at the local offices for failing to take pity on a pregnant woman in pain. The rash turned out to be pregnancy-related, but the cream my OB prescribed wasn’t strong enough. I was so thankful and finally got some relief from the itching and burning. The rest of the pregnancy was somewhat normal, for a woman my age I am told. I didn’t’ gain a lot of weight until I hit my seventh month, and even then I did a much better job of keeping my weight gain under control than I did with the two oldest boys. But I was always tired. I couldn’t sleep, and I was sick often.

On December 28th, our anniversary, I thought I was in labor, but nope, false alarm and they sent me home. The next few days I felt fine, even energized enough to run to Costco on January 4th. While there, Addi found a Rock Band set for the PS3. I thought, why not… and to all the boy’s joy, we decided to buy it. We got home, and I found that I was actually decent on the drums, so we had a blast playing it for hours, and finally I went to bed around 11. And here is the crazy part…

Around 4, I woke up, but I didn’t want to get out of bed. It was chilly, and I was so warm and sleepy, and then I thought, “NO way! Did I just pee the bed?” Graphic, I know, but my water had never broken on its own, so I didn’t suspect anything. Thinking I better get up, and Roy is not going to be happy, I stood up… and BAM! Water everywhere! I ran into the restroom and called Roy.

“Roy!”

I heard him grunt from the bed.

“My water just broke.”

“What? Are you serious?” He got out of bed and came over to me in the bathroom.

“Yes, I need some clothes.”

He laughed and went to get me some clothes to wear, “I just fell asleep.”

“Why were you up so late?” I asked him.

“I was watching a movie. Can’t you wait?” He half-jokingly asked. I gave him a look, and he went to tell Corey that it was time. He called our neighbor, and she came over to watch the boys for us, and we went off to the hospital… again! We live in a rather quiet town, but for some reason that day was crazy in Labor and Delivery. I came in, and figured… no problem! This is my fifth, I’ll be in and out. Boy was I wrong! A young lady came in pregnant with her first and delivered in 30 minutes - as did the other five women that came in AFTER me! But for some reason, Dean was just fine where he was. Finally, I got to 5 centimeters, after about 9 hours, and they said if I wanted an epidural, now was the time. I figured at least Roy and I could get some rest, so I opted for one, and then fell asleep shortly after. I woke up a few hours later, and was ready to go! Finally! It’s never quite as you remember it, the pain and the pushing. But in the end, it’s all worth it.

They laid Dean in my arms at 4:51pm on January 5th. He was so tiny, but I think he had more hair than Hayden! He opened his little eyes and looked right at me. Like Hayden, Dean took to nursing with no trouble. In fact, there was a point when he was a few weeks old where I was afraid I wasn’t producing enough milk! But he thrived right from the get go. We took him home the next day, and right from the start, he fit right into our little family. His older brothers adored him, and though their age difference is pretty big-14 years, the benefits to having older kids with a baby are amazing! Corey and Joe helped with the younger boys, they would burp Dean for me so I could cook dinner. If Dean woke up in the morning, one of the older boys would bring him down to me while I was putting lunch boxes together. They didn’t change diapers often, but then again, Roy tried to get out of it too!

Our family was complete, finally I felt it. It felt right. Dean is just like his older brothers-Corey’s sassy mouth, Joe’s thoughtfulness, Addi’s crazy spirit, and Hayden’s sweetness. They fight and fuss with one another, but they always have each other’s back, and that is just how I want it. Dean is at the age now where he picks up new words on a daily basis. We all understand him, though people outside our family still have trouble sometimes. The older boys love teaching him new words and rough housing with him. I don’t always like it, but Dean gets right in the middle of it. He snarls now, and the older boys joke that he is a vampire. See, just like his older brothers, already digging the monsters! But truthfully, it is Iron Man that really does it for Dean. Those that read our site know this. He is obsessed with him, and I think we have spent hundreds of dollars in the last few months feeding that obsession, but Dean’s my last baby, so I get to spoil him. I can’t have any more kids and occasionally that makes me sad, but then I see my boys and all is right again.

As of January 5, we are the proud parents of our 5th wonderful boy.

I always tell myself that I am going to post here more often. As the mother of four boys, with another one on the way…there is always something going on in our house!

One little thing…our (almost) 12 year old is playing basketball this season. And our other three actually seem to enjoy going to the games. So this Saturday we are sitting on the bleachers, and our three year old is standing in front of our 13 year old…they are sort of playing around, and my oldest son starts to tickle his little brother. H, the baby, giggled and then leaned forward and hugged C, our oldest. C gave him a kiss and said, “I love you.” To which H gave him one back and returned the sentiment. As I was turning around H was crawling in C’s lap, and the two of them were just whispering to each other. Honestly, it was one of the sweetest things I have seen in awhile from our boys. I find myself wishing I could freeze those moments in time, and in a sense I can…because that was a scene I know I won’t forget.

I also have the countdown to baby #5 up on my chalkboard. Though, I have had it up there for months if I am being honest. 21 days left! And I am ready. I don’t think I have ever been this tired. I wake up and something else hurts….it’s rough. My husband just likes to tell me I am getting old….and the sad thing is…I am starting to agree with him!

As a mother there is NOTHING I wouldn’t do for one of my boys when he is sick. I don’t like to be sick myself, but when one of my boys is sick I would give anything to be able to take it away for them. Right now, my baby has a swollen eye. Luckily I don’t think he it’s pink eye, but I can tell it is bothering him. At three, he is of the age where he still wants to be babied, but only on his terms. I often ask him for hugs and kisses during the day, and to me it is the sweetest sight in the world to see him running toward me with his arms outspread. So anyways, today I am standing in the kitchen and I ask him for some ‘baby love.’ He comes running towards me, with this huge smile on his face and suddenly his face just falls…I see the tears welling up in his eyes, and he comes limping towards me. “Mommy, my foot hurts!” he wails, and my heart just breaks. I am thinking, “oh he twisted his ankle!” But I pick him up, and he wails, “Ohh….my blood!” He cut his foot on a lego piece and he saw the blood before I did. It is a decent sized cut, won’t need stitches, and I stopped the bleeding quickly, but I can’t stand to see one of my boys in pain…no matter how insignificant that pain might be.

However, I don’t take kindly to being duped! My oldest son has pulled the whole…OHHH..my stomache hurts, I need to rest today. I don’t want to send my kids to school when they are sick, so at times you want to err on the side of caution, but I don’t like finding out they are fine and just didn’t want to go to school. My mom would let us take a ‘mental health’ day once in awhile. If I was overworked, my grades were good, and just plain exhausted, she was all for letting us take a day to rest and recover. She would then make sure we made up anything we had missed. I tend to think the same way. Sometimes life gets away from you, things get crazy and you have no control over that…and to recover sometimes a day off is the best thing you can do for yourself. I just want my kids to be honest with me. Don’t tell me your stomach hurts, when in reality you are just worn out! Be honest!

ON a side note….and this is completely off topic…I am watching Top Chef, and I LOVE these types of shows. Food Network-Iron Chef is a favorite, Top Chef, etc….and I have to say, some of the things the chefs serve…just sound yuck! Roasted Pork Belly….sure, maybe it’s good, but it just sounds nasty. Even their desserts have to be something…extra. I am sorry, what’s wrong with a beautifully done molten chocolate cake…no, they need to add some strange foam to it. I cook for four growing boys (three of whom are PICKY!) and a man that loves his meat and potatoes, I am sure that has something to do with it…I cook huge pots of chili, pick pots of spaghetti, and though I try to experiment a bit I know I have to stick to a relatively simple formula. Maybe this means I have an ‘unsophisticated palate’ but I don’t think that liver with a chocolate foam sounds good…hell I would venture to say that dish should just NOT be made by anyone!

Sooo…in closing…kids be honest with your mom and dad! Let us know the score, let us know what is going on. And chefs of haute cuisine…..what can I say…I don’t get some of it!

Yep you read that right, we are going to be welcoming another member of our clan into our home sometime in January. Perhaps we might have to look at a different name for the site if we have a little girl!

It was funny, I was ready to put my dreams of another baby to rest. It had been a little over 6 months, and I was tired of feeling let down. I didn’t like the fact that I was feeling betrayed by my own body. It is silly to feel this way, other couples have struggled with infertility for years, spent thousands of dollars on that slim chance they can have a baby, and here I was mad at something I had never been betrayed by before simply because I am impatient.

I had in fact told my husband that I didn’t think I could do this anymore, and BAM! the next day the EPT stick shows positive. I like to think it was ‘someone’s’ way of telling me that I can’t control everything, and the sooner I realize that the better. R was supportive as always, I think in his heart he always felt this was my decision, and while I know he wants this baby as much as I do, I understand that seeing me hurt, sad, frustrated or whatever I was feeling isn’t something my husband can handle easily. R is a quiet man, something that at times frustrates me. I am not a quiet person by nature. I will laugh, yell, scream, chat and basically make a huge ruckus, but rarely does R do this. That isn’t to say he can’t get his point across when he has one that needs to be made, it just means we do things differently. Though it frustrates me I can’t imagine how this house would be if he was as ‘expressive’ as I was all the time. He wants to make me happy, sometimes he does so at his own expense, and I want him to realize I understand how selfish I can be sometimes. I hope he realizes that the sacrifices he makes for me and our family don’t go unnoticed.

Yes, we are having another baby. I keep track of how many weeks I have to go, and I sit here with hives and splotches all over my body and sigh that 25 weeks is forever, and R patiently tells me…”NO, honey, it really isn’t.” And to be honest, as miserable as I am right now..I know he is right. Of course, for me everything hinges on whether or not this is a boy or a girl. I was in Target today, and I will be honest..I don’t WANT to be yellow or green onesies and sheets! I want PINK or BLUE! R on the other hand is perfectly cool with letting it all be a surprise, and yet I know he will let me find out because it makes me happy.

I just want him to know I love him…and that I couldn’t do ANY of this without him by my side.