Not Yet (and Nursery Reveal)

Dear Brooke Allen,

Yet again, we thought you were coming the other day.

Thursday morning, I woke up with contractions.

And then I realized they were fairly regular.

So, I grabbed my phone and started up the app that times contractions.

7 1/2 minutes apart, lasting at least 1 1/2 minutes every contraction.

For an hour.

They were so regular, I figured out the sensation I would have right before one would start so I could get the phone ready.

We decided we'd better get things together just in case we needed to go to the hospital.

Your daddy hopped in the shower while I rocked my way through contractions in the bed.

And by rocked, I mean literally rocked. Not in an rock=awesome kinda way, but a rock=swaying back and forth because it was the best way to cope.

While I got in the shower, which was quite difficult having contractions every 7 1/2 minutes, your daddy packed the suitcase. I would yell "OK!" when I needed him to press the button on the phone to time the contraction, and then "OK!" when he needed to stop it.

I know, I know. We should have had the suitcase packed waaaaaaay beforehand, but we didn't.

I called the doctor after I took a shower. Since the contractions were so regular and we were going on two hours, they told us to come on in.

So I put on a little make up, double checked the suitcase (your daddy did pack it, you know), and grabbed a few necessary baby items and threw them in the diaper bag - onesies, nail files, sleepers. I just don't feel right about you staying in the hospital t-shirt the whole time we're there. I'm afraid you'll get cold.

Your daddy moved the car seat from my car to his truck and we threw everything in.

We knew if I actually was in labor, it would be a while before we would eat, so we went through the Burger King drive through on the way.

We finally got to the doctor's office, and they took us to a room. Your heart rate was good, my blood pressure was good, and contractions were still happening.

Then, Dr. Lassiter came in and checked my cervix.

NOTHING.

After almost four hours of what we thought was labor, my cervix was high and closed.

You were not coming at all on that Thursday.

We left the doctor's office stunned. We could not believe that all the pain, pressure, and strength I was feeling from these contractions were just Braxton Hicks.

When we got home, I cried and cried in your daddy's arms in the closet trying to change back into my pajamas.

I cried because I was still having contractions and my stomach was so sore from the constant tightening and releasing.

I cried because I knew these contractions meant nothing.

I cried that I was not going to meet my little girl that day.

I was so excited, thinking we were going to meet you on Thursday. I was finally going to hold you and kiss you and pray on you and tell you how long I've waited for you.

But I didn't get to do that on Thursday.

Friday morning, we had our regular appointment, which Dr. Lassiter told us to keep. We went to the office, still feeling a little defeated from the day before. We saw the other Dr. Hudson, who talked to us about what had happened on Thursday, and then he checked my cervix.

I had dilated 1/2 a centimeter.

Apparently, you were quite busy on Thursday.

I never thought I would be SO EXCITED about 1/2 a centimeter. It meant progress. It meant we only have to go 9 1/2 more centimeters before we will meet you. It meant that Thursday was not all in vain.

Your daddy and I went for a celebratory breakfast at The Pancake House, and then went to Talladega to the International Motorsports Hall of Fame to walk you out and progress some more.

So, here we are, on Monday. We're still waiting. The suitcase we had so frantically packed on Thursday is by the back door, and your diaper bag, wreath, Boppy, and car seat are all still in your daddy's truck.

We are READY for when you actually decide to be born.

Dear Brooke Allen

After our little pep talk yesterday, you got a little antsy.

Luckily, your daddy was home last night to help me get through it. He's doing a Spanish class for work yesterday and today, so he's not on regular shift.

You scared him real bad.

We met at Taco Bell for dinner, and then headed to Publix for grocery shopping.

We were in the frozen foods when I felt the first few contractions. By the time we got to the cheese aisle, I was having to stop walking and breathe through them.

I told your daddy, "Get the ground beef - 93/7 - I'm going to the bathroom."

Once we got all the food in the car, we went home and he unloaded everything for me. I honestly don't know how I would have done this without him.

I laid on the couch and opened the app on my phone that times contractions. They weren't very consistent - 3 minutes apart, then 10 minutes apart, then 6 minutes, then 18.

But they HURT. They were so intense that I couldn't talk. I could only breathe.

Your daddy came over and rubbed my back for about 20 minutes and watched the contraction timer like a hawk. Then he said, "Do we need to call the doctor?"

"No, they're not close enough yet."

"How close do they need to be?"

"The doctor says 5 minutes apart, lasting at least one minute for one hour."

"Well, do I need to put the car seat in?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

So off he goes.

"I think I'm going to go ahead and install the extra base in my truck, too."

"That sounds good, baby."

Off he goes again.

"Do we need this yet?" holding the car seat for when you're bigger, still in the box.

"No, not until she outgrows the pumpkin seat."

"Ok then I'm going to put this in the garage."

"Ok. That's great."

"I'm going to put the stroller in the garage, too. We won't need that for a while"

"Ok, baby."

Then, he disappears into the nursery and doesn't come out for some time.

I pick myself up off the couch - no easy feat, mind you, because every big movement causes another contraction - and mosey into the nursery.

I find your daddy folding your receiving blankets that I had washed over the weekend.

"Hey babe, what are you doing?"

"I don't think you're going to make it to this weekend. We need to get things ready."

So I showed him all the things I had done in the nursery on Sunday while he was at work. He put together the monitors that I couldn't figure out while I folded all your little clothes that I had washed. He had lots of questions about what certain things were and how they worked - the Boppy pillow, swaddling blankets, scratch mittens, Nap Nanny.

His deer in the headlights look that he'd been sporting for a few hours began to wane as I sat down in your rocker and explained these things to him.

"Are you scared, Ben?"

"A little."

"There's no need to be scared. I don't know what I'm doing either."

Last night is possibly one of my favorite nights with your daddy of all time.

He cannot wait to be your daddy. He loves you so much already.

Dear Brooke Allen

Your mommy is miserable.

In fact, your mommy thinks she may die before you are born.

You dropped on Sunday, which adds to a list of new problems I'm experiencing.

My hips hurt. My back aches in new places. I'm waddling like a penguin. My feet look like beach balls.

Your daddy thinks it's funny to poke my feet and my ankles because his fingerprint stays indented.

I don't find it so funny.

Dr. Heaton said on Friday that if you don't make any progress by my appointment this Friday, that we're going to set a date to evict you.

I know you're extremely comfortable in there. Who wouldn't be? It's dark and warm and you exert little to no effort for food. I think you know as soon as you are born, it's going to be cold and sterile and you won't be attached to your mommy anymore.

I don't want to force you out, but it's looking like that might be a possibility.

So come on, Brooke Allen.

Let's move it along.

People ask me every stinking day when you're coming.

My response is "whenever she's good and ready."

Your room is finished. You have a nice crib to rest in, a rocking chair to fuss in, and lots and lots of diapers. You've got a stroller, a pack n play, and tons of clean clothes as of Sunday. I worked hard to make everything perfect for you.

Your GiGi has her bag packed and she takes it with her to work every day, just in case you show up during the day time.

All your grandparents have email instructions on what to do when we call them to say you're on your way.

Your daddy now checks his phone constantly while he's at work to see if I've called to tell him to rush home. He's also given me his training officer's and the precinct's phone numbers in case I can't get in touch with him.

See Brooke Allen?

Everyone is ready to meet you.

But you're like you're mommy, and you'd just assume to keep everyone waiting so you can make your grand appearance at just the right time.

We're waiting. Come on when you're ready.

New Beginnings

New blog look!

I changed things up a little.

I get the most feedback when I write letters to Brooke Allen.

I have to admit, they're my favorite too.

So, no more Keeping Up With The Parrishes.

Now we are "Dear Brooke Allen: Letters to A Baby Girl."

I hope you enjoy it!

BTW, all the new images are from our maternity session with T2 Photography! They did AMAZING work and I can't wait to see all the rest!

Moving On

I'm having a hard time distinguishing hormones from reality lately.

Probably because there's an extremely large baby in my belly who moves every time I do.

Hormones are a funny thing.

I had a *very small* emotional moment on Saturday.

We have been lucky with this training semester for Ben to be off on Saturdays. I love being able to spend that time with him.

We were out on Saturday running some errands - dropped my car off for a much needed oil change, had breakfast with his mother, picked up dry cleaning, and spent our gift cards at Babies R Us for the last few things we needed for the nursery. Then we treated ourselves to a nice dinner out.

It hit me that afternoon as we were driving to pick up my car.

Ben was singing along with the radio, and I was just sitting. We didn't really have anything to talk about, and that suited me just fine.

But, if we're not talking, then I'm thinking...

And I realized that this particular Saturday could be the last Saturday that Ben and I will ever get to spend together without kids.

I know that we'll have date nights and trips without kids because there are such things as grandmothers and baby sitters, but from the moment Brooke Allen is born sometime in the next few weeks, we will ALWAYS have kids. We will be parents. Forever.

It will never be just me and him again.

There is always going to be a carseat in the back seat. Our conversations will be filled with stories about the baby. We will never be able to take off for the day without loads of stuff and making sure we have enough diapers in the diaper bag. When we go out to eat, it will be 2 and a high chair.

I know I am going to long for the days when it was just us two. We've had three and a half amazing years of marriage.

There was the fun of signing the lease on our first apartment, and spending a year trying to figure out how to live together in 700 square feet. The arguments about the clothes on the floor and how to share chores and who took up more bathroom counter space.

There was the excitement of buying our first house and finding all the right furniture to make it "ours." How he humored me when I picked out the paint colors. Our terrible attempts at yard work and the supposedly "easy" plants that we managed to kill.

There was the fun of finding our first pet together and trying to raise her to be a good dog. We failed at that for the most part, but she's still one of the greatest things that's ever happened to us.

There were car purchases. Saturday morning donut adventures. Late night Wal-Mart runs. New recipes that he managed to eat half of before telling me it "wasn't his favorite." Fun nights with friends. Trips. Weddings. Joy riding. Thinking the bills wouldn't get paid. Times that they didn't. Times that they still don't. Job transitions. Broken police dreams. Arguments with words regretted. Lots and lots of laughter.

And that one Tuesday morning when I burst out of the bathroom door with the positive pregnancy test.

I know our life is only changing for the better, but I will miss these times when it's just me and him.

Because me and him is all we've ever known.

We've learned so much as we walked through the fire of newlywed bliss together. We're coming out the other side stronger and much better people. Because we did it together.

I know when we've got screaming babies, an unkempt house, and a stack of bills, I'm going to wish for the time when things were easier.

But I don't think I'll trade it.

37 Weeks

Brooke Allen Update!

How far along? 37 weeks. Although I measure 38, and I think that's what the doctor is going by. We had an appointment this morning, and the doctor said if there's no progress by next week, we're going to start talking eviction notices! There is no sign of dilation at this point. She's stubborn just like her momma...

Baby Bump? Humungo. Thebump.com says she's the size of a watermelon! I am IMPRESSED that I can still paint my toenails with a watermelon in my belly.

Maternity Clothes: Yep. I can't wait to fit in my old clothes though...

Weight Gain: Ugh...rapid? Haha...I've gained 3 pounds in a week. Mostly due to swelling...the leftover due to Girl Scout cookies.

Movement: Huge movements. She's head down for sure (doc confirmed that today), so I've decided she's breakdancing. It's the only explanation I have for her burrowing into my pelvis.

Cravings: I still love my cereal. But I've also been wanting burgers a lot. And cake. Heck, I just want to EAT!

Symptoms: Back pain. A little swelling after I get off work. Heartburn. Nothing spectacular.

Sleep: The same. Off and on.

Gender: It's a girl! Brooke Allen is her name!

Belly Button: Getting flatter by the second.

What I miss: Normal movement. Ben laughs at me and how difficult it is for me to roll over in bed.

Best Moment of the Week: It's always amazing to hear her little heartbeat on the dopplar at the doctor!

This Little Piggy

Today is someone very special to me's birthday.

He is one of my bestest friends of all time.

His name is Piggy.

Piggy is originally from Bentonville, Arkansas. When he was a wee piglet, he was moved to Dothan on the big truck. We adopted him from the animal shelter known as the Northside Super Wal-Mart.

There he was in the crate with all the other lovable animals. He was the perfect shade of pink to match my dorm room bedding. He called out to me, "Hey! Pick me! I so cute!"

How could I resist that pudgy body? Those black felt eyes? Those squishy beads?

We became fast friends.

Piggy moved to Troy with me for my freshman year of college. We spent many nights snuggling in the dorm room bed. He consoled me when stupid boys broke my heart. He listened when I needed to cry. He helped me study...sometimes.

But then we had to move home for Mom to take care of us with our thyroid problem. Again, he was always there to rub my tummy, talk about my feelings, or take a good long nap.

He's the greatest snuggle buddy in the whole world.

Piggy wasn't so sure about Ben at first. He was very worried that Ben was going to take his place. But he got over that really quickly after Ben proposed. Of course, Piggy assumed he would be Best Man in the wedding. Ben said no, that the position was already taken. Then he wanted to walk me down the aisle, but Wes was planning on doing that.

So Piggy snuck in the church anyways, and sat on the front pew on the groom's side.

He was very dapper in his tuxedo he picked out just for the wedding. Aunt Net even made sure he had a boutenierre.

Ben was definitely surprised.

Piggy lived with Ben and me until Charlotte moved in. We all decided it would be best that Piggy go live with Mom in Dothan. It was a tough decision, but it's worked out well for everyone involved.

Piggy is the man of the house for Mom.

Piggy has a wonderful personality. He is always quick with a joke.

He has lots of hobbies. He loves to watch Law and Order: SVU, American Idol, and The Young and The Restless. He also watches the girls on The Bachelor.

He jumps on the bed and plays on the computer. He's a very good dancer.

And he LOVES Alabama football. He has a shaker and a tshirt that he got this year. We think the tshirt is good luck because this one season he wore it, Alabama won the National Championship.

He loves country music, but mostly Kenny Chesney. His favorite song is Beer in Mexico.

Piggy loves beer.

His favorite foods are pizza, donuts, ice cream, cookies, cake, and Pasta Roni. He has to keep his figure, you know.

He has lots of friends.

Mostly pigs.

He does have a very special pig friend - Penny.

They've been together quite a while now. Penny does not allow Piggy to get fresh and look under her tutu, although he does try. He is a man after all.

He and Ben are very close.

Piggy really wants to be Ben's deputy, but he doesn't have any thumbs to hold the gun. He's still holding out for a ride in the patrol car so he can make the sirens go off.

Piggy kind of has a superiority complex.

Who can blame him?

For eight years now, Piggy has been with us. He goes everywhere. He always accompanies Mom to our house and to Grandmother's house, although he doesn't particularly care for Grandmother's house. He says the tv is too loud, and Uncle Bill always threatens to cook him.

He always goes with Mom and me on our yearly trips to the beach and Atlanta. He's never been to DC though, for fear that TSA would try to strip search him.

He is VERY patriotic and salutes every time he passes the Statue of Liberty in Birmingham.

Piggy had a very big year this year. He overcame two big fears:

The big metal chicken just outside of Troy.

And he learned that the claw keeps Charlotte away.

Also pictured: Wooly Booly, Wes and Dervon's adopted sheep from New Zealand.

Piggy is really looking forward to being Uncle Piggy in a few weeks.

He had to try out Brooke Allen's crib and mobile just to be sure it was comfortable for her.

He approved.

Piggy is so very loved. We text every night, and try to Skype at least once a week. He waits for us at the top of the stairs when we go to Mom's house. He tries to convince us all the time to move to Dothan. He tells me all the time that I should just get in the car and drive to see him...there's always room in the chair for me.

I've been tempted to do so on more than one occasion.

Happy 8th Birthday, Piggy! I can't imagine life without you! We love you oh so much!