the blog has moved...

I started a new blog since I'm no longer barefoot and pregnant. It's at kloosterhomefront.blogspot.com.

Love,
Emily

Jude's Birth

Jude is now one week old and he's a good little boy. Here is how he came to us.

I woke up on November 19 around 7 am. My first sensation was that I was a little damp. I laid there for a minute or two trying to figure that out. I thought, "What is this... am I peeing?" After investigating I found a softball-sized wet spot on the sheet. I heard Jono getting ready to leave for work so I called his name. "Jono. Come here a minute. I'm wet." He came into the bedroom wide-eyed. "I think maybe my water broke," I said. My doctor had told me that one way to tell if you're leaking amniotic fluid is by its smell. It smelled sweet, which is how she had described it. I had also heard that some women gush when their water breaks and others trickle. Apparently I was a trickler.

We started getting excited and decided we should call the doctor in an hour if contractions hadn't started. Meanwhile we started packing our bags for the hospital. I felt very calm while this was happening, not wanting to jump ahead of myself. Maybe today was the day and maybe it wasn't -- I didn't know. At 8:30 I called the doctor's office and told the nurse what I thought had happened. She told us to come in at 10:00 so they could check me out.

We took the dog for a walk, packed the car, drove to Joel and Jessie's to drop off a key to our house so they could pick up Mona later, and stopped at The Schnitz for breakfast. We weren't in a huge hurry. Still no contractions.

By the time we arrived at the doctor's office, I noticed my trickle was turning into more of a gush. On the examining table the doctor knew my water had broke before she tested the fluid, but she held up the little blue strip of paper for me that confirmed it. She asked if we had our bags ready for a hospital stay and told us we should head in that direction.

We drove down to St. Mary's and headed to the ninth floor. They checked us in to a labor and delivery room at around 11 am. I put on one of those super-attractive hospital mu-mus and socks with the grippies on the bottom.

Then we waited.

We were told that if I didn't go into labor soon they would have to induce me because of the risk of infection. Once your water breaks the only barrier between your baby and the outside world has been removed. I was nervous about this possibility because it would increase my chances of having to take pain medication. Induction of labor makes contractions come fast and intense.

A nurse suggested I get into the whirlpool tub to try and get things going. I did, but half an hour later there was still nothing. We did a few laps in the hallways. By early afternoon my mom showed up and we sat around talking for awhile. They hooked me up to a machine that would monitor both my contractions and the baby's heartbeat. I was having small contractions once in awhile, but nothing to write home about. They were sporadic and I could easily carry on a conversation right through them. They told me my doctor had contacted someone who could administer Pitocin, a labor-inducing drug.

By mid-afternoon my dad came and the four of us sat around while the nurses went in and out checking my progress. My parents went to the cafeteria around 5pm to get Jono something to eat. While they were gone a contraction came that I actually needed to breathe deeply through. When my parents came back with Jono's food they said I had a look on my face that told them what was happening, so they headed to the waiting room. Jono's parents showed up soon after that and joined them there. They ended up spending a very long time in that little room and got into some shenanigans to keep themselves entertained (including disappearing from the room while my mom was in the bathroom so she would think the baby had been born and they'd left her behind. I'm told the look on her face was priceless.)

Meanwhile my contractions became stronger and more regular. For the next few hours I breathed through them and tried different labor positions while Jono rubbed my back and held my hand. I was back in the whirlpool once, on and off the bed, and I sat on the "birthing ball" for awhile. This stage is already foggy for me because of what came later.

At one point they came in to check my cervix and after hours of labor I was only 3-4 cm dilated. In came the on-call doctor. He said if I hadn't dilated further in the next 45 minutes they "strongly recommended" I be induced. We agreed because of the infection risk if labor took too long, and also I was already getting tired from the contractions and couldn't imagine having to go all night with them. About an hour later they checked me again and I'd gotten to 6/7 cm. My nurse and the doctor looked happy - I wouldn't need the Pitocin.

By now I was mainly focused on getting through contractions and didn't care who came in the room or what they were saying. I hardly had time to listen to a string of sentences from someone before another one would come. The breathing techniques were still helping and Jono was feeding me ice chips, but there were a few in there that I was pretty much whimpering through. I asked my nurse, "I don't want to commit to anything and I don't want an epidural, but do you having anything to take the edge off?" She explained my options, saying that both drugs would also go to the baby and make him lethargic. In childbirth class we learned that a lethargic baby is often given another drug after birth - a stimulant to help wake him up. I didn't like that in his last moments in the womb and first moments in the world he would be pumped up with drugs, so I decided not to take them.

Shortly after that a big whopping contraction took hold of me and I started having thoughts like, "Okay, who in their right MIND does this without an epidural?!" But I'd made my decision and wasn't going back on it. Plus labor was progressing so fast now that I doubt they would've had time to give me anything.

I'd confined myself to the bed at this point because I needed to lie down and rest between each contraction. When one would come I would turn on my side and hold on for dear life to the side-rail on the bed. I remember going into a trance between them. I was having strange dream-like thoughts, like wishing I was everyone else in the room. I thought, "I know that nurse has crappy hours and has to work the night shift, but I'd give anything to just be her right now." Even before the pushing phase started I was exhausted. I kept my eyes closed because it helped me focus. When I'd feel one start to build I would grab Jono's hand, arm or neck and hold on tight. The ice chips were fantastic - the crunching sensation plus the cold liquid going down my throat were a huge relief. Jono had a cup full of them in his hand and he would spoon-feed me a cube immediately after a contraction would pass. Jono was such a good birthing coach. He kept telling me that I could do it, I was doing great, and I was his hero. He let me pull his hair.

Eventually, of course, I felt like pushing. I told my nurse and she and my doctor came in with the delivery table. Then the show really started. I was relieved to be able to push because it helped lessen the pressure from the contraction. They say the pushing phase is two steps forward, one step back, which gets discouraging when you feel like you're pushing your insides out. Which you are.

An hour later he still wasn't out. I would push and the doctor and nurse would say, "Good, good, good! That's exactly it!" But then he wouldn't come out. The pressure in my pelvis was enormous, and it was now accompanied by a strong burning sensation. I was feeling like it would never happen. I was convinced they would have to do an emergency c-section or get him out with forceps. I wondered what they would have to do to me if he just didn't come out... ever.

We decided to try the squatting bar, so they brought it in and put it over the bed. I used it through the next couple of contractions, but it took too much of my energy to get up each time to grab the bar and then lie back down again once it has passed. The doctor suggested I brace my legs on the bar instead. This helped, but still wasn't enough. Then my nurse, God bless her, said she had an idea that had worked for a lot of women. She grabbed a towel and stood at the end of the bed. When my next contraction came I braced my legs on the bar and grabbed the other end. The nurse and I then played tug-of-war with the towel while I pushed. I could tell this was working and I felt slightly encouraged. They told me they could see his head and asked if I wanted to touch it. I reached down half-heartedly. I was glad his head was there, but until it came all the way out I wasn't going to count on anything.

The pinnacle moment (pain-wise) came when he crowned during one contraction, but then it faded off before I could get him out. I was beside myself. Jono told me later I was thrashing on the bed and looking at him like, "DO SOMETHING." They told me his hand was up by his face and he was slightly twisted. Jono looked down and saw his little hand before anything else. He started saying "There he is Em, he's almost here!" over and over.

When the final contraction came I remember screaming and pushing with what seemed like the last bit of energy I would ever have for the rest of my life. Jono was giddy, I was in another world. I could tell when his head had come out and then his body. The doctor lifted him up and put him on my stomach. I couldn't believe it. There he was. His eyes were wide open and he was looking at me. It was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen to have that little baby lifted onto me like that with his almond-shaped eyes wide open and his umbilical cord still attached. I quickly looked between his legs to make sure the ultrasound had been right (I was a little paranoid about this near the end of the pregnancy). Jono cut the cord. I felt like I was coming out of a fog. He cried a little bit and I nursed him for the first time.

The doctor delivered the placenta then and showed it to us. She described what everything was and how it had nourished little Jude. I had thought I would be really grossed out by this but I wasn't at all. She could've been holding up a new puppy and describing it to us instead of a placenta and I would've felt no different about it.

They took him off of my chest to weigh and measure him. Then they wrapped him a blanket, put a little hat on him and gave him back to me. I felt completely energized. I didn't think a second wind was possible after that, but it came. The long-suffering grandparents were invited in from the waiting room. They surrounded the bed and we were blinded by flash photography. It was cute :) They asked what his name was, and I told them. Jude is the first grandchild on all three sides. They all watched as he got his first bath, which he hated.

After awhile the parents went home and they wheeled us down to our post-partum room. It was 2:30 am when we finally went to sleep. We spent the next two days and nights in the hospital and it was wonderful. All of our nurses were great, and I spent the entire time in that big mu-mu. My only concerns were feeding Jude, sleeping and getting up to go to the bathroom. When I finally put some real clothes on to go home in on Saturday it felt very strange, and nice. Jude went home in his little bear suit and his scarf -- the one that matches Daddy's.

Jono is a proud proud papa, and he's been an amazing help to me over the past week. He is vacuuming upstairs as I write this.

Yes, I'm very lucky.

Welcome to the World, Son

This is Jude Daniel Klooster. He was born on November 20 at 12:43 a.m. He weighed 6 lbs, 10 oz. and was 20 inches tall.

Jude means "praise". His middle name is for his uncle Dan Steven (1976 - 2002).

Hey Jude. We love you already.

I'll post his birth story soon :)

1 cm

I had another appointment this morning. Still gaining a pound or two a week on average. After examining me my doctor said I have a "favorable cervix". On the phone after the appointment Jono said, "I knew that. That's why I married you." Ha ha. All that means really is that I'm ready to go and if I needed to be induced for any reason, I could be. I'm about 90% effaced, 1 centimeter dilated, and I'm due one week from today.

We are still running around finishing up last-minute tasks around the house and making sure we have everything for Gordito. We made a rather unsuccessful trip to a couple of stores last night for a few last things. We brought home a diaper pail that it turns out only works with disposable liners, a wonky hamper that needs to be returned, and a dog bed for Mona that is too small to contain her super-fuzzy body. *Sigh*. I really don't like shopping. And whenever we go to Babies R Us I feel like the Will Ferrell character in the movie Old School...

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.

College Student: A big day? Doing what?

Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday. We're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Anyway, my mom has been asking me if the doctor ever says anything about how big she thinks Gordito is. I asked her today and she said he seems kind of long and possibly about 7 pounds at the moment. Pretty average overall. She commented again on how often he likes to stick his butt out. Then she gave me some tips on how to get labor started. We'll give these a test drive and see if they work :)

1/2 cm

I had my weekly appointment again this morning. Cervix is tilted forward, 1/2 cm dilated. Woot!

Last time the doctor tapped his head through the cervical wall, but this time there was just enough space so that she could actually reach in and touch him. So weird. I'm 38 weeks with two weeks to go.

You got that right...

No, I' m not kidding.

I knit a miniature scarf that happens to match exactly the scarf I knit for Jono two years ago. Guess who it's for.

Jono is ecstatic. Like, more excited about the matching scarves than I've seen him about anything since that plastic stick blinked "pregnant".

Jono's scarf was my first knitting project. I splurged on this Chinese homespun yarn (or whatever) with a color combo called "mineshaft". I figured that was manly enough, so I bought it and started stitching away. The only problem was that when I was finished I had 3/4 of a ball of the Chinese Mineshaft yarn left to work with, and I didn't really want Mineshaft Potholders. I was stuck on what to do with it.

Then it occurred to me: dad-and-baby matching scarves would be kind of funny. Actually, just a fat baby wearing a knit scarf is funny, even if it didn't match.

Timidly, I mentioned the idea to Jono. His eyes lit up like fabulous Roman candles. He started asking me EVERY DAY when I was going to start on it. I'm in the middle of a rust-orange scarf for moi at the moment and was trying to finish that first, but after fielding "the look" from Jono for over an hour as I added row after knitted row to my own scarf, I finally caved and borrowed some of Jessie's needles for the mini mineshaft scarf-ito.

I started out making the scarf 20 stitches wide, to which Jono said: "Too wide." So I unraveled the first row and started over with 15 stitches. I showed it to him again and got approval for the smaller size. As I continued adding rows, I held it up for Jono every ten minutes or so and got a bright-eyed, eager look every time. It was very rewarding work.

We used Jono's bicep and then my ankle to figure out how long to make it. Hee hee. I was pointing out to Jessie the other day that babies don't have necks, so the scarf will probably be halfway up his face.

Oh well. Still funny, if not funnier that way.

Indulge me as I post the un-cropped version of this photo. Anything else cute in this picture besides the scarf-ito? (Hint: black, white, upper right corner).

My mom sent this (and she would know)

Why Boys Need Parents

You find out interesting things when you have sons, like...

1.) A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2.) If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
3.) A 3-year old boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
4.) If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20 ft. room.
5.) The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
6.) Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
7.) Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old boy.
8.) No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
9.) VCR's do not eject 'PB & J' sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
10.) Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
11.) Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
12.) The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
13.) It will, however, make cats dizzy.
14.) Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
15.) 80% of men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.

Thanks for the heads up Mom. I'm okay with him blowing things up as long as it's supervised (we'll call it "science"), but I'm relieved Mona doesn't fit in the washing machine.

Today (don't forget)

A couple of my milestone doctor appointments seem to have lined up nicely with big moments in politics. Today is Election Day in America, and to kick it off I was in my doctor's office getting a pelvic exam. It was my first since the initial appointment to confirm that I was pregnant, so I was excited to know if there was any progress being made.

As of today I am 60% "effaced", meaning the cervix is beginning to thin in preparation for birth. It is usually firm like the tip of your nose, but mine now feels like the skin on your cheek. It's also in the middle stages of tipping forward, which is something it needs to do before the baby can be born. I haven't started to dilate yet, but there are definite steps in that direction.

He has been head-down for a few months now, and during the exam she said, "Oh yeah, his head is right there." She gave him a few taps on the top of his little noggin and told me that he has probably dropped because of how low he is sitting, but he hasn't yet "engaged". To me this makes him sound like a rocket ship about to launch, which I guess isn't too far off. From now on I get to go in every week to see how close I am to having him.

She told me that no matter what the signs, there is really no telling when exactly he will come. "You can be at the stage you're at now and go into labor tonight, or you could still be three or four weeks away," she said.

Wow, well that's easy to prepare for then. I'll just stay tuned with the rest of you :)

36 weeks / 9 months

All dressed up and nowhere to go. Except maybe the hospital.

People have been asking if I'm starting to become uncomfortable. Why, do I look like it?

My definition of that word has changed over the past few months. I feel like a kangaroo. When I grip my belly on both sides it's not as rounded as it once was. It's kind of bony - there are elbows and knees and a little bum. I can literally feel his body between my hands. Though I'm quite conscious of the space he's taking up right now, I'm not sure HE knows how big he is. He moves around in there like I'm the size of a gymnasium. He's recently started to "flutter kick" like he's in a spinning class, and other times it feels like I have a little chipmunk in there poking and scratching at the side of my uterus digging for seeds and nuts. I used to wonder why pregnant women pressed down on their bellies so often. Now I know it's to keep the little suckers out of your rib cavity.

His other habit is to sit on my sciatic nerve, which is rather startling. It's a sudden sharp cramp in the groin that makes me double over a few times a day. I've also taken to waddling a bit. Not because I'm big and fat (though I do feel kind of cow-ish at times), but because I'm so front-loaded that my balance is off and it's impossible to keep up a normal gait.

I just have to share one thing Jono said when I first bought sweatpants. This was awhile ago but I forgot to mention it. "How does my butt look in these?" I asked him. "Good," he replied. "It's more.... Latina."

Okay, so maybe it's not all in the front. They say that comes off quickly if you breastfeed. Sign me up.

Naughtiest Day Ever

Mona had her naughtiest day ever.

Because of past destructive behavior while we are away, she sleeps in a big kennel in the basement during the day. This week she got out two days in a row by somehow unlatching the door. (This is the kind of latch where you need to first lift it and then move it over to the side before it will open.) Anyway, she visited every room in the new house and did something terrible in each one. Jono had forgotten to put one of our bags of groceries away the night before and she found it. She put a stick of butter in the couch, a huge hunk of pepper-jack cheese in our bed (which she crumbled and spread around) and some lunch meat in the sun room. She then took the soap out of the shower and put that in our bed too. She went into the baby's room, took all of his little diapers off the shelf and threw them on the floor, and then chewed up his wipes. She peed in the basement twice and chewed up a few boxes.

We put two padlocks on her kennel the next day, so I'll be jiggered if she's out when we get home. She is obviously traumatized by the move and is trying to tell us how mad she is about it.

Looking back it's kind of funny, but we were pretty angry at the time because we're trying to get our house looking decent and she was having a retro-active effect on that process.

Cadet Camp '94

We finally moved all of our stuff into the new house this past weekend and slept there for the first time. Not able to do any heavy lifting (other than the extra 30 pounds I can never put down), I stood by the U-Haul and told people where to put things. Just standing there made me incredibly tired, but I didn't want to say anything because everyone else was actually working and I technically was not.

Can you imagine? "Oh, guys, can we just take a break for a minute? I'm DYING here," says immobile chick from the sidelines as rest of family carts bulky, awkward items down truck ramp, up stairs and through two doorways...

Tyler, remember that walking stick you carved for me at Cadet camp in middle school? You wrote my name on it in block letters and carved out a place for my hand. When you gave it to me it felt like a peace offering during a time when we didn't like each other very much. You even decorated it with beads and feathers, which I'm sure was a tribute to my youthful obsession with Native American culture (which you've since mocked me for millions of times). Well, I still have it -- it was one of the first things to come out of the truck -- and I leaned gratefully upon it while shouting "living room", "sun room", " basement". So, thanks. I'll never throw that thing away.

We're about 25 boxes of junk away from feeling settled, but the good news is we are HOME.

A Pregnant Ninja

Halloween is my friend Kristen's favorite holiday. Every year beginning in August she starts asking me what I'm going to be. Growing up we weren't allowed to celebrate Halloween. There is only one photo of me in a costume at the age of three, pre-Halloween-ban. (I'm in some clown get-up my mom came up with and for some reason I'm mad about it.) Anyway, as a result I get a little stressed out about the costume question.

Last year I was Frida Kahlo with a uni-brow. This year I'm not sure what to do. So guys...what should I be for Halloween? I feel like I need to take advantage of my bonus costume accessory this year.

Tips received so far:

• turtle (shell in front)
  
• watermelon
• pregnant ninja

Thrift Store Jackpot

I haven't had much time to scour thrift stores for the little guy yet, but on Saturday I stopped at Salvation Army and ventured into the kiddie section. Best find: a little fleece pea coat with ship-anchor buttons. $3 well spent. Weirdest find: Oliver Twist-style knickers with suspenders. $2 well spent. Now all he needs is a little newsboy cap (the kind usually worn by cute old men.)

Grant recently found a little leather bomber jacket at a second-hand store in Seattle, complete with wool-y collar and the word "Intruder" stitched into it. He bought it and sent me a picture on my phone. There will be photos posted of him in that asap, just sit tight.

Man, this is fun. I have to admit one of the things I've been most excited about is dressing him for my own amusement. When they're that little they don't know the difference anyway, so it's really up to me how hilarious/irresistable I want him to look. Better take advantage before he gets his own ideas about things and is begging me for some sort of sports jersey. I'll have to give an inch on that one though, since Jono is already threatening to dress him in Michigan apparel (my dad raised us to hate the Wolverines as a result of their long-time rivalry with the Washington Huskies. Also, jock wear is not nearly as cool as dressing a child in clothing from 19th century England, in my view. I will try to be flexible though.)

Five more weeks people. Five more weeks.

Search and Destroy

Old houses are full of super-fun surprises. I won't bore you with the details.

My parents, my brother Tyler and Jono's dad and step-mom Jan helped us with some "demo" projects the first two weekends, and Jono's mom and Jeff came this week to help paint. (Sorry I didn't get any shots of you working Jan and Dad. People will just have to believe me when I say you helped :)

So far we've finished a lot of wallpaper-peeling, plastering, sanding and the like. The tasks ahead of us involve more painting and refinishing floors. Then more cleaning. And then we'll move in. We're shooting for October 25.

I need to stay away from paint fumes and I'm not supposed to be on ladders or on my hands and knees. This makes me practically useless for most home improvement projects. Poor Jono. We're very thankful for the help we've been getting from our parents. I guess certain "dependencies" never end no matter how old your kids get.

I'm trying to be useful by obsessively wiping down the counters, walking the dog, and making food for the troops. And feeling housewife-y while I'm doing it. Oh well.

Is this Heaven?

No, it's Iowa.

Mom and I took our annual October trip out there to see my grandparents and other extended family. Highlights were Amish people, my last baby shower with my aunts and girl-cousins on the Dieken side, and 16 hours in the car with my mom blabbing about pretty much everything on the planet (we usually don't stop yapping the whole way there and back).

Jono always makes fun of me when I say "We went to the Amish." It's how we've always said it. What we mean is we're driving 35 miles out to Jesup to farm-hop and buy their delish cookies, pies, pickles and jam. We went in a small caravan made up of my grandma, Mom, my aunts Brenda and Bonita, and my cousins Nick & Kristle with their two kids, Devin and Eden.

At one point we were in a barn digging through a bunch of vintage stuff sitting out on farm trailers. The Amish Mom came out and asked when I was due, how old I was, and if this was my first. She told me she'd just had her seventh child. Amish Pops was away at the horse sale, and she wouldn't sell me an unmarked red vase I wanted because she had "gotten in trouble" with him last time for selling a valuable item for a few bucks. It was a cool vase, but I didn't want to push it with her and start begging.

At another farm there were three Amish kids hanging around staring at us - two little girls and a tiny boy. We learned the tiny boy's name was Wilbert, and I about died. I wish you all could've seen him with his blue shirt and suspenders and big straw hat. He was about two feet tall and had huge brown eyes and a little mouth that was puckered into an o-shape. There are certain little boys that I find irresistable, and the fact that his name was Wilbert put me over the edge. He waved at me once.

Mom got her first whisk ever at one of the Amish general stores and replaced her measuring cups and spoons, of which she has lost half over the past ten years. I kept grabbing basic kitchen items I knew she didn't have off the shelves. We took a picture to commemorate this grand moment for her. (Mom = not a shopper. We had to explain to her why a whisk is more useful than a fork for stirring up eggs and the like.)

Last stop out there was the "Bent n' Dent" grocery store. Though Grandma kept saying "Scratch n' Dent", like it was a place to scratch n' sniff canned goods. (I love her!) It is what it sounds like. Canned and other packaged goods that are bent and dent, and therefore cheaper than Aldi's (it's possible, but probably overkill).

My aunts are hysterical. I laughed so hard on Amish Day that I was afraid I'd go into labor while Gordito's daddy was eight hours away in Michigan. We talked about so many inappropriate things it was unreal. The next day all of us had sore throats. We were worried we were getting sick, but as it turns out we were just laughing too hard.

This is the last trip I'll be taking in awhile, so I savored it. Pics below. The baby is my second cousin Eden, and I think she stole the show.

On Your Mark, Don't Get Upset, GO

I used to think that was the right thing to say before a race when I was little. It kind of applies now.

We had our final Preparing for Childbirth class last night and got to watch video footage of a birth. There have been a few other times when we've been shown certain phases of the process, but this last one was pretty comprehensive, starting with the first labor pains and ending with the baby coming out and being placed on it's mother's chest.

I have a hard time not bawling through birth footage. Or feeling like I need to run out of the room. I forget to breathe.

Again, the mixed feelings. One second I'm afraid and want to say, "No thanks. I'll take the stork-dropping-it-off option." But then the baby comes out all curled up with its little eyes open and I'm so happy for the people in the video after all that struggle and wish it was me who was done with the whole thing.

I guess now we're considered ready to give birth. Our instructor's last line to us was, "Alright then, go out and have your babies!"

Riiiight.

Our New Place

We're finally moving in!

The last tenant moved out this past Tuesday, and the realtor handed us the keys.

Our new pad is a three-bedroom four-square on Orville Street, built in 1929. It has a big front porch and a fireplace that I can't wait to use this winter. It has a living room, dining room, kitchen, sun room and basement. All the makings of a good house :) Out back we have a circular stone patio and a long, narrow yard for Mona to run in. Behind the garage is a perfect spot for my garden next year.

The location is pretty good. We like not having to drive everywhere, so we're happy to be within walking distance of a city park and a corner store. The Fulton Street Farmer's Market and downtown GR are about 15-20 minutes away by bicycle. We also live within a few blocks of our friends Kristen and Ernie.

To start, we're moving our boxes from Joel and Jessie's basement into ours and waiting until mid-October to move our furniture and ourselves in. We need to do some messy ceiling replacements first and paint a few rooms. (I guess we can thank the 70's for textured ceilings that make a dark room look 50% darker.) Over time we'll make it ours. Jono has big plans to re-do the kitchen at some point, but for now I'm mainly concerned that the ceilings and paint are taken care of so we can start living there. I'll post more pictures as we finish each room.

I love the term "nesting" -- it's so cozy and cute. I can't wait to get to it. Less than two months to go before Fatty McFattersons arrives, and that's assuming he isn't early. We squeezed this move in just in time. Phew.

At my work we have devotions on Tuesdays. We tell everyone what's going on in our lives and pray for each other afterwards. One of my co-workers prayed for us, the baby, and the new house. In his words:

Bless this house
Bless the walls
Bless the floors
Bless the ceilings
Bless the roof
Bless everything that happens within it
Make it a welcoming place for all
Fill it with love and friendship
Anoint it for You.

Shower #2

Here are some shots from the "outdoor baby party" thrown for us by the Klooster/Holtvluwer/Lehman/DeGroot clans (Jono's side). Thanks guys!

32 weeks / 8 months

Pic 1: Hmmm.
Pic 2: Hey Mona, are you ready for this? Wait...am I?
Pic 3: Mona with knitted brow, expressing her feelings for both of us.

Holy cow. I'm eight months pregnant. As you can see, pretty ripe for the picking at this point.

I'm supposed to gain about a pound a week from now on until he comes. Half of each pound goes straight to him.

I have two months to go, which sounds confusing. Aren't women supposed to be pregnant for nine months? I'm no math whiz, but 8 + 1 = 9 and 8 + 2 = 10. What they don't tell you about pregnancy is that it's nine full months, or 40 weeks -- you're pregnant through the end of that ninth month -- so really you've just about hit ten months by the time the kid arrives.

The whole business of when you become pregnant is also complicated as far as calculations go. For the first two to three weeks after conception, no one is sure whether they are pregnant or not because it's too early for the pregnancy test to detect the hormone your body starts releasing. So, when I told someone who had already had a baby that I was four weeks along (many moons ago it seems), she gave me a look and said, "Did you just find out yesterday, or what?" When I explained we'd known for a couple of weeks and gave her some specific dates, she gently informed me that I was actually six weeks pregnant. When the doctor calculates your due date, you're "pregnant" two weeks before you really are according to the chart they use.

Puh-leeaase.

Now that I'm past 30 weeks, my mental state is changing. I’m thinking more about how the birth might go and all the potential scenarios. When I think about it I get alternating waves of excitement, terror and determination. It's not like I have a choice at this point - that's the scary part. Sometimes I feel like this is the most important, mind-boggling thing I will ever do. You can hire anybody to do just about anything, but no one else can get him out into the world for me.*

*Well, technically they can (by c-section), but still, without my body as his temporary home he wouldn't have gotten this far.

He's a Bruiser

This is my first time at this so I don't know what's normal, but our boy seems to be rather active. His favorite thing is to punch the mattress when I'm lying on my side in bed. Whenever I talk about it Jono gets this proud little smirk on his face, and I know what he's thinking: "Just like his dad." Jono is fidgety. Actually we both fidget, so I guess the situation isn't surprising.

My doctor commented on it too. During my check-ups she feels around to see where he is, and I guess she can tell he's squirmy. "I think you're going to have an active little one here," she said. A few check-ups ago he kicked the sonogram machine when she put it on my belly. I think the machine is loud for him, but instead of waiting patiently for her to remove it he got annoyed and gave it two direct hits. Cutie :)

I can feel it now when he gets hiccups. They feel like mild, regular muscle twitches, and I can tell right where his head is when he gets them because of the location of the twitch. (He is often in the head-down position with his legs flailing up around my upper right side.) He usually has them for a few minutes, and it makes me want to pinch his cheeks or squish his leg rolls just picturing him in there hiccuping by himself.

Speaking of pinching, there are times when he sticks his knee or elbow out so far that I can actually grasp part of it between my thumb and index finger. Jono can be across the room and clearly see this or that little body part sticking out under my skin. I give him gentle squeezes, partly because I can't resist, but also because the doctor told me they like the physical contact. Jono used to say, “Don’t hurt him!” when I did things like that, but now that I have a physician’s permission I like to pat and prod him a bit when he’s moving around.

I think my body is just now starting to release the hormones that cause my hip joints to loosen up a bit in preparation for birth. Last week I was bragging to Jono about how spry I was still feeling. One should never brag while pregnant. I think the next day my left hip was wonky. I felt like an old lady when I got up in the morning, limping around for a few minutes like an injured bird until I was limbered up. I also have a hard time standing up straight right away after I've been laying down because my abdominals are so tight.

The hip thing went away after a few days, but I can't wait to find out what lovely side effect will show up next.

I've Been Showered

I had my first "baby shower/party/thing" yesterday at my parents' place. The baby got lots of nice presents that we're relieved we won't have to buy ourselves (thanks ladies!). Now all we need is a room to put them in. (I am fighting the "nesting" instinct... until we move into our house and I can start indulging it.) We ate chili soup and my Aunt Rosemary's pumpkin bars, and I hope people didn't get bored watching me open things.

We'll have two more baby parties before he comes: a co-ed one next weekend for Jono's side and one in Iowa for my mom's side. It's amazing how friends and family help you prepare materially and otherwise for big life changes like this. We are grateful.

The pic shows my friend Cassie giving me a cloth diaper tutorial that I wish I'd taken notes on. I was given lots of good advice by everyone, mostly things like "sleep whenever you can", and "don't be afraid to ask for help". We're feeling good about the fact that we have three sets of family nearby, and he'll be the first grandchild on all three sides. My guess is we will have the help we need. He might be a leeeeetle bit spoiled actually. We'll try our best to keep him humble.

Banned from Funny Movies

Since I've been pregnant I've had this thing where, if I start laughing pretty hard about something, it gets out of control fast and practically becomes an emotional breakdown. It's hard to describe, but it will start as giggling and quickly turn into five minutes of laughing so hard I'm gasping and tears are streaming down my face. Emotionally it's one of the weirdest things I've ever experienced because I have almost no control over it whatsoever. By the end I am pretty much crying.

The first couple of times it happened it was as a result of something my brothers said around the dinner table. The third time Mom took a picture of me by the moving truck and I acted like I was picking my nose. When she showed me the photo I was so amused by it that within seconds I was almost passed out on the lawn. This is embarassing, but the fourth time I was actually alone. I was at work and it was time to go home, so I quickly checked Facebook before shutting my computer down. My friend Kristen had posted pics from our camping trip in which she'd done an "extreme close-up series" of all of our faces. I started giggling immediately and couldn't stop even as I walked down the hallway, out of the office and into my car. By the time I was pulling out of the parking lot I had completely lost it and had to wipe my eyes to see the road.

Last night Jono and I decided I was no longer allowed to go to funny movies in the theater. We closed on our house yesterday, and Jono got his deviated septum fixed this week (!!!), so to celebrate we went out for dinner and then hit the cheap theater afterwards to see Get Smart. We love watching "The Office", and Steve Carell, a character from the show, is in the movie. Things were going smoothly and I wasn't really finding it that funny until the SC character and this secret-agent woman have to go through a sewer in order to secretly enter a building. SC says, "James Bond never had to go into a sewer. There's poop and rats down here. Oh great, look, there's a rat riding on a piece of poop." My mental image of the rat riding on the piece of poop combined with how sarcastically the line was delivered just did me in. The plot moved on but a few minutes later I still couldn't stop laughing about that one line. I sunk down into my seat and covered my mouth to muffle things, but I'm sure people could still hear me. Throughout the rest of the movie it happened two more times, so that by the end when we walked out I was relieved to be going to the car so that I could recover.

I guess I can't totally blame this phenomenon on being pregnant, since the only time I got in trouble in first grade was because I couldn't stop laughing about the opera music we were listening to in music class. I was sent out to the hallway, and I remember vividly that a moment later the pastor walked by and saw me standing there. Growing up I also had this problem during devotions after supper. The difference is how powerful the wave of laughter is now, how emotional it becomes, and the frequency. From this point on I can watch funny movies in the privacy of my home, but no longer in public, at least until I give birth.

If anyone else has had this happen to them, I'd love to hear about it :)

The Pregnant Olympics

We had our first childbirth class on Monday night. The most fascinating thing we learned is that a pregnant woman burns 18 to 20,000 calories while giving birth. When we got home we asked Joel how many he thought a person burns while running a marathon. "Not that many, I don't think," he said.

Our instructor told us, "Ladies...this is your Olympic event."

Aaaaaaaaahhh!!!

Sleeping Bear Dunes

We went on a mini-vacation to Sleeping Bear Dunes in northern Michigan this year, instead of the usual ten-day trip out of state. (We're saving up our vacation days for you-know-who.)

Not much to say except that it was fun, we slept fine, we had some really good Michigan cherry pie in a nearby small town, and we only got rained out once. Here's a slide show for y'all. We are tiny in some of the shots. You can click on the photos to see a larger version.

One of them is of me on top of a huge dune. I felt pretty tough topping that sucker when I'm this far along, but in reality I stopped a whole bunch of times to let the blood flow back into my legs ( = not that tough).

28 weeks / 7 months

So I chopped my hair... but I made sure to tell her she couldn't give me a "mom cut" :)

Here we are at seven months by Lake Michigan.

P.S. If you're on a Mac the lay-out on some of these posts might be weird. Especially the ones where I use multiple photos. My apologies.

The Plan, Stan

As I grow ever larger, our extended family members have started to ask about our birth plan. (As if this is something we might want to think about.)

I've heard a variety of different opinions. My dad has taken the hardest line, which I find very sweet. (I like that he cares.) He says he thinks I should get an epidural no matter what. He made the point that people get pain relief for surgeries and so forth, so why not childbirth? It's a good point, but I think there is a difference between surgery and normal childbirth. Like most people, I have an ideal scenario for how this all might happen.

Now to state the obvious. Under regular circumstances childbirth is a natural process that a vast number of women have gone though since the beginning of time. Many births need no medical intervention and go just fine with the help of a midwife. I've even heard of something called free-birthing, where a woman gives birth by herself or only with her husband. I love that term. I've heard of free-balling, free-falling and free-boobing, but free-birthing was new to me. It sounds so reckless, like giving birth on horseback. Extremes aside, a natural birth without complications is an amazing thing in my mind, and that's what I want. Whether I'll get it is yet to be seen.

Ideally I will be able to deliver vaginally (sorry boys) without any strong pain medication. I want access to all of those birthing accessories that they say make the pain manageable. I want to try it, kind of like I tried skydiving, but with the anticipation that this will require a lot more personal sacrifice and something way cooler at the end.

I know my naivete must be hilarious to those of you who have gone through childbirth before, but I have this romantic notion of how thousands of women before me have done it this way, so I can too. Practically speaking, I want to feel like I'm in control of what's going on and to feel my contractions enough to be able to know when to push. I don't want someone else to tell me what is happening because I'm numb from the waist down and can't feel what's going on. And as ridiculous as this sounds coming from the mouth of a woman who has never done it before, I'm viewing this experience as I would a marathon (ironically I would never run one of those), where I presume the relief and sense of accomplishment is that much sweeter after all the pain.

Okay, so they don't give out medals for childbirth -- this birth plan would be for me, not so that everyone can say, "Oh, way to go there Em - having a baby just like everybody else." As far as others are concerned, no one other than you and your family members care how you give birth, as long as you get the baby out.

I'm trying to be mentally ready for anything. I've heard many stories of women who went into it with the same intentions I have, and ended up getting an epidural for various reasons: back labor and a lack of progression over a period of many, many hours being the most common.

So let me say that if I do end up having this sort of labor, I'm not going to martyr myself like Joan of Arc and leave my son motherless and my husband without a wife. An epidural can relax your muscles so that you can make progress. If the choice becomes that or a C-section, I'll gladly choose the former. A vaginal birth is my ultimate goal, with or without the big needle. I've heard many women breathe "God bless the epidural" after going through an experience like the ones above.

We will be having him in a hospital for a few reasons: the first being that this is where my doctor delivers. I checked into local midwives, but our insurance doesn't cover them. (The lady I talked to at Blue Care Network said, "Midwife?!" to me like I wanted to invite some character from Little House on the Prairie into the birthing room.) Secondly I want to be close to whatever we'll need in case something goes wrong. And lastly, who needs to deal with that mess at home? Not me. I respect and admire anyone who chooses a home birth (a close friend of mine did it - way to go Mal!), but as far as I'm concerned the nurses can take care of that and I'll love them for it.

So, that is our birth plan, but as they say, "We make plans. God laughs." I know two people who have had toxemia and HELLP syndrome. When this happens a C-section is usually the best option because the baby needs to get out of there quickly. In this case you need to scrap your birth plan completely.

No matter how he gets here, he's coming. I'll be his mom, and Jono will be his dad, and that's that.

Moving to Hope Street

This past weekend Jono, me and Mona moved to Hope Street to live with Joel, Jessie and Louie (their dog).

The move was surprisingly un-stressful. Three weeks ago Jono's dad and step-mom came to help us pack. Two weeks ago my parents came to help us fill the U-Haul and unload everything into a storage unit. This left us with a (mostly) empty house, but it still took us most of Saturday and Sunday to get every last little thing out of it. Towards the end we weren't even packing things into boxes any more -- we just tossed them into grocery sacks and laundry baskets, or threw things like brooms, driftwood and my rock collection into the back seat.

Now we're settled, and have arranged our little upstairs apartment. I made the nook up there into a pantry for our canned goods. My shoes are lined up along the wall in two sections: dress shoes and regular shoes (read: OCD). Our clothes are hung on a portable thingy next to the stairs. We're using those terracotta plant saucers as coasters so we don't put rings on Joel and Jessie's little table.

We've been watching the Olympics downstairs with Jessie every night. Jessie is knitting these fantastic booties for our little man, and I'm knitting a scarf because it's the only thing I know how to knit. It's all very cozy.

I feel like I'm on vacation somewhere. Mona does too. She was mopey on Sunday as we were getting the last of our things out of the house, but when she realized she was going with us she got over it. Now she gets to play with Louie every day and her morning walks are in a different neighborhood with new smells, so she's generally happy with the situation.

Throughout all of this, God's timing has been amazing. A couple of weeks ago we found a house we like on Orville Street near Boston Square in Grand Rapids. It's a short-sale, meaning it's in pre-foreclosure. Mainly we were impressed with the fact that it isn't trashed like all of the others we've been looking at in our price range. We made an offer with help from Jono's mom and her husband Jeff, who has a realtor's license. On Friday, the day before we moved out, we heard that our offer had been accepted. No counter-offer; just YES, IT'S YOURS.

Rundown of what could've been a bad situation, but then it turned good...

• We find out I'm pregnant and decide one of us needs to quit our job or work part-time. We realize quickly that our current mortgage payment is more than we are comfortable with under the new circumstances. We put our house up for sale in the worst housing market ever.
  
  
• We know it's likely we won't make very much on our house in this market, so after we sell we'll need to live very cheaply for a few months until we have the a down payment for our next place. Joel and Jessie live three blocks away and agree to let us live with them for awhile once we sell.
  
  
• We sell our house in a month and a half for a good price, when many homes in our city don't sell for nine months to one year (or more).
  
  
• Meanwhile we're looking at foreclosed homes in the city, but most of them are in terrible shape. We are anxious about having to completely re-do a house while I'm trying to get the baby to sleep, etc. Two weeks before we move out, we finally find a good house we can afford in a different area of the city. It needs very little work. We're shocked. We make an offer. We are told it could take three weeks for the bank to respond.
  
  
• One week before we expected a reply and one day before we move out of 135 Lowell, we hear they have verbally accepted our offer. We'll be able to move in 30 days after closing, which will be in two to three weeks. So we'll settle in on Hope Street for a month or two -- just enough time to save for a down payment.
  

There's more too, but I'll stop there. The point is, we are really thankful.

On the pregnancy front, I've had the song Another One Bites the Dust (QUEEN) in my head lately as each day I must put away another article of my clothing into a box destined for the basement. I am realizing I'm low on sweatpants and various items made of long, stretchy material. I am starting to feel the extra weight I'm carrying. One area where I thought I was safe was footwear, but even my shoes don't fit right any more. I tried to put on my favorite pair of sandals yesterday -- the kind with a toe loop -- and was confused when my toe was constricted by the loop. I innocently thought, "Now how were these packed? There must've been something heavy on top of them and it warped them." In the next moment I realized there was nothing wrong with the sandals. My feet are swelling. Yay.

Another new adventure I've been having lately are Braxton-Hicks contractions. What happens with these is the walls of the uterus contract for 10 to 20 seconds and you feel like you're walking around with a boulder in your stomach. They are not labor-inducing and are very normal -- I guess it's the uterus getting ready for the real thing.

Also, I've been packing for a camping trip and I'm realizing I'll need to wear my one pair of sweatpants or walk around in a sarong to stay comfortable. One thing I thought I'd never say: "Must have more sweatpants."

Chi-town!

Grant and I went to Chicago to surprise Tyler while he was on tour with Ten out of Tenn. When we got there Tyler was *surprised*, and he gave us a tour of his home: Willie Nelson's old tour bus (it has a little neon sign in the "living room" that says PARTY - ha.) We had some trouble getting Grant into the venue -- turned out it wasn't an all-ages show -- but in the end we got to see them play. We stayed overnight at my friend Sarah's apartment (thanks Werf!), met her cat Jordy, ate her cookies, had breakfast with friend Becky the next morning, and drove home.

With the move and everything this month I knew I wouldn't see much of Grant before he goes back to Seattle in September. So it was our chance to hang out for awhile.

24 weeks / 6 months

Oh Mona, if you only knew what was coming...

We've hit the six month mark, and our boy is getting nice and plump. He should have some hair on his head by now, and all of his major organs are mostly developed. He is about a foot long and weighs about as much as a mango (the fruit references continue to be helpful). The most surprising thing I read about this time is: "If the baby were born in this month and given the proper care, he would survive". Of course, for multiple reasons we're glad he's staying in there for awhile (God willing).

He is rolling and kicking regularly, and the other morning while lying in bed I could feel his whole body move across my hand. Not just a foot or elbow, but a body. Sometimes I feel a little "off-kilter" and I look down at my tummy and realize that he is obviously hanging out on my right side with his bum pressed against the uterine wall. It sticks right out and makes my stomach look lopsided, which is pretty funny.

I can usually see his movements on the outside now. The other day Jono was listening for him and got kicked in the ear three times :)

This six-month mark is also turning out to be the time when I'm having to leave behind my "prego-on-a-budget" wardrobe. By this I mean the little pink rubberband I was using to keep my regular pants on with. On the way to Chicago with Grant on Thursday I looked down and saw my rubberband, which had come to seem like an old friend, snapped and lying in my lap. I spent the rest of the evening with my pants wide open and a tank top pulled most of the way down over it. I guess it's a sign that I'll need to wear prego pants exclusively now, or just make sure I'm wearing clothing with a quality piece of elastic. I'm really learning to appreciate the merits of elastic. Someone needs to give the guy who invented it a big shiny medal.

The Big 6

Jono and I have been married six years today. My friend Annie called and asked how long it had been. When I answered, she started laughing and couldn't believe it. Yep, we got married right after college and we've been out of college for a LOOONG time. I get it...

We did most of our celebrating yesterday because more things would be open (today is Sunday). Originally we had these big plans to go to a winery down south etc. etc., but when we woke up Saturday morning we opted to go out for breakfast at the Schnitz by our house and then bike the White Pine trail to Rockford and back - about 16 miles total. It was low-key and fun.















Here we are looking a little sweaty. I am wearing my "nerdy helmet", which reminds me of the half ping-pong ball Ralph the mouse wore in "The Mouse and the Motorcycle". No good excuse to throw it out.

We saw some cool native plants on the way there. There wasn't a lot to see in Rockford, but it's a cute town. We walked on the dam over the Rogue River and got ice cream, then had a late lunch and biked home.


























































We spent most of today holed up at home, since our next three weekends will be spent packing and moving. It's been nice.

I keep meaning to make it through the next chapter in "What to Expect When You're Expecting", but every time I sit down to read it I fall asleep. I took two naps yesterday and a big long one today, so I've been on the same chapter for three days. I haven't made it through Saturday Night Live in months.

Overall I've been feeling great, other than some leg cramps, mild heartburn, and the fact that my tummy hurts whenever we go on a long walk -- apparently it's those lower abdominals stretching with the weight of a little human being. They've got it coming: I just read that in a month my uterus will be the size of a basketball. Seriously?! I still can't get over how weird it is that he is just hanging out in there :)

Lately

Not much new is going on with Gordito, as we're calling him ("little fat one", in Spanish), other than he gets bigger and more active every day. Therefore this post isn't really about him, just things we've been up to lately.

Cadillac...
We went up to Cadillac to see Jan & Dad Klooster (Jono's dad and step-mom) a few weeks ago. In stereotypical fashion, Jono and his dad put in a fence around their backyard while Jan and I went garage saling ;) Jan got a kiddie camp chair so that the little guy can eventually sit with us around the fire, and I found sweet tie-dyed onesies with matching socks. Here we are with Jan and the two huskies. Dad K. took the pic.















One thing that was monumental that weekend is it was the first time someone asked me if I knew what I was having without asking me if I was pregnant first! Risky business, but I was pretty happy about it. As I've said before, the beer gut look ran it's course with me pretty quickly and I was ready to look pregnant.

Nordhouse...
A couple of weeks ago we went camping with a big group at our favorite spot in Michigan, Nordhouse Dunes. It's 12 miles of state wilderness along the big lake. This trip was in honor of our friends Rhoda and Johan, who were home from Korea for a couple of weeks.

We backpacked out a couple of miles and set up camp in the woods a couple of dunes from the lake. It was a little rougher going than usual because a tornado had come through the area two weeks before and we had to crawl over downed trees to get to our spot.

We spent the next day on the beach lying around, swimming, and sharing a trashy mag. It's a tradition of Nordhouse females to take at least one of them out there for "lite" beach reading, but it's funny how often one of us is looking for the communal mag and a guy has it. Once one of them picks it up, it's really hard to get it back.






























































We see unbelievable sunsets out there, sitting on the top of the dunes or on the beach, usually sipping red wine (or the latest drink I'm making hip again, apple juice). It's almost always completely isolated. We go a few times each summer, and we like it so much that we haven't really camped anywhere else in Michigan over the past couple of years.

I'm sure we'll get back there at least once more before the little dude arrives. Although we may have to shorten the hike a bit and camp closer to the trail head when I can hardly waddle down the beach anymore.




















Holland...
My cousin Jenna came up for the night on business, so I went down to Holland to see her and the rest of the fam for an evening. We went to the beach and got ice cream at Captain Sundae's, which apparently was visited by George W. Bush a couple of years ago, and he is plastered all over the place for your viewing pleasure while you're picking out the flavor you want. I guess I don't blame them. He was kind of a big deal.















I knew Mom would love it if I took this pic. These two are in Haiti right now working with teachers. Mom gets to go to an orphanage where some of the kids her work is placing live.










Jenna always cracks me up. We laughed a lot while she was here. And Mom felt Gordito move for the first time.

Brett just moved to Phoenix! He took a PE teaching position in Scottsdale. So this was one of the last times I hung out with him before he left. The next time he sees us, there will be four (counting Mona).

The last night I saw Brett, my family was over and everyone was trying to get a turn feeling the kid kick. Not much luck until the end of the night, as they were about to leave, I laid on the couch and UNDER PRESSURE tried to coax him into kicking or punching me. I was so happy when he did, and Brett and Grant both got to feel him. (Way to go buddy!)

Now that you're sick of all these beachy, sunset pics, here's a classic 70's silk screen shot to wrap this up: