I know the moment you were conceived. It wasn’t hard to figure out, of course, because it was the one time your Dad and I didn’t take our normal precautions, if you could call them that. (In reality, we had already suffered many miscarriages, so we were beginning to think that we would have to take extra measures to have a successful pregnancy.) So when I visited Dr. Promecene to confirm my pregnancy with you, she calculated my due date (May 11) based on my last missed period. I tactfully informed her that she was incorrect and that my due date should really be May 2 based on the conception date. (Of course, in the end, does it really matter? Baby comes when baby wants!)
These are the very first pictures I ever saw of you from my 7-week sonogram. The first one shows your steady heartrate - beating strong at only 7 weeks. Amazing! The second picture shows your little peanut form. The arms and legs are already visible as tiny stumps!
From that point forward, it was a running joke with Dr. Promecene and me about your due date. Even when the sonograms indicated May 11 was incorrect, the doctor still stuck to her guns with the original date.
Your dad and I had a tough time during beginning of the pregnancy. Of course, we weren’t married yet (and you won’t know this little fact until we choose to tell you MUCH later) and your Dad was stressed about how to manage our little announcement with everyone in our lives. Interestingly, I (normally the stressed-out, high-strung, planning freak of the relationship) was very calm and at peace with the situation. The only thing I struggled with was how to tell your MeMe and Grandaddy, which later turned out to be a complete non-event.
When I was about 6 weeks along with you, I traveled to your Uncle Jeb and Aunt Alli’s house for a baby shower we were holding for Aunt Michelle (pregnant with Ryah). I revealed to Michelle that I was pregnant but that I wasn’t ready to share my news yet. Then lo and behold, Aunt Alli revealed the news at the shower that SHE was actually 6 weeks pregnant, too! Of course, I withheld my news (which made me very sad and emotional) but later found out that Alli and I had the exact same due date!
October 2006
I intended to tell my parents and others about the pregnancy as soon as I knew that it was viable. I was still worried that I would miscarry after my other experiences. At the 8-week sonogram, we saw your heartbeat and then I knew this pregnancy was different from the others. I had tears in my eyes and couldn’t believe how much you had developed so early on (your heartbeat, arms, and legs were visible in the picture). I still have that sonogram picture.
I then prepared to tell my parents about the pregnancy. I was very nervous about their reaction due to the fact that I was unmarried and they really didn’t know your Dad all that well. I planned a trip to see them and break the news, but then good ole’ Hurricane Rita threatened to blow through Houston so my trip was cancelled. The following weekend I arrived in White Oak and accompanied my parents and your Uncle Jeb to an early dinner. By this time, all my siblings knew about the pregnancy and were very excited, especially since Alli and I were due around the same time.
There was some chitchatting at dinner that night, but I certainly wasn’t paying attention. My heart was beating so fast before I made my announcement. Finally, I got up the nerve. During a lull in the conversation, I told my parents that I needed to tell them something. They immediately knew it was significant. I took a deep breath and told them that it would be hard for me to tell them and I would try not to cry, but could they please be supportive. “Jeb and Alli aren’t the only ones that are going to have a baby in May,” I stated.
It’s hard to remember exactly the response that I received from the bomb that I dropped (although I’m fairly sure that your Uncle Jeb was grinning broadly, ecstatic to be able to witness the momentous occasion), but I think it’s safe to say that I shocked my parents. I think MeMe’s response was something like, “Well, what are you going to do?” while Grandaddy lowered his head saying, “Oh my goodness!” But the surprising thing was that neither of those responses was said in a disappointed or admonishing tone. Quite the opposite, I think they were both cautiously optimistic and thrilled at the same time (at this point in time, they were madly in love with their first granddaughter and couldn’t wait to meet the others that were on their way from Michelle and Alli). I told my parents that your Dad and I had intended to get engaged soon, but that now we would go ahead and get married, and we were very excited about the baby. I think we exchanged a few more words after that. But then my dad said something that I’ll probably never forget. “Lauri,” he said, “there’s not a thing in the world that would’ve made me happier than what you just told us.”
It took me a moment to realize the impact of his statement. Here I had been dreading telling my parents this news for weeks, and what do you know, they are not only supportive but actually excited about it! Don’t get me wrong; I knew they would be excited eventually. But at the very least I expected some sort of lecture or something. Later that weekend, Alli visited and we were elated to be able to outwardly express our joy over our synchronous pregnancies. We shared our early sonogram photos and debated on what the sex of our babies would be. At one point, my dad sat us down to talk and I thought, “OK, here it comes.” He surprised me again, however, when he proceeded to tell us both that we had bestowed upon him such a gift by giving him more grandchildren and he couldn’t be more excited.
Of course, MeMe and Grandaddy are devout Christians and are very active members of their church congregation. Like most churches, other members don’t always take delight in a pregnancy out of wedlock. So despite how excited my parents were about my news, they didn’t feel comfortable telling their friends until your Dad and I were married. I assured them that the day would arrive soon.
Not surprisingly, I inherited the “Morgan curse” when it comes to pregnancies. Both MeMe and your Aunt Michelle had extremely difficult (translation: nauseous) pregnancies with their first two children. During my first trimester, I don’t remember having an extremely difficult time with the nausea but I did have just an overall “yucky” feeling all the time. I once described the feeling I had as “constant heartburn without the burn” (although I had plenty of actual heartburn, too). I also experienced extremely excruciating headaches and overwhelming fatigue (my bedtime was promptly moved to 7:00 PM – causing me to miss most of the Houston Astros’ first-ever World Series bout). But right around the 12-week mark, my nausea began in earnest. Throwing up then became a daily occurrence, usually in the morning when I would take a drink of water. Just as every other “normal” pregnant person would have been reaching the stage where they were feeling better, I was starting to feel much worse. I felt like I was in a fog and I was terribly difficult to get along with.
November 2006
This brings us back to your Dad and me. We had planned all along to get married, but the pregnancy moved up the timing a bit. We began discussing where/how/when it should happen. Due to my increasing moodiness and difficult waves of morning sickness (whoever came up with that phrase surely never experienced the constant sickness I had – morning, noon, and night), your Dad and I weren’t communicating or agreeing as much as normal. We both had different ideas about the wedding, although neither of us was overly concerned about the details. But my mood swings and your Dad’s worry about other matters (did I mention that your Dad was told during the week we planned to get married that his job was being replaced?) contributed to some difficult times and discussions. In the end, our decision to marry outdoors at Lake Granbury turned out to be a wonderful turning point and we were so thrilled to be blessed with a gorgeous day with family members looking on in support.
I started gaining weight immediately with the pregnancy due to the way I would eat more food to try to stuff away the heartburn feeling in my stomach. I didn’t start showing until around 4 to 5 months, at which time I (finally) revealed to my boss and co-workers that I was pregnant. They were shocked by my wedding announcement, but not so much by my pregnancy announcement (it was only a few weeks after the wedding – the phrase “shotgun wedding” comes to mind…). At this point I was still struggling with nausea and headaches.
Oh, and this might be a good time to mention some of the other million things that were going on in our lives at this time. Like I revealed earlier, your Dad found out suddenly and unexpectedly before our wedding that his company was replacing him in the near future. As difficult as that time was, it later turned out to be such a blessing when your Dad was able to find a better job and leave on good terms. Additionally, I was finishing up my second year of graduate school on nights and weekends. And during all of this, your Dad and I were trying to finish the remodeling on the Ander Oak house that we bought earlier that year. Needless to say, we had a lot of things going on.
As much as I had yearned for a baby for so long, it was surprising to me (and to your Dad) that I wasn’t one of those Nazi prenatal women that read all the books and followed all the rules to the letter. During the first trimester, I really tried to avoid caffeine, hotdogs, lunchmeats, hot baths, cigarette smoke, and all the other no-nos that you hear about. But when I started getting so sick, all of that went out the window. Mind you, I wasn’t reckless about it, but fortunately Dr. Promecene was very laidback about the “rules” and wasn’t overly concerned about a few Cokes or hot baths.
From the very beginning of the pregnancy, I was convinced that you were a girl. It was probably wishful thinking since I wanted your Dad to have his little girl. Of course, he was just as convinced that you were a boy, based on past history on his side of the family. But I was experiencing the exact same symptoms that both MeMe and Michelle experienced when they had their daughters, plus I checked all of the online quizzes about baby sex and all indications pointed to girl.
I met your Nana and Grandpa Dave for the first time during Thanksgiving of that year when I was between 4 and 5 months pregnant. I also met all of your aunts, uncles, and cousins from your Dad’s side of the family. We hadn’t told everyone about the pregnancy yet, but it wasn’t hard for them to figure out. Not only was I wearing maternity clothes by then, I was also scrambling to find something to eat in the morning in order to avoid getting sick. On one particular morning, I made the mistake of drinking water before I had anything to eat. While I was getting dressed, I felt the vomit rise up in my chest, and I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and ran to the bathroom barely in enough time to reach the sink. I practically had to shove Collin and your Dad out of the way to make it, and as you can imagine they were pretty grossed out by the thought of me vomiting like that. By the way, your Dad and I had not yet informed your brothers about the pregnancy, either (not that they would have understood the reason I was sick), but it still made us uneasy that my symptoms were so obvious to everyone and we still had not acknowledged the truth.
Since I continued to struggle so much with the nausea and headaches from the pregnancy, your Aunt Michelle was very sympathetic and kept telling me to hang on. For both of her pregnancies, she was feeling better around week 16. So I kept clinging to that knowledge, counting down the days until week 16. Well, week 16 came and went, and I was still getting sick. (Ironically, the incident at Thanksgiving actually occurred during week 16.) By the time I was up to week 18 or so, some of the “fog” was lifting, but I was pretty ticked off that the nausea was still hanging around. I was drinking Cokes far more often than I should because it was the only thing that seemed to settle my stomach.
December 2006
We went to our 18-week sonogram appointment to finally determine your sex. I was convinced that I would be proven correct that you were a girl. Either way, I couldn’t wait to see you on the monitor. The technician made sure we wanted to know your sex, and then she began the sonogram and looked for the tale-tell signs. As she was looking, your Dad noticed your heart rate on the monitor and quickly calculated in his head that it was 120 beats per minute. I thought to myself, “Well that can’t be right because girls usually have a higher heart rate.” And right about that time, the funniest thing happened. Your dad said, “Wait, I think I saw something!” And sure enough, the technician said, “Yep, you saw it…it’s a BOY!”
Evidently, your Dad had experience with spotting the “turtle” as he called it (your genitalia). It was just surprising to me that he noticed it before the technician did. But in that moment, I was in another world, because it just wouldn’t register in my brain that you were a boy. It took me another few moments to absorb the news, and then I asked the technician if she was sure and could she check again. She ended up printing me pictures of your “turtle” so that I would have proof. I had become so used to referring to you as a “she” that it wasn’t until a couple of days later that it finally sunk in that you were a boy.
We called everyone we knew on the way home with our exciting news. When I talked to your Grandaddy, he informed me that he had unintentionally worn a blue shirt everyday during that week and that he later had a dream that you were a boy. You must’ve had a connection with him even then. He was thrilled! Soon thereafter we started referring to you as Ca-baby because we knew we wanted to give you a name that started with C but we couldn’t make up our minds on what your name should be. We called you Ca-baby all the way up until a week before you arrived.
Your dad and I had agreed that we would only have 1 child together (which I didn’t mind at ALL once I was pregnant and miserable for so long). So I was insistent that we get one of those sonograms where they videotape the baby in utero. He thought it was a silly idea, but he finally agreed once he realized that he had some extra flexible spending money for healthcare. I was so excited to record your movements in my womb on videotape – a priceless memento of your earliest days on this Earth. Well, wouldn’t you know, we went for the sonogram and you didn’t move an inch! The technician poked and prodded, but no, you just sat there snoozing and wouldn’t be bothered. No thumb sucking, no kick of the leg, nothing. It was quite of waste of the $170 office fee, and since then I may have actually lost that darn videotape (don’t tell your Dad, though!) The funny thing is, months later after you were born and began learning various “tricks” like sign language and funny faces, you would almost never perform on cue.
That Christmas, your Dad and brothers and I took a flight to Virginia to visit Grandpa Dave, Grandma Cheryl, and Uncle Justin. We were on a little commuter plane, and I knew something wasn’t right in my stomach. I felt so nauseous that I started crying, and I finally located one of those barf bags just in the nick of time. I filled up the entire bag with my puke! Yes, I know it’s disgusting, and your Dad was nearly vomiting beside me as he was forced to sit next to me and watch. But after I was finished, I calmly handed the barf bag to the flight attendant, cleaned myself up, and I was feeling 100% better! That was week 24, the very last time I was sick during my pregnancy with you.
Pregnancy pictures:
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