little black journal

Welp, when I started putting this post together a week ago I had only one surprise announcement: we’re having a baby! Baby boy Schnell due…today! Turns out I wasn’t quick enough on the Publish trigger, though, because as of last Tuesday the even bigger news is: we HAD a baby! I’m saving that jazz for another post and going back to the beginning here…

And when I say back, I mean waaaay back, about six years ago when we first started casually throwing around the idea of a sibling for Juliette. We played it fast and loose for a few months, thinking how crazy it would be if I just happened to get pregnant this time around, without any of the planning and waiting and loss and waiting and intervention and waiting that we endured with Juliette. I mean, this time around my body might just know the drill – I had living proof that I could have a healthy baby! Silly me, though…I didn’t just happen to get pregnant. I was Infertile with a capital “I”.

Dozens of ovulation kits and a couple of unsuccessful IUIs later, I was completely exhausted by the waiting game. At the end of 2019, Shane and I found ourselves at a fork in the road: to the left was a letting-go of the hope for a second child; to the right was a last-ditch all-in try via IVF. We chose the latter, buckled up, and began the barrage of hormones, needles and ultrasounds.

In keeping with sentiments felt round the world on a much grander scale, 2020 was tough. More waiting, a heart-wrenching loss, and moments of deep mourning as my visions of a kid anchoring each side of our Subaru’s back seat blurred at the edges and began to recede. We certainly had a good thing going, the three of us, and Juliette had brought me more mama-joy than I ever could have dreamed of, but damn. I didn’t want to be done. In December of last year we transferred our second embryo and began yet another cycle of hand-wringing and waiting. At the 6-week ultrasound, I held my breath as the nurse searched for the flicker of a heartbeat on the black and white screen. I’d been here before, felt the sting of stillness where there should have been life. But PRAISE THE LORD, there it was! A tiny little heartbeat coming from our tiny little boy. We still had a long ways to go, but as I walked out of the doctor’s office, hope came back. It was a cautious hope, still shadowed by anxiety, but there was hope.  These shots (so many shots!) weren’t all for naught.

Three weeks later, after another encouraging ultrasound, Shane and I decided to share the news with Juliette. I felt my guarded heart soften as we told her there was a baby growing inside my belly – her joy was contagious as she jumped up and down on the couch and exclaimed, “I’m going to be a big sister?! I’M GOING TO BE A BIG SISTER!!!” We ate cupcakes and answered all of Juliette’s burning questions and shit got real in the very best way.

COVID kept Shane and Juliette from attending any of my doctor’s appointments, but I’d always call them the minute I left the building to assure them all was well.  They were the best pregnancy pep squad.

By week 18 my belly was really rounding – thank goodness for work-from-life and stretchy pants all day, every day! We nicknamed the baby “Grogu” after the sweet little baby Yoda in Mandolorian and Juliette checked in with me daily on his progress, asking first thing in the morning, “How’s Grogu doin’, Mama?”.  I would reply, “Still growing!” and then Juliette would turn my body so that it was in profile to her and exclaim, “He sure is!”  I have a pregnancy app on my phone and Juliette would excitedly check it each Saturday morning to see just how big the baby was.  “He’s an orange!  A coconut!  A…stalk of celery?”  That one had us all perplexed.

I remember feeling very large when we went to Semiahmoo in April – now I look back at these week-21 pics and chuckle.  The heartburn and the shortness of breath were setting in by this point, but oh, Kel…just wait for it.

Juliette had a tough time making much sense from my reels of ultrasound pictures, but nonetheless, she found them thrilling.

At week 26 I felt like I had a soccer ball under my shirt.  Again: oh, Kel…

Week 30 in Neskowin – now that’s a belly!

 

By week 33 the baby was kicking regularly enough and hard enough that Juliette was guaranteed to get a good high-five from her brother if she left her hand on my belly for a few minutes.  She fell asleep like this a few times and I felt affirmed in my suspicions that she’ll be the sweetest big sis ever.

Week 34: belly as a head-rest!

And the loveliest baby shower with my mama-friends!  I stumbled through early motherhood alongside these friends eight years ago and these ladies showed up big-time for me in July to assure me that I can do it again.

We played a round of “guess whose birth story” that had us all howling with laughter as we shared the full gamut of indignities that come with labor and delivery.

Week 35: it appears as though I have an alien trying to escape through my belly button.  Juliette tunes in like it’s prime-time programming.

 

Week 37 was my pregnancy sweet spot.  Only three(ish) weeks left, so the discomfort felt short-lived enough that I could focus on savoring those final days of having a little one growing inside of me.

Brunch and a beach walk at week 38 (can you tell I was running out of wardrobe choices by this point?!).

Ok, you win, Jules!

A lunchtime belly snuggle from Juliette…while an eight-year age gap wasn’t really the plan for our two kids, I gotta say, it sure was fun to watch her watch me grow a little human.

And here it is, my bump in all its glory at 39 weeks + 1 day, one day before I went into labor. This was back when I was certain that I had a full five days ahead of me to convert the home office into a nursery, finish all the touch-up painting in the kitchen, repack my pillaged hospital bag, spend boatloads of quality one-on-one time with Juliette, AND enjoy evenings stretched out on the couch with my hand on my belly, relishing those final baby kicks. OH, KEL…the best-laid plans.  Sure, it would have been nice to have a few days to settle into my maternity leave and prep for baby’s arrival, but whatever. I wouldn’t trade the past five days for anything – they’ve been a long, long time coming.