Should a Christian Celebrate Halloween?
1 year ago
Friday, January 23, 2009
We Found Out Today . . .
We're having a sweet baby girl!!! She is healthy and beautiful with a heartbeat of 151 bpm. Baby K is now officially Keely Star Kline! Praise God who rains his blessings on us continuously. We are so excited!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Updates and More
Starting back at school after Christmas break has been keeping me super busy. I feel like I could use another break already. Luckily, I get Monday off for MLK Day. I guess that will have to suffice for now. Spring break cannot come soon enough. Our kids have been a little nuts. They are still adjusting to being back from Christmas vacation. We had a fight at our school yesterday, and I thought, "Already?!" We've had Benchmark testing all week, and the teachers and admin have been on edge. Yep, we are all ready for another break.
The holidays were nice--too quick but nice. Carl and I got a camcorder for Christmas, thinking that we would get a lot of use out of it once Baby K arrives. We should have videoed our cats, Apostrophe and Comma, the other day, because they looked like they could've been auditioning for the Olympics or something. I was sitting on the couch, and Comma jumped in my lap from literally across the room. I think he's part flying squirrel. Apostrophe almost did a backflip, completely on his own. Animals really do add excitement, I suppose.
Anyway, so our Christmas and New Year's went nicely. Carl's parents were out of town for most of the break, so we got to spend most of our time with my family. It was fun. I finally got in to see our new OB over the break. I got to hear Baby K's heartbeat for the first time. I think it was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Our big sonogram, where we find out gender and get all of the measurements done, is scheduled for the 23rd. I'll be 18 weeks 6 days, then. Everyone thinks we're having a boy, but I really cannot decide. Some days I'll get this strong feeling that we're having a boy, but others, I will think Baby K is a girl. Carl thinks we're having a girl. Our next appointment with the OB is on the 26th. We ordered a crib over the break, and it came in last night. Carl and I are planning to put it together tonight or tomorrow. I've been sick with a horrid cold this week. It's finally getting better, but I was miserable for the first little bit. Not to mention, I have a little nephew who wanted me to hold him while he finished eating last night. I did, but I probably shouldn't have. And, little Ella Jean kept staring at me and smiling, and I just wanted to bounce her on my knee and sing "Ella Jean, Baby Queen" to her. I resisted that urge, though. Hopefully, I will be completely over this cold Monday and able to hold my sweet nieces and nephews. Amy's kids should be at my mom's Monday, too.
Oh, I forgot to mention our little trip to the ER on December 31st. I woke up at 6 AM with this horrible pain in my side. I managed to go back to sleep for a little longer, but it was still there when I woke up. I got ready and went to my mom's house. The pain lasted the entire morning, and my mom and Carrie freaked me out by saying, "I wonder if it could be your appendix." My new doc's office was closed for the New Year's holidays, so I tried to call the on-call nurse. The automated message said that if you are pregnant, under 20 weeks, and have an emergency to go to the ER. I called my RE's office, and the nurse told me to go to the ER if it didn't get better in the next hour or so. I didn't want to go to the ER. Mom and Carrie somehow convinced me that I needed to. Carl was at work when I texted him to tell him Carrie was going to take me. He was freaking out. Poor Carl! He couldn't take off until 3, which wasn't for another hour. So, he was sitting at work imagining all sorts of horrible stuff. Anyway, they got me in rather quickly, gave me a stupid catheter (which is the worst thing ever), and did a sonogram to check on Baby K. Everything was fine. My uterus is apparently tilted to the right. Since it is expanding, it sort of bumped into some other stuff and caused the pain. No kidney stones, no appendicitis. A stupid catheter for nothing. I did get to see our sweet baby again, though, and that made it worth it. I can't wait until I can see him or her everyday. Carl did manage to get his friend to come in earlier than 3, so he could meet us at the ER. He was quite relieved to know everything was A-OK. I guess I was, too. I mean, I sort of figured I was fine all along. I guess confirmation was nice, though.
Last thing, if you have not seen Marley and Me, you need to. I read the book this summer, and it easily made my top 5 list. The way John Grogan writes and being a dog person myself made the book easy to fall in love with. They did not screw up the movie in any sense at all. They were pretty out of sequence and got a couple of things wrong, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. I highly recommend it. But, if you are going to see the movie, you really should consider reading the book.
The holidays were nice--too quick but nice. Carl and I got a camcorder for Christmas, thinking that we would get a lot of use out of it once Baby K arrives. We should have videoed our cats, Apostrophe and Comma, the other day, because they looked like they could've been auditioning for the Olympics or something. I was sitting on the couch, and Comma jumped in my lap from literally across the room. I think he's part flying squirrel. Apostrophe almost did a backflip, completely on his own. Animals really do add excitement, I suppose.
Anyway, so our Christmas and New Year's went nicely. Carl's parents were out of town for most of the break, so we got to spend most of our time with my family. It was fun. I finally got in to see our new OB over the break. I got to hear Baby K's heartbeat for the first time. I think it was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Our big sonogram, where we find out gender and get all of the measurements done, is scheduled for the 23rd. I'll be 18 weeks 6 days, then. Everyone thinks we're having a boy, but I really cannot decide. Some days I'll get this strong feeling that we're having a boy, but others, I will think Baby K is a girl. Carl thinks we're having a girl. Our next appointment with the OB is on the 26th. We ordered a crib over the break, and it came in last night. Carl and I are planning to put it together tonight or tomorrow. I've been sick with a horrid cold this week. It's finally getting better, but I was miserable for the first little bit. Not to mention, I have a little nephew who wanted me to hold him while he finished eating last night. I did, but I probably shouldn't have. And, little Ella Jean kept staring at me and smiling, and I just wanted to bounce her on my knee and sing "Ella Jean, Baby Queen" to her. I resisted that urge, though. Hopefully, I will be completely over this cold Monday and able to hold my sweet nieces and nephews. Amy's kids should be at my mom's Monday, too.
Oh, I forgot to mention our little trip to the ER on December 31st. I woke up at 6 AM with this horrible pain in my side. I managed to go back to sleep for a little longer, but it was still there when I woke up. I got ready and went to my mom's house. The pain lasted the entire morning, and my mom and Carrie freaked me out by saying, "I wonder if it could be your appendix." My new doc's office was closed for the New Year's holidays, so I tried to call the on-call nurse. The automated message said that if you are pregnant, under 20 weeks, and have an emergency to go to the ER. I called my RE's office, and the nurse told me to go to the ER if it didn't get better in the next hour or so. I didn't want to go to the ER. Mom and Carrie somehow convinced me that I needed to. Carl was at work when I texted him to tell him Carrie was going to take me. He was freaking out. Poor Carl! He couldn't take off until 3, which wasn't for another hour. So, he was sitting at work imagining all sorts of horrible stuff. Anyway, they got me in rather quickly, gave me a stupid catheter (which is the worst thing ever), and did a sonogram to check on Baby K. Everything was fine. My uterus is apparently tilted to the right. Since it is expanding, it sort of bumped into some other stuff and caused the pain. No kidney stones, no appendicitis. A stupid catheter for nothing. I did get to see our sweet baby again, though, and that made it worth it. I can't wait until I can see him or her everyday. Carl did manage to get his friend to come in earlier than 3, so he could meet us at the ER. He was quite relieved to know everything was A-OK. I guess I was, too. I mean, I sort of figured I was fine all along. I guess confirmation was nice, though.
Last thing, if you have not seen Marley and Me, you need to. I read the book this summer, and it easily made my top 5 list. The way John Grogan writes and being a dog person myself made the book easy to fall in love with. They did not screw up the movie in any sense at all. They were pretty out of sequence and got a couple of things wrong, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. I highly recommend it. But, if you are going to see the movie, you really should consider reading the book.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
In Commemoration of a Life Well Lived
I'll be the first to tell you that teaching 6th grade ELA was never a part of my plan. It just so happened that God had other things in mind for me than writing a Great American novel or a groundbreaking Broadway play. When I first decided to teach, I wanted to have seniors in high school. I had dreams of teaching kids that already knew how to write. We were going to write plays and synopses over "A Midsummer Night's Dream" or "Sir Gawain and the Green Night," all of the literature that enamored me when I was in high school. I wanted to teach about the Beatniks, who went overseas to write about their perspectives of America and American life. I was going to be just like my senior ELA teacher, Shirley Webb, one who inspired me in ways I never imagined possible. (Ironically, I had the pleasure of teaching with Shirley the first two years of my career--in middle school.) So, I worked my heine off and finished grad school and student teaching in a year. My certification was in ELA and Reading, grades 8-12. Now for the job hunt . . .
I submitted resumes and made phone calls to places an hour away. I spent money we didn't have on classroom enhancements--posters, tape dispensers, markers, and more. By the end of summer, I'd had two interviews and didn't get either job. Our bank account was getting ridiculously low. Carl was working hard at a dead-end job that paid a lot less than it should have. I was worrying if I'd made a wise decision about going into the field. I enlisted as a substitute teacher for the fall semester. I spent the first 5 weeks of school subbing in LISD and Frenship, where I did my student teaching the previous spring. I'd given up on getting a real job that year. Carl and I were cutting back on our expenses as best as we could. Then the call came. I interviewed at Dunbar for a position in sixth grade that suddenly opened up. I knew I got the job before I was even told. I thought if I could just stick it out until the end of the year teaching kids that knew nothing about writing, I could move on to my dream job, already having a year under my belt. I had no idea what I was going to teach. I would be the head ELA teacher in 6th grade. My colleague taught reading mostly, but she helped me through a really difficult year. When I was worrying about curriculum, I tried so hard to think back on what I learned in sixth grade ELA. The name Joanna Dunn will forever be in my mind as a teacher that taught me the most.
Joanna Dunn was my sixth grade English teacher. She was old even when I had her. She was extremely familiar with the Branson clan, since she taught my older sisters and younger brothers. Anyone with that amount of experience with our family remembers us long after we left elementary school. She had us spouting off prepositions, identifying prepositional phrases, diagramming sentences, moving to a rhythm while we conjugated verbs. We learned grammar and had fun learning it. I decided to model my teaching after what I could remember, which was quite a bit, of hers. I go into the school year promising my students only one thing . . . that they will learn. I believe Joanna made the same promise to us. We did not always enjoy her classes. She got onto us for yawning in her class. She was tough, and sometimes we moved on when I wasn't quite down with the current concept we were learning. But, she was a good teacher, a great teacher, who was passionate about what she was doing. That passion came out everyday. And, it was obvious.
I saw Joanna just last year. She was older and looked more worn. I talked to her for several minutes, making sure to tell her I still knew all of my prepositions by heart. She was proud to know that I'd grown up and sort of followed in her footsteps. She offered me advice about how to teach certain things and gave me her email address so we could exchange ideas. She was now teaching at MacKenzie Middle School, having moved up with the fifth graders when they converted junior high into middle school and changed the grade levels contained to 6-8. She told me she was having a tough year because of the change and leaving Honey Elementary behind. She talked about retiring in the near future. It was good to see her and to know that she was proud of me.
My brother and Carl, who are basically best friends, were talking last night, and Carl told me that Joanna Dunn was killed in a car accident earlier that morning. I immediately kicked Carl off the computer and looked it up online. Her picture was on the first page of local news. The caption read "Beloved Teacher Dies in Car Accident." I read the story. The jaws of life had to remove her from the wreckage. She was speaking on site, so they thought she might live. Surgery was conducted, and she died before it was over. She was in her 49th year of teaching, quoted at saying she hoped to make it to 50. It made me sad to think about her family and her students, how this happened just before the Christmas holiday. I imagined her granddaughter, whom she was very close to, receiving the news. But, Joanna lived a good life. She was a devout Christian woman, who was passionate about family, friends, and teaching. She touched lives because of that passion. I thought about her all last night, said a little prayer for her family and students. I was sad but didn't cry. She lived a good life, and I suspect that yesterday was her victory, although it was our loss. God rest her soul.
I submitted resumes and made phone calls to places an hour away. I spent money we didn't have on classroom enhancements--posters, tape dispensers, markers, and more. By the end of summer, I'd had two interviews and didn't get either job. Our bank account was getting ridiculously low. Carl was working hard at a dead-end job that paid a lot less than it should have. I was worrying if I'd made a wise decision about going into the field. I enlisted as a substitute teacher for the fall semester. I spent the first 5 weeks of school subbing in LISD and Frenship, where I did my student teaching the previous spring. I'd given up on getting a real job that year. Carl and I were cutting back on our expenses as best as we could. Then the call came. I interviewed at Dunbar for a position in sixth grade that suddenly opened up. I knew I got the job before I was even told. I thought if I could just stick it out until the end of the year teaching kids that knew nothing about writing, I could move on to my dream job, already having a year under my belt. I had no idea what I was going to teach. I would be the head ELA teacher in 6th grade. My colleague taught reading mostly, but she helped me through a really difficult year. When I was worrying about curriculum, I tried so hard to think back on what I learned in sixth grade ELA. The name Joanna Dunn will forever be in my mind as a teacher that taught me the most.
Joanna Dunn was my sixth grade English teacher. She was old even when I had her. She was extremely familiar with the Branson clan, since she taught my older sisters and younger brothers. Anyone with that amount of experience with our family remembers us long after we left elementary school. She had us spouting off prepositions, identifying prepositional phrases, diagramming sentences, moving to a rhythm while we conjugated verbs. We learned grammar and had fun learning it. I decided to model my teaching after what I could remember, which was quite a bit, of hers. I go into the school year promising my students only one thing . . . that they will learn. I believe Joanna made the same promise to us. We did not always enjoy her classes. She got onto us for yawning in her class. She was tough, and sometimes we moved on when I wasn't quite down with the current concept we were learning. But, she was a good teacher, a great teacher, who was passionate about what she was doing. That passion came out everyday. And, it was obvious.
I saw Joanna just last year. She was older and looked more worn. I talked to her for several minutes, making sure to tell her I still knew all of my prepositions by heart. She was proud to know that I'd grown up and sort of followed in her footsteps. She offered me advice about how to teach certain things and gave me her email address so we could exchange ideas. She was now teaching at MacKenzie Middle School, having moved up with the fifth graders when they converted junior high into middle school and changed the grade levels contained to 6-8. She told me she was having a tough year because of the change and leaving Honey Elementary behind. She talked about retiring in the near future. It was good to see her and to know that she was proud of me.
My brother and Carl, who are basically best friends, were talking last night, and Carl told me that Joanna Dunn was killed in a car accident earlier that morning. I immediately kicked Carl off the computer and looked it up online. Her picture was on the first page of local news. The caption read "Beloved Teacher Dies in Car Accident." I read the story. The jaws of life had to remove her from the wreckage. She was speaking on site, so they thought she might live. Surgery was conducted, and she died before it was over. She was in her 49th year of teaching, quoted at saying she hoped to make it to 50. It made me sad to think about her family and her students, how this happened just before the Christmas holiday. I imagined her granddaughter, whom she was very close to, receiving the news. But, Joanna lived a good life. She was a devout Christian woman, who was passionate about family, friends, and teaching. She touched lives because of that passion. I thought about her all last night, said a little prayer for her family and students. I was sad but didn't cry. She lived a good life, and I suspect that yesterday was her victory, although it was our loss. God rest her soul.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
We Have a Mover!
Our third ultrasound was today. I must confess that I was sort of nervous because some of the girls on my fertility website have had recent miscarriages. They were due around the same time as me. For some reason, I tend to associate myself with everyone else. I've always been that way. I remember hearing stories about kids getting kidnapped and being terrified that I would get kidnapped, too. So, when these girls announced miscarriages at or around 11 weeks, I got a little worried. In the back of my mind, I knew I was worrying about nothing, but I still wanted assurance that my pregnancy was going the way it should. I got more than just assurance today, and I was so thankful. The little one is growing and moving around like crazy. We saw it's eyes and ears. We saw legs and arms and hands. It was so amazing! He or she currently measures at 12 weeks 2 days, meaning that it is measuring ahead by nearly one week. I asked if that meant my due date is moved, but she told me it doesn't. It just means that the baby is growing rapidly and is big. The differences between this ultrasound and our last one were phenomenal. It is amazing that so much has happened in just 3 weeks. I also "graduated" from my specialist doctor and can now go see a regular OB/GYN. I had to get a new doctor because my previous one evidently decided to stop delivering babies. I haven't made the appointment yet, but I am going to call soon. Please continue to keep Carl, me, and our sweet little miracle in your prayers. We feel so blessed in so many ways.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Update
Hey, all! I just got back from our second ultrasound. It went so great!!! I actually got to see our little one move around in there! Wow, so cool!!! I wish Carl could have been there, but he was stuck at work. They did video it for us, and we got printouts of the pics. Our sweet baby is measuring 2 days ahead, at 8w 4d. It looked so big compared to last time! It had the beginnings of arms and legs. Its head was huge compared to everything else. Its little :heart: was beating at 159 bpm. And, I was reminded that by our next u/s, which is December 2, our baby will look like a real proportioned baby. Yea!!! This is too cool. I called Carl as soon as I got out, and he was really excited to hear about the new developments. My mom and sister were, too. I love this feeling! So, anyway, I felt awful most of the day yesterday, didn't throw up, but I felt like I could have. Today, I woke up nauseated, but still went to work and made it through the day without too much trouble. When the people at work don't know anything yet, it is easy to make yourself put on a smile despite feeling sick. At our department meeting, they talked about more things they want us to do this summer as professional development. I am going to have to tell them that I cannot make any committments for summer. I want to wait until after our 3rd ultrasound, though. Does anyone have any advice for telling people? I am going to tell my friend, Malli, at work tomorrow. I am only spilling to her, though, because she's been doing me lots of favors by watching my class when I have an appointment. She's getting curious. I am going to tell her that she can't tell anyone else, though. Well, I am off to eat something. My stomach is growling. I hope everyone else is doing A-OK! Thanks for your congratulations and responses. I am trying to keep things updated more now. I wish I could post a pic from our ultrasound, but I didn't get a CD and don't have a scanner. I'll see if I can figure something out.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wow!
Time is flying by, and I am getting old. Funny how that happens. I don't update this blog much, because I don't really know that many people interested in reading about my crazy life. So, here I am, updating at my older sister's request.
Life is funny. The older and wiser I get, the more I realize that God has a hand in everything that comes and goes. It becomes more and more apparent that He knows exactly what he's doing, too. We live our lives, make countless mistakes, and ultimately learn our valued lessons, without ever realizing how truly perfect it all is. It occurred to me when I was in the ninth grade that in the end, things just work out. It may take a lot of drama to get to the end, but things happen exactly the way they are supposed to at exactly the time they are supposed to. I adopted this philosophy, but I never really understood it. Knowing God has a hand in everything and truly realizing it are two different things.
The past two years have been nothing short of trying for Carl and me. We've been struggling with infertility for just shy of two years. I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). I was diagnosed with it after we'd been trying for the better part of a year and a half. We've been seeing a specialist for the past 4 or so months. There were times in this journey that I wasn't sure I would ever make it to motherhood. I was a little jealous of people I knew who were having babies and adding to their already beautiful little families. I felt isolated. Carl and I shelled out quite a bit of money to pay for an IUI procedure that our specialist doctor redcommended. I thought it worked, even convinced myself that there was no possible way it couldn't have. It broke my heart to get confirmation that the procedure was a failure. I spent a day feeling sorry for myself. Carl was so sweet to me, but I didn't feel much better. I got it in my head that I was likely not able to get pregnant, which made it even worse. Then, something happened. I reunited with an old aquaintance who helped me realize a few things. She was going through a similar situation, but she voiced these words of confidence that stuck with me: "I know I can get pregnant." It struck me then that feeling sorry for myself was not helping the situation and was making me feel worse. If I wanted to conceive a child, I was going to have to fight against this infertility with all that I had. I knew that God was on my side, because I could just feel it. I'd been praying steadily for guidance and patience since we first started having trouble. I knew God would never turn his back on me. We had our second IUI done on September 26, which was a Friday. I am a school teacher, so finding time to relax is almost impossible. I found it that weekend, enjoying time with my man and just focusing on the good things life has to offer. I know this sounds really crazy, but I am almost convinced it has something to do with the end result. I promise I am sane. I started talking to what could be my future baby the day after my IUI. I would tell it and myself that we were going to fight, I would fight for it and Carl would fight for it, and with God on our side, we simply could not lose. About 9 days later, my BBT (Basal Body Temperature) dropped, and I thought it was over. Carl and I had a long talk about what we were going to do if it was indeed over for that cycle. We even decided that if we don't get pregnant within a year, we would adopt. I felt better. The next two days, my BBT shot back up. I still was not hopeful. I refused to take a pregnancy test until my scheduled blood test. I went in two Fridays post-IUI feeling broken but okay. I was pretty sure I would not get the result I wanted, but I was convinced that I would eventually. If this cycle was not the one for us, then the next one would be. I got the call at my sister's house later that afternoon. I was sort of panicky when I answered the phone. I stepped outside and heard Angie on the other end say, "You're very pregnant." I cried like crazy, asked if they were sure those were the correct test results, and thanked the Lord for really being with us all along. It occurred to me later that evening that I'd read several stories about people finding out they were pregnant and being happy enough to shed tears. I always wanted to be one of them. I remembered wishing I would get a happy surprise, and I got one. I went inside that afternoon and told Carrie that she was going to be an aunt again. Then, I left and went to Bear Castle, which is like Build-A-Bear, to carry out the plan I'd developed two months prior for telling my husband that he was finally going to be a daddy. When I gave him the bag carrying the bear and birth certificate, he reached for the certificate first. He stared at it for a few minutes, then the sweetest, most genuine smile crossed his face. "We are?" was all he could say. Our first ultrasound was yesterday, and we got to see our little coffee bean and his or her heart beating at 130 bpm. I am not sure I have ever seen anything more beautiful than that little baby. I know Carl agrees.
Life is funny. The older and wiser I get, the more I realize that God has a hand in everything that comes and goes. It becomes more and more apparent that He knows exactly what he's doing, too. We live our lives, make countless mistakes, and ultimately learn our valued lessons, without ever realizing how truly perfect it all is. It occurred to me when I was in the ninth grade that in the end, things just work out. It may take a lot of drama to get to the end, but things happen exactly the way they are supposed to at exactly the time they are supposed to. I adopted this philosophy, but I never really understood it. Knowing God has a hand in everything and truly realizing it are two different things.
The past two years have been nothing short of trying for Carl and me. We've been struggling with infertility for just shy of two years. I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). I was diagnosed with it after we'd been trying for the better part of a year and a half. We've been seeing a specialist for the past 4 or so months. There were times in this journey that I wasn't sure I would ever make it to motherhood. I was a little jealous of people I knew who were having babies and adding to their already beautiful little families. I felt isolated. Carl and I shelled out quite a bit of money to pay for an IUI procedure that our specialist doctor redcommended. I thought it worked, even convinced myself that there was no possible way it couldn't have. It broke my heart to get confirmation that the procedure was a failure. I spent a day feeling sorry for myself. Carl was so sweet to me, but I didn't feel much better. I got it in my head that I was likely not able to get pregnant, which made it even worse. Then, something happened. I reunited with an old aquaintance who helped me realize a few things. She was going through a similar situation, but she voiced these words of confidence that stuck with me: "I know I can get pregnant." It struck me then that feeling sorry for myself was not helping the situation and was making me feel worse. If I wanted to conceive a child, I was going to have to fight against this infertility with all that I had. I knew that God was on my side, because I could just feel it. I'd been praying steadily for guidance and patience since we first started having trouble. I knew God would never turn his back on me. We had our second IUI done on September 26, which was a Friday. I am a school teacher, so finding time to relax is almost impossible. I found it that weekend, enjoying time with my man and just focusing on the good things life has to offer. I know this sounds really crazy, but I am almost convinced it has something to do with the end result. I promise I am sane. I started talking to what could be my future baby the day after my IUI. I would tell it and myself that we were going to fight, I would fight for it and Carl would fight for it, and with God on our side, we simply could not lose. About 9 days later, my BBT (Basal Body Temperature) dropped, and I thought it was over. Carl and I had a long talk about what we were going to do if it was indeed over for that cycle. We even decided that if we don't get pregnant within a year, we would adopt. I felt better. The next two days, my BBT shot back up. I still was not hopeful. I refused to take a pregnancy test until my scheduled blood test. I went in two Fridays post-IUI feeling broken but okay. I was pretty sure I would not get the result I wanted, but I was convinced that I would eventually. If this cycle was not the one for us, then the next one would be. I got the call at my sister's house later that afternoon. I was sort of panicky when I answered the phone. I stepped outside and heard Angie on the other end say, "You're very pregnant." I cried like crazy, asked if they were sure those were the correct test results, and thanked the Lord for really being with us all along. It occurred to me later that evening that I'd read several stories about people finding out they were pregnant and being happy enough to shed tears. I always wanted to be one of them. I remembered wishing I would get a happy surprise, and I got one. I went inside that afternoon and told Carrie that she was going to be an aunt again. Then, I left and went to Bear Castle, which is like Build-A-Bear, to carry out the plan I'd developed two months prior for telling my husband that he was finally going to be a daddy. When I gave him the bag carrying the bear and birth certificate, he reached for the certificate first. He stared at it for a few minutes, then the sweetest, most genuine smile crossed his face. "We are?" was all he could say. Our first ultrasound was yesterday, and we got to see our little coffee bean and his or her heart beating at 130 bpm. I am not sure I have ever seen anything more beautiful than that little baby. I know Carl agrees.
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