A blogger that I read recently blogged a very on point post on pregnancy after miscarriage. It definitely struck a chord with me. Her Ryley sounds just like Kyra. Everything is “if the baby doesn’t die”.  Gretchen’s post really wrapped up the scary happy of being pregnant after losing a baby.

You can read it here:

If Ifs and Buts Were Candy and Nuts, We’d All Have Happy Pregnancies

Just a few things I thought I would share with you guys:

• I have been listening to a new-to-me band non-stop for the last few days. I had heard one of their songs on the radio, and have been listening to all their stuff since then. Check out Needtobreathe’s Myspace page here.

• My baby is growing hands and feet this week. S/he’s got color in her eyes now, too, underneath her fused eyelids.

• My favorite popsicles:

You should really try them. They’re delicious

I haven’t blogged in a while, because I got hit hard with morning sickness while we were still in Columbia and it hasn’t stopped. I’ve had stuff to blog about, but it’s hard to stay upright long enough to sit at the computer and blog. Right now, it’s five p.m. and I’m sitting in my pajamas with a trash can between my knees.

Here’s a few quick updates:

• We made it home from SC on Thursday. We came home a day early because I was so sick. It took me two extra hours to get home, because I had to pull over so much to puke. The first stop found me hanging out of the door of my van, throwing up in the parking lot, while a truck driver sat in his bread truck and watched. Fun times.

• I had an ultrasound Monday at Choices (the crisis pregnancy center where I volunteer), and the baby looked good. We got to see the heartbeat. It was a big relief to me to see that.

• My little brother, Luke, that I mentioned was so sick and then didn’t say how he was now…is fine. He had Rocky Mountain Spotted fever. He’s feeling much better now.

• My kids just came in from playing outside. Sweaty little kids make me want to puke. Apparently, all of my babies make me sick.

So, that’s all of my updates for now. Pray for me if you think of it, because I am so siiiiiick. (I mean every one of those i’s, too.)

Me, Kyra, Elijah, Owen, and Baby makes five.

Yep, I found out this morning that the newest little Harmon is on it’s way. We’re so happy!

I know a lot of you will probably think I’m crazy for telling everyone so soon, but I’m going to celebrate every day with this baby. I really have no reason to expect there to be problems with this pregnancy, just because of the last one. I had three healthy, problem free pregnancies before my miscarriage, and I am going to believe that my fifth pregnancy will be healthy and problem free until I have some reason to believe otherwise. So, celebrate with me, friends. I’m going to have a baby!

And just because one of my brothers asked this question today…yes, I do know what causes this. It’s that thing where I have a hot husband, we love each other a lot, and we just so happen to think our kids are awesome. So, yeah. We understand. We kinda like it.

I’m going to the doctor in the morning for blood work. I’d appreciate your prayers that everything goes well. 

 
This is me on the very first day I knew I was pregnant. It was taken late at night when I was tired with no make-up on, but, nevertheless, under that fat unicorn shirt is a wee little answer to prayer.

by Marci Seither

Sand blew across the parking lot. It seemed we had found the edge of the world, but for our oldest son, Nathan and the other Marines stationed there, the colorless landscape of 29 Palms was home. Each company, dressed in desert camouflaged, lined up for roll call. Their gear was packed. Within a few hours they would be leaving for Afghanistan. Their recent training had been as intense as the blazing sun they would soon be facing on foreign soil.

Those of us who made the trip to see our loved ones gathered on the hot pavement.

An older well wisher wore a white baseball cap with “Korean Veteran” embroidered on the front. The faded tattoo on his forearm was so blurred it was hard to tell exactly what the original design had been. A weathered hand wiped away the tear that had escaped against his will. He remembered the taste, the sight and sounds of war, and wished he was young enough to go with his grandson and the men he now saluted.

A young woman rested her hand on the side of her rounded stomach. Her husband won’t be home for the delivery. Other young wives had been down this long good-bye road before, it was never easy.

Our children watched as their older brother stood at attention waiting for his name to be barked out during the final roll call. John, my husband, understood the routine. He was one of the “Semper Fi” and had deployed, but never into battle. This was all new for me. My stomach hurt, I couldn’t breathe. My mind was filled with things I wanted to say but the only words that managed to tumble out were “I love you.” It would be a long eight months.

“These are the faces of war that the media often misses, not just those who serve, but the families that stay home and wait, watch and worry,” I thought.

Each Marine responded to his name. There was a somber reality that many of us felt, but no one dared utter. Not all those who answered the roll call will be coming home alive.

I hope it’s not my son, I fervently wished. I knew that the mom on either side of me was wishing the same thing. You don’t want it to be anyone’s son, or grandson, nephew, brother or husband. But the reality is that freedom has a price.

That price was realized when John clicked onto the internet. The news was numbing. Four soldiers of the 2/7 Marines had been killed and the names had not been released.

Anxiety mixed with fear every time the phone rang. Forty eight hours later we received an e-mail from Nathan. He was fine. By the end of that week, a total of seven Marines from 2/7 were killed. Our hearts broke for those who had lost their son’s.

Having a child in the military is not easy, but I know that Mothers have worried for their sons at war from the very beginning of our country. If it weren’t for the sacrifice of others, we would not be waving flags of red white and blue, watching fireworks, or lining up along parade routes.

The real celebration for our family will be when Nathan and those in the 2/7 are back in the USA. When the bus full of exhausted Marines, anxious for a familiar embrace and the promise of a home cooked meal pulls into the depot, we will be there - at the edge of the world on soil that is still free.

HT to Barbara at MommyLife. I copied this article from her blog. I wanted to post it here, because I really liked it.

I thought I would link you guys to a post my husband wrote yesterday that I thought was particularly good.

Check out Chris’ post by clicking here.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind for me. Amy Jo was here for two weeks, and we stayed pretty busy. Then, as soon as her visit ended, our week of VBS at church started.

I helped in the preschool class, and, let me tell you, that was an interesting placement for someone who really isn’t a kid person. I know, I know. I have, like, a lot of kids, but they’re mine. I’m not so much into other people’s kids. At least not little kids. I enjoy preteens and teens. I just don’t know what to do with little people who aren’t mine. So, anyway, I told the VBS director I would help wherever I was needed, and I guess I was needed in the preschool class. So I spent my evenings this week taking kids to the potty, wiping their snacks off their hands and faces, changing peed in clothes (my own kids’, of course), hot gluing stuff on other stuff, and saying “shhh” a lot. It was lots of fun. Especially the part where we hold up our hands and say, “Open them. Close them. Open them. Close them. Give a little clap! Now, put them in your lap.” so we can pray. That was fun. I didn’t know what to do with myself the first night, but, after that, I decided preschoolers can be okay. I had a couple favorites by the end of the week.

The kids that I really adore, though, are the preteen girls. I love ‘em! There are a few of them that come and talk to me every service, and I just love them to death. I’m thinking I need to have a slumber party or something for them.

Here’s a photo of me and my girlies:

Tonight, I missed the last night of VBS so that I could give my cousin and friend, Steph, a lingerie shower. I lucked out, and my Aunt Debbie, her mom, let me give the shower at her house, so I didn’t have to clean for it. I’m not very hostessy at all, but the shower turned out really well. We all had a good time, and only embarrassed Steph a little. Okay, actually, I think we embarrassed her a lot, but whatever.

I’m really relieved that VBS and the shower are over and done with. Everyone had fun at both, and I’m glad they both turned out so well. I’m ready to just be chill for a while, though, and not have to do anything. I have a whole stack of books to read, and lots of projects in mind that I’d like to get out of the way before school starts this fall.

The biggest thing we have upcoming is that Chris is leaving again. He got a practicum at Fort Jackson from July 22 to August 31. We’re excited about that. For those of you who don’t know, a practicum is where Chris will go and work with a Chaplain for about six weeks. He will be doing chaplainy (that is SO a word) things to train him for when he actually is a chaplain. I’m not sure exactly what he will be doing. I think it depends on the Chaplain that he works with. It could be stuff like counseling, preaching, talking with soldiers, etc. I don’t really know, but Chris is definitely looking forward to it. I’m excited for him, and I’m excited to be back at Fort Jackson for however many days I get to be there. One cool thing is that my friend Aimee is there right now for CH-BOLC, and I might get to see her when I go to visit Chris. Seeing my Springfield friends is always a bonus, no matter where or for how long I get to see them.

To wrap up this post, I should say something about my week in motherhood. My oldest baby turned six and lost her first tooth, in the same week that my youngest baby turned two and lost his paci for good. It surprised me how emotional all of that was for me. Amy Jo told me that Owen was not a baby anymore, and I kind of went off on her. I informed her that Owen will remain a baby until I have another baby. Steph says I have a problem. Maybe I do. For now, my baby needs have not been satisfied, and Owen will be in that position until he is replaced by a little brother or sister. So, don’t any of you people be telling me how sad it is that he’s not a baby anymore. He is a baby. He is! Sigh. I know it’s incredibly cliche, but it is astounding at how fast they grow up. Makes me kind of sad…and kind of happy at the same time. Thankful. That’s what I am. Incredibly thankful.

Hiking at Frozen Head

These photos are from two Saturdays ago. I just now got around to posting them.

My baby girl is growing up.