Monday, July 14, 2014

So we had a girl!

I disappeared for the past 3 months.  On the eve of our girl's induction date.

Colic is a real thing.  So is sleep deprivation.  OH!  And babies are really needy.

But after 6 weeks of crying (Evey...and Evey's parents too) she bucked up.  And now just cries when she is tired or bored.

At least I think she is bored.  Because I would be bored if I was her.  And it seems like she is perfectly happy as long as we aren't at home.  And as long as she doesn't have a bottle in her mouth.

Did I mention we think she might have reflux?

Argh, if it's not one thing, it's something else.

But anyway - here she is.  And we love her.

Evey Ruth Milton, born April 5, 2014.  5 pounds 13 ounces.  19 inches.


Here she is on April 6, 2014.


And here she is the day we came home.  In all her coming home outfit glory.  


Here her dad is, holding her the day she came home from the hospital.


That was then.  And this is now:
I've been gone awhile, I know.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

And then on the 3rd day...

...our little house was on the market, we came home to this note:

And then that night the other offer was signed. And even though contingent on something that is out of our hands, our house is under contract with a potential back up offer in the works. 

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Nightly Routine.

Evey's nightly routine, as with most babies, includes a bath and a bottle. But every night after her bath and before her bottle, Evey and her dad take a look out onto Fieldcrest Drive while her dad combs her hair. Here they are now, Evey flirting with the neighbors across the street. 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Oh, hey. We're moving again.

So we put our house on the market late last night.  Thirty minutes ago our Realtor texted to tell us that we were getting an offer tomorrow.

ONE DAY.

That's even faster than our last home sale.

Honestly, it excites me to no end to start living in our forever home.  To set it up just the way we want it.  To raise our baby(ies) there.  But I just can't help but think that somewhere, right here in Pittsburgh, another couple is sitting in their home right now talking about their excitement about moving into this home.  And talking about all the memories they are going to make here.  In our home.  The home we were never 100% sold on.  But you know - it worked for us.  And it really did grow on me.  It was the home we picked to be ours when we moved home after five years in Virginia.  It was the home where I nurtured our baby in my belly for nine whole months.  It was the home our first baby came home to.

And she'll never remember it.  But we will.

Friday, April 4, 2014

April 5, 2014

I've been off work for the past two weeks just waiting for the baby to make his/her appearance.  My doctor advised me to take what was supposed to be the week off before the baby was due - but here we are two weeks later JUST WAITING.  Zach took yesterday and today off because he said he just can't focus anymore.

We spent Wednesday night/yesterday together just wrapping up some last minute things we wanted to do before baby - you know, things like replace our down comforter with a summer quilt; fixing the doorknob on the nursery; unclogging the laundry tub drain; filling space bags full of comforters, pillows, and blankets and sucking the air out of them (SO FUN!); re-re-organizing all the diapers and the closets; building the rocking chair; napping; eating pizza; playing Dr. Mario.

We're ready.  Which is good.  Because unless baby decides in the next few hours that today should be his/her birthday, we are off to the hospital tomorrow where I will be induced into full blown labor.  Which means baby comes tomorrow.  April 5, 2014.

My doctor scheduled my induction for the 3AM-7AM time slot.  Which sounds awful.  And while I understand that babies will come when babies will come, SCHEDULING the baby to come at 3AM seems...un-American.  But the doctor said that doesn't really mean that's when it will be.  It essentially means I am on the list for one of the first inductions of the day.  If they are super busy delivering babies who aren't being quite as stubborn as Baby Milton, they may not call until noon.

My mom is sleeping over tonight just in case.  Whenever they call, we will go.  And that will be that.

And when we come home we will have a baby with us.  Which is pretty awesome and a little surreal considering I've been carrying this baby around for 41 weeks and finally I'll get to touch his/her little fingers.  And hear his/her voice.  And smell his/her head.  Which is the best smell in the world.

Monday, March 31, 2014

A Tale of Two Cats

Still no baby.

But I do have a good story about our cats to hold you over until this blog undeniably and unavoidably becomes a blog about babies.  Well probably just one baby in particular.  Because that will be my life here in a few days.  (Hours? COME ON, BABY.)

Anyway.  Cats.  Babies.  We know how to party around here, am I right?

We made appointments on Friday night to take the cats to the vet for the first time since we got them, you know just to make sure they were up to date on check-ups, shots, whatever.  We want to take Pockets to get groomed as soon as possible and she needed to have her shots.  We want to take Shawn too, but now is the best time as any to tell you that Shawn is never allowed to leave the house again.  Read on for details.

So Zach came home early so he could be in charge of rounding up the cats into their carriers.  Pockets wasn't happy, but she went in with little fight.  Shawn, on the other hand, had to be wrapped up in a Shawn-a-rito (picture Baby Jesus swaddled in a cat hair covered towel and pretty much forcibly SHOVED into his cat crate.

Then he immediately got out.  Twice.

By now, Zach is slinging every swear word possible and I am ear-muffing my belly.

So Zach finally figures out that his crate isn't latching right.  He fixes that and goes after Shawn one more time.  By this time I am in the upstairs bathroom and I hear silence for while, then what sounds like Shawn going into his cage, subsequently Shawn getting OUT of his cage, the pitter patter of little cat feet, then what sounds like Zach pounding a hammer on the floor, more swear words, and then I see Shawn (with his tail between his legs) crawling into the bathtub in the bathroom where I am.

So I call down to tell Zach that I have Shawn in the bathroom with the door closed whenever he is ready.  He doesn't answer right away but soon enough appears in the doorway.  And his jeans around his knee are wet.

I'm laughing, just a little, at this point.

Me - What happened?
Zach - Well, I got a hold of Shawn and as I was taking him through the kitchen to the basement to put him in his carrier, he unloaded the biggest pee all over the kitchen floor.
Me - What do you mean by "all over"?
Zach - I had him in my hands and I didn't realize he was peeing until I got to the top of the steps.  So I stopped there where he continued to unload for at least 30 seconds.
Me - No way he peed for 30 seconds.
Zach - And then when he was done, I shook him a little to get the drips off and took him to the basement to put him in the carrier.  But he got out again and as I was chasing him up the steps I slipped in his pee and fell on my knee.
Me - ...
Zach - I'm thinking we just take them to the vet's and just leave them there.

So we shut the bathroom door, got him in his carrier, and after 3 failed attempts made sure his cage was locked before opening the door to the bathroom, bleached the hell out of the kitchen floor, loaded the cats into the car, and took them to the vet where they both got a clean bill of health.  But not before the doctor made this comment about Shawn as she was feeling around in his belly:

"His bladder is COMPLETELY empty."

No shit.

So all weekend, I've nicknamed Shawn "Pee Boy" and Zach "Pee Pants".  Zach said I shouldn't call Shawn that because he is embarrassed and how would I feel if I was in the same place for two years, didn't speak English, and someone 20 times my size came at me with a towel and shoved me into a box.  He said I would probably pee my pants too.  Which I guess is probably accurate.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

31.5 hours

Literally only 31.5 hours stand between us and our baby's due date.  And I'm not scared at all.  I'm not nervous and I'm not worried.  I actually have quite a calm about me.

And I'm pretty sure it's because I've convinced myself it's just not going to happen.

We've literally spent the last nine months preparing for this baby - all the while watching my belly grow bigger.  We decorated a nursery.  We took a birthing class and a breastfeeding class.  We picked a pediatrician.  We acquired a million new baby "things" and built them.

And it's really just become a part of our lives.  We were able to ease into it because we had nine whole months to do "it".  To prepare.  To make room.  To fall in love.  Even though that took no time at all.

So it just seems so unreal that things are about to change so dramatically.  And even though we are so ready for it, it's just so hard to believe that it is almost to meet our baby.

The anticipation is unfathomable.  The excitement is incomprehensible.  There are truly no words.

We cannot wait to meet and get to know this baby.  To find out if our first born is a son or a daughter.  To shape our baby's soul.  To teach our baby EVERYTHING.  To learn about our baby's dreams.  To find out if the baby will be more like me or more like Zach or maybe the perfect mixture of us both.

We just can't wait.