The luckiest.

I am deep in the honeymoon phase of being a newlywed.  I feel like I hit this stage when Spencer and I went on our first date, and I am still riding the same wave.  I feel so lucky.  In a hundred lifetimes, and in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I would find him and I would choose him.  Every. Single. Time. 

In all of the chaos of the last couple of weeks, from getting married (!!!) to our beach vacation, to our car accident and subsequent overnight hospitalization, he has been my rock.  When I have wanted to cry, he has picked me up and calmed me down, and when I have needed to cry, he has assured me that that's okay too. He has been the calm through the storm.  I'm not sure how he maintains his cool, but he manages to even when I feel like I am breaking apart.

I admire that he is a hard worker, providing for our family without fail.  He is successful in his job, and in all that he pursues.  How lucky am I that he is mine? He is an involved and loving father to three kids already.  I tear up when I think about him holding our daughter for the first time.  Our daughter.  Mine and his.  I have butterflies thinking about the fact that we have created life together that we will love and teach and watch grow together.

When we are laying in bed together, sometimes when he's already asleep and sometimes when he's just starting to fade out, I look at him and can't help but think, "how did I get so lucky?".  I don't know what I have done in life to be granted this type of happiness, but I am forever grateful.  I am not a religious person, and have only delved into religion a few times in my life, always for brief periods.  It has never stuck, but my husband?  He makes me feel like there must be more.  I have had this growing feeling inside of me that we were placed in each other's lives by something much greater than ourselves.  I don't know what that means or where the feeling comes from, but I know that it must be true.  He makes me want to explore that feeling more.

Sometimes, I wish that he could see himself through my eyes.  I think that, only then, he could realize how truly special he is.  I am completely overwhelmed by how he makes me feel.  I have met my match.

Vices.

I am nearly 31 weeks pregnant, and I miss my vices. Yes, I have been harboring a human inside of my uterus for more than 6 months, and now that we are in the home stretch, I am really missing all of the wonderful things that I've given up to ensure a healthy a child.

I miss beer. I miss Fireball shots shared amongst friends. I miss eyes-locked "cheers". I miss the fuzzy feeling. But mostly, I miss cranberry Red Bulls mixed with Naked Turtle silver rum. My favorite.

I realize this might make me sound like an alcoholic. Some people can't give up the Diet Coke. There are the self-proclaimed "chocoholics". I can't live without my favorite indulgences either. Except I can. Because I am. For the greater good, of course. But, boy, I can't wait to be able to indulge a little after Lyric is born.

I miss laid back porch-sitting, throwing-back-a-few nights with Spencer while we played endless games of dart challenges. I think we learned the most about each other on those nights in the beginning. I'd never felt so at home with someone I so barely knew. Maybe that's why I miss those vices. They are a reminder to how hard and fast I fell for this man. They are tied to our very first memories of icebreakers and belly laughs. Of sultry glances and the first time I felt that "weak-in-the-knees" emotion deep inside, when I knew I was never letting this one go. They helped to create the memories that we had no idea would become the roots of something much greater.

Life has moved quickly for us, but I've lived every bit of it to the extent of never wanting to forget a moment. It has been the fastest ride of our lives, but I don't regret an ounce of it.  I am so grateful for that.

Four kids and the love of my life.

I've often thought how whirlwind the last few years have been, and I find myself thinking that with every year that passes.  I've come to the conclusion that the past few years being a whirlwind is no coincidence.  Life, in general, is apparently extremely whirlwind, and it'll be that way forever, or at least for the foreseeable future. 

I've basically skipped having three kids altogether, and am essentially going straight from two to four.  In the past, I've had one child, and then two of my own, and then my boyfriend and thus, his son, entered the picture.  And then my boyfriend proposed, and I found myself trying to grasp having a stepson one day.  But, it was mostly always my kids plus his son.  Since getting pregnant with my third though, and my fiance's second, I've somehow gone from trying to grasp having a stepson to actually feeling like he's one of my own.  One of our own.  In class earlier this week, I caught myself telling someone I was "about to have my fourth" when someone asked if I was expecting my first baby.  Fox isn't just my fiance's son anymore, he's one of ours.  I love him like I love my own.  I have a hard time understanding him sometimes, something I've just attributed to the fact that he's not my flesh and blood, but in all reality, I have just as hard a time understanding my daughter most days, and she's straight from the womb. Somehow, he and I - well, we've found ourselves parents to four kids.

I am in awe of Spencer nearly constantly.  I've had my hormonal moments while pregnant... to be expected, of course.  I've found myself taking his typical sarcastic jokes to heart.  I sit there, my mind telling me "don't take this personal. Seriously, it's not that serious.  You know he's joking just like you always do.  Stop. Now. Seriously, don't be upset about this".  And yet, my heart is welling up with hurt and tears and biting back my overly emotional reaction.  I've been tough to live with, I'm sure, and yet, he's pretty much handled it like a pro.  It's ridiculous how often I feel that stupid, giddy feeling when I think about him.  I find out he's on his way home, and I get so excited to hear the garage door open and his Jeep door slam.  He sends me a simple "how are the kids doing?" text after he knows I've picked them up from school, and it makes my whole day feel better.  I just find myself loving him more everyday, and I can't imagine that feeling ever going away.  I can't wait for him to hold our daughter.  I know that my love will grow by leaps and bounds when we've made it through to the other side of this pregnancy, and his daddy's girl is here to greet the world. 

Untested Virtue.

My two very curious kids have been asking me some pretty tough questions lately.  I've already gotten the questions like "how did Spencer put the baby in your tummy, Mama?" and "well, how will the baby come out?"  I'm totally fine answering those questions in scientifically, yet age-appropriate ways, and the kids seem to be cool with the answers I've given.  The questions I haven't been prepared for, though, are things like my 3 year old son asking me, "who made the world, Mama?" and my daughter following up with "but who put the stars and the sun and the moon in the sky?"  I of course can't give my 3 and 5 year olds an answer about cosmos and nebulas and supernovas and the Big Bang Theory because 1) they won't understand it which will leave them confused and frustrated and 2) I don't even have a good grasp of what that all means.

I am not a religious person.  I was not raised religious, and never grew up in a church.  I dabbled in going to church in middle and high school, when my friends and I found a Unitarian church that we were pretty intrigued by.  It was a welcoming place, but I never gave much thought to the things I was actually learning in the youth group, so my takeaway was next to nothing, except that church wasn't as bad as I'd always imagined.  When I went away to college, I jumped head first, full speed ahead into the church.  I knew very few people when I started at Coastal Carolina University, so I tagged along with my then-fiance's sister and her roommate, and I found myself going to weekly meetings at a group called Refuge.  This is where I got my first real introduction to Christianity.  I went to a Methodist church every Sunday, and actually felt very at home there.  I came very close to getting baptized, and had a very few real moments of "wow, I think I actually believe in this stuff".  I remember one specifically when I was sitting at my desk in my dorm room, on the phone with a friend named Aaron.  We were discussing my recent breakup with my fiance, and he was trying to be encouraging.  I flipped open the bible (my very first bible) that I had recently been given, and the first passage I laid eyes on gave me exactly the guidance and answer that I'd been seeking.  I can't remember the passage now... I wish I could, but I remember thinking, "did that really just happen?" and wondering if, truly, there was a God looking out for me.

Fast forward a few months, and I fell away from it all.  I began to see the very judgmental sides of some of the friends I had made in the Christian community, and in the end, it disillusioned me to it all.  I felt like I was in an all-or-nothing community, where I had to be a bible-thumping, God-fearing, Jesus freak.  Questions weren't allowed here, and I fell away from it just as soon as I'd fallen into it.  Since then, I've never revisited it much, except inside of my own head. 

I remember expressing to my ex-husband how much I wished that we could raise our kids in the church.  I'd seen my friends growing up who had friends from birth onward that they grew up together in the church with, and I always felt some serious jealousy.  I was envious of that beautiful community that they were all a part of.  At the end of the day though, I've never been able to really commit myself to believing in the higher power that the majority of the world has such faith in.  I'm a big proponent of "you have to see it to believe it", and since I've never seen any such proof, I can't seem to wrap my head around it.  I would love to, and I have such envy for people who can have that unwavering faith, but I guess I'm not one of those people, even if I desire to be. 

Anyway, I'm at a loss as to how to answer the questions.  Do I answer them the way I want to answer them, even if I have no faith to back that up?  Or do I answer them by stalling and giving as best of a scientific answer as I can, which, thus far, has been a lot of "I don't know"?  The kids' dad is not religious, by any means, and he hasn't had much input as to what we tell them.  On the other hand, Spencer does believe in God and always has, and I wonder then what we will tell our child together, if we have differing beliefs. 

Daddy's Girl.

      I have to say that I feel like the luckiest lady in the world when I think about my sweet family.  Spencer and I found out last week that we are having a sweet little girl in July.  I wasn't sure if I had a preference one way or the other, and honestly thought that I'd kind of wanted another little boy.  But when the ultrasound tech told us that it was "definitely" a girl, I felt my heart swell up and I was just so excited.  I am ecstatic that I am growing a little girl inside that is Spencer's little girl.  I see the way he treats my daughter, and he is a wonderful role model.  He builds her up, uses unbelievable amounts of patience, and always manages to be convinced by her to read just a few more pages at bedtime.  I think it's safe to say that she's fairly tightly wrapped around his finger, even if he's only her stepfather.  I am so excited to see him with his own daughter in just a few months. 
      Spencer has been so excited since the ultrasound last week, and sometimes it seems that if he's not at work, then his nose is in the baby name book.  We do have a name picked out that we are pretty set on, but not set enough that we have announced it to the world.  It seems pretty perfect for our girl, and is comprised of a name that I chose and a name that Spencer chose. I think finding out the sex of the baby was what he needed to get really excited about the impending arrival.  I imagine the pregnancy will only fly from here on out, and before we know it, we'll be staring at a list of must-haves and realizing that we've only got a few weeks left until The Day.  All we can do at this point is to sit back and enjoy the ride from here on out.  It seems like it's going to be a fast one, no doubt.

Halfway.

In a couple of days, Spencer and I will be just about halfway, give or take a few days, to meeting our little boy or girl.  I am 19 weeks and 4 days today, but July 2nd still seems a long way off yet.  We find out the sex of the baby a week from today, and I am definitely ready to get another peek at our little one.  Aside from wanting to know if I'm carrying a little brother or sister in there, I am looking forward to the ultrasound to see the growth of the baby, to ensure that all of the necessary parts are present and accounted for and working just as they should.  So far, all prenatal testing has come out just fine, but the anatomy scan is always helpful at easing my mind.  Instincts have told me all along that I am carrying a little girl, but I've been so sure that it wouldn't surprise me in the least if a boy was in there just to give me a little surprise.  Like all parents, I'll be happy either way, and honestly don't know if I have a preference for one sex over the other.  My girl, Cori, is a handful and a diva, and honestly, the thought of battling it out with two girls sounds mildly terrifying.  That said, a girl would be neat to even out our two boys and one girl, and to give Spencer the pleasure of raising a little girl all his own.  On the other hand, boys sure are sweet, and tend to be so much easier... at least in my experience.  Either way, I am so excited to find out next week, and truly can't wait.  We have a lot of pretty solid candidates for baby names, but haven't settled on anything definite for either boy or girl.  While I find it hard to believe that I'm already halfway done with this pregnancy, I also feel like I've been waiting forever for the mid-point anatomy scan.  I'm in no rush to the end of the pregnancy by any means though.  I am pleasantly happy with keeping this little one growing on the inside for as long as he or she needs me to.  Babies are, after all, much easier on the inside than on the outside. :)

We have been living in our new house for about two weeks now, and I am in love with it more and more as we settle in.  It is becoming our home, and I am beginning to imagine what it will be like to bring a new little one home here.  The kids are thriving in the new house, loving the extra space inside and out.  Fox is picking up on potty training all of the sudden, and seems to be getting very excited at the prospect of being a big brother.  When we ask him, he insists he'll be having a baby sister, and Cori and Avery seem to think the same thing.  Fox will be transitioning from daycare to K3 soon, and I wonder how that, as well as a new baby, will affect him.  He seems to have really come around to me finally, and doesn't cling to Spencer's side like he did for so long when we first moved in together.  Life with two different homes is all he knows anymore, just like Cori and Avery.  Speaking of - Cori and Avery are both doing wonderfully in K3 and K4, and have surpassed what they were supposed to learn this school year.  Cori spends her days drawing and writing constantly, and I imagine she is a born writer.  My question is what to do with the stacks and stacks of books and papers and drawings that she produces every single day.  I imagine at this rate, our entire attic space will be filled with boxes of Cori's artwork.  Soon, she'll be reading I know, and I'm sure we'll never be able to get her to stop from there, which is just fine with me.  Avery has come out of his shell a lot this school year, and while he still clings to me some mornings at drop off, he has gained a lot of independence.  The three of them together get on quite well, but certainly have their sibling rivalry going for them.  Cori and Fox like to gang up on Avery sometimes, but ten minutes later, Fox and Avery are racing trucks around their bedroom floor, and Cori is screaming from across the hall that no boys are allowed in her room.  Ah, kids.

I often wonder how in the world I so quickly found myself here in life, mother to a 3 and 5 year old, stepmom to a 2 year old, and expecting a new baby with my soon-to-be 2nd husband.  Life sure is funny, and really has no way of letting you know what's going to happen down the road, but it sure is a blessing.  I am grateful every morning when I wake up that I wake up next to a man that I feel is surely the mate to my very soul, and that just down the hallway, we have the most wonderful bunch of children amongst ourselves.  I hope I can always find myself in a moment like this, admiring where life has brought me, and appreciating the tough times that always lead to something greater.

Godspeed.

My little girl tells me that she hopes the baby in my tummy is a girl.  "Well, what if it's a boy?", I ask her.  "Boooooring!", she responds.  My son just hopes it's a puppy.  As for me, it doesn't matter because I'm carrying Spencer's baby.  He is going to be the father of my third child, and I can't get over the giddy, happy, tingly feeling that gives me.  If I'm being honest, I have the inclination that this little one inside is a girl.  My pregnancy so far reminds me much of my first pregnancy, the one that resulted in my sweet, argumentative little Cori.  Spencer seems to think it's a boy this round, and if it is, that'll be exciting too.  Cori may pick up her dollies and hit the road if we add another boy to the mix, but I'm sure she'll grow to love him (and boss him around....) just like her other brothers.  We've still got several months before we find out the gender, and I'm trying to appreciate the time between now and then.  After all, this will be the last time I get the excitement that comes when you are just about to find out what gender the little one you're carrying is. It will be a very exciting 2015... that, I can say.

We are in the process of purchasing our first home, and have less than a month until closing.  It is our dream home, and we are fortunate that we are in this position.  I am fortunate that I am in this position with Spencer, that we are in this together.  It is the perfect home for our growing family, and I will be so relieved and excited once we are holding the key in our hands.  This is the home that I imagine we will be in for the rest of our lives, the one that our children will bring our grandchildren home to for the holidays, and that Spencer and I will grow old together in as a married couple.  I'm excited for this home-owning adventure to begin for us, as new and scary as it is.

And if a new baby and home buying weren't big enough challenges for Spencer and me to face together, he asked me to marry him last month.  We shopped together for engagement rings two days before I had any idea that I was pregnant.  This was also the day we truly sat down and began to discuss purchasing our first home.  We looked and tried on and sized so many different rings, and we talked about the size of homes that we were interested in, areas in which we'd want to live.  This all happened on a Sunday, when I truly had no idea that inside of me grew a five week old baby.  When we discovered that I was pregnant, we immediately revisited our discussion of engagement.  It became clear that perhaps our sights shouldn't be on engagement right away, but rather on preparing for the unexpected blessing that was coming our way sooner rather than later.  I felt sure after our discussion that we would plan for an engagement and a wedding after the baby made its arrival, and I was okay with that.  I was a little sad at first, of course, because I wanted to be engaged to the man of my dreams, but I also didn't want the judgment that undoubtedly would come from those who felt we were only getting engaged because of our unexpected 'situation', had he proposed at that point.

Little did I know, Spencer already had his proposal in the works, and when he proposed to me on November 23rd, a Sunday only three weeks after our initial ring shopping, I was speechless.  I had no idea how he could have possibly done all that he had to prepare for the proposal when we had both been so busy over the last several weeks with doctor visits,  home inspections, and so many mortgage papers to sign, we could hardly find time to eat dinner at night.  But somehow, he had planned and he had purchased the perfect ring, and when he proposed to me, I could not have been happier or more surprised.  He made me realize that our love is what is most important in our own lives, and that anybody in our lives that truly knows and loves us, would know that this was a natural progression of our relationship for us, baby or not.  I am the luckiest girl in the whole world.  He sees me inside and out, and he fends off the inevitable fears that I have when it comes to judgment and the baby and home buying and life in general.

Fortunately for us, through all of this, life has gotten easier on the ex-husband front.  Raising children with Jesse has gotten exponentially easier, better, more fun than it was for so long after our separation.  Arguments are a rarity, and we openly communicate about the kids and their schedules on a regular basis.  We have a "set schedule", but we vary from it from time to time based on work schedules or family gatherings on either side.  We switch or share holidays, and the kids seem much happier.  We've shared ultrasound pictures of mine and Spencer's baby, and the baby that he and his fiancee are expecting about a month ahead of us.  He and his fiancee come into our home regularly, and we are all able to laugh and talk and discuss all that is going on in our lives.  On the other side of the fence, life seems to stay difficult on the ex wife front.  There is near daily drama involving Spencer's ex, and she is a very hateful person towards Spencer and our family.  I know that it makes raising his son difficult with her because rather than openly communicating about their son, Spencer is often made to play a game in where he must always choose his words so carefully, he is not even able to share his true feelings on certain matters.  Sometimes I wonder if he realizes what a good man he is, for the role he plays in his son's life, for the energy he puts into conflict avoidance.  Even when I've lost my last nerve in regards to her latest antics, he still maintains the face of calm and somehow gets through it.  Surely, it must be a skill he gained over the many years that he grew to know her, but it is undoubtedly admirable. 

Believe it or not, I pray daily, sometimes twice or more daily, that one day, she will shed her hatred of his happiness and that they will grow as a parental unit together.  Even six or eight months ago, I never would have envisioned that raising children with Jesse would be as effortless as it now is, but somehow that happened, and I hope that one day, Spencer will experience the same. 

I worry about how our family life will change when our new addition makes his or her arrival.  It can be very difficult to raise three children that have different parents together in the same house, but we manage to do it pretty well so far.  Surely, and hopefully, adding a child of our own to the mix won't be much more difficult than the challenges we already face, but I'm certain it will have its own set of challenges to navigate between ourselves and the siblings.

On that note... here's to a brand new baby, a brand new home, an impending marriage to the love of my life, and to healed and renewed relationships between all of the parties involved in our family's lives.