Family of Five

You know ... we were not planning this baby.

But I have to admit, I really feel like it was meant to be.

I mean, I was having dreams about babies.  I was almost jealous of my doula clients.  My arms just felt kinda achy.

Those feelings did feel spontaneous and rash however, and my logical mind told me that this was not the best timing.

So much for that.

But once I found out we were expecting our third, things immediately fell into place.

I was hesitant to tell Mark ... I didn't want to add to the mountain of stress he had been feeling.  I mean, he had only just stopped pacing at night, and I didn't want that to start up again.  When I first took the pregnancy test, I decided I would wait about a month or so, just to be sure things were feeling steady at the office for him.

That lasted all of two days.

I just ... I couldn't look him in the eye when he came home.  I am not much of a secret keeper, especially when it comes to my husband (or sister).  I felt like all my conversations with him were drowned out by the booming voice in my head hollering, "WE'RE HAVING A BABY AND YOU AREN'T READY."  I was completely torn between letting him focus on building his business ... and doing this pregnancy together.

Then one afternoon, I was making sandwiches.  The kids were in the other room.  He came and stood by me and just looked at me.  Looked through me.  I could feel myself blush.

"So ..." I started.

Try again.  "So, I have a secret."

"You're pregnant."  He immediately answers.

Is he joking?  Because I'm not ... "Yes. Yes, I really am."

He just nodded.  "I thought you were.  You've been acting different the last few weeks ..."  Wait, did he just say weeks?  I had only really gotten suspicious the last few days.  But of course, why was I surprised?  That boy is the most aware human being I have ever met.

After explaining how different I'd been recently, he finished with, "This will be good.  Really.  Not what we had in mind, but I'm happy about it."

I don't know if he was serious or not, but wow what a relief to hear.  If Mark really believed that, then I wouldn't be afraid for our future.

The more we talked, I found out that Mark happened to have record-breaking weeks at the office the past three weeks in a row; things really felt like they were moving over there, so he was feeling confident.

We had a little money already building in our recently-drained bank account, but then came our tax return (possibly our last, now that we are small-business owners).  It happened to be just a couple hundred dollars more than the fee for the Birth Center I wanted to have our baby at.

I was able to pay the midwife in full at my first appointment, without ever feeling the pinch of it.

This baby is meant to come to us now.

TOTALLY misspelled "faint".  It's killing me.

I told my family at my birthday.  I wrapped a present for myself, addressed it "To: Allie From: Heaven".  Inside I packed a baby blanket and maternity jeans.

My family went crazy.  (I still have the only grandchildren ... which is actually starting to get old.  I really need my sister to hop on board this baby train with me!)

Then a few weeks later, I sent out a mass email to the Gunns containing the above pictures, with the subject line, "#24".

Yes, that is the number of grandchildren the Gunn family will soon have, come this November!

Everyone has been so excited, so supportive ... I'm not going to lie.  I'm really looking forward to the arrival of our lucky number 3.

March Sum-Up

The rest of March was great.

I got put in Young Women's at church; teaching the Mia Maids and going to Wednesday night activities has been a blast.  Mark is in the Sunday School Presidency, which he fondly nicknames, "The Back-up to the Back-up Role Taker", but he is also an occasional bell-ringer.

We braved free-entry day at Hogle Zoo.  Felt like going to Disneyland on any day Utah has some kind of kids-are-out-of-school holiday.  (If you are planning a Disneyland trip, stay away if any Utah schools are closed!)  Hogle Zoo was really neat, watching elephants do little tricks for their lunch, seals nearly running into their glass, and gorillas staring the kids down.

I even had two groups of friends to hang with, one where everyone had one child (strapped in to some sort of carier) and the other with multiple children hovering around a stroller ... so my crazy wandering daughter kept us somewhere between the two.

We attended our first baseball game of the season.  It was a college team.  University of Utah, actually.  Not my top choice of schools ... but they were red, and it was baseball.  So my family was happy.

I got to be a doula for family!  And no, believe it or not, this is not my blood-cousin, it's Mark's.  Mattie looks much more like she belongs to my family, though.  What an experience to help out at a birth of someone you have special ties to.  Love, love, loved it.  Welcome to the world, little Lily.

Signed Macky-boy up for his first ever baseball team.  He has finally reached the magical age of four, and we found a league that lets four-year-olds try out coach's pitch.  Mac practiced feverishly outside on our homemade baseball field.  He dragged Mom, Dad, and even the one neighbor kid (who's seven years old) into his practicing regime.  If that boy is anything, he is dedicated.

My birthday was quite the event this year.  Felt like I got to party with all my top peeps.  I got an old-fashioned family party in Logan, complete with my choice of homemade food made by my mama, and two cakes.  I then left the kids in Logan and went with Mark back to Salt Lake.  I had a day to myself (which I had big plans for, but ended up sitting and staring a lot more than actually getting things done.  I don't regret it), and once Mark was off work, we went to this gorgeous restaurant:

Layla Mediterranean Grill and Mezze

And we gorged on some top-notch Mediterranean food.  I would suggest this place to anyone!

We then moved on to the Anniversary Inn.  First time visiting ... gorgeous, and kinda weird wondering how many people have been in these rooms.  But a massive jetted tub, breakfast in bed, and just hanging out with the cutest guy I know ... awesome.

Tuesday was spent hiking and exploring a park with countless memorials to fallen soldiers.  Mark and I scoured the names for something suitable for this baby.  (If it's a boy, I have NO IDEA what we'll name it.)

We then toured the capitol building and debated whether or not we could successfully sneak out just one slab of granite for a countertop.  Deciding against it, we drove back to Logan and brought back the kiddos.

My actual day of birth was spent with these two lovelies.  We ate too much junk food, played outside, let the house go to the dogs, and went out to Frozen.

What a birthday.  It's good to be 27.

And then ... Mac had his first-ever baseball practice.  Oh man.  The excitement was tangible.  Mac got his shirt (complete with number and name) and hat for his new A's team; the boy was on cloud nine.

Oh, and then it snowed.  

And while that feels a little weird for almost-April, I had to remind myself that this is a UTAH spring we're talking about here, and I should be grateful it wasn't June and snowing.  But mostly, I was grateful that I wasn't in California, where my old stomping ground of La Habra had just experienced a massive, wall-cracking, t.v. breaking earthquake ... followed by days and days of aftershocks.

I'll take a little snow in my March, thank you very much.

St Patrick's Day 2014

I'm really starting to enjoy this holiday.

We didn't do much with it when I was a kid, but the idea of Leprechauns sneaking around has been a fun one to explore!

Mark got into it this year, and we made some great traps.

Green things and money for bait.

A bowl to balanced on top of the door to be knocked over, right on top of his head.

A swinging bat to knock him down.

As ingenious as our traps were, that sneaky leprechaun made a clean get-away.  But not without losing some valuables from his pockets.

Looks like we did knock him into the wall!

The bucket was down ... but no leprechaun underneath.  Just gold candy and a note saying we were sneaky, but not as sneaky as a leprechaun!

"Wow, Mom.  Hims so tiny," says Mac.

Grooooooosssss!

The Worst Mistake

February concluded with a sudden onslaught of baby-hunger.

I wanted something to squish.  (Belle can be quite anti-squishy, and tries her best to be much older than she is.)

But logic (a.k.a. Mark) said, "Hey look, we just had a major life change.  New state, new job, new tiny apartment .... we don't even have things settled yet.  Who knows if the office is steady?  If we'll have an income we can count on? If we could even fit an extra person in this living space?"

And that made sense in my head.

Just couldn't shake the feeling, however.

So my previously vague desire for a puppy began to replace baby hunger.  I knew we weren't ready to bring another human being into the world, but a dog?  Surely we could handle that.

A little dog would be perfect.  Entertain my kids.  Teach Mac responsibility. Give them something to do inside that might make them actually want to stay away from screens, instead of my having to limit their minutes every day.  And by the time we would be ready for a baby, this dog would be a well-trained member of the family.

Yes.  Yes, a dog is a perfect idea.

I don't think Mark realized how serious I was.  I don't think I did either.

I started taking the kids to the animal shelter a couple of times a week.  I told myself we were just playing with the dogs, just giving them some human interaction.

I also began checking KSL.  And texted Mark pictures of some of my favorites.  He was kinda shocked. In fact, he reacted to a dog the same way he reacted to a baby.  Come on.  Gotta meet me half way, buddy!  But no, he said he wasn't about to make any decisions for me, but in his opinion, this was a terrible idea and if I got a dog, it was mine to take care of.

That felt like a challenge.

Not too long after, we met Jaguar.

This sweet little girl was 6 tears old, half black lab, half beagle.  She was more beagle sized (perfect for an apartment) but silent (also perfect for an apartment.)  She followed me everywhere, and allowed Mac to hold her leash and Belle to pat her back.   The one time Belle pulled on her tail, she turned her head real quick and stuck her nose on Belle's hand, which startled Belle.  

Perfect.

She could handle my kids, she could handle an apartment ... I brought her home.

My kids were in heaven.  Mark was in shock.  And me?  Well I began to see that she really was a third child, and not a playmate for my kids.

Jaguar was not a fan of the crate, but Belle sure was.

Jaguar had been a lap dog in her previous home, and wanted nothing more than to doze on top of me all day.  And at night?  Jaguar attempted climbing up on our tall bed multiple times.  (Not my thing.) She tolerated my kids wonderfully, but wasn't interested in playing.  She definitely was not interested in Mark, in fact she usually growled at him.  Poor thing was probably so confused.  I felt like she knew I had taken her away from that crazy animal shelter, and worried that if she lost sight of me she might have to go back there.

I would give her time.  She'd come around.

But then ... the itching started.  She scratched and she bit herself.  She would splay her hind legs out and scooch her stomach across the carpet.  She would grunt and grumble and roll all over the ground. She seemed so uncomfortable!

By the second day, all her visible skin had raised, red bumps everywhere.

The animal shelter said if she had any health problems within ten days of adoption, to bring her back and they would treat her for free.

So we marched back to the shelter with one itchy, scratching dog.  The vet took one look at her and said, "Woah."  He immediately gave me a steroid and doggy-version of Benadryl.  He then went on to say that there would be a myriad of testing they would have to do to figure out going on, and that this could likely become an $800 per month commitment.

$800.  Per month?

I went home.  I felt stunned, defeated, and guilty.

What could I do?  I couldn't afford that, we were only just starting to pay our bills.  But I couldn't keep her here, she was miserable.  She needed help, help I couldn't supply.

I felt irresponsible and ashamed.  I had let this sweet, quiet little dog down.

The next day my parents had planned to drive up and spend the day with us, just to play with the grandkids.  I asked them if they would accompany us to the animal shelter.

 I took Jaguar back.

And left sobbing.

Dad held me close and patted my head like I was little.  And then Mac started crying too, so we became one little family of weepy people, surrounded by never-ending hugs from Nana and Bumpa.

What was I thinking? What an emotional, rash decision.  I couldn't believe I had brought on a dog without a yard to run in, or even an income steady enough to ensure I could care for it ... no matter what.

Never again.  Never AGAIN would I do that!  I don't think I'm a crazy dog person, but geez.  If I'm going to bring a dog into the family, we're keeping it.  No matter the cost.

Of course I settled down once Mark got off work and joined us, like usual.  That boy is just so steady and so logical ... it's hard to get worked up about much around him.  The kids hopped in the car with Nana and Bumpa, Mark and I followed in our car, and we traveled down to see the "big huuuuuge airplanes" at Hill Airforce Base's Museum.  I blubbered my emotions to Mark, told him he was right (again), and his nods and calm responses made me feel like everything would be okay.

But I still pray for Jaguar on occasion.

Thankfully, Nana and Bumpa's presence took away the sting for Mac, and the giant airplanes were a perfect distraction.

The next day, I decided to investigate a hunch I had been ignoring recently.  I had grown suspicious by my high-flying emotions.  I felt a little crazy ... in a way I had only felt two other times in my life.

And sure enough.

I was pregnant.