How I'm REALLY doing

I try really hard to keep a completely positive attitude on this NICU journey with Chase. I try to be strong for him, and have a positive outlook. I hesitate to share bad news, and try to hang onto enthusiasm over the baby steps in the right direction for as long as possible because sometimes I don't know when the next little bit of progress will come along to rekindle that fire.
Last night, in the car on the way home after some pretty bad news my mom told me it's OK to be real. I said I was afraid if I allow myself to be negative then more negative things would happen. I'm not trying to be negative, but for just one moment... one blog post... I need to be real.

Sometimes I hate it when people ask how I'm doing. I know everyone means well, and really I'm touched by how much support and genuine care people have shown our family through everything. But...I went through three years of infertility, planned a perfect home birth I was excited about, was excitedly counting down the days until my baby would be born at home, spent YEARS making every little decision, only to have all of that go down the drain. Now I sit by an incubator and watch a monitor full of numbers pleading with God  that this tiny miracle might remember to breathe a little better tonight than he did last night, pleading that none of the flashing numbers dip down again that hour, knowing that if they do my skin-to-skin time will be cut short as they assess him and determine if his care regimen needs to change. I wake up every hour through the night, hoping that he's OK, knowing that a bad news phone call could come in at any given time. My phone ringing is all it takes to make MY heart stop beating, my body to break into a nervous sweat, and my mind starts racing. How the Hell do you THINK I'm doing? I'm a new mother separated from my newborn. My baby is in NICU. I'm not OK, and I won't be until he's strong, healthy, and home.

Sometimes, I'm angry. I'm angry that my baby has to get poked and prodded every day. I'm angry that he has to go through tests, blood transfusions and exams every day. I'm angry that his little body looks battered and bruised from all the needle pokes. I'm angry that he is so bothered by all the things taped to his body all the time. I'm angry that he's not home in mama's arms, which is the ONLY place new babies belong. I'm angry that I have to ask permission to hold my own baby. I'm angry that I don't always understand exactly what's going on and what is best for him. I'm angry that I didn't get to spend those first few minutes of his life with him, as I was knocked out and he was rushed off to NICU. I'm angry that we can't be together all the time. I'm angry that he gets a revolving door of nurses rather than a team that gets to know him. I'm angry at my body for not cooperating, for letting this happen, for failing him. I'm angry my c-section isn't healing properly. I'm angry that the pain involved makes it unsafe for me to drive, and that I'm so reliant on rides and other people.

Sometimes I'm sad. My heart breaks for him every time he has to go through yet another traumatic experience. He's only three weeks old and he's been through way too much already. I'm sad that I can't protect him from all this. I'm sad that I am missing out on so much because I can't be at the hospital 24/7. I'm sad that he's in pain.

Sometimes I'm afraid. I'm afraid of infections. I'm afraid of him getting sick. I'm afraid of feeding issues. I'm afraid of apnea. I'm afraid of brady spells. I'm afraid of all the things that keep babies reliant on machines for longer, which in turn keeps them in the hospital longer. I'm afraid of RSV, I'm afraid of the flu. I'm afraid of making wrong decisions and him suffering for it. I'm afraid of letting him down and I'm afraid of not being good enough.

So, when you ask me how I'm doing, and I tell you I'm fine... know that it's a lie. It's a big fat lie. I'm going to continue saying it, in hopes that it eventually becomes the truth. I'm going to keep trying to be positive, and I'm going to continue to have faith it will all eventually turn out OK. I'm going to continue believing that Chase will come home strong and healthy someday, and I'm going to keep dreaming of the day I can hold my son and not stare at the flashing numbers on the screen to know when he needs help breathing. I won't allow the anger, sadness, and fear completely take over... but they are always there, sometimes in the back of my mind, and sometimes front and center.

Our NICU Journey: Week 1

If baby Chase had stayed put, today would have marked 31 weeks. Instead, he is ten days old.

Ten days. I can't believe how much life has changed. Less than two weeks ago my daily agenda revolved around little projects around the house, getting things ready for Chase, and counting down the days to mid-December. Now it's revolved around getting back and forth between NICU to visit him, and pumping milk every two hours.  

Nothing can prepare you for something like this. Through our TTC journey and then through this pregnancy, we just didn't think about "what if he comes super early?" I don't think anyone does, because it's one of those things that you just don't expect to happen to you. But it did. 

Sometimes I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that he is here safe, and that we will be able to bring him home- even if it's not as quickly as I would have liked. I love him so much. But sometimes, generally in the middle of the night, I just feel angry. I feel angry that he's not here with me, angry that he's having to go through all this, angry at the situation. I don't understand how it's decided who gets healthy babies and who doesn't. I try to push those feelings out and be thankful for what we DO have, thankful for how many things ARE going great with him... but it's not easy. Being separated from him feels very unnatural. 

The first time I got to hold him I have to admit- I was a little scared. Certainly not scared enough to not jump on the chance when it was offered to me, but I was nervous. He's so tiny. His little arms and legs... there's just nothing to them. I mean, all of him weighs less than 3lbs. 3lbs is tinier than I pictured it. I was afraid that he wouldn't be happy, that he would just want to be put back- and afraid that I'd do something wrong and hurt him. All of those things went through my mind but at the end of the day, I wanted to be close to him and knew these fears were something I

needed to just get rid of. I have a son now, and he's going to need me to be there for him- there's no room for fear in that. (as someone I greatly admire told me this week: there is not room for fear in parenting.) 

Holding him for the first time, which happened on October 12th, was the best feeling in the world. He just melted and snuggled in, and for an hour- life was perfect. It was natural, he was exactly where he belongs. We get to do that every night, and if he starts to gain weight better will add in mornings too. 

I'm amazed at the progress that can be made one baby step at a time. In a week, he moved off the ventilator onto a CPAP, and then gradually weaned him off of that onto a regular nasal cannula. That didn't go super smoothly so they put him back on CPAP, and then a high flow cannula. As of today, he's back to a regular nasal cannula. He had so many tubes and wires going on the first couple of days and several of them have since come out. His PICC line will come out in the next day or two as long as he continues to tolerate his feedings well. I know we still have a long road ahead, and these things are often two steps forward, one step back (as we learned with his oxygen...) but the idea of him needing LESS machines makes me really happy. As much as I can accept the PICC line, cannula, and feeding tube as things that are helping him that he needs, I know they can't be the most comfortable, and if he's strong enough- I'd rather he not have them. He's such a trooper. 

Seven weeks or so- best case scenario. He has at least seven weeks left in NICU. I hope every week goes by as quickly and overall smoothly as this one has. 

Where we're at now: Chase is having acid reflux after his feedings, which he may or may not grow out of, but we aren't overly concerned about it at this point. His biggest hurdle is that his brain isn't reliably telling his body to breathe- so he tends to stop breathing, which in turn makes his heart rate nosedive, and he has to be moved/ roughed up to stimulate him and then he comes back around. His lungs in and of themselves are just fine- he just forgets to use them. His weight dropped down to 2lbs 10.5oz, but is picking back up. He's at 2lbs 14oz now, which is just an ounce below his birth weight. The more weight he gains, the more we get to hold and touch him so that's a really big deal. 

As for me and Jon... we are hanging in there. It gets overwhelming and we have our moments of pity parties, for sure. Jon is working hard (as always! He's such an amazing husband and father) on getting things prepared at the house for all of us to come home. Since everything is so torn apart and I've been a little out of commission lately, we've been staying at my mom's. I'm anxious to get the house put back together and settle into whatever our new normal is going to be. Plus it's a shorter drive to the hospital and I'm pretty sure we're spending a fortune on gas alone. I'm mostly focusing on eating, drinking, and pumping like crazy. Soon, I will be staying at the hospital during the days and being as present as possible for absolutely everything. A couple things have gotten in the way of that this week- recovering from my c-section, inability to drive, lack of cooperation from my body, etc. but Chase needs me, and I need him. 

When Things Don't Go According to Plan: The Birth Story of Chase Albert

Generally, today, I’d be telling you all about weeks 28-30 of pregnancy. I'd tell you my bellybutton is still an innie, that I'm not wearing maternity clothes- but perhaps I'm cheating because I officially live in sweats. I might comment that I’m nauseous, or tell you how crazy I’ve been nesting lately. I might mention that our house is coming right along and that I started putting all of Chase’s cloth diapers on the shelf this week. I’d tell you all about how I sent Jon to the grocery store at midnight to satisfy the most intense grilled cheese craving of all time, and about how I still adore egg and cheese burritos, as long as they are smothered in hot sauce. I’d surely mention how far away December is and that I was so looking forward to meeting my son, whom was growing rapidly in my body.

But, sometimes things don’t go as planned. Sometimes, no amount of preparation, learning, or striving towards a particular goal is enough to make it happen. Sometimes God writes a different plan, one that catches us completely off guard, one that we may not understand at the time, (or ever!) and we must learn to be flexible. You can imagine my surprise, after nearly three and a half years of planning a beautiful natural home birth, and nearly 30 weeks into a healthy, fairly textbook pregnancy, when I went into labor at just 29 weeks, 4 days.

Chase Albert Lanman was born at 12:48AM on October 7, 2013 via emergency c-section. He was 15.5” long, and weighed 2lbs 15oz. His gestational age at the time of his birth was 29 weeks, 5 days, and this is his birth story.

Anyone that knows Jon and I knows that we were very passionate about the beautiful natural home birth we had been planning for the entirety of our 3+ year TTC journey. Birth has become a real interest of mine during that time as I’ve been fascinated learning about all things pregnancy, birth, and baby. It really is an incredibly interesting topic! I’m a firm believer that medicine and routine intervention really have no place in normal childbirth and tend to cause more problems than they solve. I am, however, thankful for the technology and options available for those FEW times that for whatever reason, birth doesn’t go quite so “normal,” when it really IS necessary to intervene. I am thankful for the knowledge I have acquired. I am thankful that I took the time to learn what I did, so I can look at my birth experience and know that what we did was necessary, that this was one of those not-too-common cases where medicine was necessary, where it was valid, where it was right. I am at peace with the decisions that were made. I cannot deny being disappointed that we did not get the beautiful birth we had planned and hoped for, but we did get a growing and learning experience that has brought our family closer together. 

My labor with Chase was easy. Mostly because I had absolutely no idea I was really in labor until I was pretty well into transition and my body wanted to push him out. I had what I thought were Braxton hicks contractions all day and went to my midwife’s to get checked out- certain everything was OK and just wanting peace of mind. After checking me, we all just suspected that I was maybe getting a bladder infection which was causing the contractions, (the pressure and discomfort I was feeling was very consistent with this- and because I didn’t even suspect I was in labor- and only 29 weeks along it wasn’t the first thought to cross anyone’s minds, it made sense.) We decided to go down to the hospital and just get some things checked out, just for peace of mind- urinalysis, probably get some antibiotics, and maybe a non-stress test for Chase. We left pretty convinced we’d all be home and in bed at a decent hour. In fact, at this point we didn’t even think to contact family or anything, figuring there was nothing to report. “Hey, everyone, just letting you know I maybe have a bladder infection!” No. No one does that.

At the hospital, I gave a urine sample, and they strapped the monitors to my belly to make sure Chase was doing well while we waited to hear back on that. He was. Several contractions came and went during this time. I was able to breathe through them, allowing the waves to come in, peak, and wash away one at a time. Sherri supported me through each one. Her presence brought me so much peace and comfort, I was able to relax completely even in uncertainty. The hospital nurse gave me a pelvic exam which was immensely uncomfortable to no fault of hers. Contractions came and went, and I noticed they started to come more and more quickly. At some point it occurred to Sherri that maybe this had nothing to do with a bladder infection, and maybe I wasn’t even in early labor- maybe I was actually in late labor. At seemingly that exact moment I suddenly felt like I needed to use the bathroom. When I voiced this, I think what was happening “clicked” throughout the room because it was like everything stopped for a moment. A moment after, I started getting shivers, though I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t really in pain, but I felt very pushed to my limit in a very physical sense. Each contraction that came would push me right until I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore, and then it would roll back and I’d catch my breath. At this point, a doctor came in. I have no recollection of him even being there, as I was so tuned into myself and what was happening I didn’t even know he was in the room… until things started to unravel….

Once we confirmed (by complete chance…) that I was in real labor, and there was no going back or stopping it, and there was talk of c sections, and ambulances, my fear set in, and so did the pain. I was managing OK, right up until the EMT said no one could go in the ambulance with me- not even Jon- and then I just could not cope with the fear. I have a lot of anxiety around hospitals, and I recognize that, so to take my main support system away, and add in all the uncertainty going on, the idea of having to go alone was just terrifying. How would I make it through the contractions without Sherri’s support? How would I know everything was OK without Jon’s calming presence? No, this wasn't what birth was to me. It wasn't OK. I was scared. I felt myself slip into a panic as I struggled to regain focus on my breathing and relaxation. Unfortunately the overwhelming fear translated into overwhelming pain and I found myself being “that woman” in labor begging for “help.” Vocally I was asking for pain medication, but that wasn't what I needed. I needed to get out of my own head- to get rid of the fear. I knew it was the fear getting in my way, but I also didn't know how to cope with that. My whole coping mechanisms depend on the fact that I trust birth- and I do- but I trust natural birth. This was out of my comfort zone, and in that moment I didn't know how to adapt to it. I didn't know how to let go of that fear. At some point, in the ambulance, I was able to get myself refocused to some extent. I accepted that this was not the plan, but it was happening, and I knew that my son needed me to work with him and to do that, I HAD to set my fear aside. I laid there, allowing the contractions to roll over me as I fell into them, humming and ahhhhing deeply through them. They were doubling over each other at this point- lasting longer than the breaks in between them were. I knew from everything I read that Chase’s appearance wasn't far off. I wasn't ready for him to come but in that moment, listening to the sirens of the ambulance, I accepted that this was happening. We arrived at the hospital and they wheeled me into labor and delivery. I felt a bit silly as I vocalized through my contractions. I looked up at the EMT and told him baby was not going to wait any longer. He just said “They’ll check you when we get you upstairs and see if you can have an epidural.” I don’t think he understood what I was saying. I felt movement low in my body- very low. I knew his feet were presenting. An animalistic roar escaped my mouth, and everyone looked at me. Suddenly I’m being yelled at to stop pushing. I didn't know I was pushing! It was completely involuntary and uncontrollable. The room turned to chaos again as a few nurses grabbed my bed and rushed me down the hall to the operating room. I went into myself, humming and ahhhhing through the waves, trying to close out the chaos around me. The doctor was harsh and short with me, telling me to be quiet and listen to him. He was trying to explain what they were doing- but I didn't care. I didn’t care what he had to say. I knew I was having a c-section. I knew it was happening now. I knew I would not get to hold my baby immediately, and I knew that the best thing I could do for Chase was stay in my little bubble of peace and hummm and ahhh through it. So I tuned him out.  He was also yelling at the anesthesiologist to hurry up, as a nurse prepped my abdomen for surgery. The last thing I remember once I felt the medicine in my vein, was telling Chase not to be scared, and that we could do this- together. And we did.

If I could remove the moments of panic, I would say my birth experience was wonderful. The pain did not rear its ugly head until the fear and panic did. It was confirmation to me that birth absolutely can be everything I thought it could be. Contractions don’t have to be immensely painful. Labor doesn’t have to be miserable. There does not need to be chaos and panic. When those things don’t happen, and I was able to just fold into myself and let things happen, it was nothing short of amazing. In fact, those final moments, right before I went under the anesthesia, when I had accepted everything going on, I can honestly say it was a powerful and spiritual experience. I believe birth is beautiful. I believe that even though circumstances prevented it this time, Jon and I absolutely will experience a wonderful home birth next time around. And the time after that. And the time after that. I know enough to feel confident in saying that though I didn’t have the experience I was preparing and hoping for- I know that I can someday.

Chase’s birth wasn’t normal. That’s OK! That’s why we are so thankful that medicine and doctors exist- so we can call upon them when it’s necessary! I have no regrets on ANY decisions Jon and I made as a couple for this pregnancy and birth. Words cannot express how thankful I am we found Sherri, nor the value of the comfort and peace of mind she brought to me through my pregnancy and as she supported me every step of the way at the hospital. What an incredible woman. I am a better person just for knowing her. I can only hope she is available my next pregnancy so we can totally ROCK a VBAC at home. I can so do this whole birth thing, don’t let my gnarly c-section scar fool you.

Chase has a long road ahead before he’s strong enough to come home with us. Jon and I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of love, support, and kindness that have come pouring in the last couple of days. PLEASE know that while it’s been difficult to individually return every message, they do not go unread, they do not go ignored. Your thoughts and prayers are so very appreciated- and keep them coming, they are working!! I’m a believer in positive energy and creating your own reality starting with thoughts, and I have no doubt that we can thank all of you out there rooting for us for Chase’s progress so far.

Our IKEA Kitchen- Part II: The Demolition

The first step in getting our new kitchen in, was of course taking the old one out. This sounds like a lot more fun that it is. I was kind of looking forward to beating the crap out of the old ugly kitchen- but all the surprises we ran into kind of rained on the parade.
The thing is, my house was built in 1954, and I'm pretty sure every single owner of it since then (I'm not sure how many there have been, but the wall colors sure have changed a million times, I know that much.) has thought they were really good at DIY projects. Except, they thought wrong because every single professional we've had in here- be it plumbers, electricians, general contractors, etc. has been totally left scratching their heads at what the heck whoever last worked on [insert whatever they're here to fix] last was thinking. Good times.
Several things came up that we really had no way of anticipating until we were well past the point of no return. It was super stressful. Anyone who has ever done a home renovation project knows that "surprise" is synonymous with "unexpected and likely large expense." In our case, we've been lucky enough to- for the most part- have at least one family member proficient in just about every area of construction and home renovation and have been able to remedy most things without totally busting the budget. Our timeline, however, has completely gone out the window. That's been frustrating but I've accepted that it is what it is.
Jon started ripping out the floor first. It was just a blond laminate that was pretty ugly. We found this lovely linoleum straight out of the 70's underneath it. Nest he took off the counter tops, and pulled the lower cabinets away from the wall.
Jon's dad and sister came to our rescue for a weekend to help with this part- and oh man was that appreciated or what! The person who built this kitchen seriously LOVED nails. I mean, he loved nails so much that he probably used approximately eleventy billion more nails than what was actually necessary to mount these cabinets. Getting the upper ones off the walls was tricky. Not to mention the fact that being solid wood they're unreasonably heavy as well.
We discovered all kinds of fun stuff.... like the fact that behind pretty much my ENTIRE lower cabinets, there was no wall. There was a giant flippin hole that they covered by...drumroll please... taping a garbage bag over it! Not kidding. Plus, zero sealing of any kind around the duct work for the vent under the cabinets, no insulation whatsoever. I'm talking hollow shell of a wall, made out of trash bag.
We also had a galvanized pipe that was literally about to corrode through any second, so I'm glad we discovered it BEFORE it sprung a leak. I don't think my basement needs to flood any more times. In fact, I *know* it doesn't, because I might lose my dang mind if it ever does again. We've replaced all the main lines since moving in, and have replaced some of the other plumbing along the way, but this pipe was hidden until everything had come off the wall so we had no way of knowing it needed to be replaced.
We also discovered that a lot of the subflooring was in pretty rough shape- another thing we probably should have anticipated with having an older home, but being newbies to all this, we just didn't.
In addition, the walls behind the existing laminate backsplash were in HORRIBLE condition. Literally, crumbling apart. (probably because the lower half of the wall is missing?) We peeled it off and the wall just kind of started falling apart. It was one of those "uhhh... wasn't expecting THAT." moments.
I reached the point I had to just walk away before I lost my mind. I was having one of those days that everything under the sun made me want to cry (pregnancy is stupid like that) and I was feeling 1. super overwhelmed, and 2. super embarrassed to be so emotional and stupid in front of Jon's family. They probably think I'm a super unstable nutcase.
Once we got it all torn out, my kitchen looked.... well... it looked like a total disaster, because that's EXACTLY what it was. It was dirty, and had holes all over, and smelled funky. I had no idea when we started this project how much work it would really be, or how many surprises would come up- or just how rough of shape it was really in to begin with. This renovation was so much more necessary than I ever realized. I'm glad we discovered these issues before they started really causing problems, though. That's a blessing in disguise- even if I did feel totally overwhelmed the entire time.
But, that was it. Everything was out. There was no going back now. We had surprises, but no choice but to deal with it and carry on. It helped knowing that no matter what I was getting a new kitchen. Staying the way it was wasn't an option, period. At the end of all of it, things were going to get put back together... though I can't even begin to tell you how many times along the way I stood in that room, looking at the chaos and destruction, and wondered if I'd ever be able to make dinner again. Who was gonna clean up this mess, anyway?!


Our IKEA Kitchen- Part I: The Professional Planner

Our IKEA Kitchen- Part III: The Install (Coming Soon....)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part IV: Customer Service [or lack thereof] (Coming Soon...)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part V: The Finishing Touches (Coming Soon...)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part VI: In Summary & Review [A look in retrospect] (Coming Soon...)

28 weeks. Oh Hello, Third Trimester!

How far along? 28 weeks, third trimester at last!

How big is baby? bigger than last week, that's for dang sure

Total weight gain/loss: -15.

Maternity clothes? Nope. I can still wear all of my longer shirts just fine, and all of my pants fit fine if I just wear them below my belly.

Sleep: Insomnia has crept in full force. I mean I toss, turn, and try to sleep until Jon's alarm goes off at 7am. Then I sleep for about 4 hours. Then I'm tired all day.

Best moment the last two weeks: Hmm. Being in the third trimester is a neat thought- the home stretch! We also started our hypnobabies classes and I'm excited for that, too.

Movement: All the time.

Food cravings: Haven't really been having any the last two weeks. Food is mostly unappealing, and since I have been limited to a microwave for cooking (which, btw, I generally never ever use) while the kitchen is torn apart, things have been kept pretty simple.

Food Aversions: Anything leafy, again.

Gender: Boy. <3

Pregnancy Symptoms: Does being antisocial count? I mean, I'm really not the most social person to begin with but I'm ready to just get rid of my phone altogether so I don't have to keep explaining that I just don't even keep it on me, because I have nothing to say and no one I want to talk to. I'm still battling nausea pretty much every single second of every day, too. I can feel my energy level declining again, but I really think that will improve when I have a kitchen and am preparing more nutritious food again. I'm really repulsed by the amount of fast food we've had to fall back on lately, and I can feel the difference in my body, it's repulsed too.

Belly Button in or out? In

What I miss: Nothing.

What I am looking forward to: December!

Upcoming appointments/events: Next appointment is October 7th.

Milestones: So far: made it through first trimester, had first (and second) ultrasound, and discovered gender, and felt movement, Jon has felt movement from outside, belly popped finally, anatomy scan (went well), being able to see movement, point of viability passed, started birthing classes, started third trimester

Bump Picture: maybe later.

Our IKEA Kitchen- Part I: The Professional Planner

So, in deciding to keep our 1954 rambler for 8-undecided more years, Jon and I agreed that certain renovations just needed to happen. We made a list, gathered our price quotes, prioritized, and got to work. Our modest budget has meant quite a bit of DIY work and getting a little creative with certain things, but all in all I'm pretty pleased with how it's coming together.
A large part of our inside renovation budget went to the kitchen. To make a total gutting of the kitchen even remotely affordable for us at a time that we really should focus on saving, we read all we could about our options. We determined for our budget, wants, needs, and things that were important/ unimportant to us it made sense to go the IKEA route on the cabinets. My former kitchen was simply not functional. I do NOT have a lot of kitchen stuff- at all. In fact, I'm kind of a minimalist when it comes to kitchen gadgets, and even I struggled with the serious lack of storage space. Further, the cabinets just had this weird "old house smell" in them no matter how much I scrubbed them out with everything under the sun. Even Activated charcoal- which will get rotten meat stench out of a storage room (we learned when a freezer full of meat came unplugged...) won't get the weird smell out of the cabinets. Add to it the funky flour storage bins that consumed nearly all of the lower storage space rendering them useless to me, the lack of any kind of pantry, and the oven that worked but had a bad temper and a vendetta against me, and this renovation was simply needed. I needed a functional kitchen. Not necessarily fancy, but functional. It was ugly before, but not so ugly it wasn't tolerable. The lack of function wasn't going to work for me anymore, though.
So, off we embarked on our next project! Let me tell you a little about this experience.
We'd seen good pictures, read good things, and felt confident that this would give our awful 50's kitchen the much-needed face lift we were going for, while not breaking the bank. I'm not one to care about keeping up with the Jones' and was excited to have a new kitchen to prepare meals for my family in- even if nothing was custom or designer. -shrug- It would be an upgrade anyway!
I spent countless hours browsing their catalog, walking their showroom, and making lists of things I liked, didn't like, etc. The project quickly became overwhelming to me. (disclaimer: I'm pretty easily overwhelmed when I'm out of my comfort zone, in all fairness) So many options, and I was having a hard time making sure that my measurements were accurate in the online planner program.
Jon and I decided we would go ahead and hire an IKEA kitchen planner to come out, do measurements, and help us design the layout. It's not that we weren't capable of measuring, but I was worried about messing it up. To me, the security that came from putting the measurements in the hands of the pros, and having a "designer" help with the layout to where we literally just had to push a button to make it spit out our shopping list was going to be completely worth the money spent. Then we'd have the plans to go by, and planned to self-install. Not that Jon and I are super handy- we're not- but we can follow instructions pretty well and though a little nervous, were ready to tackle the project.
This is where it started going wrong.
Our "designer" showed up a few minutes late, which is fine. Things happen. I showed him the kitchen, told him a little bit about what I was thinking as far as layout, etc. I had already filled out the requested worksheet provided, indicating things like my choice of cabinet color, hardware, sink, fixtures, appliances, etc. so he could plug all that into the program.

Before- 1950's Dysfunction

I gave him some space to get the measurements, showed him which appliances were staying and going, and he said he'd set up the bare bones of the room in the program and then we'd lay it all out. I sat in the living room and waited. And waited. An waited. During this time he took several phone calls from other clients which bothered me, because when I pay for someone's time (at over $100/hour, mind you) and am on their schedule, I do expect them to respect the fact they are on MY clock. Mine. My time. That I'm paying for. He also was texting on his phone a ton, and when I walked by a few times noticed he had an instant messaging program open on his laptop and was actively chatting away. At the time I wasn't super angry- as long as he also got the kitchen mapped out it was mission accomplished as far as I was concerned.
When he called me over, I was surprised to see that he already had all the cabinets, drawers, etc. entered- I was also surprised that he didn't really implement a single change I had said I wanted to make. He had pretty much plugged in a new version of the exact same kitchen I had before.
Not only that, but he literally put every single upgrade in every single drawer and cabinet. He had included every fancy storage and organization solution you can imagine- which, neat as they are, I just have no need for all that. Regular shelves and drawers were plenty for me. I don't have a ton of stuff to begin with, so I wasn't concerned with all that. Not to mention the insane cost it added.

Before- 1950's Dysfunction

I requested that we move a few things around and he'd tell me why it wouldn't work that way. Me being the clueless novice, and he being the all-knowing "professional" I accepted his reasoning even though it made little to no sense because I was in way over my head here already. If I have a professional telling me something about a subject I know NOTHING about, and no time to learn, I am really left with no choice but to accept. The layout didn't really disappoint me, I still liked it, I'm not picky, so it was easy to quickly let go of my previous thoughts of what I had wanted. In retrospect, I think he just didn't want to edit/ redo his design. I think he was lazy. I've had a contractor, a few family members (whose opinions I really respect/ trust) tell me that his reasoning was completely bogus and had no base on literally every account. I could have had the layout I wanted. Live and learn.
As we were going through the final plans, just a few moments away from that click that spits out our shopping list, I made a few more requests. I really actually LIKE the side of my fridge exposed. The front isn't magnet and Jon and I use it as a message board of sorts. That's where our family calendar goes, coupons, shopping list, etc. I don't care if the built-in look is higher end or more desirable, I like what is functional for me. Plus, those panels were $170/piece and we'd need two. No need to increase cost where it's not necessary to me. I'm more budget conscious than that even if I DO have the money at hand. I also didn't care to pay the price for all the cabinets and drawers to have the "soft closure" add on. Regular opening and closing is just fine for me. Plus, soft closures would totally kill the dramatic effect that angrily slamming the cabinet gives. :-p (kidding. Kinda) Anyway, never had soft closure cabinets, never wished I had them, never thought about them, so at several bucks per drawer/ door.... I requested those go, too. Also, he had slide-out shelves throughout the pantry. Neat as that is, I just don't need all that and it was a lot of added expense. (think $600 in the case of regular pantry shelves vs. ones that pull out. He had also upgraded my corner cabinets from regular lazy susans to some fancy schmancy contraption that was supposed to "maximize my storage space." I explained to him approximately 8,921,284,248,129,001 times that this new design was already giving me literally four times the storage space I had and that I wasn't overly concerned with storage space, nor did I need all the expensive fancy gadgets designed to make every last square inch usable. I also didn't like the Ikea hardware options, and (as I indicated on that worksheet they so desperately stressed the importance of having done before the appointment) said I planned to get them at another time because I was undecided on style/ color at that point.

Before- Laundry in the kitchen?!

He agreed to take it all off and change it to basics. I left him to do so for the last half hour or so of his time.

It was the end of the 20% off sale. We literally had to order the stuff first thing in the morning to get that deal, and in turn save a very large amount on the materials. So, when he was finished, we went over the changes I had requested, which he lead me to believe had been done, and we submitted the order.
We opted to have IKEA deliver all the parts, because they're about 30 minutes away and it would take multiple trips in the truck- not to mention Jon's already slammed weekday schedule. The fee was reasonable enough to make it worth it. Our kitchen would come in early the next week! Yes! The planning part was done, and though we had a few little hiccups and disappointments, I was still really excited! I wasn't even going to have a washer and dryer in my kitchen anymore- it will be a REAL kitchen! I'm going to have a real laundry room! Oh happy day.
I also had no idea what I was in for.

...to be continued...

Our IKEA Kitchen-Part II: The Demolition (Coming Soon...)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part III: The Install (Coming Soon....)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part IV: Customer Service [or lack thereof] (Coming Soon...)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part V: The Finishing Touches (Coming Soon...)
Our IKEA Kitchen- Part VI: In Summary & Review [A look in retrospect] (Coming Soon...)

26 weeks!

How far along? 26 weeks

How big is baby? According to Babycenter, he's an eggplant.

Total weight gain/loss: -12. (146)

Maternity clothes? Nope. I can still wear all of my longer shirts just fine, and all of my pants fit fine if I just wear them below my belly.

Sleep: I haven't been sleeping super well, mostly because I have SO much on my mind with all the things going on with our house/ property. I'm confident I can get this back on track after some of these projects are done. Chase gets SUPER busy at 4am every morning, like clockwork and if I'm not awake already, it wakes me up. Unfortunately I've been having night terrors and wake up in a complete panic on a regular basis. Again, probably moreso house stress than anything pregnancy related. :-/

Best moment the last two weeks: Hmm. Honestly? The last two weeks haven't been very good, and with no milestones to report, I'm stumped.

Movement: All the time.

Food cravings: Egg and cheese burritos, with lots of hot sauce.

Food Aversions: Haven't really had any as of late, which is good because I can eat leafy greens again, which I could not for several months.

Gender: Boy. <3

Pregnancy Symptoms: Mostly I just feel really emotionally whacko lately. I'm finding that I'm getting really overwhelmed really easily, which is something I struggle with anyway but moreso now. I'm crying over really stupid things and it's just frustrating. And then I cry because I'm frustrated. Though, I guess in all fairness there is A LOT going on right now, and I think most normal  people would even be a bit frenzied with all the things going terribly wrong.

Belly Button in or out? In

What I miss: Nothing.

What I am looking forward to: Third trimester, which starts next week.

Upcoming appointments/events: Next appointment is September 19, if I remember correctly. I need to double check! We start our Hypnobabies class on the 20th, and we have a forum group coming up this Saturday. I can't believe after my next appointment they move to every other week.

Milestones: So far: made it through first trimester, had first (and second) ultrasound, and discovered gender, and felt movement, Jon has felt movement from outside, belly popped finally, anatomy scan (went well), being able to see movement, point of viability passed.

Bump Picture: