little black journal

It was a little hard for me to hold back from sharing the early months of my pregnancy on the blog – I looked forward to the news being fully “out there” so that I could freely write about my thoughts and hopes and experiences.  And now here I sit, bump and all, wondering how in the world I’ll put my jumbled, confusing bag of feelings into words.  Bear with me.

The physical part of being pregnant has gone more smoothly than I expected – there was mild nausea, some fatigue, and a couple of vomitous incidents, but all in all, the symptoms were minor and quickly passed.  The emotional part, though?  Sheesh.  Saltine crackers weren’t going to help me there.  The first few weeks were ridden with anxiety – I tried to guard my heart through denial, to prepare myself for the bottom to drop out at any moment.  I told myself that the faint pink line on the pregnancy test was a fluke, that my HCG levels in that initial bloodwork were too low to make this a viable pregnancy, that since I wasn’t spending every morning locked in the bathroom with morning sickness, this probably wasn’t real.  We shared the news with our parents and a couple of close friends, but I always followed the announcement with, “remember that it’s still really really really early and this might not work out”.  Joy was terrifying – I was afraid my heart was too fragile to handle the blow of having to come down from a celebratory mountaintop, should things take a turn for the worse.  So I stayed down in my hole, just in case.

We scheduled an ultrasound with our doctor at week 6, as that’s the point when they can start to see development and, hopefully, a tiny little heartbeat.  I remember walking down the hall to the exam room with Shane at my side, my palms sweating and my own heart racing as I prayed a single word over and over and over.  Heartbeat.  Heartbeat.  Heartbeat.  Please, please, please, God – let there be a heartbeat.  I couldn’t help thinking of the 6-week ultrasound we’d been through 18 months earlier, where there was nothing but stillness.  Please, please, please, God – let this be different.  I held my breath as the image of my uterus flashed on the screen.  And then, there it was – our baby, looking like a grain of rice, with a fuzzy little flicker at its center.  The sonographer quickly confirmed that the flicker was indeed a heartbeat, and I grabbed Shane’s hand as tears of relief streamed from my eyes.  The first seeds of hope took root in me that day.  That hope blossomed as subsequent ultrasounds at weeks 7 and 9 and 12 showed positive development – by week 13, I had come to believe that this was actually the real thing.  I was going to be a mom.  I was free to celebrate with reckless abandon, right?  Right?  I could start digging into that pile of baby books people had lent to me, I could start thinking about converting our extra bedroom to a nursery, I could quit trying to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans and settle into the comfort of elastic waistbands.  “Danger zone” cleared!  Happy trails ahead!  And it’s true – there certainly were moments of unbridled joy as the weight of infertility was lifted from my shoulders.  But I also found myself still wanting to stay on the fringes of baby-related conversations among my pregnant friends, and I still felt anxious when they started to talk about how fun it would be to watch our babies grow up together.  What was my problem?  I had ached for so long to be part of the expectant mothers’ club, and now that my time had come to talk diapers and daycare and maternity fashion, I was stand-offish and uncomfortable.  Some of my reticence was due to sadness for the women I know who are still in the throes of trying to conceive – it felt so unfair that some were chosen to carry a baby while others were left waiting.  I felt like I was leaving my fertility-challenged sisters behind, like it woulnd’t mean as much anymore if I said that I knew what they were going through.

And then when I really dug deep, I found that a part of me was still caught in the clutches of the sorrow I had felt over the past couple of years.  I had let the disappointment and uncertainty become an integral part of who I was, and while the presence of a baby in my womb washed much of that away, there were remnants of loneliness and worry and that were not so easily purged.  And there was regret.  So much regret over who I had become while I waited and longed and mistrusted God’s plan.   I wish I had been better at finding my joy in Him while we were still on our journey toward pregnancy.  I wish I hadn’t wallowed, hadn’t let fear take such a strong hold of me.  I wish I had been a better friend last year to the pregnant women in my life, rather than succumbing to jealousy or bitterness.

Day by day, I’m the clearing the sorrow and regret from my soul and settling into the spirit of joy and gratitude that God has intended for me all along.  The road to this place has been full of envy and tears and deep, gaping potholes, but I can’t change that.  So I’m focusing on that one very, very important wish that came true with that tiniest little flicker of a heartbeat.  I have much to be thankful for.

Spring has sprung in Seattle! The sun is shining, flowers are bursting with new blooms of color, and I have optimistically tucked my winter coat into the deep recesses of my closet. My mom and dad spent the past few days with us, soaking in Seattle’s springtime glory. Glory, glory, glory, indeed – it was a great weekend.

We joined the hoards of other sun-struck Northwesterners at UW on Saturday to take in the view of the cherry blossom-lined Quad. The trees were perfectly pink and fluffy, set against a crystal clear sky.  No, the sun doesn’t shine here quite as often as we’d like, but when it does, we do a pretty good job of making the most of it – there was this contagious buzz of joy in the air that morning.  I never knew how good Vitamin D was for the soul until I moved to Seattle!  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

And a bonus!  We ran into Jack and La V, who were also on a mission to embrace the Springtime spirit.

After stopping at the U-District Farmer’s Market for a few essentials like tamales, bacon, and goat cheese (apparently it’s not peak produce season yet!), we headed over the Olympic Sculpture Park to check out the view of the mountains.

After dropping off the guys at home, my mom and I spent the afternoon shopping till we dropped.  We hit Southcenter hard that day and scored a few good deals – I was in need of some clothing of the more…er…”elastic” variety, and it was fun to share this next step in the pregnancy process with my mom.  Shane threw some Italian sausages on the grill for dinner that night, and we passed the rest of the evening resting our tired feet at home with ice cream and a movie.  It had been a full day.

We spent Sunday morning at church, celebrating His rising with music and reflection and prayer, and then headed over to Jason and Nancy’s for an Easter meal with the gang.  We watched the kids hunt for eggs, we ate, we laughed, and we reveled in the goodness of an overly generous God.  I felt so lucky to be sharing the day with my “family family”  and my “Seattle family”.

The rest of the day was devoted to relaxing – naps, basketball, a leisurely walk by the water at Seward Park.  I can’t imagine a more perfect Easter weekend – hopefully I can ride this high right through the rain that’s supposed to start falling later this week…

My whole Sabbath resolution didn’t work out for me so well this weekend, but that’s alright – the past couple of days were filled with quality time with some of my favorite people, a couple of very satisfying checkmarks on my project list, and most importantly, a morning spent cheering on these rockstar runners at the Mercer Island Half Marathon.

Shane’s couch-to-marathon journey is the stuff of inspirational success stories – when we first got married, that guy couldn’t run a mile without doubling over in sweaty, breathless exhaustion.  Now, Shane Lightning Schnell is running half marathons at 7:15 a mile.  That’s right – he ran those whopping 13.1 miles in one hour and 35 minutes, crushing his personal record and finishing 133rd out of over 1500 runners.  All those lunchtime runs in the cold and rain, all those Saturday mornings spent pounding the pavement, all those blisters and sore muscles, they all paid off.  It felt so good to see him head toward the finish line with a smile on his face – I was so proud of him, and so happy to watch him experience the joy of meeting a hard-fought goal.

We all gathered at the 8 oz. Burger Bar post-race to toast the runners with beer and mimosas and milkshakes.  Boy, did these guys ever earn their pints.  I’m not sure what I did to earn my strawberry milkshake…we’ll call it my cheerleading award.

Shane spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in our bed, took today off to recuperate, and then hit the sack at 8:30 tonight.  Looks like the speedy Roadrunner is no Spring chicken, but whatever – he’s still 100% stud.

It’s March 22nd and Spring is in the air.  Yes, it’s still cold, gray, and rainy in Seattle, but my spirit is buoyed by the longer days, by a sense of hope, by the promise of growth and new life.  Oh, and speaking of new life…

(Seriously, how’s that for a segue?!)

Baby Schnell should be making his or her long-hoped-for appearance around September 8th.  Which means I am 15 1/2 weeks along.  Which means I’ve been waiting approximately 13 1/2 weeks to shout this news from the rooftops.  So hear me out: there’s a real, growing baby in my belly!  (S)he is the size of an orange and has a good strong heartbeat and a tiny little nose and even itty bitty fingernails!  Shane and I are going to be parents!  And damn, we feel so mind-blowingly blessed.

I’m a sucker for a good deal, so when Jack sent us a link a few months ago to a voucher for a discounted stay in Friday Harbor, we jumped on it right away.  I was so looking forward to a chance to get out of town with the Chens, to explore San Juan Island, to cozy up in a beautiful room and unwind – I had high, high hopes for the weekend.  And they were met on all fronts.  Plus some.

We picked up Jack and La Verne yesterday morning and headed north to catch the afternoon ferry to Friday Harbor.  We wound our way through the islands, excited by the sight of sunshine glistening off the water – the forecast had called for wind and rain, but it looked like Mr. Weatherman was mistaken.

We checked into our rooms at the Friday Harbor House and all said a little “wow!” when we opened our doors.  A fireplace, a jacuzzi tub, and a deck with this view.  Oh, this view!

We dropped off our bags, picked up a few snacks from the corner market, and got back in the car to make the short drive to San Juan Vineyards. Shane and Jack picked out a bottle of Sangiovese while La Verne and I spread out a little picnic lunch on top of a wine barrel in the corner of the shop.  We ate and drank and chatted, thankful for a little fuel after our three-hour journey.  Once the bottle was dry and the cheese devoured, we headed back out to do some exploring, stopping for a minute of sun-soaking on the winery’s porch.

Our Tour de Island brought us to quaint Roche Harbor, which was something of a ghost town on a chilly February afternoon.  But we’ll be back for spot prawns come summer!

The cloudy sky showed promise for a beautiful sunset, so we drove south along the west edge of the island in search of a good lookout.  Our hunt landed us at Smallpox Bay, which sounded less-than-inviting on the map but turned out to be the perfect place to watch the sun drop below the horizon.

Shane was pretty pleased with his front-row seat.

But was willing to give it up when Jack challenged him with, “Dude, jump!”.

Post-sunset, we made our way back to the hotel to crank up our fireplaces and grab a catnap before dinner.  The rest of the evening was perfectly mellow – a two-hour dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, a game of cards in Jack and La Verne’s room, and lots of laughter.  Gosh, so much laughter.  We reminisced about our romp through Portugal four years ago, we talked about adventures to come, we reveled in that happy, easy comfort that comes with spending time with people who know you inside and out.  I like to think we’ll be having these same conversations in some other island lodge 20 years from now.

We woke up good and late today, stuffed ourselves at the hotel’s breakfast bar and then, far too soon, it was time to get in line for the east-bound ferry.  One final stop at the Tulalip outlet mall for a few things, and we were putting a bow on our short-but-epic getaway.  It was fun while it lasted…

We’re back from a quick trip to Portland to spend some time with my brother and his family – 24 hours is never enough time to fully love on my nieces, but the cuddles and the games and the Sunday playground time still do a world of good for my soul.  Oh, those girls…

Morgan is asserting her independence more and more, wanting to pour her own milk and zip her own coat and put on her own diaper (all of which eventually necessitate adult intervention, but she’s trying).  She adores Elmo with every fiber of her being and her cuteness will bust your heart open when she dances to the sound of her dad strumming his guitar.  The girl’s got moves.  Thankfully, she’s still got plenty of that sweet little baby-ness left in her, too – she crawled into my lap with her blankey this morning and let me rock her for awhile while she nuzzled into my chest. I soaked in every last second of it, knowing these days of quiet, precious snuggles are numbered.

Elise is all big girl these days.  She’s on a superhero kick lately – she and Uncle Shane spent much of the weekend playing Batman and Robin.  And gosh, she’s smart – she gave me a run for my money during our big memory game tournament yesterday afternoon.  She flies like the wind on her green Glider bike and wants a ukelele for her birthday next month (actually, she wants a purple Tinkerbell guitar, but my brother, the musician, has decided that a nice ukelele is much more dignified).  She’s a little mischievous, and a lot stubborn, but what four-year old isn’t?

So long, kiddos.  Auntie Kelly loves you mucho and misses you already.

February is here and I am funk-free! It’s been a pretty great weekend, spent in the company of our favorite Seattle peeps. We rang in the new month in style on Friday night – dinner and drinks at Tavern Law with our fellow frugal-ites (Jack and La Verne have started something of a movement with this no-spend thing…), followed by dessert at Capitol Hill’s best gelato shop. Felt so good to be out.

The hoped-for sunshine never made its way from behind the clouds on Saturday, but that was alright – it was a perfect day for brunching with my book club ladies. We ate quiche and drank tea and then cozied up by Angela’s fireplace. And I still made it out for an afternoon walk around Seward Park with Shane – this felt like the first time in months that I was able to find a quiet kind of beauty in the the gray skies and bare limbs.

Plus, there’s plenty to be said for cafe weather! Post-walk, we warmed ourselves with coffee and scones at our favorite neighborhood bakery.  We sat across from each other and talked about books and batting averages and ERAs (I’m reading The Brothers K and needed schooling on a few baseball specifics).  Shane is much relieved to find that the Ice Queen has left the building – we were due for a good all-in catch-up session.  We capped off the day with dinner and a movie at Jason and Nance’s, which has come to feel like our second home in Seattle.  We have eaten dozens of meals, shared hundreds of laughs, and shed a number of tears at their dining room table over the past couple of years.  They feed us so well, in more ways than one.

This morning wall full of church and grocery shopping and the usual stuff of Sundays.  The afternoon was dedicated solely to football as we made our way to Jack and La Verne’s (our third home in Seattle) for their Superbowl party.  We pigged out on pork sliders and fried chicken and every variety of chip until it was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I sprawled out on the couch and waited for the power to come back on in New Orleans.  It was a little hard to see the Niners take a loss, seeing as how Kaepernick hails from my California hometown, but I’m thrilled for my family in Baltimore – there is much celebrating going on among the East Coast Jarrells tonight.

Cheers to a killer kick-off to a happy new month…

As has become our tradition, we rang in the new year last night with our closest friends here at home, stuffing our faces with all manners of junk food and making our predictions for 2013.  We raised our glasses at midnight and then sprawled out in the living room for another couple of hours while Shane, Jack, and Daniel solidified plans for their latest, greatest business venture – $6 churros, coming soon from a cart near you! Stay tuned for more on that (or don’t – I love their ambition, but am skeptical about their powers of execution…).

We brunched this morning with the Rusts and the Chens and soaked a bit in the sunshine we’ve been missing for the last couple of months.  I remember spending New Years day with these same folks five years ago (minus the little ones) in Jack and La Verne’s South Lake Union townhouse.  How time has flown…

I spent the afternoon finishing up our calendar, pulling together snapshots of 2012’s highlights.  I was doing some year-end reflecting yesterday and felt heavy with the knowledge that too much of the past year was spent in my metaphorical “hole”.  But then I see these captured moments of joy spread out before me, and I am reminded that God showed up with his bag o’ blessings in my life time and again this year.  He was there in our lazy summer evenings at Jefferson Park, where we laid on a blanket and drank wine and listened to the Giants beat the Dodgers.  He was there in those precious moments spent with family, in that afternoon that Elise and I spent painting on the sunny porch of our Orcas Island rental.  He was at the California weddings of two of my oldest friends, and he was at Quest Church when Jon and Adrienne said “I do” – He even followed us to their reception, where we all danced until we were sweaty and exhausted, cheeks sore from so much laughter.  He was on Whidbey Island during on the weekend that Shane and I celebrated our sixth anniversary, allowing us to fully absorb just how much we adore each other as we wrapped ourselves in blankets and watched the sun set from our sandy patio.

While I was initially eager to shut the door on 2012 and to focus on looking forward rather than back, instead I’ll pause for a moment to give thanks.  To remember the good stuff.  And to find comfort in the fact that even through the hard times, whether I sensed His presence or not, God still showed up.

Ahhhh, what a very merry Christmas in Portland.  We ate, we lounged, we doted on those two irrestibly sweet little girls.  ‘Tis indeed the season for joy and love and all kinds of thankfulness.

We arrived at Mitch and Kathryn’s on Sunday afternoon, and as usual, Morgan and Elise were quick to warm up to Uncle Shane.  Also as usual, he was wrapped around their little fingers in a matter of seconds – I think he read Good Dog, Carl a total of 14 times in three days.

I had to work a little harder to earn their affection, but it wasn’t anything frosting and cookies couldn’t handle.

We ordered Thai take-out for dinner, played a round of Quiddler, and then were ready to put a bow on Christmas Eve Eve – it had been quite a day.

We were thrilled to see sunshine on Monday morning and headed over to the park for a couple hours of sliding, swinging, and playing in the sand.

Uncle Shane clearly takes the cake as best swing-pusher ever.

The grown-up girls headed out during naptime for a coffee break and a little shopping.  Kathryn, my mom and I strolled down Williams Avenue, ogling the perfect wares at Ink and Peat and then sipping pretty lattes at Ristretto Roasters.

This double-decker dress shop/bus was so…Portland.

My mom whipped up a tasty pot of red lentil and veggie soup for dinner, with some extra special help on the chapati flatbread from two dear little elves.

After dinner, Kathryn, Shane and I loaded the girls in the car and braved the crowds at Peacock Lane to take in all the brightly lit houses and yards.  Morgan and Elise both got a kick out of the whole ordeal – I mean, does it get any better than giant glowing lollipops?

The girls were tuckered out by the time we got home – there wasn’t much resistance to bedtime that night, as we assured them that Santa would be on his way once they were fast asleep.

Elise burst into our room bright and early yesterday morning to shout “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” and urge us to come check out the loot Santa had delivered.  We spent the next hour watching the girls tear into their gifts – Morgan was quick to cuddle and feed her new baby doll and Elise was raring to go on her new roller skates.

The rest of the day was spent lounging around the warm and cozy house as rain fell on a cold, wet Portland.  We played games, we painted with Elise’s new watercolor set, we snuggled up on the couch to watch basketball and doze.

Oh, and for the record, Shane is the favorite for a reason – the lengths that guy will go to for an extra cuddle…  No shame!

I’ve prayed a lot lately for a spirit of gratitude – I’ve mentioned before how hard it can be for me to keep the “don’t-haves” from overshadowing our multitude of blessings.  But my blessings were made so abundantly clear yesterday – a house filled with the giggles of little girls that I love so much it makes my heart ache, the company of a family that makes me feel whole, the tenderness of an incredibly kind and loving husband.  And looking down on all of us, a Savior that came to earth so many years ago to dine with tax collectors and prostitutes, to turn the world’s notion of justice on its head, and to give the ultimate sacrifice.  Because he loves me.

My parents left early this morning and we headed out right behind them.  One final stop at Barista for what may be the best latte I’ve had all year, and then we were homeward bound.

I spent this afternoon in the office and spent this evening unpacking – back to business as usual, I suppose.  I’m hoping my post-holiday letdown can be warded off with chocolate and a living room screening of Love Actually.  I’ll let you know how that goes…

Tomorrow we head to Portland to celebrate Christmas with the Jarrells.  But today?  Today was the Schnell family pre-Christmas Christmas bonanza.  And it was glorious.  Shane and I stayed in bed until 10 am, at which point he rolled out to pick up scones from the neighborhood bakery.  I poured us a couple of glasses of festive-looking green juice, we dug into our breakfast, and then it was time for presents!

There were several gifts under the tree this year to Boo from Boo – I scored a sweet new lens for my camera and Shane was happily surprised with a bottle of fancy absinthe.

It felt good, our little family of two sitting by the Christmas tree and listening to Nat King Cole sing about roasting chestnuts.  So warm and cozy and…right.

I spent the better part of the afternoon in the kitchen, rolling our sugar cookies and making my favorite cranberry cornmeal biscotti.  Can’t wait to decorate these babies tomorrow with Elise!

We headed downtown later in the day to do some shopping and catch a movie.  Shane bought me a couple of pairs of earrings from my favorite boutique and then we walked over to the theater for Silver Linings Playbook, which turned out to be my kind of movie – romantic and sad and happy and just a little bit cheesy.

After the movie, we strolled through downtown, taking in all the Christmas lights one more time before heading to dinner in Capitol Hill.

We capped off the night at home, snuggling on the couch and watching Elf while Shane sipped his spiked eggnog and I ate the cookie cast-offs (no sense in letting that armless gingerbread man and four-pointed star go to waste!).   It was nice to soak in the peace and comfort of home today – I feel rested and thankful and so, so ready to engage in some serious playtime with two very special little girls.  Portland, here we come!