Pre-Pregnancy Weight: No Ifs, Ands, or Big Butts

"Nine months on, nine months off." This is the mantra of any new mother seeking consolation in her old pair of skinny jeans. We hear this timeline and tell ourselves it seems reasonable to "get back to" our former bodies as if counting calories or taking walks was an actual time machine for our thighs.

For some, nine months is nine days. For others, nine months is years and years or never again. But, one thing is true for any mother - your body is never the same after having a baby. This isn't a story about weight loss, though. No, there's a much bigger lesson here than cracking the code to losing weight. (Otherwise I'd be sharing terrible tips like how to survive on a steady diet of Goldfish crackers and frozen waffles.)

Since driving myself crazy with body image issues in my youth, I strive to keep a healthy and reasonable outlook when it comes to my self-talk and body image.  But, it's not easy. I don't step on the scale very often, but last week I weighed myself and to my surprise saw my magic number: I'd reached my pre-pregnancy weight. I felt a sense of relief and pride as any semi-normal, semi-neurotic, red blooded American woman would. With my baby approaching her 9 month milestone, it seemed I'd met the goal right on time. I slipped on my Spanx, buttoned my jeans, and headed out the door with my head held high.

I took my middle daughter to Preschool as usual, toting her backpack and baby sister on my hip as we walked her to class. The hallway is always bustling with kids and moms in the morning, so it didn't phase me when another child walked up and started smiling at baby Vivian. Then, the child turned to me and said the words every non-pregnant woman cringes to hear: "Are you pregnant? You look like you're going to have another baby!"

SERIOUSLY?!

After I punched the kid in the face...(Okay, I'm kidding, but in my imagination some version of that story definitely took place)

After I politely (and rather directly) corrected the youngster, I caught myself being completely deflated by what I had been proud of only moments earlier. I sucked in my stomach and silently retorted with a million "Seriously?s" in my head, frustrated by the false announcement. I paused. I sighed. An innocent, tactless, little twerp had put me in my place and I was ready to hand over my body image rights to the opinion of a five year old. Hmm. Who was being more ridiculous in this scenario?

Like most women, I've grown up in a society that has taught me to value a pound of flesh over an ounce of character, so my worth gets easily wrapped up in thoughts of cellulite and muffin tops. The world bombards us mamas with images of celebrity-bumps-begone, invading our realities with unattainable expectations that if we really had our acts together the jiggly belly that once housed a human would disappear before we checked out of the maternity ward. Our reality lines get blurry at the crossroads of "enough" and "perfect" to the point that we doubt the beauty of our inside the moment we question the beauty of our outside.

If we let the world decide how we're supposed to look, and we allow that judgment to affect us, our big mama butts don't stand a chance. 

I've never met a mama who didn't admit her soul was changed the moment she held her baby for the first time. Motherhood changes us, inside and out. Yes, my jeans will never fit quite the same way again. My booty is flat and my tummy is puffy and scarred forever. Don't even get me started on the nursing boobs (heading south like their trying to make it to Rio in time for the Olympics). It's true, my physical body is full of evidence that I've carried creatures into this world. Beautiful, magical creatures...that turn into the very people I sit with and laugh and discipline and hug every day.

I look like a mom, and it's awesome. Because for every little pooch or sag that shows on the outside, there are a million more signs of life on the inside that are far more important. 

My pregnancies taught me to be patient, to sit in awe, to truly feel life, and to love the unknown. My children grow me, challenge me, strengthen me, stretch me, and enlighten me daily. By getting to know who they are, I'm forced to shake up my instincts and be intentional with my thoughts and actions according to their needs. They have made me more creative, selfless, generous, patient, or loving than I ever thought possible. It is suuuuuuper difficult and uncomfortable, constantly learning how to parent these magical creatures that keep changing and growing along with me...but, I wouldn't trade it for a Victoria's Secret figure no matter what.

Mamas, it's time to love our whole selves, inside and out. Let's really own this mom body thing. Let's set the scale aside and buy new jeans and laugh off ridiculous comments from silly kids that are still trying to figure out how that baby got in your tummy in the first place. Let's compliment each other more often and smile when we are too tired to think of anything to say. Let's have the beauty of the soul-changing miracle we endured be evident in our self-talk and show up in how we care for ourselves.

I'm not saying this is easy or happening overnight.  Maybe it will take another nine months to believe all the truths I start to tell myself today. But, we can do it, mamas. You and me, and our beautiful baby-making-bodies at every weight, in every shape, full of treasures from the inside out. No buts about it.

2 Corinthians 4:16 
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.

Psalm 139:14
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Let this season go down in Pardy history known as "The Summer of Change".

As a counselor, I can't recommend more than one major, life-changing transition happening at a time.  As a wife and mother, however, sometimes you just have to eat your own advice and swallow what life dishes up!

My husband lost his job in July. We're expecting our third child in less than two weeks.  I finished my Masters degree last Friday.  My oldest daughter starts Kindergarten tomorrow.  

So, here we are all at once, changing jobs, changing schools, changing rooms, changing roles, changing laundry, changing careers, changing routines, and soon enough, changing diapers.  Like it or not, CHANGE is the new normal in our home.

To say my heart is in a whirlwind is sort of an understatement.  On one hand I find myself weary and weepy and frustrated and fearful, totally in doubt of a foggy future that has been so scheduled for the last two years.  On the other hand, I feel giddy and excited and nervous, like every day has the potential to be Christmas morning!  (Not to mention pregnancy hormones are in FULL swing!)

There's no easy way to have faith.

That much I've learned in my short time on this planet; and no matter how many times my faith is challenged and stretched, it hurts.  Sometimes its a good hurt, like yawning so big my ears pop or touching my toes (something I have faint recollection of!)

Other times, it's a knife to the back, or the stomach, or the heart...completely debilitating and potentially fatal to my progress.  But, no matter how much I bleed out, it's not the end.  I just usually need a transfusion of the mind and heart to keep me going.  I need to flush out my own thoughts and plans and once again rely exclusively on the Creator's calendar.

Last week, I closed out a chapter of my life I never though possible.  I earned my Masters degree in Marriage and Family Therapy.  There was a time in my life I wasn't sure I would ever get my Bachelor's degree, so to state this accomplishment is no small feat for me!  It still seems surreal, and I'm sure it will take a while to sink in that I don't have any more homework for the rest of my life!

Tomorrow, my oldest daughter starts Kindergarten.  She's excited and scared and a living example of all the emotions swirling around inside of my soul right now.  She's a feeler to say the least, and an expresser that puts my own transparency to shame.  The five-year-old lack of filter keeps me poignantly aware that she's standing on her own precipice just waiting to see what comes next.

Faith is my favorite oxymoron.

It's ugly because "having faith" means I also have the doubt necessary to need the faith in the first place.  It's beautiful because it functions regardless of my fears, fully dependent on the unchanging mercy that God continues to pour into me.  It's irrational, forcing me to live with expectation I have no evidence to hope for.  It's everything that keeps me going when nothing is giving me reason to charge ahead.

What changes are you going through in life right now?

Change is rarely comfortable.  Even when it's planned for, it usually comes with pains of progress or frustrations found through the process.  But, our unchanging God can do so much more through our changing souls than He ever could allowing us to remain comfortable and stagnant in our growth.
Deep breath.  Exhale.

Okay, change.  Bring it on.  Ready or not.  I freely abandon my own understanding and embrace the irrational courage that faith has to offer me in this insane season of life.  Lord, help your peace overshadow the anxieties I have, and help me and my family as we welcome the plans and timing you have for us!

Can I get an AMEN?

Maternity Photos!

Getting ready for a photo shoot is hard enough, right?  But, trying to prep and feel pretty at 35 weeks pregnant with two little ones in tow sounds nearly impossible (and super exhausting)!  Whew.  I'm so so glad we forged ahead (cranky kids and all) to capture this season in our lives.

My delightful and super-talented friend Jen was up for the challenge as well, and I'm THRILLED to share the photos with all of you today!  Enjoy!

Check out Jen's work at her awesome FB page for Jen Hunter Photography.  

Jen made me feel beautiful and we had fun posing around Nashville's Cumberland Park downtown as she kept us smiling even in the 90+ degree heat!  I'm so happy to have caught these moments on camera and I can't WAIT to have her take newborn pics of our little one in just a few more weeks (also because that means this child will be OUT of my body by then!)

Be sure and check out Jen's work and be inspired to capture more milestones in your own life - you won't regret it!

The Nursery!

With only 5 weeks to go until baby girl #3 arrives, I'm thrilled to reveal her nursery today!  Granted, I'm no designer, and if it weren't for Pinterest and creative friends I would be posting pictures of a boring pink box.

But, after planning and shopping and scouring the web for inspiration, I am happy to invite you into the colorful nursery that will soon welcome another pink bundle of joy!  Welcome!
(But seriously, enjoy these photos - cause it will never look this clean ever again.)

Sweet Pink (Valspar paint) walls with Aqua and White furniture

LOVE this new recliner/rocker - no doubt I will be snoozing and nursing in it a lot!  Recliner from Babies R Us, pillow from Target.   The lighting is deceptive (sorry!) but the fabric of the chair perfectly matches the aqua lagoon colored crib.  I found the storybook shelf at HomeGoods (in the office dept!).  White faux-leather pouf from Land of Nod, Ruffle curtains and Pink Chevron Tassle rug from Pottery Barn Kids. The artwork (shown in detail below) was a treasure found on Etsy!

In case the Sweet Pink walls didn't give it away - there's no doubt a GIRL is on her way!
Aqua Lagoon crib by Jenny Lind from USA Baby (this crib is so swoon-worthy, I chose it before anything else in the room!)  Bear, Love Stroller blanket, Chevron crib sheet, and It's a Girl artwork from Pottery Barn Kids.

Carnival photography found on Etsy inspired the color palette for the room (shown in detail below). 

We bought this dresser from Goodwill for $100 when my first daughter was born!  We refinished it then, but for today's nursery we lacquered it white, replaced the hardware, and added Pottery Barn Kids' Universal Changing Topper to create the look.  I had a heck of a time deciding what to place on the shelf above, but I stumbled upon some adorable tchotchkes at HomeGoods and Target that reminded me of giant monopoly game pieces and so I just went for it.  I love the metallic/white combo and how it looks against the pink walls! Lamp and Changing basket from Pottery Barn Kids. 

Details!

It's the little things for a little one...

For those squinting at their computer screens or phones, here's a closer look at some of the details I love most in this room.

I hope you enjoyed a sneak peek into our littlest girl's new room!  It's been such a joy to spoil her already and I can't wait until she is here to destroy it and make it her own.  Cause let's face it - it's never gonna look like this after she arrives!

Review For All Maternity!

Hey gang!

I need your help!  As you know, I recently had my first book published (eek! Still pinching myself!)  It's been a roller coaster getting the word out, signing books, holding giveaways (more coming soon!) and now... I need REVIEWS!!!!

Now that the book has been out for a short spell, I'd LOVE your help in telling others what it's about and what YOU think about it.

The good news is, Amazon makes this super easy.

CLICK HERE TO REVIEW!

Follow the link above and click WRITE A CUSTOMER REVIEW to post your opinion of For All Maternity.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

Baby "Must Haves" & Have Nots

Hi.  My name is Emily, and I'm addicted to "Pinterest Baby Must Have" lists.

Okay, addicted is too strong of a term.  But, let me tell you, gone are the days of looking up a simple newborn checklist to find what you need to prepare for a baby's arrival.  A slight peek at a Pinterest board or Google search, and you will be bombarded with list upon list of what everyone and their best friend think you GOTTA GET before your water breaks.

This is to say - one can drive oneself absolutely bonkers trying to perfectly prep for a new bundle of joy.  If you're expecting and on the verge of hyperventilating when you see these "baby must have" lists - never fear!  I am pretty sure if you have a car seat, diapers, and boobs...your baby will survive.

But, did you know baby comes with a "must have" list too???  FOR YOU???

Oh yes.  That little peanut might not be shuffling through Pinterest boards inside the womb, but believe me, baby's come with expectations of what you "must have" in order to step up to the plate of motherhood - ready or not!

Here's the list you won't find on Pinterest, and maybe the only one you really ever need (don't they all say that?)

The 10 Things Your Baby Will Provide You
Upon Arrival, Ready or Not

10. Patience. You will wait on this baby.  You will wait for labor, wait for delivery, wait for the nurse to come back and tell you everything is fine.  You will wait for test results, wait for the car to come pick you up, wait for visitors, wait for dinner, wait for a chance to sleep, wait for the baby to stop crying, wait for that first smirk and coo, wait wait wait.  It will all come in good time.  Get used to waiting. 

9. Super-Hearing.  You will suddenly have the super-power of hearing every tiny little thing remotely related to your baby.  You will hear the baby take a deep sigh rooms away.  You will hear a diaper explosion upon impact when no one else notices.  You will hear ANY slight disturbance that might have the potential to wake the baby from a much-needed slumber (and you will slay that disturbance instantaneously).

8. Time-Travel.  Just throw away your clocks.  Burn your calendars.  They are now useless in your fight against schedules.  You now live on milk o'clock and half-past poopy diaper.  Your baby will change faster than your mind can comprehend, and no amount of Instagramming can capture how much you want to hit the pause button.  Soak it up, cry it out, and allow yourself to keep moving forward in the moments as they come without the guilt of being unable to stop it.  

7. Digestive Fortitude.  You will see gross things, my friend.  Super-disgusting, nasty things you will take to your grave. Both you and your baby will give you witness to vile functions that you've only read are "natural" and "wondrous".  I'm gonna just tell you now, it's okay to cringe at you and your foul baby.  Your bodily fluids will betray you.  You will go days without a shower and forget to wash your hands after you change a poopy diaper (because for heaven's sake it's 4am and no one cares).  You will find yourself praying about things like constipation and milk ducts and be amazed at your new stomach of steel when your baby vomits all over your bare chest for the first time.  Motherhood is messy.  Welcome. 

6. Tolerance.  The rest of the world will swim around you in your baby bubble.  You will tolerate visitors who overstay (hey, if they bring food they can stay a little longer), you will tolerate advice from every source possible, you will tolerate people's "help" that comes off as criticism and stories upon stories of other mother's birth/labor/delivery/nursing experience.  You will tolerate it all because they've come to love on your new baby and suddenly that excuses just about any untactful comment possible. 

5. Narcolepsy.  You can now fall asleep anytime, at any moment, anywhere.  Good luck finding those times and places, but hey - when you do - lights out, mama!  Zzzzzz. 

4. Fear.  A whole new world of worries has just intruded your mind.  Things you never thought possible to worry about before will now plague your dreams.  Anywhere but your arms feels like a potential death-trap to  your baby.  Doubts about when to feed and how much will make you wonder if child services will knock on your door any minute.  You've become an irrational crazy person who will continue to question your skills and abilities as a caretaker from now until eternity.  This is motherhood, friend.  If you're worried, you're probably doing it right.  

3. Music.  Nevermind that you've never written a song in your life.  Don't worry if you can't carry a tune or play an instrument.  Baby's insist upon music, and like it or not, you'll be crooning jams about your Diaper Genie in no time.  You'll catch yourself in the middle of a sing-song and wonder who you've turned into.  You'll uncover new talents as you parody Curious George narratives to Taylor Swift tunes.  No one thinks it will happen to them, but it always happens.  You will sing.  Oh, you will sing.

2. Courage.  Now and forevermore, you can end a sentence with "...because I gave birth." and it suddenly empowers you to take on anything with new Chutzpah.  I know I can do extraordinary things, my body can accomplish whatever it needs to, and super powers are not beyond my reach...because I gave birth.  Hang on to this new courage to tackle the un-tackle-able.  It will serve you well in the face of parenthood.

1. Selflessness.  Your heart grew three sizes that day, whether you were the Grinch or not.  Motherhood ushers in a whole new perspective that grants you the capacity to lay down your agenda for the sake of a helpless, stinky, loudmouth, bundle of snuggles.  It makes no sense, and it never will.  And it's the closest we will ever get to experiencing Christ's love for us.  Goodbye self-centered world.  Hello baby.

This list is certainly not limited to these 10 things!  You'll have your own moments of guts and glory that will show up when you least expect it.  Babies ring in a whole new era, whether it's your first birth or last.  As you make your lists and prep for that new chapter to come, take heart!  The most important things you need to care for that little one are already inside you.

Welcome to motherhood, ready or not.

Home Sweet Home Stretch

There's something bittersweet about the third trimester of pregnancy.  While the kicks and jolts in my belly trigger joy at the thought of a miracle literally moving within me, the aches and pains that weigh down my physique make me long for the day she is on the outside.  I don't want to fast-forward through the final weeks, but I'm not looking for the pause button either.

I guess this is a good balance, considering she will be my (as far as I can predict) last baby.

The realities of a new life coming have started to invade the home on a regular basis.  The crib is built, the curtains are hung, and pink little onesies are filling the drawers in the nursery.  Ten (or so) more weeks of growing, about a thousand loads of Dreft laundry, and we'll be all set for the coos and cries of a newborn to echo through the house.  (Well, there's a few more details than that, but you catch my drift!)

Growing...growing...not quite gone yet!

It's hard to imagine that my home is more quiet now than it will be in a few months.  It's exciting and terrifying, as I often have to plug my ears to keep from going insane from the squeals and screams of my 5-year-old and 3-year-old daughters.  No doubt this little one will have severe competition for attention the moment she enters the world.  Quiet is a rare virtue in our home (and often a prelude to either a giant mess being made/discovered or the calm before a storm of tears for whatever reason).

At the same time, I'm finishing up my Master's degree in Marriage & Family Therapy, with only 8 more weeks of school and internship to wrap up the two years of insanity I've put myself and my family through.  It is indeed, the home stretch on a huge chapter in our lives.  Life will look very different come mid-August, and it's difficult for me to wrap my brain around what's pending.

As crazy as it's been for the last two years, there is comfort in the known craziness.  As many sleepless nights, busy schedules, and constant to-dos as there have been, I'll admit there are parts of me worried and sad about saying good-bye to this temporary and tender season of our lives.  (Don't get me wrong, I'm ready to say "Sayonara" to homework forever!)

A new normal, a new chaos, a new crazy is just around the corner.  It's this unknown wilderness that awaits that easily stirs anxiety in my soul.  As I feel my baby hiccup in my belly as I type this, I'm reminded that no matter what, God's got us.  All of us.  (Yes, you too!)  He's never surprised at what's around the bend or who's in need of what or how long something seems to take.  He's never thrown off schedule, overwhelmed by tasks, or anxious about how it will all turn out.  He's got these next 10-ish weeks just like He's had the last zillion years and the zillion more yet to come.

Between two kids, deadlines, and baby kicks, I don't want to give you the illusion that I rest well at night just because I have a deep trust in God's provision and plan for us.  Life is HARD and loud and messy.  I laugh at the chaos as much as I worry and I weep with the best of you.

But, peace can be found among the sleepless.  Hope can be found among the restless.  Joy can be found among the fearful.  How?  Because it's the struggle and privilege of my heart, as weary and worn as it may be, to remain fixated on His steady faithfulness to me, and to keep finding humor and gratitude in the world around me.

Whew.  Guys.  This summer is gonna be FULL of crazy.  No doubt there are reasons to complain and throw in the towel each and every day.  But, in these final weeks of transition from a family of four to a family of five...of a family surviving grad school to a family sending one off to Kindergarten...I hope you'll see a family honestly determined to find moments of sweetness and blessing within the mess of it all.

What transitions are you or your family going through this summer?  What helps keep you focused on the joys of life and the goodness of God?

For All Maternity: A Word from the Author

I'm so excited about the new book, I wanted to tell you all about it myself!

Remember that Mother's Day is Sunday, May 10th!  The book also makes a great baby shower gift!

Buy it on Amazon, and be sure to contact me so I can send you a personalized bookplate to stick in the book, turning it into an "officially autographed" copy!

For All Maternity Book Release!

Today is the day!  For All Maternity is available to buy, and I couldn't be more excited to share it with you all!

Purchase your copy today - available at the following links:

Paperback on AMAZON

Paperback on BARNES & NOBLE

KINDLE

NOOK

APPLE

KOBO

If you'd like your copy signed by yours truly, CONTACT ME HERE and I will happily ship you an autographed bookplate absolutely free!  (Please include your mailing address and any information about personalization in the message field.)

In For All Maternity, I hope to encourage expectant couples, new moms, and those considering parenthood to ask the hard questions while humorously sharing my own tumultuous journey into motherhood. From sitting awkwardly in marriage counseling to learning how to breast-pump in the middle of the workday, my bumpy road to motherhood encounters lessons about body image, boundaries, and belief in a God who is more trustworthy than any baby manual around.

Be sure and write an Amazon review and add the book to your Goodreads list!  Thanks for all your support in helping me celebrate and get the word out on this exciting venture!

Belly Ninja

I've been up since 3am.  No, not just awake - UP.

I knew having another baby would come with less sleep - I just didn't know it would start at 21 weeks of pregnancy!

As with my first two girls, I'm convinced this baby is a zombie with unique martial arts skills.  I dream about who she is, trying to picture a sweet, snuggly little girl all wrapped up in pink...but, at three in the morning when my belly is thumping and my eyes are half-closed, all I can picture is a little version of Jackie Chan in there, kicking butt and taking names.

Pretty sure I need this shirt!

The movement of an unborn human inside my body is one of the most wondrous, ridiculously awesome experiences of my life.  While the jabs and swirls are virtually indescribable, I find myself telling non-parent friends what it feels like in the simplest terms.

Uh, it just feels exactly like what you'd think it feels like?!

Can anyone describe this a little better for me?  Honestly, I'm at a loss.  I think this is one of those times in life when you are so mesmerized by the process that it seems like putting words to it instantly diminishes its significance no matter what.

I can't seem to match the language to the action, and when I try, it comes out something like this:

It's like rainbows bursting out of my stomach.
It's like a little dog walking around in circles before settling into a cozy spot.
It's like a popped toaster springing up a bagel that doesn't quite fit.
It's like a rippling brook, constantly moving yet soothing.
It's like when you blend a smoothie and then the air bubble spurts up when you stop it.
It's like there's a shooting star stuck in a hot air balloon, trying to get out.
It's like there's a little human being growing inside me, flexing growing muscles and stretching new bones that have yet to see sunlight.

See how that last one just rolls right in with the absurd?  AND IT'S TRUE!

Right?!

My little belly ninja has several weeks to go before I get to kiss her smooshy little pink face.  There are countless kicks and hiccups and gas bubbles to feel in the coming months, and I'm treasuring each one.  I know that soon enough these little movements might turn painful and extremely uncomfortable (reality sets in a little sooner by the third baby!)  But, I pray I never take for granted the awesomeness of this weird feeling.

Sure, I'll lose more sleep.  Yes, I'll get cranky and uncomfortable.  I might even start whining and complaining the closer the due date gets (Who, me?)  But, through all the words that describe my feelings and aches and pains, know there is an indescribable experience behind each one that simply has no language.

The tiniest of actions...speaking louder than any words I've ever known.

How would you describe your baby's movements when you were pregnant?  

What does it feel like to YOU?

Livin' On A Prayer (Whoa, We're Halfway There)

Sing it, you Bon Jovi fans - cause at nearly 20 weeks along...Whooooa, we're halfway there, whooooooa, livin' on a prayer! 

That's right, this third pregnancy is already at the halfway mark!  The baby is as big as an heirloom tomato and as long as a banana.  (Why, again, are all the sizes compared to fruits and vegetables?  I never understood this.  Can't she be as big as a bearclaw or as wide as a pizza slice?)

It seems all I get these days are wide eyes and dropping jaws when I reveal I'm not due until the middle of August.

On average, I would say 3-5 times a day I get asked one of the following:

Are you sure it's not twins?
Do you think you're due date is wrong?
Do you think you'll really make it until August?
How will you survive the summer?
But, again, are you very sure there is only one baby in there?

Yes.  Yes, I'm sure.  Yes, there is only one baby who is coming in August 2015.  Yes, for heaven's sake, yes.  (And this is the point where I smile instead of right-hook their face.)  Then, they abruptly follow up with a disclaimer:

It's cause it's your third baby.
It's cause you're built small.
It's cause it's a girl.

Huh.  I thought it was CAUSE I'M PREGNANT.

People, you are all so silly.  Trust me when I say that no one is more aware of how enormous I am more than ME.  I understand that your eyes immediately drift from normal-eye-contact to belly-staring-awkwardness as soon as you encounter me.

But, please, for heaven's sakes believe me when I tell you the facts about my own body instead of instantly second-guessing whether I am delusional, in denial, or grossly under-educated in biology.

This belly's got a long way to go.  It's gonna grow.  It's gonna take over my balance and most of my brain.  It's gonna be in the way, knock things over, and freak you out if a bit of it peeks out from under a too-small shirt I'm unwilling to part with yet.  It's gonna catch crumbs, hit the steering wheel, and hoist up my boobs (which aren't getting any smaller either, by the way).

I'm cool with it.  I'm loving it (most of it).  I'm dealing with it as well as anything - living on a prayer full of fear and grace that will get me from one day to the next.  One week to the next.  One month to the next.

If my growing being makes you wonder about the miracle of life, ponder the intricacies of anatomy, or stand in utter shock at the awe of how I seemingly defy the laws of physics - go for it.  Gawk away.

But please, gawk in awe of the Creator.  Give that jaw-dropping glory to He who is weaving the unformed before your very eyes.  Bug those eyes out at the God of the Universe who takes the time to build cells into a heart, brain, kidneys, and little fingers with prints as unique as a snowflake.

Now, that is something that will forever amaze me.  That, my friend, is something we can awkwardly stand looking astonished together, with gaping mouths wide open.

Twenty more weeks.  Hallelujah, bring it on.

If Men Were Pregnant

Morning sickness, stretch marks, food cravings/aversions, and those wonderful strangers who think your bulging bump issues them a free pass on touching your midsection.  Ah, the joys of pregnancy.

But, let's face it gals, as much as we cringe at the roller coaster of lending out our bodies for nine months' time to the newest love of our life, we also adore the perks it offers as well.  There's the extra attention, the excuse to cut into any bathroom line, and of course the wonder of it all - growing a real life human at the speed of light (okay, some days go by faster than others).

Pregnancy is life changing to say the least, and one of the grandest perks we get as women is the ability to lord our childbearing ability over our husbands the rest of their lives.  It's the trump card of all trump cards.  The be all end all of gender wars ends in the delivery room, no doubt.

But, what if the tables were turned?  

If Men Were Pregnant...

1. "Bump Gloating" would be an actual thing, bragging about how big their bellies could get.
2. They would actually try to get stretch marks, scars to tell stories about for generations.
3. Paternity clothing stores would have names like "Big Bill's Belly Barn" or "Business Bump for the Modern Man".
4. They would get highly visible tattoos of how long they were in labor, along with the baby's weight.
5. Natural birth wouldn't exist as an option.  Men who accidentally go through childbirth without drugs would be given Presidential Medals of Honor.
6. Paternity Leave would be 18 years per child. Paid.
7. Novelty pregnancy t-shirts would say things like "Mine's Bigger" or "Play Hard, Push Harder".
8. Bars would close and be replaced by ice cream shops on every corner.
9. The most popular Superbowl ad would be a Gas-X commercial.
10. The beer industry would always be competing for the world's best non-alcoholic beer.
11. All pants have draw-strings.
12. Gift Registries don't exist.  Instead, the Bass Pro Shop offers an all-in-one baby starter kit featuring everything necessary for parental survival that comes in two colors: black or camouflage.
13. eXtreme Lamaze is the new rage for birthing prep; featuring virtual ski, surf, and rock-climbing experiences to practice heavy breathing.
14. Baby Showers would consist of 5 minutes of high-fiving and 4 hours of video games.  (Call of Doody, anyone?)
15. Every birthing suite would include a giant flatscreen TV with a Sports package.
16. Car seat prices would double and there would be whole magazines published about high-tech strollers that men are constantly begging their wives for.
17. Baby name books would be two pages long:  a page that says GIRL and a page that says BOY.
18. "Morning sickness" would be called something like "Brutal Barfing Syndrome".
19. Cankles would be featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
20. Father's Day would last a week.


I hope you found this list funny [and not too sexist].  Comment below to add your own interpretation of how the world might spin differently if males suddenly took on the role of child-bearer!

The Story Behind the Big News: I'm Pregnant!

Yep, in case you haven't heard, I'm expecting my third baby.  Baby Pardy #3 is on the way, due to arrive mid-August!

We broke the news publicly yesterday, with this genius announcement made by my husband.

But, of course, we knew several weeks prior to the ultrasound pic that the course of Pardy history was forever changed.  We were lucky enough to find out before Christmas, making it the gift-of-all-gifts to give our parents on Christmas day.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to see them in person, but we sent gifts ahead of time, and included this surprise-revealing frame to break the news.

As we Skyped with our parents, we had them open the gift on cue and got to see their reactions at the same time.  (Ain't technology grand?)

Telling our girls the big news might have been the most memorable, however.  I told them "We have small gift for you and some big news!" then proceeded with the following announcement caught on tape.  I'll warn you, it doesn't quite end the way I anticipated!  (Seriously, watch to the end for a cringe-worthy laugh.)

We are beyond thrilled to share our joy with you all.  And to streamline all your FAQs I've decided to just jump into the answers and spare you the awkward moment of not knowing how to ask what you really want to know.  I get it.  And as I grow to the size of a small planet, I'm well-prepared to tackle awkward encounters.

Was it a surprise or planned?
Have you met me? Yes, it was planned.  However, it was also quite a surprise that we struck gold on our first try.  I count this an incredible blessing and luxury in my life, to have had the opportunity to choose to "open the door" so to speak and then also to be instantly gratified.  I have many close friends who have been on either side of the spectrum, either waiting and longing for a child or shocked by a surprise blessing.  All that to say, I don't take for granted the fact that this was altogether easy for us this round, and yet completely acknowledge that I retain zero credit over the fact this miracle occurred when it did.  It's all God's timing, folks, that I know for sure.

What about school?
Speaking of timing, one of the main reasons we decided to go for baby #3 now was that I would be out of school.  In fact, I will finish all of the curriculum for my MMFT (Masters in Marriage & Family Therapy) by the end of July, just a few weeks before this baby arrives.  I'm doing my utmost to complete all of my client hours by then as well.  In fact, if I have one non-health-related prayer request, it's that I can somehow finish all of my client hours in time so that I don't have to worry about picking up extra hours after the baby comes.  I keep telling myself that it won't be the end of the world if that happens, but I will admit it keeps me up at night sometimes wondering how it will all come together.  All in all, the hardest part will be over with (the coursework) and I'm just trusting God to tackle the rest!

What's the due date exactly?
The official due date is August 19th.  But, because this will be my third C-section, this sucker will be scheduled on the calendar.  My husband's birthday is August 16th, and so, per his own request if everything is safe and healthy, the baby will be born on his birthday!  That's right, Josh wants to share his birthday.  Many can't believe this, but honestly I think he is just hoping we will remember it is his birthday if he has our baby born on it.  Haha.  So, obviously safety and healthy baby/mama come first, but if all goes well, then we will have a double-birthday celebration on August 16th!

How am I feeling?
Miserable and blissful.  Icky and happy.  I'm kind of fighting the cold-of-the-century right now, so I'm extra full of complaints at the moment.  (Seriously, they can put a man on the moon but they can't create a cold medicine for pregnant women?)  I'm one of the luckier pregnant gals who doesn't barf every morning.  I just feel seasick most of the day and exhausted as usual.  I want to eat cheeseburgers all the time and can't stand the smell of coffee.  Otherwise, I'm really pretty good.  And yeah, I'm already belly popped at 9 weeks.  I should be building up my own gravitational pull within a few weeks now.

Are you hoping for a boy?
I love and hate this question.  The easy answer is "yes".  It's fun to picture something new like a boy being added to our family, but it's also an unknown realm!  Sure, for many reasons we would be stoked to have a boy.  After two girls, a boy would be an exciting change and would keep the Pardy name rocking for another generation to come.  Also, it would be a lot easier name-wise cause I've pretty much used up all the girl names I think I love.
That being said, I can't quite imagine life with a son.  I adore my daughters and adding another girl would be seemingly easier and thrilling for my girls, plus there's all the hand-me-downs that would await her.
I will rejoice at the news of either and I will grieve the twinge of loss at the news of either because I'm honest and enjoy this phase where both dreams are alive and well.  
Asking me what gender baby I want is like asking me "Do you want your lottery winnings in one giant lump sum or spread out over the rest of your life?"  It's a win-win and it's gonna be the best ever either way!  And yes, we will find out the gender, probably around the end of March.

Are you crazy?
Yes.  I've never argued this.  As my daughter Matilda realized the other night, "Mom.  This means three kids.  We're going to need more grown ups."  Tell me about it!  I think we always knew we wanted more than two kids, and for all known current intentions, this will be our last baby.  We debated most of the fall whether a third kid was in our future, and the discussion quickly turned to a "now or later" discussion more than a "now or never".  So, it just felt like it made sense to pull the band-aid off faster, get all the crazy over with early, tackle the youngsters while we are youngish, etc.  Honesty, there's no right or wrong way to build a family.  And we couldn't have predicted how quickly we would have gotten pregnant either.  So, there you have it.  We dove head first into crazy, and now we are excited to be outnumbered by our children.  It will be hard.  It will be LOUD.  It will be a challenge unlike any other, and we've no expectation this is a walk in the park.  It's more like a trudge through a snowstorm with chimpanzees climbing all over you.  Still, it's an adventure, and we're stoked to be part of it.

Prayer Requests?
Thanks for asking!  Yes, of course any prayers for a healthy baby would be most appreciated.  Prayers for our family as we finish up this crazy grad-school chapter of my life and prepare for a new baby and Kindergarten in the fall for my oldest would be terrific as well.  I'm so incredibly encouraged to be surrounded near and far by a network of prayer warriors.  Thank you!!!


Thank you for sharing in our joy!  I can't wait to share this journey once again with all of you!

Before Motherhood

This weekend, I will celebrate Mother's Day like many of you out there.  I'm so grateful for my two girls who make the day a blessing to me.  But...it wasn't always this way.  I can remember the days of longing for a baby and cringing at those who were celebrated around me, feeling the sting of not being yet-initiated into the mommy club.

This post is for you.  This post is for those yet-to-be-celebrated, those still longing for a child of their own, those who will cringe this weekend and wear fake smiles while aching with envy and grief inside.

Here is an excerpt from a another project I wrote where I relive those moments of jealousy, rage, and confusion.  It's okay to feel those things.  It's normal.  And I'm praying that God's timing will bring you the greatest source of comfort and joy you've ever known...

It’s a cruel joke and no exaggeration to say that when you finally decide wholeheartedly to pursue something, you start to see it everywhere.  The entire world seemed pregnant except for me.  Anywhere I turned I ran into strollers, bumped into babies, and knocked into protruding pregnant bellies.  It was like, in all my effort to conceive, I had somehow developed a special radar system to be able to spot a baby bump from a mile away.  Strangers, neighbors and close friends were all popping up pregnant, month after month.  Some were surprises, some had been a long time coming, but all were announced with explosive enthusiasm in a grand spectacle just short of a small-town parade.  At least, that is exactly how it felt to me.

With each new pregnancy that was announced, I felt like one more of my own eggs just dried up inside me.  She won this month and I lost again.  She gets a baby, I don’t.  She has new life in her, and I’m harboring nothing but envy.

I distinctly recall one day that I was walking to my car to go home after work.  It had been a particularly exhausting day and all I wanted was to curl up on my couch with a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and a rerun of Frasier (my “go to” tv-therapy) when I spotted her: a beautifully pregnant stranger, belly in full blossom, waddling to her car in all her knocked-up glory.  I had never met her and didn’t recognize her at all.  Poor soul was probably some lovely wife of a faculty member who most likely taught a Bible class of sorts, I’m sure.  Nevertheless, lovely as she was, I couldn’t take it anymore.  Salt water started to well up in my eyes, rage clenched the air from my throat, bitterness crippled my hands into useless claws, and in one purely horrific moment of self, I silently spewed the only words that felt familiar to me in that moment:  I hate you.

I felt like my entire insides had rotted out and failed me to the core.  All my joy and hope in conceiving the next great miracle from God had been replaced by ugly, controlling selfishness, anger and jealousy.  Of course, I didn’t really hate her.  I didn’t even know the sweet gal, bless her heart, who was surely gestating what I can only imagine to be the next Billy Graham in her bulging belly.  I’m so sorry, dear woman, for pegging you as my target for hatred that day.  But, you should know, it was not in vain.

That moment of disgusting self-loathing opened my eyes to a vital understanding:  I had no control. This sounds simple.  This sounds like something as obvious as gravity.  But, like gravity, sometimes it takes an apple (or in my case, a pregnant-lady-encounter) hitting you in the head to accept it as reality and see how it really applies to your life.

I had been living in the illusion of control.  Counting days, charting numbers, calculating possibilities and conjuring up multiple justifications for each and every potential scenario that could present itself.  I couldn’t help but feel like if I could just figure out what I had done or not done in the month prior, then I could fix it and find myself pregnant in the next round.  My head new that it was by God’s hand alone that a baby would be created, but my heart’s habits died hard.  My heart knew what it longed for, what was at stake, and what was being risked each month:  The possibility that I might not get what I wanted most.
It wasn’t necessarily that my actions had to change, but my perception of what I was pursuing and how it so deeply affected me on a daily basis needed a major adjustment.  I had delicately fallen into a trap of thinking that if I did A + B, then naturally, C will occur.  Because that’s how it “should” go.  Because that’s “normal”.  Because that’s what I “deserve”.

And then it hit me.  I wasn’t just questioning my emotions here…I was questioning God.  The illusion of control had led me along a path where I was left staring down an unknown road with a pretend map I had drawn with a broken compass.  What if I’m never pregnant?  What if I don’t get the future I want?  Which, if we are really being honest here, is essentially asking the real question:  Do I believe God is truly good?
That might be hard to admit.  Questioning God’s goodness sounds like a huge leap from asking Him when I can start registering for bottles and bassinets.  But, if the goodness of my future hinged on the notion that I bore a child or not, and I believed that God only wanted what was good and best for my future, then I couldn’t have it both ways.  Was I really choosing between having a baby or believing God?  Certainly not.  I had spent too many hours praying about my desire for a family for God to ignore the request.  God knew me.  God loved me.  God understood that this longing in my being also encompassed a pursuit of His will for my life.  So, then, if God was good and it was good for me to want to become a mother…Where’s my baby?

It was time to relinquish control.  This is kind of an oxymoron, really.  The control was never really in my grasp to begin with.  My future is mine, and it is affected by the decisions and consequences of my actions, but there comes a time when you have to face your relationship with your Creator and allow Him to function through you instead of just around you.  God doesn’t “need” us, after all.  He is perfect and complete and entirely capable (this would be the “omni” part of Him) without our hot-mess-of-a-human-existence meddling about in this crazy world He built.  But He is a gracious God that engages with us, works through us, and allows us the incredible opportunity to lay down ourselves and pursue a plan worthy of His glory.

And so, as the saying goes, “I let go and let God” take over.

Maybe not much changed on the outside.  But, on the inside, I was transformed.  My prayers stopped being about ovulation and started being about peace.  I stopped obsessing about my basal body temperature and started dreaming about the hopeful future of how God would shape us into parents, even if it wasn’t exactly how we thought it might go.  My heart had gone from eager to rigid to numb, and was now thawing to the idea that “God’s best” was worth waiting for and my timeline was just that:  mine.  And I felt the raw and honest reality that truly, I wanted nothing to do with me.  

If was prepping to be a parent, to take on the task of somehow raising a child of God as my very own, then certainly I was in need of much more Jesus and much less Emily with every minute He made me “wait”.  This period of waiting didn’t seem unbearable like it had in the past.  Sitting still in acceptance and peace, suddenly felt the most active of all the months of trying so far.  It wasn’t easy.  It wasn’t even fun (as terrible as it is, the futile actions I had become accustomed to while living in the illusion of control had brought me frantic joy, allowing me to think that I was actively participating in the creation of something that was beyond my efforts in reality).  But, living in the moment of relinquished control brought me unfathomable relief that I hadn’t felt since before we ever had uttered the word “baby”. 

I still didn’t have an answer as to why God was “making me wait”…but, I rested wholly in the security of knowing that God knew, and God’s goodness justified His reasons, and Him being God and all pretty much summed up any other questions I had for Him and His lack of sharing his Google calendar with me (assuming God uses Google).  I wasn’t avoiding the stress of trying to conceive a baby…I was just giving it to God instead.  

Breastfeeding: part 1

Breastfeeding.  Yup.  We're going there.  So, if you're male and cringing already - you are free to leave at any time.  If you are female and wincing at the idea of learning TMI about me - feel free to click away.  But, if you have ever, will ever, or might know someone who has ever breastfed...I invite you to stick around today and tomorrow as I openly explore the topic near and dear (literally) to my heart.

Before the birth of my first daughter, Matilda, a few years ago, I remember being enormously pregnant and reading up on the "womanly art of breastfeeding" as it's so endearingly referred to.  I read and read and even took a private lactation class to try and absorb as much info as I could before actually jumping into the act myself.  I had studied so long and hard about labor and birth that it wasn't until the last few weeks of my pregnancy that I started to realize I was about to encounter a whole new world that would disrupt my life and my body:  breastfeeding.

I'll tell you right up front that, while this post is certainly "pro-breast" I'm going to go ahead and already assume you are "for breastfeeding".  There's just about a bazillion reasons (most of which you probably know already) for breastfeeding babies, and certainly there are valid and legitimate reasons that mothers can't or choose not too.  But, there's no denying that in an ideal setting for a typical baby and a healthy mother, breastfeeding is best - and so, we'll leave it at that.

That being said, I had always assumed I would breastfeed.  It seemed cheap and logical and convenient, above all the other health reasons that just seemed to make sense.  But, I had NO IDEA how to do it.  It's not exactly something one can practice beforehand (and trust me, it's already awkward enough to football hold a doll and pretend-put-it-up-to your boob) and so it remained an enormous mystery to me right up until it actually happened.

I'll say this - it all just seemed so awkward.  When I tried to imagine it or conceptualize what it might be like, I couldn't imagine it being anything but awkward.  How could it not hurt?  How could it ever become "normal"?  How will the baby know what to do?  What does "let down" mean and will it hurt?  How will it affect my marriage?  How long should I do it?  How hard will it be?

Can you believe this was for real?

These questions and more plagued my over-information-burdened mind in the days leading up to my daughter's birth.  It was a giant enigma that I kept chalking up to:  Well, I don't know.  But, I'll just do it.  I will.  That's that.  And really, that was that.

And then I had a baby.  I held my baby for the first time.  I saw her and I wept with what could only be described as indescribable joy.  My heart suddenly caved in and my breath was stopped short by the sheer awe and wonder of how part of me could be existing on the outside of my body, and suddenly I felt and overwhelming urge to unite myself back to this creature whom I had held inside for so long.  I physiologically needed to nourish her, comfort her, provide for her...and my body impulsively longed to do so.  She latched on, right there in the recovery room (after a 20 hour labor and sudden c-section) and suddenly there I was, breastfeeding my infant as if I had always known how.

The following weeks were less magical.  I was, however,  blessed with a record-breaking milk supply and a chunky baby who required much attention.  I am eternally grateful for the gift of an easily-nursed baby. I know that many mothers out there have had brutal experiences coping with latching technique and sore nipples and milk that took weeks to come in...but, I was one of the lucky ones  (feel free to punch me in the face now if you weren't...I'm so sorry).  However, no matter how "easy" it was...it was NOT easy.

Babies are demanding.  Babies are needy.  Babies are also irrational and uncommunicative apart from wailing and screaming.  Meanwhile, as I was trying to get used to my recovering-from-birth body, and waiting on my milk supply to regulate, my breasts seemed to take on a life of their own - being called upon every couple hours for who-knows-how-long and all in private sessions that kept me away from all other people or priorities.  Sometimes this was glorious.  I loved to stare into my baby's eyes and see her so happily nurse and feel comfort and love and nourishment all at the same time.  Sometimes, however, this was burdensome.  I would hear my husband and friends laughing in the living room as the movie continued on without me so I could nurse the baby back to sleep...I would let dinner burn on the stove as I forgot to turn down the heat as I held my child...I would drift off in the middle of the night as my exhaustion got the better of me.  And still, I did my best to remain grateful for the experience, even in the loneliest of moments.

Rarely do mothers talk about the lonely side of breastfeeding.  Rarely do you hear advice to new mothers about how it will be challenging and sad at times (though, yes, oh-so-worthwhile).  It's hard to feel like you are missing out because your baby needs you - and THAT'S OKAY to admit...but, it's also an enormous step towards the selflessness that parenthood demands you engage in - and that's a remarkably beautiful gift that I could never have anticipated.  Breastfeeding helped teach me that.

Above all, no one ever told me how many times I might find myself perched in the back seat of my car with a blanket clumsily laid across my shoulder as I urgently nurse my child and haphazardly spray breastmilk across the floorboard...because, when baby's hungry, everything else waits.  Friends wait, dinners wait, movies wait, shopping waits...and so do you.  And waiting is hard.  And while I waited I couldn't help but ask myself again and again "Is THIS what mothers DO?  Is this what moms have been doing all along and never said - this is what I do - I sit in the back of my car and try not to spray milk all over my backseat windows before spending too much money at Target a mere fifteen minutes later.  Wow."  True story.

While I didn't experience the hardship of latching or milk production, I did experience challenge in another area of breastfeeding:  work.  With Matilda, I went back to work three months after her birth.  This came with a host of emotional challenges, but very near the top of the list was my new responsibility in becoming an expert breast-pumper...something I'd never considered being excellent at. It was a scary contraption that looked like something out of a Men In Black movie, and I was pretty sure that I would be the first woman in history to somehow make the evening news headlines due to some battle I would encounter with this particular device.  Nevertheless, it was me against the breastpump and I rose to the challenge.

How long will it take to pump?  How often do I need to?  Where do I go?  Will people notice?  Again, a new string of questions rattled my brain with fears as I walked back into my cubicle.  I worked almost exclusively with men on a daily basis, and so it felt like a foreign land where no one would sympathize with my amount of baggage I had to travel with.  But, after a few awkward conversations and a few days of carrying an extra sweater around in my purse "just in case" my breasts exploded at my desk...I began to get into a rhythm that accomplished what my baby and I both needed.

A few weeks into this new routine, and I had become a super-spy on a mission for milk.  With only 30 minutes for lunch, I had gotten the womanly art down to a science, and felt like a CIA agent - sneaking into the code-locked "nursing closet", quickly changing out of my attire and hooking up my pump, acquiring the assets, slipping back into my garments, and back out on the street in a flash as if nothing had ever occurred.  My sleek, black, messenger bag pump left no one the wiser to my whereabouts, and that's pretty much how I liked it.

A full year of this routine took place.  My dedication to breastfeeding impressed even myself, and I still look back on that time as one of privilege more than sacrifice.  Besides, it gave me some of the quietest moment of my entire life...just me, my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and the lulling whir of my breast pump...how can I not be grateful for that kind of simplistic moment?  But, it wasn't easy.  So - for all those mothers making it work at work...kudos, bravo, and keep it up!  Do your best to savor those quiet moments, they surely don't last forever.

And neither did breastfeeding.  That first year of Matilda flew by in a flash, even with each glorious and burdensome feeding.  My breastfeeding Matilda came to a sudden halt (for a variety of reasons) when I became pregnant with my second daughter.  And new questions arose as I approached a new phase of life (literally) as I instantly grieved the loss of breastfeeding while excitedly anticipated the coming of a new baby.

Come back tomorrow to find out what challenges breastfeeding brought the second time around...and how I dealt with saying goodbye to this wonderful phase of motherhood...

READERS:  Share your breastfeeding stories!  What has your experience been?  How did you feel supported in your journey in breastfeeding?

Overnighter

The time has come.  Team Pardy needs a much needed brrreeeaaakkk.  No, not from each other!  No worries.  Team Pardy needs a childless break!  Woot woot!  We are finally going on our first (yes, very first) night away since before having children.  Can this be possible?  Well, unless you count the two nights I was away giving birth to Daphne in the hospital...then, yes...very possible.

Oh my.  How could we have let 3 years slip by without a night away?  Some of you are probably gasping in surprise and some of you are shrugging out of embarrassment.  It's okay, come here - **group hug**

Like I've said before, children are a time machine.  The second you have them, they catapult you into a time warp that speeds up everything about life that you love (cuddling, sleeping, relaxing) and slow down all the things you can't quite handle (whining, vomiting, fighting).  And before you know it, three precious years have slipped by without your head hitting the pillow for a solid 10 hours straight.  It's true, I have no idea when the last time I had an entire night's sleep was, but it was well over three years ago. (Refill on this coffee, please?)

I extraordinarily value my husband.  I love him to pieces.  I want to stare at him and not be thinking in the back of my mind "How long do I have to wait after you come in the door before I ask you to take out the trash?  Is ten minutes long enough?  Fifteen?"  So, even though we get to connect in the evenings after the youngins are in bed, and even though we do make an effort to get out and have a date night every so often...we are far overdue to get away and spend the night in a room that isn't resonating with the annoying static of a baby monitor.  Whew.

Here's the thing.  I want to go.  I'm psyched out of my mind for it, really.  Ideally.  But...then, there's this thing called motherhood that has been nipping at my heels all week trying to get me to feel guilty about it all.  Argh!  What's with this?  Why does this happen?

Us mamas just can't catch a break, right?  It feels like no matter what decision we make, somebody is going to be let down (well, let down or have a meltdown if you are a toddler, anyway).  You want to runaway with your husband and rekindle the romance, yet, you don't want to be checking your phone every twenty minutes just waiting for tragedy to strike.  You want to enjoy dinner by candlelight, but not at the expense that you accidentally forgot to tell the babysitter to not give the baby milk at dinner or she will be sick.  It all makes it just feel...well...not worth it!  Oh the woes!  What's a gal to do?

TEAM PARDY!

I hate this nagging feeling.  I've been combatting it all week, and here's what I've concluded:  What would I tell my daughter to do if she were me?  Darn tootin' I'd tell her to leave the irrational toddlers in the care of responsible, loving souls and get back to building her rock-solid foundation of a marriage before you really have to start checking for cracks, that's what!

Yes, the babies will miss me.  Yes, the babies will cry and scream and at one point demand more than the babysitters can provide.  Yes, there will be tantrums and food will most likely be thrown.  Diapers will need to be changed and tears will need to be wiped, I'm sure.  But, they will be fine.  They will live.  And they will learn a little, tiny, minuscule piece to the puzzle of life that changes their irrational behavior into a logical example:  Mom and Dad put each other first.  

Any steps we take that help solidify this belief for them, the greater chance we have towards them believing this for themselves someday.  Someday, that is, when they choose someone to conquer the world with.  And I really, really, really want them to choose someone who will put them first, just like their daddy puts me first. (First, right after Jesus, of course.)


Leaving my kids, even only for a night, stresses the crap out of me.  I'm just being honest here.  I have insanely responsible friends who love my children tremendously, and my girls adore them, and probably will show them more respect in the hours they're together than they show me in a whole week...yet, my stomach tenses up at the thought of them asking for me when I'm not there.  I clench up inside at the idea of them waking up in the middle of the night, disturbing our sitter's slumber, and being confused and emotional about misunderstanding why we're not at home.  It might be scary for them, but I'm the one conjuring up the real fear here.

Fear NOT.  Fear not.  Fear...not.  Okay.  No fear allowed.  Listen here, Fear, the girls are going to be just fine.  I'm going to choose to replace you with Trust and that's going to be the end of it.  I have amazing friends who, for some reason, have convinced me that it is actually a blessing to them to watch our children, so I'm going to trust them about that.  I'm going to trust that my babies will know in their heart I will see them just as soon as they miss me and be back before they really can't stand it.

I'm going to trust that all the over-planning/over-cleaning/over-worrying were unnecessary, yet vital baby steps towards my ability to let go and allow some healthy separation to focus exclusively on my marriage.  I'm going to trust my husband that this investment of time and money and energy and love is validated and treasured and reciprocated ten-fold, because that's what Team Pardy is all about and we've gotta long way to go in this road of life.

I'm going to trust God.  Thank you, God, You are in control.  Not only do you hold my babies in Your hand every day, but You also have provided the resources, the provision, and the opportunity to make this possible.  I trust in the definition of marriage, that God encourages me as a wife to not only make sure my husband knows he comes first in my world, but that I teach my children (and model to them) that family is structured accordingly.

This might seem like an awful lot of intention put into one little overnight getaway.  But, when it comes to our kids, don't we get a little kooky sometimes?   Mothers are grand multi-taskers and the number one thing we multi-task the best is worrying!  I'm not going to let my talent for concern wedge its way into Team Pardy.  Instead, I'm going to steer it straight into the storm.  I'm turning that worry on its head and taking all that energy and placing it directly into the palm of the One who cares more (yes, even more) than I do.

And so, yes, as I make my final checklists and sticky notes to ensure on my end the safety and schedules of my girls, I'm doing my best to remember that the underlying intention of this whole event comes back to this:  I love my husband.  We belong together.  We can take on the world.  And, so, to take on the world...we gotta step outside once in a while.