Week Four And Five.

Week 3.

Week Two.

Week One.

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST

This was it. 

The day we welcomed you into this world. 

And now, here you are.

We could not love anyone, any more than as much as we love you.  Our little Olivia.

So this is it.  Your story.  How you blessed our lives and forever changed us.

Tuesday, November twentieth. 

I had the day off of work.  I had my weekly doctor's appointment scheduled, followed by a dentist appointment and then a hair appointment.  I put up all of the Christmas decorations.  I did a mini-makeover on the bathroom decor.  I cleaned the house.  I should have known.  Everyone says you have a "burst" of energy before you go into labor.  This was my burst.

Tuesday night your dad and I went to dinner and then stopped to get ice cream on the way home. 

As we settled into bed, we had the same conversation that had been on repeat for several days now.  Speculating and wondering when we'd finally get to meet you.

Later that night, daddy and I awoke to some commotion in the neighborhood.  (Daddy thinks this is what sent me into labor.)  But by 1AM we were tucked cozily back in bed.  Wednesday, November twenty-first.

Three hours later, 4:30AM I wake up to what feels like contractions.  But different contractions than the infrequent ones I had been feeling earlier that week.  Convinced it was probably my excited imagination, I attempt to go back to sleep. 

5:00AM I wake up again.  It's definitely not my imagination.  I'm having real contractions.

I get out of bed, whisper to daddy, "I think it's go time.  I'm going out to the living room to start timing contractions" and proceed to fold a load of laundry and empty the dishwasher to pass the time.  All the while, keep time of the contractions.

6:00AM I wake up daddy.  The contractions are getting more fierce and serious.  I need some company.  Daddy gets up but he is still unsure if it's the real deal.  I convince him otherwise and tell him to call-in to work.  We're having a baby today.  He says "are you sure?" and my only reply in between two contractions.  "Call them."

6:30AM I call the doctor and explain the contractions, frequency and time in between.  The doctor encourages me to drink some water and lay down to see if the contractions go away, or if they are real.  I do as directed, and still, they are getting closer together and more painful.

I decide at this point, since it wasn't time to go to the hospital, that I'd shower and get ready.  But somewhere along the way, the contractions get even worse.  I have to stop in between blow-drying my hair to get through one contraction.  All the while, daddy is at my side, encouraging me and helping me through.

Finally, 9:00AM daddy calls the doctor again.  The contractions are lasting more than a minute, less than five minutes apart and have been this same pattern for more than an hour. 

The doctor gives us the green light.  We load up the car and drive less than 10 minutes to the hospital.

It was the longest and most painful 10 minutes I've ever spent in the car. 

After being admitted to the hospital, the nurse checked us and I was dilated to a 4.  What a relief.  And so was the epidural that I received shortly thereafter.

Prior to going into labor, I had given much thought to the epidural.  Ultimately, I decided I would wait until we were in labor to determine if I wanted the epidural or not.  But after spending the better half of the morning on Wednesday laboring without it, there was no question in my mind when we arrived at the hospital that I wanted the epidural.  And I wanted it as quickly as possible.

This was such a good decision.  Almost immediately, the pain was reduced to a minimum, I became more relaxed and enjoyed the next several hours with daddy as we anxiously awaited your arrival.  I tried to nap, but who was I kidding?  We were about to meet our daughter.  It was finally happening.  After 9 months of waiting.  You were just hours away.

By 10:00AM, I was dilated to a 6 and from then until 1:00PM I was ready.  Dilated to a 10.  The anticipation and excitement was too much to stand.  And at 1:45PM our doctor arrived and I began to push.  For just 29 short minutes, I pushed and breathed and paused and pushed again, just as instructed. 

And then at 2:14PM, I heard you.  I heard that glorious cry that signaled you were here.  You were purple and screaming.  And as they placed you on my chest, I glanced up at your daddy, we smiled, and I could feel the tears roll down my cheeks. 

That moment, the one in which they placed you on my chest will never escape me.  The feeling of you on top of me was incredible, priceless and it was then that you changed me. 

I was a mom.

But not just any mom - I was your mom.

November twenty-first; the day you were born.  Your daddy and I couldn't be prouder.  Proud of you, proud to be your parents. 

November twenty-first.  One day before Thanksgiving.  Daddy and I always knew we had lots to be thankful for.  But you Olivia, you gave a whole new meaning to the word blessed.

Just a few short moments after your arrival, you changed us.  Changed us for the better.  You have blessed us beyond measure and we are so completely in love with you.  Our precious, perfect and beautiful Olivia.

Olivia Kay Schamberger

November 21, 2012

2:14pm

7 pounds, 9 ounces

19-1/2 inches

Shawnee Mission Hospital

 

Ready

With less than 3 weeks to go, we're definitely on the homestretch.  I should start by saying, I have lots of reasons to be thankful.  I'm one of the lucky ones.  I'm that pregnant lady.  No real discomfort, no stretch marks, no major complications, no weird cravings, and no major meltdowns.  Well, that last one is possibly up for debate, especially if you were to ask my husband.

I know each baby is different.  And baby number two may not be as easy as baby number one.  But so far, with only a few exceptions, this pregnancy thing has been...well, relatively easy. 

At least, so far.  I'm hoping this philosophy carries over through labor, the first weeks at home, the first week at daycare, highschool and college, and until bean is well into her 20's.

You're right.  I'm probably dreaming.  But one can hope, right?

And now, with just 2-1/2 weeks left, it's starting to get very, very real.  I'm starting to get anxious and excited.  Ok... even more anxious and excited than I already was.

It's impossible to go out in public anymore without getting a whole host of questions...but it always ends with that infamous one.  "Are you ready?"

Hmm.  Now isn't that a loaded question?  Funny you should ask, because I've been pondering this myself. 

Are we ready?

Ready in the sense of is her closet filled, diapers and wipes stocked up, nursery finished, baby gadgets purchased, and carseats installed...um, seriously, do you know who you're talking to?  Yes.  This is why they invented checklists.  And with my type A personality, this was all crossed off weeks ago.  You know... just in case ;)

But...are we really ready?

Ready to meet this sweet, precious miracle that we've been waiting on for 9 months, absolutely.

Ready to savor each detail of her that makes her...her, of course.

Ready to find out what color of hair she'll have, what color her eyes will be and if she'll look like her mama or daddy...yes.
Ready to wake up stay up during all hours of the night to change diapers, feed, rock back to sleep and then repeat... hmmm, I think so.

Ready to have our house filled with sounds of her crying, laughing and babbling...

Ready for life to revolve around this little babe...

Even after contemplating this for 8 months, it's still hard to imagine just how different life will be.  It's hard to believe how much we love her and she's not even here yet.  It's hard to believe how much she will change us.  For the better of course.

As much as I'm ready to meet her, I must say, it's very bittersweet.  Honestly, I think there's a tiny part of me that will miss being pregnant.  For one, I'm going to miss her rock star kicks - feeling her move and sharing those moments with her - just me and her.  I'm going to miss her being in my tummy, where we can protect her from all the scary things. 

The nine months of pregnancy, I have a feeling that's the easy part. 

In less than a few weeks, we'll be parents. 

I know we'll be good parents.  We won't be perfect though.  We'll make mistakes.  We'll learn from those mistakes and grow.  And most importantly, we'll make certain each day she knows just how much we love her.  We'll make sure we raise her with good values.  To be kind, honest, hard working and grateful. 

Soon two people, will become three.  A mom, a dad and a very precious baby girl.

For now, I can only imagine how wonderful it is going to be. 

But, we are ready.  We are so ready.

And bean, she's nearly ready too.  I'm bursting at the seams and with each kick, I can tell she's getting stronger, or wearing high heels inside there.  (wonder who she'd get that from?)

Here we are 35 weeks.

And for a special treat, a very dear friend broke in her new camera and captured me and bean at 37 weeks.

Waiting.

Sometimes I find myself sitting in here.

Rocking in the chair.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, in the middle of the floor.

Just waiting.

And imaging how it will probably never be this quiet in this room ever again.

And that makes me pretty excited.

I remember when we started this nursery project.  The red walls and empty space was a bit daunting, not to mention, overwhelming.

I knew it would be a process to turn all of the images, dreams and schemes in my head into a reality...into a room fit for our little bean.

Even before we knew if bean was a he or a she, we tackled those stripes and bought the worlds most comfiest chair.

And then we waited.  And waited.  And after many weeks, after we discovered we were having a girl, I made the very long to-do list that, after all was completed, would turn that empty striped room into a nursery fit for a queen.

But I knew I was in a race against time.  A deadline.  September 5th.  No.  That wasn't bean's expected arrival date.  That was the date of the first Cowboys game.  The start of the National Football League and the beginning of a steady decline in my husband's "free" time.  I knew I had to get him motivated to get everything on the list done before then.  Because let's face it, building bookshelves or painting dressers would be competing with Tony Romo and that wasn't a battle I was willing to face.  At least not when it comes to bookshelves or paint.  But should I go into labor and find myself competing against Tony for my husband's undivided attention on Thanksgiving day well, let's just say, I'll win that battle, hands down.  Besides, we all know Tony doesn't do well under pressure.  Especially pressure from a pregnant woman under the pains of labor.

Anyways, enough about the Cowboys.  Back to the nursery. First on the list was the baby furniture.  Olivia is lucky to have cousins that were gracious enough to pass down their crib and changing table.  They were a perfect fit for her room and have a special meaning because of babes that slept their before.  The only stipulation, some assembly required.  And the assembly of the crib went pretty much like you see in the movies.  The pregnant wife giving directions and the husband refusing to read the instructions or take any suggestions.  Well, maybe it wasn't quiet as bad as the scenes from the movies, but still, I was glad to get "set up crib" crossed off the to-do list.

 Next came the "floating" bookshelves.  I saw a bigger version of these on Project Nursery, but the space I had picked out to put them would require we scale them down a bit.  After a trip to Home Depot to purchase the necessary supplies, Kev got busy building according to the specs and instructions I found online and I made a trip to the Half Price Bookstore to buy some books to fill the shelves.

Now we needed a dresser.  Option 1 was to make a trip to Nebraska Furniture Mart and purchase something new.  But what would the fun be in that?  Besides, I wanted bean's room to be unique and different.  And buying an expensive dresser didn't seem to fit that bill.  And I knew that a new, expensive dresser was going to get barbie cars driving into the bottom of it, "washable" markers colored on the top of it, and "hot tea" from tea parties spilled on it.  After thinking through all of the possible scenarios this dresser was going to go through as bean grew from baby to toddler, a new dresser didn't seem too practical.  So scratch option 1.

It just so happened my parents were in the process of cleaning out some of their old (circa 1980's) stuff and happened to have a dresser.  At first glance, this dresser was nothing special and certainly nothing I would have selected for our nursery.  But with a little convincing and creativity from my husband, after looking past the surface, I knew it would be perfect.

But the first dresser problem was that it wasn't the right height.  Cue in my handy husband and four dresser legs from Home Depot.  All we needed to do was secure the dresser legs to the bottom of the dresser to add a few inches of height.  Of course, nothing is ever as easy as a pregnant, non-handy, "never-used power tools" woman imagines.  And so, when Kev flipped over the dresser to "just screw on the legs" he discovered he had his work cut out for him.  But with a few 2X4's, 4X4's and a little bit of patience, he accomplished it and we crossed off "add legs to dresser" from the to-do list.

The next dresser problem, as I'm sure you can tell, is the color.  Now, I'm sure this wood was popular in the 80's but fast forward 20 years and well, I'd say it's a bit outdated.  And the knobs, yes, those had to go too.

After debating colors and looking at swatches in Lowes, we finally settled on a color.  Not black or even white.  Those colors were too predictable.  We settled on yellow.  Bright, sunshine, mustard-colored yellow.

First we sanded it.  Then we primed it.

And  then we painted it bright, bright yellow.

And replaced those outdated knobs we diamond, flower-shaped ones...the perfect touch of bling.

There was only one missing critical furniture element.  We needed a little table or nightstand next to the chair.  Luckily, after scouring a couple of thrift stores, I found this little beauty and bought it for less than $20.  We painted it the same bright, bright yellow and added the same bling knobs.

With all of the furniture built and painted, all that was left on Kevin's side of the to-do list was hang the flat screen and build the shelves inside the closet.

The shelves in the closet were simple and within a couple hours, he had them assembled and I had them filled with blankets, baskets and extra bedding.

Hanging the flat screen was really Kevin's idea and if it meant he'd get to spend time rocking his daughter back to sleep at 3AM while watching Sports Center ,while this mama got an extra hour or two of sleep, well, sign me up.

But putting a TV on a wall is a challenge in itself.  Hiding the cords so they don't dangle down from the TV to the outlets is a whole other battle.  Nothing though that Kevin and his brother and a Sunday afternoon couldn't fix.  And just like that we were watching ESPN in bean's room in no time. 

Now it was time for bedding, curtains and accessories.  I wanted to continue the theme of not having a theme.  I wanted bright colors.  Patterns.  Flowers.  Polka-dots and stripes.  Girly, but not too much pink.  I wanted everything to coordinate, but nothing to be too matchy-matchy.

And so a quilt from Etsy.  Paired with a bed skirt from one website.  Coordinated with a bed sheet and bumper pad from another website.  And then as a final touch, we added the softest stuffed owl.

When it came to a mobile, I was determined to make something different and unique...especially after seeing the lack of options available in the stores.  None of them fit the concept I was looking for.  So, I simply bought two of those Styrofoam balls from Hobby Lobby and disassembled lots of old flowers and with a little hot glue and fishing string, I had these flower balls hanging from the ceiling directly above bean's crib. 

An owl cookie-jar turned piggy bank sits on the left of the bright yellow dresser.  And on the right, a turquoise and coral vase of flower stems and a metallic rocking horse, a garage sale find by Olivia's cousin.  He thought she would love how shiny it is.  He's right.  She's going to love it.

An owl pillow is the final touch to the worlds comfiest chair.  And those pink curtains, although I originally bought them online, when they were delivered, they were too long and not wide enough for the windows.  But they were the perfect color.  So rather than sending them back, I sent them home with the woman who can sew and fix anything.  My mom.  Bean's grandma.  Somehow, she managed to rotate them 90 degrees and sew a new curtain pocket on them so that they fit the windows perfectly. 

And there you have it.  Bean's room.  It turned out just how I wanted and imagined.  Perfect for her.

All that's missing, is bean herself.

And so, until she gets here, we're still waiting and enjoying these final couple months.

Sitting in her room.  Waiting on her and picturing the hours we'll spend playing on the rug.  Rocking in the chair.  Changing and dressing her on the table.  And watching her sleep peacefully in her crib.

Some days I still can't believe it. 

But each day it becomes more and more real.  Each kick in my tummy.  Each blanket washed and folded.  Each diaper put in the drawer. 

And each doctor's appointment where he reports the number of centimeters my stomach measures.  Yes.  Bean is indeed growing.  As is evidenced by the bump below.  32 weeks and still growing.  Growing and waiting.