Junior at One Month

Dear Junior,

You're just about a month old now.  Here are a few words and comments on your last few weeks of life:

HELP - Mommy's dad stayed with us for a week and Mommy's mom stayed with us for a month soon after you were born to help us with the adjustment period.  It was a blessing to have our meals cooked for us and to have extra moral support and two extra sets of arms and hands to hold and care for you.  Mommy's mom in particular had a particular bond with you -- she understood you in a way that no one else did, and she helped Mommy and Daddy to learn how to understand your cries and signals.  We learned to put our head to your head when trying to soothe you, to rhythmically pat your body when trying to put you down for bed (Mommy has since improved on that method with her special "Time to nap/time to sleep" chants), and to make sure you aren't overtired.  Mommy has been independent for such a long time that accepting help from your grandparents wasn't easy for her at first -- but when she got used to it, she really appreciated it.

SLEEP - Or lack thereof?  You are starting to sleep for longer stretches, though you are still a ways away from sleeping through the night.  Mommy keeps a sleep journal of all the sleep she gets (this is separate and apart from the journal of all of your daily activities and sleep!), and while she is still getting 5-6/7 hours of sleep per day, the chunks of sleep are tending to increase in length from 1 hour and 15 minutes to about 2 hours and 45 minutes (with a record of 3 hours and 30 mins - but that only happened once).  Since Ama left us, you have moved from the pack and play in our room to your crib in your own room -- and Mommy and Daddy have moved with you to the big bed in your room.  You seem to prefer the crib over the pack and play, but your absolute favorite places to fall asleep are (in descending order of preference) (1) skin to skin with Mommy in the ergo carrier; (2) in Daddy's lap or lying on Daddy's chest; and (3) together with Mommy and Daddy in their big bed.  The last one constitutes co-sleeping that always makes Mommy a little nervous, but you love it so much, and we keep an eye on you (mostly) while you are with us.  

LEARNING - Everyone is learning!  In the last month, Mommy has finally learned how to burp you effectively (the over-the-shoulder backrub works well) and how to change a diaper (although Daddy still changes 90% of your diapers).  Mommy is also pretty good at soothing you to sleep with her chants and rhythmic walking. You and Mommy both have gotten better at the feeding/latching thing, although your bat hands still get in the way sometimes...  Daddy has mastered the art of dressing and undressing you (something Mommy has yet to learn -- so far, I've only gotten an over-the-head article of clothing on you ONCE by myself) and playing with you.  Daddy is also very good at administering the Nosefrida on you.  You hate it, but it is so good for you.  And only Daddy has sufficient lung capacity to suck out all your snot.  Go Daddy!

You have learned the most: you've learned that lying on a particular towel on the Snoogle means you're going to eat, so you stop crying...you have learned how to turn your head with greater frequency during tummy time... you have learned how to admire yourself in the mirror... you are starting to smile with greater frequency... and you are getting better at tracking people with your eyes (though you had already started to do that on your second day of life!).  Most excitingly, you are starting to coo!  The little sounds you make are super-adorable and a very fun precursor to your formal speech.  We all still have a lot to learn--but I am encouraged by our progress so far.

DIAPERS - I had heard about it before I became a mom, but now I know it is true:  a surprisingly significant portion of new-parent life is consumed with counting the number of minutes a baby spends feeding and counting the number of her wet and poopy diapers.  Mommy kind of obsesses over how many hours you spend eating, and whether and when you are going to be hungry next.  And while she gets excited about your wet diapers because they are signs that you are well-hydrated, she practically glories over your poopy diapers because they mean you are getting her hindmilk.  Of course, maybe she would glory over your poopy diapers less if she was the one who had to change them...but Daddy handles that!

TIME - Time is kind of lost these days... the days run together, and days of the week don't mean a whole lot anymore.  The only date markers that we use are tracking the dates on which we have visitors or have a pediatrician appointment.  You haven't gotten your shots yet, so we can't really venture out yet.  So time doesn't really exist for us in a meaningful way.  We just have a lot of time with each other and with you.  It is a wonderful gift.

RECOVERY - Mommy is still recovering from childbirth. It's a long process! The lingering pain from the episiotomy and the epidural come and go (more come, less go) and serve as a reminder of the incredible process involved in bringing a child into the world.  You are totally worth it!

FUN - You are a lot of fun.  I know some moms think that newborns are boring because they are more like little blobs that don't interact much with the outside world.  It is kind of true that the vast majority of your life right now involves eating and sleeping, and very few periods of unfussy wakefulness (which we end up having to fill with tummy time, which you don't really enjoy quite yet).  Daddy pretends to make you "walk" and Mommy and Daddy both have many conversations with you (inserting words in your mouth for you), so I guess we are making our own fun in a way.  But even apart from that, I don't think you are boring.  I think I am still in awe of the fact that you are a real, tiny person -- and our real, tiny person.  We love you, and you are part of our fun little family -- and that is very, very fun.

We love you and are so blessed to have you!  

Love,

Mommy

Things They Don't Tell You About the Early Post-Partum Period

Everyone talks about the sleep deprivation -- and seemingly only about the sleep deprivation (and maybe the baby blues).  I know it's only been eight days, but here are some of the things that I'm surprised no one told me about the early post-partum period.

1.  The pain. Oh, the paaaaaaain.  I have been hurting in so many parts of my body, I forget about some because they are overtaken by the others.  Where to begin?  The worst offender is the episiotomy site, which constantly hurts and makes sitting, rising, standing, walking, and everything except sleeping really difficult.  It's still bleeding, and it HURTS.  Then there's the breastfeeding equipment...au naturale, and constantly sore -- especially in the early days when I had blisters and blood coming out of them. :(  Then there is the epidural site in my back, the three-inch long heplock bruise, and the tetanus shot in my left arm.  Oh, and my tailbone is really sore, apparently from all the pushing.  How come no one talks about the pain in the early post-partum days? I wasn't expecting to be hobbling around gingerly and cringing constantly in these early days.  Post-partum should come with a pain warning label.

2.  The sleep deprivation isn't that bad.  Especially with a good partnership going on... splitting the tasks of feeding and caring for a fussy baby enable both parents to get okay amounts of sleep throughout the day.  I'm clocking in at 4.5-5.5 hours a day, and Mr. Squire gets 5-7 I think.  Of course...we are lucky, given our work arrangements, so I am very thankful for that.

3.  The beauty of seeing God's design in the human body unfold day after day.  In these early post-partum days, especially if you are breastfeeding, you get to witness the amazing wonder that is God's design in the human body and development of milk supply to feed a new child (i.e. colostrum and drop in weight, development of hunger in the nursing child to create extra demand as milk comes in, the incredible benefits of breastmilk and ability to rely on it exclusively, the demand/supply cycle, etc).  It is quite incredible how God equipped an intricate system to provide the baby exactly what she needs at each stage of the newborn phase.

4.  The sense of accomplishment that accompanies each new lesson learned.  It's been a steep learning curve these last eight days -- complete with changing more than 40 diapers, doing more than 50 feedings, and learning how to hold, comfort, calm, and understand this little creature.  But we are getting better at it, day by day. And every time I successfully put her down to sleep at night, I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment.  Wasn't expecting that.

5.  The joy!  This came as a special surprise to me, given my reservations about my maternal instincts. There are some times when I hold our baby girl and I feel that I love her so much it hurts.  What the--??  It is a privilege to be her parent.  I love her and am excited to raise her with Mr. Squire (who is an amazing dad already).  Junior, you bring us joy -- even when you are screaming your head off (like right now).  We are so thankful for you.

Your Journey Here

Hi Junior,

Right now you're asleep in the bassinet in our room, snoozing away until your next feeding at 10pm.  You're sleep-inverted, which means our nights are your days--and Daddy doesn't get a whole lot of sleep at night.  You are almost an entire week old now.

One day you may wonder about the events leading to your arrival in this world.  We waited more than a week past your due date to meet you, and grew increasingly worried that we would have to induce you.  Lots of people recommended that I go on long walks, but the problem is that throughout my pregnancy--all the way to week 41--I walked at least 3 miles per day, every day.  So additional long walks weren't going to do a whole lot.  We tried accupressure, and I tend to think that my hour at the Chinese massage place is probably what provoked your ultimate journey out of the womb.

I started feeling contractions during the early morning hours on Monday, but ignored them in favor of falling back asleep, knowing that I would need as much sleep as possible if they were real contractions.  Finally, around 9am, I couldn't ignore the contractions anymore.  I started timing them as I hit the gym one last time.  It's at the gym that I realized that this was the real deal -- when the contractions hit, I couldn't focus on anything, much less staying on the treadmill.  I crawled my way through a pitiful 2-mile workout, and headed back home.  

There was not much to do except pass the time (and do lots of Google research as different things were happening), so Mr. Squire and I hit the grocery store and bought ingredients for potato and leek soup so we could try out our new immersion blender. As I hobbled through the grocery store during contractions, it occurred to me that maybe trying a new recipe was kind of an ambitious project for early labor.  

But we did it anyway (and the soup was very good). We spent the afternoon distracting ourselves with Friday Night Lights, but come early evening I couldn't focus on much of anything anymore.  We went out for a walk by the river, but I ended up keeling over or hanging desperately onto Mr. Squire every 4 or 5 minutes. Undoubtedly, the passersby had questions.  But by then I was already in "I don't care" mode.

I continued to labor at home until 1am on Tuesday, at which time we finally headed to the hospital because I just couldn't stand the pain anymore and my contractions were finally 3-4 minutes apart.  I closed my eyes when I gingerly clambered into the cab, and did not open my eyes again for another 3 hours.  

During those three hours, the cab driver sped us through the Lincoln Tunnel at 50 mph, we made it through triage (although the triage lady totally rammed my birthing ball into me WHILE I was experiencing a contraction, which made me burst into tears for the first time), I found out that I had dilated to 7cm, and decided to get an epidural upon learning that I had another several hours to go.  By then, I had labored for at least 19 hours, and I knew that if I didn't get pain management, I wouldn't have anything left to push at the end.  The epidural was its own nightmare -- I was shivering madly because of the labor, and I continued to experience 60-90 second contractions every 3 minutes, and they had to do the epidural twice because there were problems with the first administration.  

Finally, at 4am, when the epidural kicked in, I opened my eyes for the first time since leaving home.  The sudden absence of contractions was such a relief, and I actually cracked a couple jokes with the nurses who were in the room (whose voices I had heard but whose faces I had not yet seen).  I was still shivering like crazy, though, so Mr. Squire climbed into bed with me and we slept on and off for a couple hours.

Around 9am, it was finally time to push.  This was the part that surprised me the most -- how uneventful the pushing phase is compared to what I've seen on television.  Within 40 minutes, you were here.  And...life hasn't been the same ever since.  We're so delighted with you!

Love,

Mommy

Unexpected Gifts

Dear Junior,

So... turns out that doctor was wrong... you didn't come this weekend!  I am thankful that you weren't a Halloween baby, and I'm thankful that you weren't born on marathon Sunday, because traffic would have been tough.  And now you are more than one day late.  I think you should aim to come out either on your daddy's birthday or before.  Any later, and I might start handing out eviction notices because sleeping is getting to be a real chore.  :)

Over the last few days, your grandma has been in town to visit.  She'd been hoping to meet you, but she leaves tomorrow and you still have not made any indications that you're coming out.  Secretly, I think we are all thankful:  by staying put, you have given us extra time together with my mom--and I actually think that was more important than her meeting you at this time.  God knows best, and I think your inertia has given us some very good, unexpected gifts.

In the last few days, we've been able to show your grandma what our life is like here in New York/New Jersey... the amazing church community and family you're being born into, and all the loving aunties and uncles who are excited for your imminent arrival... the bright, airy, and comforting home that your parents have been blessed with (and that they've gotten to get ready in the post-bedbug era)... the conveniences of Hmart, Costco, and A&P across the street (not to mention the joys of Mitsuwa just four miles down)... and she also got to experience our rich and beautiful life in Brooklyn yesterday with our all-day tour, including dim sum in Brooklyn Chinatown, Bien Cuit, the butcher shop, Sahadi's, the Korean grocery store, a visit with my judge, Jack the Horse, and wonderful visits with our old neighbors -- Wes and Diane, and Calvin, Lisette, Elijah and Zuri.

She leaves tomorrow.  Who knows when you will come out. But thanks for staying put for a bit -- this has been good for all of us.  You'll meet your grandma soon enough; we all needed this.

J is for Jellyfish (and Junior)

Hi Junior,

Guess what? Auntie Kim, Uncle Gugs, and Allison sent you a very special gift last weekend:  an ergo so that we can carry you everywhere, parenting CDs so that we can get some advice on raising you up in the Lord, and this -- your most beautiful possession.  Auntie Kim must really love you -- and us.  The amount of time and effort it took to create this absolute work of art is amazing (remember that she sewed every single eyeball, mane, hoof, and squiggle!).

Our doctors seem to think that, given your position, you will arrive this weekend.  I started getting some contractions today -- but I guess they were false contractions?  Try not to be a Halloween baby and stay inside until November.  Halloween is a creepy holiday.  And it would be nice for you and your dad to share a birthday month!  

We're waiting patiently for you, although at night, I become less patient because sleep is really hard and really painful these days.  It's not your fault, don't worry.  And the days are numbered!  Woohoo!  We are so thankful to have gotten to this day with you -- and with your three other cousins who are due right about now too (although they are all second children - you're the only firstborn in this week's wave).  

See you soon, Junior. 

Love,

Mommy (and Daddy)

P.S.  I was watching Daddy play with your cousin Aidan today at the basketball court.  He is such a good teacher, and he is going to be such a good dad.  You are lucky, lucky, lucky.

39 weeks

Hi Junior,

Here we are at 39 weeks and 1 day.  You're moving around a lot these days, sometimes sticking your little feet in my ribs (yes, that's me pushing your foot back and your dad flicking you in return) and last night I swear I felt your little fist against my hand.  Pretty cool.  I guess it will be even cooler when we actually see your little fists in person!

I worked from home today and did your first load of laundry.  You inherited four huge garbage bags full of clothes from your older sisters at church, and we've sorted them all from newborn to 24 months.  These newborn clothes are SO. SMALL.  I keep looking at them and thinking -- how does a person fit into this? Surely she can't be that small.  Guess we'll find out soon enough.

We're just waiting for you to arrive... our hospital bags are packed, your daddy is still working on reading his "Heading Home With Your Newborn" book, and I find myself trolling the internet for advice on breastfeeding and changing diapers.  Your aunties at church have also been giving us a lot of helpful advice, which has been helpful.  But I cannot help but think that we've just got to go through it with you to really know how everything works.  I'm really nervous about that, because it's really hard to prepare for--and I don't like being unprepared (you will eventually learn that at some point in your life).  But I guess I am also learning to chill out a bit and kind of go with the flow, too.  You can't prepare for everything.

In other news, your mom is making waves at work by taking a deposition this Thursday, next Monday (your due date) and next Tuesday -- assuming you remain in utero and she remains able to handle this stuff.  Most people's eyes get really wide and they start to look very concerned when they hear about this.  I guess, in a way, I also was not expecting work to be this intense, this close to your arrival.  But I want maternity leave to be with you as long as possible, so... I'll keep going. It's not so bad.  Some days are harder than others, but overall -- months 7 and 8 were the absolute worst, and nothing could be harder than those were, even with the perpetual aches and pains that come with late third-trimester pregnancy.

In still other news, I hope I didn't confuse you too much with what I've been feeding you.  Your mom loves carbs.  Loves them.  And was merrily feeding you lots of them until week 36 or so, when your doctor said she should probably stop eating carbs.  "Chicken, fish, and vegetables," she said.  :-p  Boooo.  So that explains why over the last 3-4 weeks, you've been consuming lots of cheese, chicken, kale salad, greens, lentils, honeycrisp apples (lucky you!), greek yogurt, and blueberries.  Hope you're not too confused.  But truth be told, this is probably good for you.  (And it's been good for me, as it has kept my weight gain steady at 28-30 pounds.)  

Anyway, anytime you want to come out, just start doing your thing.  We're as ready as we'll ever be, and 39 weeks in -- I'm finally ready to meet you.  Your dad's been ready for a while.  And you have lots of aunties and uncles and cousins at church and in your parents' community who are really excited to meet you and have been praying for you for many months now.  You are already blessed -- try not to forget it.

Love,

Mommy

P.S. I've been doing a good job of not co-opting your stuffed animals.  Your dad didn't think I could -- but I've been really good!

Pecans and Shards of Glass

They say that marriage is (supposed to be) a microcosm of the relationship the Church shares with Christ.  In general, I feel that that is true.  Today, I felt it was particularly true.

Besides the fact that general life functions (sleeping, walking, getting dressed, breathing, eating, going to the bathroom) are more difficult now in the late third trimester, I am also very, very clumsy.  I find it funny that a hormone called relaxin is partially responsible for all my bumps, bruises, and butterfingers.  But this morning, I was not laughing about the fact that I shattered a mason jar of pecans while trying to screw the lid back on.  I still have no idea how that happened.

But one second, I was shaking toasted pecans onto my greek yogurt and frozen blueberries (my new breakfast owing to the low-carb diet I've been placed on), and the next, I had glass shards and pecans strewn across our counter, the stove, and the kitchen floor.  Mr. Squire spotted some glass in my yogurt, so I had to discard it.  And then I started to clean up, but Mr. Squire shooed me out of the kitchen and cleaned up everything himself.  Partly because he didn't want me to get hurt... partly because it's just who he is.  He cleans up my messes.  (See, e.g., the time I spilled an entire smoothie in the refrigerator in our Brooklyn apartment.)  Without complaint, and without reprisal.

I felt bad.  I always feel bad when he cleans up my messes.  I especially feel bad when I create messes involving glass that could injure him in the cleanup process.  

At the same time, I felt blessed.  I always feel grace most strongly when he does things like this--when instead of expressing frustration at my clumsiness and the interruption to his own breakfast routine, he just picks up the pieces and cleans everything up to where you can't even tell anything happened in the first place.

As he was cleaning up my mess, I skulked over to my exercise ball with a KIND bar and a cup of milk to read my Bible passage for the day.  John 19.  About Christ's crucifixion.  How appropriate.  On the cross, Jesus cleaned up endless spilled pecans and glass shards in the sins of my life.  He is still cleaning them up... without complaint, and without reprisal -- just love.  I feel bad, because I've created so many messes.  And will create a bunch more in my lifetime.  And He will be cleaning all of them up, to where you can't even tell anything happened in the first place.  I get to live in a state of forgiveness because He did that.  

At the same time, I feel blessed.  Grace is a blessing.  The receipt of gifts that are unmerited put a special ring of love around your heart and soul...makes you want to share with others.

Fwd: Dear Junior

Hi there,

You're due to arrive in just over two weeks now.  We made it this far together, by a lot of grace and provision from God and lots of hand-holding from your dad and our church community.  These days, you are super-active, even trading your usual gentle gymnastics for a couple boxing punches.  Thanks for letting me know that you're alive and probably healthy.

Over the last 37 weeks, we've been through a lot together.  Looking back, it's been quite a journey.  You started with us in Brooklyn and moved to Jersey (but will probably be born in Manhattan).  You traveled to California and were around (though we didn't know it) when we visited your great-grandfather and your grandpa's entire side of the family back in March.  Your great-grandfather passed away just a couple months ago, so you were very lucky.  You were discovered jointly by your mom and one of your mom's dearest friends on that same trip, so you've *kind of* met Auntie C.  Well, very kind of.  

You traveled to Richmond a couple times and kept Mommy company as she took and defended her first depositions and spent the first eight months of your life preparing for a trial.  You survived the bedbug saga, fortunately shielded by your cozy little (not-so-little!) placenta.  You were along for the ride as your parents set up their new home (again) and got things ready for your arrival.  And you ended up getting a baby shower after all.  Lucky you--so, so SO many aunties and uncles and cousins ready to meet and love you.  All kids should have it so good.  And now you are gearing up to make your appearance. 

I freely admit that I am not really ready to be a parent.  I'm not sure I ever will be.  But God's been helping me and I know He will continue to help us all as we all get to know each other and become a family.

Here are some thoughts I have as I consider your arrival (in no particular order):

• If there's only one thing I can pass on to you, I want it to be the central truth of life -- the truth about who brought you here, who created you, who loves you most of all, who defines love in the first place, who ought to be your only hope and reason in this life.  I want to teach and show you this truth in a manner in which you will understand.  And I hope and pray (and have been praying) that you will come to acknowledge, accept, and adopt this truth, and live by it throughout your days, however few or many they may be.

• I hope you dream.  And I hope you dream the dreams that God gives you -- not dreams I have for you.  I don't really dream for you right now, and I hope to keep it that way.  Your dreams should be God-given, not parent-given.  And your dad and I have been praying that we will give you freedom and encourage you to become exactly who your Heavenly Father wants you to be.

• Your dad is really incredible.  He is super-fun, super-funny, teachable, humble, loyal, servant-hearted, quick to apologize, highly intelligent, witty, thoughtful, oddly sentimental, laid-back (for most things) but principled (in the most important things), wise, and overwhelmingly patient--especially with me (which is not easy to do).  Like...you really won the lottery (as did I).  I hope you see it that way.  And I hope you and he have many, many years together, and that as you grow older, you come to appreciate all the wonderful things about him. 

• We're not going to be perfect parents.  That frightens me, because I kind of like to do things as close to perfectly as possible.  I will try my best not to impose my perfectionism on you, and not to expect perfection from you -- especially as you grow up.  I hope you will find grace for us because we are definitely going to mess up from time to time...and not even know it.  I'm not looking forward to messing up, but I know it will happen.  I'm really sorry!

• The stuffed animal thing... I guess there's a small chance you may never know what I'm talking about.  But in all likelihood, you'll one day find out about your mother and her stuffies, and I'm not sure what you're going to think.  You probably won't be as merciful as your dad, and I wouldn't blame you.  But know that they were kind of like practice children for me (I know it sounds bizarre), and they helped me through a lot of things.  So if you can imagine a more neurotic, less-well-adjusted version of your mom -- that's who I would have been if it weren't for the stuffies.  So... in a way, I hope you will be grateful for them.

• I'm excited to meet you.  I have no sense of who you are going to grow up to be, but I am eager to find out, and I'm here to help you.  Your dad and I want to help love you into the person that God intended you to be.  We look forward to meeting you in a couple days (or weeks).  Welcome to our little family!

Mercy (for) Me

So, so, SO many good things happening these days:

It's been a light week at work.  People are leaving me alone in recognition of the last nine months and my need for a bit of reprieve.  I appreciate not having to ask for this; it is a given.  I continue to be so grateful for the people at my firm, and my trial team in particular.  The work was hard, the hours were long, but the people were always great.  And that made such a difference.

I met up for dinner with a sister who needed encouragement and prayer.  She said she didn't recall the last time I was free for dinner on a weekday.  I reminded her that we have never met on a weeknight for dinner; my schedule just doesn't allow it -- except now!

We have planned a little replacement trip for the vacation that we had to cancel back in August.  In all of 2014, I have taken just two vacation days and worked almost every holiday.  But I'm taking all of next week off!  Woohoo!  

Yesterday I left work early to come home and (drumroll please) begin unpacking!  (We jumped the gun a bit; I just couldn't help myself.)  The first bag I unpacked (of course) was my bag of stuffies, which Mr. Squire had labeled "kidnapped pillows" (to which they each protest, "I'm a pet, not a pillow!").  It was so nice to see their cute faces and to pet their fur again, and to place them in their little windowed apartment in our room.  I proceeded to unpack about ten more bags, and our furniture is moved back into place, the shelves and drawers are back in.  Still quite a few bags to go, but we are getting there!  I'm so, so SO SO excited.

It's getting tougher and tougher to move around.  My morning workouts have become more painful, and I find myself lowering the treadmill pace a notch every couple of days (I held out at 4 mph for quite some time.... about six weeks ago, I had to decrease to 3.8mph, and by several weeks ago I was down to 3.5mph.  Today, sadly, I could really only go 3.3mph), but I am thankful that I am still able to work out and keep my body moving -- even if it's moving slower than usual. 

So... lots of good things going on. And I've acquired at least some distance from the worst days, which are behind us.  On this upswing (which, coupled with the brisk air of my absolute favorite season, makes life extra-glorious), I have spent quite a bit of time reflecting on what God may have intended by guiding us through all of this.  And I have a couple thoughts on that, which I want to record here so that I do not forget:

1.  I have said this tentatively before, and continue to believe it may well be true:  I actually think all of this was some sort of answer to our prayers.  Since wayyy early in this pregnancy, Mr. Squire and I have prayed a number of prayers on a daily basis:  (1) that Junior would grow up to love, follow, and serve Jesus from a young age and throughout all of her days; (2) that Mr. Squire and I would be loving, wise, and patient parents who reflect Christ to her and our other children; and (3) that God would prepare us to be parents who please Him, and that we would be good partners in parenting and continue to grow and thrive in our marriage at the same time.  

So...that's been a prayer throughout, and then all of this happened in between.  Now that I'm in a much better place--and more on the outside than on the inside of that drama--I can see how this experience has proven an important fact to me:  Mr. Squire and I don't just get along swimmingly when things are good and easy; we also work together well and support each other well through the hard times.  I learned throughout the bedbug experience just how strong my hobey really is.  He had like one or two days of shellshock, and then something clicked in him, and he just went to war against the bug with steely resolve and an uncomplaining spirit.  I, on the other hand, lacked said steely resolve and certainly lacked an uncomplaining spirit--and he helped encourage me day after day after day to keep going, one foot in front of the other.  

Also, when we were in our extended holding pattern of living in the bags (which...we're just emerging from now - woo!) but I was in the uber-busy pretrial phase and my hours were getting longer and longer, he was an incredible support in a wide variety of ways.  It can't have been easy for him.  And it certainly wasn't easy for me -- bedbugs, late pregnancy, trial -- but we got through it together, and leaned heavily on each other for support and strength, rather than picking at each other.  

It reassures me to know--having witnessed it firsthand--that we can go through difficult, unexpected, challenging trials together, and we won't fall apart... we'll find it in ourselves and in our God and our relationship to make it through.  Because parenting, I expect, will be filled with difficult, unexpected, challenging stuff -- stuff that you can't work around, you just have to go through.  I have greater confidence now that we can, with God's help, do it.

2.  The other thing that made a big impression on me through all of this was the strength of our community in surrounding us with prayer.  There were days -- many days -- when I felt so, so weak.  Early on, I just kept a lot of it bottled up inside.  And then I reached a point when I realized that I needed help from outside.  I'm not very good at asking for help; it doesn't come naturally to me.  I like to help others, but I don't really like being helped (by most people, anyway).  But the situation got so bad that I had to reach out to my women's group and a couple other close sisters at church for prayer.  I wrote them long emails as the weeks went on -- poured out everything, my frustration, my sadness, my feelings that this would never end.  

And they met me.  They didn't judge me for being weak; they didn't try to fix my problems; they didn't try to tell me all the reasons why my situation wasn't actually so bad.  Instead, they prayed for me--and I actually felt God give me renewed strength in answer (I believe) to their prayers.  And when I returned to church, they each showed love in their own ways:  one would just walk up to me, week after week, and give me the longest, most heartfelt hug.  Others would just come up and ask for an update and just listen.  Another wrapped Simon and me in a prayer cloth that she picked up during her missions trip to Mozambique and prayed over us.  Another dropped by during my workday and brought me cookies.  Another brought cheesybread from Wegman's.  Another brought KIND bars (my favorite!) from Costco.  And they all sent emails to check in and offer encouragement.

I experienced Christ's love in a whole new way through this--and through them.  And I don't think I could have experienced it quite in the same way without going down to the depths where we've been for the last couple months.  Was it hard?  You bet it was.  Was it worth it? ... for all of this?  I think so.  I say that cautiously, because the past couple months have truly been awful.  But they also have truly been eye-opening, in a very good way.

It's one of my favorite things to say (because I think it is so true) that God is always at work behind the veil.  There is all sorts of crazy, awful stuff going on in the world--things far, far worse than what I've experienced in my little microcosm of life.  But I do believe that God is mighty to save, He is love and wisdom itself, and His ways are so much higher than ours.  He is working; He is not sleeping.  And while we cannot make sense of so many things now, we will one day -- and we will be in awe and wonder at how it all works together.  That line from a Chris Rice song says it well:  "Something tells me all these years of memories / are only the first sentence of eternity."  

The Tide is Turning

After our breastfeeding/newborn care class this morning in Jersey City, Mr. Squire and I headed back into the City so I could work on a trial exhibit for a few hours.  Monday is day one of trial.

I got there, and checked in with the head partner.  Pencils down.  Go home.  I had an inkling, but the confirmation felt so good.

The case is (pretty much) over.  No trial after all.  For the first time in nine months, I get my life back again:  We are attending our friends' wedding tomorrow (at the place where we got married three years ago!).  I am scheduling an anniversary dinner with my coworker as our two-year mark at the Firm approaches in October.  I am blogging again.  What's more is that I have a hunch that the bugsies are gone--so we have scheduled a celebration lunch and unpacking for next weekend. Which means that we can host the rescheduled baby shower the weekend after. And I can celebrate my friend's birthday with an art night out the day after that.

I have started a "Freedom List" of things that I want to do in the next eight weeks before Junior arrives.  Things like... finish her papercut collection.  Do a couple papercuts for friends who lost their kids.  Finish our baby registry.  Have dinner with each of Mr. Squire's brothers and their wives.  Make a cover for my snoogle.  Catch up on wedding gifts.  Unpack the apartment and get it ready for Junior.  Sleep in.  Maybe take a vacation, to make up for the one that we had to cancel in August.  Rush a Broadway show--or two.  Go see something at Lincoln Center for the first time.  

This feels really good.  Especially after we unpack, I bet I'm going to feel like a whole new person again.  Stay tuned -- Emdash is back!

Dear Junior

Mommy's liver is not a punching bag.  I appreciate your enthusiasm and activity, but I can feel your little fists and feet taking constant aim at Mommy's liver.

Will write more later.  Happy 32 weeks to you -- see you in about two months!

Love,

Mommy

Month Seven of Pregnancy

Let's just recap month seven of this pregnancy.  We could label it in several different ways:

1.  The month in which I billed over 240 hours at work in preparation for trial.

2.  The month in which I spent all 31 days living out of five bags and sleeping in five different places.

3.  The month in which I cried every single weekend (and some weekdays -- but every weekend).

4.  The month in which my left eye began to twitch daily, with increasing frequency as the month wore on.

5.  The month in which I received almost 100 bedbug bites and learned more than I ever wanted to know about bedbugs.

6.  The month in which I hoped our bedbug situation would be resolved, with unpacking to happen on August 30-31...and the month in which I realized that wasn't going to happen.

7.  The month in which I realized that Month Eight might be just as bad.

It's Not 18 Days to Go

At the end of my last post, I said we had 18 days to go. 

I now realize...that's not going to be the case.  We have many, many more days to go.  On Thursday night, we slept in our apartment for the first time in two weeks when Mr. Squire got back from a five-day trip to Denver and I got back from a five-day trip to Richmond.  Neither of us got a lot of sleep because we kept feeling things crawling over us.  Every fifteen minutes, between midnight and 2am, Mr. Squire turned on the light and checked the corners of the bed -- to find at least one or two bugsies crawling toward us.  He killed 18 bugs that night.  We barely got any sleep.

18 bugs after the first treatment means that the number of original bugs was probably well into the several hundreds.  That's going to take more than a little time to cure. We're not going to be able to unpack on August 30 as I had planned.  This very well may take another 2 months--or more.  For those of you keeping track, that means we may not be out of this mess before Junior's due date--and that's if she waits that long to come.  

I really don't know what to do.  I have a trial that begins in exactly three weeks.  I have a child who is due to come in fewer than eleven weeks.  I have an apartment in the sense of four walls.  And  admittedly, I have a bunch of stuff in it.  But I can't access it, there are no shelves, the closets are empty, the couch is overturned, everything is in bags and bins, and ... I have a pit in my stomach just thinking about our future.  People keep telling me there will be an end.  Of course I know that must be true.  But it doesn't feel real to me right now.  The end feels so far away.  It feels so unachievable.  It feels incredibly out of reach.

It's not a guarantee that we won't be able to resolve this before Junior comes.  Lord, please please please make this go away in time for us to be able to create an actual home.  But it's also not a guarantee that we WILL be able to resolve this before she comes.  And my 4.5-month maternity leave looks more and more bleak.  Thankfully, we do have options. I think the first option is just to live with my in-laws for a while.  But... honestly, it had not been my hope or desire to live with anyone except for my husband and child--much less in someone else's house--during the already stressful experience of having my first child.  I know I sound like a brat for complaining, when I have a place to go and a loving family to help us out.  So I'll stop there.

My eye has been twitching for several weeks now, and I know it's because I'm really, really stressed. I had the worst week of work maybe in my entire career this last week.  Every week, I think the next week will be better -- and then it isn't.  It just brings more problems of a different variety.  And people keep reminding me that my feeling stressed isn't good for Junior.

I'm not sure what to do about that.  I mean -- is it really realistic to expect me to just ... be unaffected by all of this, so that my unborn child can be healthy?  If someone can please teach me how to compartmentalize like that, I'd really like to learn.  That would be a life skill that could help me in many ways.  I just don't think it's that easy. 

At the same time... I get it.  Life happens.  Crap happens.  Over the last few weeks, boy have I seen -- over and over -- that crap happens.  And I just need to find a way to deal with it.  Just wish I knew how.

In Case You Were Wondering...

What it's like to have bedbugs, this is the post for you.  Here's a photo of what our apartment looked like the day that we *finally* unpacked after our long and stressful move.  This is what we call the "BEFORE" picture.

Just two days later, we found out that our place has been infested with bedbugs for 3-6 months.  I made the discovery upon finding a row of five bites on my back.  As the days went on, I found more and more bites (the bites have latent effect and can reveal themselves up to ten days after the bite).  By the time we found out about the bedbugs, we had already slept in our new place for five days.  That was enough time for me to accumulate upwards of 50 bites, and for Mr. Squire to accumulate more than 100 bites.  His were worse--his turned into welts, and he had more than 50 bites from his left shoulder to his left hand alone.  These pictures don't nearly do justice to the angry red welts he had all over his body:

He woke up one morning with his entire body on fire because he's very allergic to the bites.  :(  His bites make me so sad.  We spent the next few days mastering the ice pack and spending lots of time running a very hot/very cold cycle of water against his bites:

That's just the effect on our bodies.  

As far as our home went, everything we had just unpacked and all of our newly built furniture was potentially infested--so we had to undo all of our progress, borrow a couple of bedbug baking bags from friends (by God's mercy, we were able to borrow these on short notice rather than purchasing them), sterilize everything by putting through the dryer for 45-60 minutes or baking at 120 degrees for at least one hour--one bag at a time, then packing everything.

This was a three-day process of dawn-to-midnight baking and packing... here's the beginning:

Gives new meaning to "cooking the books":

Endless baking and packing until all the closets were bare...

And all of our possessions were stacked in garbage bags in the bathroom (top of the mountain reserved for the stuffies!)

All furniture deconstructed...

In the process, we became so paranoid about infecting stuff that we started to keep important documents in the freezer and our clean garbage bags and paper towels in the fridge.

And between preparing for a trial, dealing with a bad-move-turned-bedbug-disaster, AND being 6.5 months pregnant... well, I finished a lot of ice cream and cookies (Levain cookies courtesy of TV).  

And that's where things stand today... our exterminator made his first of three visits yesterday.  We've been staying at Big Brother Squire's place for the week while he and his family are on vacation (we know that it is totally God's providence and timing that they were on vacation this week), then Mr. Squire and I are both traveling on business (he to Denver, me to Richmond) for a few days... and then we will have to find another place to go until August 30.  

That's right--we vacated our Brooklyn apartment on July 28, didn't get to even sleep in our new apartment until July 31, didn't get 95% unpacked until August 3 (this is after we canceled our vacation due to the move snafu), and found out about the bedbugs on August 5.  From August 6-10, we frantically created a plan, baked and bagged all of our stuff, and deconstructed our apartment.  And we don't get to move back in until at LEAST August 30.  Worst move ever?  Maybe not -- but it's got to be up there.  (Especially with the trial and pregnancy on top of it.)

The good thing is... I'm finally--FINALLY--at a point when the heavy lifting is over and I can mentally and spiritually and emotionally rest a bit more.  I'm resigned to everything that has happened, and I am beginning to see God again.  It's still really hard, but I can finally acknowledge and thank God for His mercies along the way, like:

• Big Brother Squire and his family being away, enabling us to stay at his apartment (which is on the third floor) while we were baking and bagging--which was a lot more convenient than staying anywhere else;

• Little Brother Squire and his wife coming to help Mr. Squire move our furniture (at 6.5 months pregnant, I can't lift anything heavy anymore), and our friends Harvey and Stephen being willing to come in from the City and put themselves at risk of bedbugs to help us out (they didn't have to come, but their willingness was very touching);

• Our business trips, which will take us out for a few more days;

• AMAZING weather -- which kept our spirits high and made things a lot easier while we were baking (i.e. it helped that on top of paying exorbitant energy bills for running the dryer and the baking units 24/7, we didn't have to pay for AC on top of that to bring the temperature back down -- plus, I hate humidity and heat, so I was in a much better mood with the incredible, unseasonably cool weather); 

• The prayers of many -- especially my women's group and closest sisters at church... I held off for a long time on asking for their prayers, but when I finally broke down in desperation, I felt the prayers of many upholding us;

• Functioning internet at home, which allowed me to work from home over the weekend while helping with the baking and bagging... otherwise, I would have had to leave Mr. Squire to continue to do everything on his own, and that would have broken my heart even more; and last but most importantly:

• My unbelievably strong and persevering and steel-minded hobey.  Even though he is completely spotted with over 100 fiery spots (I call him my dalmation), he just set his mind to conquering this trial and worked tirelessly and uncomplainingly to get everything done.  He never complained, he never whined (much unlike his wife).  He just put his mind to the task, steeled himself, and kept putting one foot in front of the other.  People often think I'm the strong-willed one, but I am convinced more than ever after seeing Mr. Squire at work over the last several weeks through the very difficult move and especially through the first big hurdle of this bedbug thing that he is really the strong one.  Incredible spiritual, emotional, and mental strength.  I couldn't have made it through without him and his strength that at many times had to be ample enough for both of us.  

18 days to go.  We're going to be okay.  I'm just starting to feel that that is true.

Whiplash

Well...we live in New Jersey now.  And that's just about all I can say about that.

The move was an arduous, trying process.  We found out the night before our move (at 10:20 PM) that the apartment was not ready, so our stuff could move in, but we could not.  We spent the next four days in a hotel.  After working a long day at work, I shuttled to the apartment to unpack pieces of the apartment and construct whatever furniture we could as paint was drying and the electrical outlets were being changed in and out until midnight, then returned to the hotel to do the same thing over again.  Four days in a row.

On the fifth day, we finally parked ourselves in our new bedroom.  The outside was a mess, but the bedroom actually looked like something livable, and that was very nice.  Days six, seven, and eight were spent unpacking, cleaning, and organizing.  I got food poisoning on Day 9.  But that day, we finally finished (well, mostly -- turns out we couldn't put curtains up because of the metal behind the wall -- not sure what to do about that) and had our first overnight guest over.  And all was well.

Day 10 was good.  On Day 11, though, I found a row of bites on my shoulder -- five in a row.  And another five bites on my neck.  We investigated, we found very quickly:  bed bugs.  Apparently the place has been infested for 3-6 months.  We had no idea...until we finished going through the entire process of unpacking.  And spreading our stuff around in the process, picking up who-knows-what.  

Days 12 and 13 have been up and down as we've explored options for treatment.  Yesterday was up, as we thought we had found a solution that would be relatively quick (i.e. over in ten days) and would not require sterilizing and packing and unpacking everything because heat treatment would solve everything.   Today is way down.  That other solution isn't going to work.  Everything that I wanted to avoid, we have to do.  And it's going to be another 3.5-4 weeks before we have our home back -- and that's assuming all goes well.

We had to cancel our ONE vacation this year due to the moving snafu (there goes whatever "babymoon" we had planned).  We have canceled our baby shower due to the infestation trap and the havoc on our time, energy, and resources that it has drained.  I am frustrated from the bottom of my being to the top.

And people have been encouraging me to maintain perspective.  Honestly, I think I have perspective.  I just think I'm tired -- and I'm entitled to be tired.  Because we are not just talking about the last 13 days.  We are talking about the last seven months.  Because let's review the last seven months:   I've been preparing for a trial.  I've been pregnant.  With sciatica.  ANd I haven't had a vacation since December.  I just survived an awful move, and it turns out that we moved into a bug-filled trap that is going to cost thousands of dollars and many hours of heartache to fix--and that's if it works the first time around.  I'm sorry -- I'm just not in the mood to apologize for being a little angry and upset at the moment.

I had this talk with God a couple nights ago, and it looks like we're due for another talk again tonight.  I'm sure there is some reason for all of this, and one day maybe He'll let me in on the secret.  But can I say that this sucks?  Can I say that I feel like it's a bit much?  Can I say that I feel completely burned out?  Is that okay with you??