A letter to Baby Bee: My Big Girl at 9 months

Dear Baby Bee,
We have started this little game now where I ask, where is mommy's baby? I pat my big round tummy. Then you pat my big round tummy. I ask, where is mommy's big girl? And I point to you. Because you are now a big baby and will be a big sister in just over 3 months. I can hardly believe this is happening to us, Bee, it is so bittersweet that it takes my breath far far away.

You are now my big baby who is doing all kinds of big baby things. You are eating food with your fingers and from a spoon and from the floor when I can't get there in time. You love watching me dance around the kitchen while I cut bananas and make your oatmeal. Our mornings are really fun together. By now you are an expert at crawling super fast and breathe heavily through your nose when you're on the move. We've nicknamed you "bulldog" because we can always tell when you are coming, arms pinned out to the sides, tongue out. You can stand and walk along furniture like a pro and will walk forever holding onto our hands.

You are beginning to really love and comprehend books and will anticipate certain pages of your favorite stories, leaning in to give slobbery kisses to the babies and animals. You are the sweetest little thing. I am lucky to spend my days with you, being the number one recipient of lots of pats and cuddles and kisses. When you wake up from a nap I stand outside your door and knock so you know I'm coming in. I am always greeted with a big gummy smile and I feel a little like a rock star. This is all the fame I will ever need in the world. I swoop you in my arms and you crash your head onto my shoulder and pat my back gently. In those moments I want to drink you up, every ounce of your pure baby sweetness.

You have outgrown taking baths in the kitchen sink and are getting quite comfortable splashing around in the big tub. You will grab at the mysterious bubbles and watch them disappear in your hands. Sometimes I can't resist climbing in there with you. Sharing a bath with you is usually the very best part of my day. You have bath toys of course, but the red Solo cup is by far the most preferred guest. I pour warm water down your back and daddy pours warm water down mine. We cherish these little intimate moments created as a family. The three of us are happiest when we are all together.

You love to be out and about, taking in the world perched in a shopping cart. However, at nine months, you have a strong preference for me or your dad, but not really anyone else. You tend to get very nervous when others hold you. I know you will outgrow it, and someday will not think twice about being away from me. Of course I don't mind for a second being your favored company. I waited a long time to be someone's momma. I'm so lucky to be yours, Bee.

You are absolutely the light of your dad's life. And the feeling is quite mutual! He hopes that you wake up early enough in the morning so he can see you before work. In the evenings you now recognize the sound of him coming through the door and rush to his feet for a hug and kiss. The two of you will wrestle gently on the living room floor for hours. You climb up and over every angle of him, smiling and giggling the whole way. For a momma, there is nothing like this feeling in the world.
We've started the weaning process, you and I, and OH my baby girl. This has been much harder on me than I ever expected. Part of me never wants to give this up. Nursing you has been one of the greatest joys of my entire life. These days we are down to just two feedings per day and I feel the end is drawing near for this special time between us. Pretty much everything about breast-feeding has surprised me, including how much I have absolutely loved it. I've wept for hours at just the thought of stopping. It becomes especially difficult because my time alone with you is growing short. And while I will never love you any less, I know having a little brother in our lives will change everything.

We have 3 more months baby girl, lets make the most of it.  
Love,
Momma

A Letter to Baby Bee: The Birth Story (part II)

{This is so long. But how do you compress the most significant event in your whole life? xo}

Dear Baby Bee,
On the night you were born I held you tight in my arms, kissed your irresistible soft lips and whispered I love you, Phoebe over and over. You looked at me with eyes wide open and I recognized you immediately because we were not strangers, you and I, we were finally together again. But there is even more to it than that...
After getting settled in at the hospital the nurse had taken my vitals, began monitoring your heart rate, and reassured me that I was absolutely without a doubt positively in labor having a baby today. And dilated 4 cm! My heart was giddy and your dad sent out text messages from my bedside alerting family and friends that you were on the way. Nowhere in my psyche was I planning on having a June baby. I looked at the clock and realized we had a lot of work to do before midnight. 
As the contractions intensified your dad and the nurses began assisting me with breathing iiiiiiiin ... and ouuuut ... I couldn't wait to get off my back and out of that hospital bed to take a bath, walk around, or at least lean forward. Dr. Lash came to check on us and see how things were progressing. At around 4:00 pm he broke my water and instantly he and the nurse looked at each other and exchanged a series of Oh! Ohhhhhhh. Ohs. There was meconium in my amniotic fluid. 

I could tell that Dr. Lash was troubled as he gently explained what the meconium meant and the possible risk that you could aspirate that fluid into your lungs when you take your first breaths. This revelation changed the course of the labor and it meant that I would need to remain in bed (epidural please!) with an IV pushing fluids through the uterus in order to flush as much meconium from me as possible. It also meant that when you were born they would immediately rush you away to ensure your health and safety. My heart sunk, but I accepted that I might have to wait a little longer to hold you in my arms. 
The anesthesiologist had to come back and juice-up the epidural after a couple more hours of labor because I was still feeling every contraction just as before. I'm convinced that hospital beds were not designed for laboring mothers, but anyway. Once I was finally feeling comfortable around 7:00 pm the nurse checked me again. "I can tug on all that dark hair!" she said once. Um....what? There must be some mistake, our baby is bald! The notion that you might have hair had never crossed our minds. My anticipation only grew and I wanted you out so badly. The epidural, while thankfully taking the edge off my pain, was also stalling the progression of labor at 7 cm dilation. Dr. Lash suggested I start on pitocin if I wanted to have this baby in May. By then I was in the very delightful get.the.baby.out.now phase of labor. By 10:00 pm I was fully dilated and ready to push. 
As they prepped the room for delivery your father sat excitedly by my bedside and held my hand. There was so much emotion in those last moments. We were here, after this long journey together, about to see our baby girl. All of a sudden the last 10 months seemed to flash by me in an instant. I felt no fear. I only wanted you in my arms. I asked him not to leave your side, to go with you wherever they take you after the birth and never take his eyes off you. As a few people bustled about in the room, the nurse prepped me about pushing, when and for how long. The epidural hadn't knocked out my legs and thankfully I had control of my own motion. I was ready!
The next 20 minutes until you were born were ... well, I don't even know how to describe it. I've been sitting on this letter for 2 months, not being able to articulate this part of your birth story accurately. I could feel the pressure of your body moving within mine. My body was telling me it was time to push.There was pressure, really uncomfortable pressure. There was pushing, about 5 hard pushes. There was love, encouragement, and sensitivity from the few that were there. Then suddenly after one strong push I felt you slip out. Just like that. All the pressure and pain just slipped right out. 

My body collapsed on the bed and I barely had the energy to crane my neck to see them wisk you away. I could hear your first cries from across the room and, baby girl, that is a sound I'll never forget. 

Dr. Lash got to work delivering the placenta. Only, the placenta wouldn't deliver. The situation got a little hairy and very unpleasant from here. But ultimately, the placenta was manually extracted (i.e. ripped out) and everything was fine. That was by far the worst part of your whole delivery.
When things had finally calmed down and mother and baby were both doing fine, your father brought you over to my bedside bundled like a burrito. I promptly unwrapped you like a present so I could see, touch, and feel the perfect little body which housed your spirit. Better than all the Christmases of my life wrapped in one moment. I poured over all your little features: long fingers and toes, big wide eyes, plump lips, round face and cheeks. Holy Cheeks! You had a scrumptious roll of fat at the back of your neck, evidence that you were in me for too long my dear. You reached up and touched my face with the back of your hand and I spoke softly to you, tears running down my checks. You are here and you are mine and you are perfect. And you are here! Thank God that you are here. 
Our lives will never be the same. Which is perfectly alright by me. Welcome, little one. 

Love, 
Momma   
 

PS, I had to include this photo because it's one of daddy's favorites

 

A letter to Baby Bee: A name and a blessing

Dear Baby Bee,
On Sunday July 29, 2012 you were given a name and a blessing by your father. It was a special day for our family and you looked absolutely angelic in the blessing dress Grandma Noni crocheted especially for you. The dress fit you perfectly and we were glad Grandma was able to be there for the blessing. At the end of the blessing you sneezed right in to the microphone! You really are so cute, even when it's by accident. After the blessing we had lunch down on the pool patio with family and friends who were there to celebrate you. There is no doubt, little one, that you are loved.

We carefully chose and gave you the name Phoebe, and we think it's a special one. Early in my pregnancy your dad and I were in Midway, UT, probably looking to satisfy a Mexican food craving of mine, when we drove past the Bonner Corners. The name Phoebe popped into my head and I mentally put it on our Baby Girl name list. I told Grandma that we were thinking about the name Phoebe and, of course, she became all happy crazy about it. The news spread to Aunt Sybil and before long a large envelope arrived at our house that contained original photographs of my great great grandparents George and Phoebe Bonner of Midway, UT. She also included photocopies of grandma Phoebe's handwritten autobiography.

That night we sat together on the edge of our bed as I read out loud her autobiography. Grandma Phoebe poured her heart onto those pages and spoke of blessings and trials from her life. She wrote:

I have a strong and abiding faith in and a testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which I have gained by the power and the manifestations of God. 

Tears flowed down both of our cheeks and your dad and I knew that she was a special person with a special name. The name Phoebe is feminine, strong, timeless, and we believe it suits you perfectly. It has a wonderful family heritage and we love that there will always be a historical landmark, the Bonner home in Midway, that will connect you to the physical place where grandma Phoebe lived. The name Phoebe means bright and shining one, and indeed you are my little one.

A Letter to Baby Bee: The Birth Story (part I)

Dear Baby Bee,

You were born at Salt Lake Regional Hospital in delivery room #5 on May 31st at 11:06 pm and weighed a healthy 8 lbs 7 oz and measured 18 inches long. We're pretty sure they shorted you a good two inches on your first measurement, but there is so much more to it than that...

On May 31st I was exactly 8 days overdue, meaning I was 41+ weeks pregnant. And miserable. You see, once expecting mommy's reach their expected due date they expect the baby will be born. Unexpectedly, that was not the case with you. Every day I went past my due date seemed like 5 10 20 more. I wanted so badly for my body to go into labor on its own, so I resisted being induced just for the sake of my own comfort. You would come when you were ready, I told myself over and over. The day before I waddled my big pregnant self into the hospital for a non-stress test, and fortunately everything was fine, we were both still handling the pregnancy well with no complications. Unfortunately, I was still pregnant and beginning to wonder if you would ever be born at all. I joked that because I wanted this pregnancy so badly Heavenly Father had blessed me with one of those rare Eternal Pregnancies.

I left the hospital feeling comforted that everything was fine. They had given me an ultrasound to measure the amniotic fluid (~12) which gave me a sneak peak of you on screen. You were definitely crammed tight in my belly, but I could make out a leg here and an arm there and your cute little profile. The ultrasound gave me renewed energy to wait it out a little longer. That afternoon I sat down by the pool and tried to read a book, but mostly I was daydreaming about you while trying to find a comfortable position to exist in.

By the time your dad came home that evening I was weepy and tired once more. We thought of ways to help induce my labor. I did 20 jumping jacks in the living room. We rode the elevator to the top floor and bounced down the 18 flights of stairs. Twice. Finally, we went swimming to help get my mind off it and eventually gave up and went to bed. I tossed and turned during the night and could tell that my body, not just my mind, was anxious too. I started to cry. I woke up your dad and he did his best to comfort me, even looking up statistics to show that 41 weeks was actually the average term length of healthy, uncomplicated pregnancies. Bless his heart. I wanted to kill him. And yet. I begged him to work from home the following day so I wouldn't have to be alone. He obliged and held me the rest of the night. Actually, he didn't. But he would have if I had let him.

In the morning it seemed my usual aches and pains were somehow even worse. I doubled over several times just walking around the house. I opted out of my daily morning walk and took a warm bath instead. My list of things to do before you were born was slowly growing shorter, but even still, I got dressed and headed out to the car dealership to have a spare key made. Wouldn't want to have a baby without a spare car key on hand, would we? As I was sitting in the waiting room lobby I slowed my focus to the contractions and the thought finally occurred to me that perhaps I was in labor. On the way home I admitted to myself that I was in a lot of pain. I told your dad that we should finish packing the hospital bag, just in case.

During the next hour I rocked on my exercise ball and we began timing my contractions (there's an app for that) only to realize they were starting about 5 minutes or less apart. Again I hesitated to believe I was actually in labor so I called Dr. Lash on his cell phone and explained what was happening. He chuckled, said it sounded like I was in labor and kindly suggested I go to the hospital - reassuring me that they would not turn me away at 41 weeks. He didn't have to tell me twice. We arrived at the hospital around 2:00 pm. You were going to be born in May after all!

This picture is just embarrassing on many many levels. And yet, I'm putting it on the internet.

A Letter to Baby Bee: 35 Weeks and it's getting hot in here

Dear Baby Bee,
At 35 weeks pregnant, your due date is sneaking up. I can now tell people that I'm having this baby next month. I'm beginning to wonder if sleeping on my stomach was really as amazing as I remember. Walking around with a space heater strapped to my abdomen, I am starting to see why all pregnancies must come to an end. It wasn't that long ago that I would have wanted to stay pregnant forever. But even my most roomy maternity clothes, the ones I thought would never fit, are now even becoming a little snug. It feels like you are growing bigger by the minute, your movements becoming stronger and more deliberate than ever, sometimes they literally take my breath away. All of these are good signs that soon we will meet.

It's best that I concentrate on the meeting you part, rather than the getting you out part. Because, HOOEY! how that is all going to happen is one big giant mystery that I can't yet comprehend. We took a Childhood Preparation class at the hospital. I've been reading all I can about labor and delivery. I've been asking everyone I know to share their own experiences. But even still, I'm not sure there is anything that can really prepare me. It's both terrifying and exciting all at once. We have faith it will work out in the end. Things generally do.

We've been working feverishly on preparing your nursery - with lots of help from Aunt Jen - and making sure it's just right. This is mostly for my benefit rather than for yours, but for some strange reason it feels really really important that it gets done. The room is bright and cheery; it's our favorite place in the house to be. Now, when your dad comes home he knows to find me in the nursery instead of the kitchen or living room. We can hardly walk past your room without stepping into it and running a hand over the crib rail. It sounds silly, but trust me, this is all very exciting for us.

While my nesting instinct keeps getting stronger and stronger, your dad has patiently been working through the endless honey-do lists I make for him. Just when he gets through with one, I've added more things to another. He's adamant that you are able to recognize his voice after you are born, so every night he's been picking out a book or two to read out loud. Lately, it's been all about Dr. Seuss. It's just the two of us in the room but there he is doing all the animal sounds and funny character voices. I'm unbelievably grateful that I have the chance to see this "daddy mode," a side of him I never expected. Everyone says it just keeps getting better. Little girls need great daddies, and while I'm obviously partial to him already, I think  you've got the very best.

Even with 5 weeks (+/-) left to go, there is still plenty that we need to do in preparation for your arrival. We have lots of fun to look forward to as well with upcoming baby showers and hopefully a pedicure or two for mom. The other night we attended the Salt Lake Temple with Grandpa and all of your Duncan aunts and uncles. You were highly active during the whole session - even getting hiccups toward the end - before you must have exhausted yourself completely and dozed off. I kept having the feeling again and again that you are, and will continue to be, the greatest joy of my whole life.

Love,
Momma

A Letter to Baby Bee: 26 weeks and growing

Dear Baby Bee,
Well, look at us now! When people ask me how far along I am in this pregnancy, I have to catch my breath before I broadcast the words six and a half months and pretend like it's no big deal. There is no question these days about whether I'm expecting: my rounding belly is clearly an indication that a little one is on the way. I've started to receive smiles and even an occasional wink from strangers at the grocery store who all seem to be saying "you go girl!" As I was standing in a waiting room lobby the other day, a very nice man piped up and asked me when I was due. In May, I beamed, rubbing one hand on my belly (because honestly what else are my hands supposed to do?). He congratulated me several times and talked wistfully of his own 5 kids, his baby now 12 years old. It goes by so fast, he said, and those years are hard but you'll find you won't trade them for anything. You know, I think he's right.

The added attention you bring sometimes makes me feel silly, sure, but all the same it's just one more indication that carrying a baby is a real honor. I feel genuinely supported about bringing you into the world from family, friends, co-workers, ward members, and even strangers no less. But none more-so than your sweet dad. In my opinion he's already won an Oscar for Best Actor in a Supporting Role. I'm prematurely nominating him for Father of the Year. You'll see.

But while we're on the topic, you and him had a special moment the other morning as he was laying his face on my belly and you seemed to be responding on queue. He would say, can you have a good day Little Bee? and you would kick! Then he would say, take care of your momma for me, and you would kick!! Then he would laugh and say, don't kick me in the face! only to get a huge round-house kick to the face :). Your timing was perfect and you filled his day with joy.

Believe it or not, we are gearing up for a big trip to Australia in just a few days, which seems to have taken precedence over painting your nursery. But don't worry, that will get done soon enough. And if your dad doesn't do it, your Aunt Jen surely will. We figure this will be the last stamp in our passports for a good long while. I'm very much looking forward to meeting long-time colleagues in the Brisbane office, but I'm more so looking forward to spending time away with your father. After this trip, our next family vacation will be with you. And it might be as exciting as driving 40 miles south to visit grandma and grandpa. But still, we will be a family of three before long. And that alone is going to be the adventure of a lifetime we've been waiting for.

Also this week, your momma is turning 30! I must say that the very best thing, by far, about turning 30 is knowing that you'll come into my life this very same year. Thirty all of a sudden doesn't seem so old and scary. I'll be experiencing many "firsts" this year, which will reset the needle for basically everything I know about life. Thirty is now this magical number that I'll always associate with this beautiful time of life when I became your mother. Which is exactly what I've always meant to be.

Love,
Momma

A Letter to Baby Bee: 22 Weeks and counting

Dear Baby Bee,
Sometimes we call you that, Baby Bee, among plenty of other ridiculous and equally embarrassing cutesy names too. No matter what we name you, I think you'll always be our Baby Bee. The first in our hive. Newsflash to mom and dad: you're hardly a little bee anymore. At 22 weeks all the pregnancy books say you weigh nearly one whole pound. Hard to imagine you were ever that microscopic blastocyst introduced to us in the fertility lab. You are now a constant part of my every day, we are officially a party of two, where everything about me has suddenly become about we.

I love feeling your every move. There is really nothing like it in the world. Just this morning in the parking garage I couldn't quite bring myself to go inside and run the risk of interrupting the boxing match you had begun. Each little kick and somersault you make quietly reassures me that you are there and reminds me that life for both of us is ever changing. I find my hands are more and more comfortable resting on my belly, sometimes I don't even realize I'm rubbing it. Or I'll catch myself swaying side to side if I happen to be thinking about you. I've always wondered why pregnant woman do silly things like that. Now I know.

Your father has started to feel you move too, which is all very exciting. I wish you could see the way his eyes light up when he feels you kicking. The first thing he wants to do when he gets home is peel through the layers of my clothes so he can see you up close. For some unknown reason he finds the full panel maternity pants to be uproariously hilarious. This coming from someone who wears full body spandex. "I need to see my baby girl," he'll request and then press a whiskered cheek to my stomach. He continues to be fascinated by all these sudden changes to my body, especially my protruding belly, which every day seems to poke out a little bit further. No doubt, a good sign you are making yourself right at home in there. And just because he knows it'll warrant an overreaction from me, he loves to stick a wiggling finger right into my belly button claiming that's how he is able to be closest to you. I roll my eyes of course, but in truth I couldn't be happier that he is infatuated with you. With us. I certainly can't argue with his intentions.

Often at night when we are winding down in bed and talking about our days, I turn on a Mozart playlist on my iPhone and let it rest on top of my baby bump. We pretend to think this is going to make you a brilliant genius. In fact, we have countless hopes and dreams for you. But I won't tell you what they are. You will have hopes and dreams all your own, and those are the ones you should follow. Although, I know it wouldn't hurt your dad's feelings if you happen to love a good road trip. I certainly wouldn't mind if you developed a penchant for taking long Sunday naps snuggled with me.

In so many ways this pregnancy is moving all too quickly. I often wonder if I am enjoying it enough, or appreciating this moment knowing that the three of us will never have it again. Everything about pregnancy continues to mystify me, even I catch glimpses of my belly in the mirror and think, who is this pregnant woman? One thing I do know through all the blood, sweat, and tears: it's been well worth the fight. Happy to have you on board here my little one, our precious Baby Bee.

Love,
Momma