then and now {frocktober, day 26}

Cat Dress: LOFT (old)
Remixed here, here, and here

Gosh, I love this cat dress. It's definitely one of my go-to dresses for work. I've worn it a lot, though I've only featured it on the blog a few times. It's incredibly comfortable and can be worn as-is. That may not seem like a big deal, but it is. I have to confess, I have far too many dresses that don't function that easily. Strapless, spaghetti-strap, open-backed. Those are fun to remix and layer, but I only have a few fantastic dresses that need no tampering with - they're perfect and outfit ready on their own. This is one of them.

I posted a great before/after photo on my Instagram of me wearing this dress earlier in my pregnancy (18 weeks) and then wearing it again yesterday, at 30 (almost 31) weeks. I think I'll retire this dress now until post-pregnancy. Those cats are looking pretty stretched. ;)

Instagram: 18 weeks // 30 weeks

29 weeks {frocktober, day 14}

Dress (worn here, here and here): gifted, Sweater: forever 21

Wednesday marked the 29th week for this baby boy. Which means 11 weeks until he's born. Unless he comes early. Which I can't quite think about at the moment. 

I utilize The Bump app for my weekly baby updates, and it mentioned that I should make sure that the nursery is stocked this week and that we should begin packing our hospital bag. I only panicked a tiny amount. Because WE'RE STILL HOMELESS. That's not true, I'm being dramatic. 

But THERE IS NO NURSERY AND IT IS NOT STOCKED AND I HAVE NO BAGS, especially not a "hospital" bag. We have none of the things. Zero things. If I went into labor and our poor sweet son came into the world tonight, we'd be wrapping him into a pair of daddy's sweats and carrying him like a football all the way home, where we'd lovingly place him in a padded drawer to go night night. We have zero things, people.

As all parents do, we will somehow figure it out. Every day that this baby stays in there is a big hallelujah. I want him to grow big (but not too big) and strong and be ready to greet us when the time comes. It seems impossible that we're closing in on 30 weeks already. We cherish his presence and are constantly torn by our impatience to meet him and our desire to slow the rest of this pregnancy down, enjoying our time together and taking the necessary days to finish all of our house projects and actually move in. Whether we choose impatience or attempt to stop time, these next two months are going to go by faster than any in my lifetime of memory. I have a feeling time will continue to go by at this startling pace once he's in our arms, too. It's such an endeavor to cherish our days, even (and maybe especially) the mundane ones.

This month is Infant Loss Awareness Month. October 15th specifically is the annual day that's set aside to recognize Infant Loss and what it means for so many of us. It has been heavy on my heart today. Our sweet Poppy's due date would have been October 26th. It's a date I have been anticipating and dreading for many months now. Our loss is complexified by the immense joy we feel every time William's heartbeat thumps against our own hearts and his little kicks push against our hands. It's difficult to put into words how that hope and heartache intertwine. But today, I honor Poppy by remembering her in ways that only I can. I cry and rejoice in the same breath. I am so grateful for her life. Short, sweet, vibrant. I look forward to heaven in a new light, and to the many perfect faces we will see there. So many precious babies. 

Thinking of you and yours on this day - those I know and those I do not. May you remember your lost children and have hope that they have been found in the arms of Jesus. 

reasons to panic

My best friend bought me this incredibly appropriate journal, 100 Reasons to Panic About Having a Baby: A Journal for the Knocked Up. Every few days I jot a few thoughts down, sometimes happy and anticipatory, sometimes more of the freak-out variety. At the bottom of each page is a totally valid reason to panic (ie: I'll think my baby is ugly) and an encouraging or humorous response (ie: if you spent 9 months cooped up in a small, dark space you'd be looking pretty rough, too. It'll get cuter).

My entries in this journal have jumped from describing my total breakdown when I discovered my first stretch marks, to documenting the incredible joy of our gender reveal and the overwhelming love I already feel for our little boy. Will. Saying his name is really weird and wonderful. The truth is, there really are 100 reasons to panic about having a baby. Maybe even more. For me, a ton of those reasons have to do with becoming a mom. How can I possibly prepare for such a role?

20 weeks! 

The answer, and I think many other moms will agree, is that I can't. Most of the preparations I allow myself at this point are just to make me feel better, but no matter what we do we'll be flying quite ungracefully by the seat of our pants.

Hallelujah. I find that to be rather freeing. I can take a breath when I go over my 13+ pages of recommended registry items and remind myself that last-minute runs to Target are always an option. I can trust that the stroller I choose will be totally fine. I can expect to encounter those vain moments of panic about my body's changes and the fears and insecurities I'm often confronted with. I can pretty confidently say that I will continue putting diapers on backwards. I can smile and nod at the sometimes unpleasant advice of other parents and remain firmly in the camp of Say No to Mom Wars. 

The realization I came to on Wednesday, when I had the rather sobering thought that at 20 weeks I am halfway to having a baby, is that William won't know the difference between an amateur mom and an expert one. Maybe there really isn't such a thing as an expert mom because children keep things crazy. It's part of their purpose and identity. Children are the delightful labyrinths of life. I am Will's mom, his one and only silly flawed loving mom. We were made for each other. We're literally sharing a body; he's camped out beneath my heart, making his presence known. We're in this together. I don't need to put pressure on myself to jump 100 steps ahead - every single mother on earth starts right here.

Right here, feeling the little belly kisses of their boy or girl, wondering what they'll be like and how life will change. Right here, registering for things they've never even heard of. Right here, experiencing physical and emotional changes that take them completely by surprise. Right here, scared of labor, hoping for the best, anxious to see their baby's face, hoping their baby is cute, knowing they'll love them anyway.

Right here is a pretty great place to start.