Why nice people make my day

When you are pregnant and tired and nauseated, patience can run short. I'm not always the most patient, tolerant person anyway, but this new "condition" I find myself in makes things even worse. I'm have a harder time tolerating whining or people being slow and dragging their feet. It grates me even more when someone talks on and on and on about not a whole lot and I have to sit there taking it. I hate it when people make snarky, sarcastic comments that I know are kind of supposed to be funny but have a grain of truth within them. UUHHH! It drives me crazy. I don't like that my patience is so thin, and I don't like that its hard to be pleasant sometimes.

But I've found some brightness is my sea of impatience--a remedy to a shorter fuse.

Nice people.

Its amazing how freaking nice some people are. They are WAY nicer than me. Running into other people's niceness definitely makes me want to do better, be sweeter, and give more. It picks me up when I'm feeling grouchy. It makes me want to hug someone.

Let me recount some of the especially nice experiences that have happened recently.

1. Candace, my nurse friend at work, stood in for me during an epidural one morning at 5am after a long night shift, which means she did all the hard work while I just sat down. Thank you Candace!

2. My old friend Megan saw me in Target and immediately said congratulations on the baby and "I hope you feel better soon". She knew I was pregnant and sick b/c she saw it on facebook and remembered. So thoughtful!

3. While I was sick the last few weeks, scores of people texted me or facebooked me or messaged me with get well wishes. When you've laid in the same spot all day for 5 days, unable to breath out of both nostrils simultaneously and totally depressed after watching 2 seasons of Law and Order: Criminal Intent, those notes mean a lot.

4. My husband told me to get a massage. That's awesome. I'm going tomorrow morning. The anticipation alone relaxes me.

5. Sweet Lisa called me tonight, just to talk, on our way home from work. I love that.

6. My mom is giving me her rocking chair when the baby comes. It was the same one she used when I was born.

7. My former maternity clinical instructor hugged me today with such excitement when she saw my burgeoning belly. She's a midwife. She likes bellies.

8. A friend, who tends to be fairly private and guarded, opened up to me about some hard stuff she's going through. That's the kind of talking I like to listen to.

9. A coworker is bringing me prenatal yoga DVDs.

10. A friend from church gave me a huge bag full of maternity clothes. Yeah!!! Now I just have to grow into them.

11. My patient last week loved my haircut. Sometimes that's what a girl needs to hear.

12. Even though I'm getting bigger (and badder), Chris still thinks I'm pretty and tells me so very often.

13. My dad told me he's proud of me. It about made me cry.


Those are just the cake toppers to a laundry list of niceness oozing around me, and hopefully rubbing off. I need help, and I'm so thankful for friends who are more sweet and more patient than I am. Hopefully, one day, when I'm less hormonal and less exhausted, I'll be able to get back to my old self. Maybe it'll be second trimester? I sure hope so, as does everyone else around me too! I'll keep ya'll posted :)

What's happening during my 1st trimester

With only a few weeks left until I get to my 2nd trimester, I thought I'd give a quick recap of the last 11 weeks.

We'll start with physical changes. Where to begin...let's see.

Well, my waist has definitely expanded, which I knew would happened but am a little bummed it happened so quickly. It might because I had to eat pretty much all day to keep from puking for a few weeks. And a few times I ate an entire thing of hummus in one sitting, sometimes with my finger or a spoon when I ran out of crackers. It was just so good. As I ate it, I kept thinking of my friend Laurie once saying, "I could like, bathe in hummus." She was pregnant when she said that. Now I totally get what she meant.

My chest has dramatically increased, which I think explains the ever increasing numbers on the scale. My bras hardly fit and I keep "bumping" things accidentally with these things. A girl at work commented, "You will have to get used to your new body habitus," which means get used to growing because it won't stop for awhile. She said that after I totally boobed her in the locker room. We both had a good laugh over it. I'm hoping that my changing chest size will help off-set my growing waistline and booty.

I haven't gotten acne too bad, which some women complain about, but that's never been a big issue, even in high school. Thankfully something is staying the same.

My energy is starting to return, and even as I lay here with a terrible cold, I think I might have more energy this week that I did last week. Its been tough to feel so exhausted all the time, but supposedly that changes with the 2nd trimester.

Finally, the nausea is also starting to wain and my appetite is returning. Salad and cereal are finally sounding delicious instead of repulsive. Now, a few things sound good when I'm hungry, not just one thing. I still crave orange juice, and in fact, I'm waiting for Chris to get home from the store so I can have a glass. Man, that sounds so good.

Emotionally, I'm much more sensitive than before, if you can believe it. While I've also been pretty quick to cry, its about 10X what it used to me. Since being sick the past few days, I've had some time to catch up on upcoming movies on iMovie Trailers, and only cried at like, half of them. I cried during a movie trailor! Good grief. I can barely tell stories from work b/c they bring me to tears. My friend Jena Marie asked me why we weren't finding out the sex of our baby, and I cried recounting the moments when my patients who didn't know had their baby and discovered who and what it was. By the way, that's why we aren't finding out--b/c those are the best moments of my job, hands down. I want that. I cry thinking about our baby--who he or she will be, what they will love, how they will laugh...how Chris will be a wonderful father and teach our little one so much of living and loving and laughing, and shooting guns. Even now I'm tearing up. So we'll move along...

Spiritually, I'm learning more and more of being in God's presence and of prayer for life and endurance and for this new thing springing up within me. Never before have I been so afraid and curious and excited. When I'm afraid, He is faithful to remind me that He is good and near and knows. Though I'm not Catholic, I'm finding a weird peace in thinking of Mary, as she did this. She got bigger and felt tired and probably had weird food cravings, and possibly found satisfaction in hummus as well. Thankfully I don't have to ride a donkey during my 3rd trimester or give birth in a barn. I'm finding a new appreciation for the other mothers in scripture--I get their longing for a baby and also their excitement. I get why they dedicated their children to the service of God. I hope and pray our child will be as Hannah's little Samuel who heard God's voice and served Him faithfully. I'm knowing more of God's goodness in how my sweet husband has supported me and loved me despite my exhaustion and queasiness. He is so patient and kind and gracious and an example of God's grace to me.

So that's that for now. Things are moving along as they should. Our parents are asking about names and colors and showers, which is so fun. And honestly, that's what this should be. It should be fun. Its emotional and difficult and amazing--and fun.

So I peed on a stick and...

Yes, its official...we're having a baby! My eggo is preggo. There's a bun in the oven. A pea in the pod. I'm 100% knocked up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me tell you the whole story, for those who are interested.

Many of you know that I've had baby fever for almost a year now, which was the answer to many of my sweet husband's prayers as I wasn't so gung ho to have kids when we got married. The Lord definitely changed my heart, pretty rapidly, and gave me an intense desire to procreate.

Due to my contract at UNC, we wanted to "schedule" a baby around the time that contract was drawing to an end to allow some flexibility with work as a new mom. With my contract set to end in Sept of 2010, we figured on 3 months or so of trying, which meant getting pregnant in November or December and delivering in Aug or September next year. It was all planned so perfectly.

Little did we know that it would take far less than 3 months to get pregnant. In fact, by all calculations, it took about 3 weeks. Fertile Myrtle over here.

I knew pretty much right away that I was pregnant. I could just tell. I felt weird. By weird, I mean...well, weird. Chris thought I was just having hysterical pregnancy symptoms because I wanted a baby so bad, and we'd been watching Glee and that's what happened to Mrs. Schuster, but I kept saying, "I'm not like that crazy mean lady. I really think I'm pregnant!"

Man I love when I'm right.

So for a week, I peed on a stick every day, watching and waiting for that line to show up. For a few days, it remained blank or showed up as "not pregnant". Ugh! It was awful.

Then one day, a FAINT line appeared...I mean, I could just barely see it. But there was something. Chris didn't get excited yet. He wasn't convinced. I decided to try again in three days, but couldn't bear the suspense so I did a test every day up to day 3, when a pretty good solid line finally appeared to announce, PREGNANT! He finally believed me :) I wasn't hysterical!

That was 7 weeks ago, and now I'm 9 weeks along with a confirmed heartbeat by ultrasound. Everything looks good so far.






Unfortunately, I'm in the throws of early pregnancy and when I say throws, I mean throws. Nausea like I didn't know was possible, complete exhaustion to the point of pulling over and sleeping in my car, and a changing body that's freaking me out. So far, God is good and I haven't puked in public, which is one of my biggest fears. I have, however, fallen behind in housework, so pray for Chris as he has to pick up my slack and deal with me moping around feeling gross all the time.

I keep hearing it gets better, and today was a small glimpse into that as I felt OK for a few hours and actually got excited about food. Yeah! So we're 9 weeks down, hopefully about 30 to go.

For you praying people out there, we would love if you could pray for a happy, healthy little one and some wisdom for two very inexperienced parents. Thankfully we had great examples growing up and lots of friends to offer advice and hopefully some babysitting as well.

Finally, for those of you who were wondering, our plan so far is to not find out the sex, not tell the final name decisions, and have a natural labor and delivery at UNC, where I work.

So that's that. We're very excited about this new chapter in our lives and very thankful for what's to come.

And then a giant katydid landed on my face...

Oh the joys of camping. The friends, the fire, the food, the foliage...and the bugs.

This past weekend, we packed up 2 cars with 3 tents, 6 chairs, and 1 baby and headed out to Hanging Rock State Park for an overnighter in the woods. "We" were the Bakers, the Dagleys, and the Sius...they had the baby.

Our campsite was so pretty, and our venture up to Hanging Rock was spectacular. The leaves were changing and bright. The hike wasn't too crowded, and the view from the top--there weren't words. Storms were supposed to be rolling in, and the sky was a mixture of dark clouds and shimmering sun rays stealing through. Seriously beautiful stuff.

We got back to camp, and Ed started up the fire. He had that sucker blazing within minutes and we lazed around eating hobo packets and roasting marshmallows for smores. Katherine had the great idea of sticking pieces of chocolate in the melted marshmallows once it was on the cracker so it melted too. Oh buddy that was good.

Things were going well up to that point. The rain hadn't started falling, Caleb wasn't crying (he's the baby), and we were all loving camping. Then I noticed a little tap on my leg and saw a huge katydid just hanging out on my pants. When I say huge, I mean several inches long and fat and green--like a giant leaf with legs that flies erratically, and apparently liked my pants. I swiped it off gently, laughing at my new "friend". Then it came back, right back on my leg. Now, it was dark, and the only light we had was from the fire and our head lamps. However, when I felt that tap again, I knew that big old katydid. Just like before, I knocked him off, this time a little aggravated. Stupid bug, stay off my pants.

Not 2 minutes later did that giant bug return. This time, however, he didn't stake out ground on my pants. Instead, that sucker landed right on my face, just by my mouth. Holy crapoly. I could feel its feet gripping onto my skin. I could hear its big green leafy wings vibrating as it landed. Had I stuck out my tongue, I could have tasted it. Thankfully sticking out my tongue is not my general reaction to a huge bug on my face. No, my reaction is to emit a small shriek and do whatever it takes to get the bug off my face and on to somewhere else.

And that's what happened.

Oddly enough, the "somewhere else" was my pants, again. What in the world was happening? Why did this bug love me so?

I had just about had it with the bugs. No more laughing. No more gentle swipes off myself. No more Mrs. Nice-to-the-bugs-lady. Instead of flicking the thing off, this time I was much more diabolical.

I grabbed the bug by its tail and threw it, forcefully, into the blazing fire. And I watched it burn.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another one, making its way to my pants, or possibly my face, so I preemptively struck, grabbing its tail and slamming it into the fire as well.

By the end of the night, 4 katydids met their fate in the fire at our campsite. Not one more landed on me.

I thought I was in the clear.

But alas, this is not the end of my camping saga.

In the middle of the night, safe and snug in my tent with Chris by my side, I felt something on my leg. Katydid? Could there be a 5th one that made it into my tent? I grabbed whatever it was a flung it towards the door of our tent, that was solidly zipped shut, but there was no way I was holding on to that thing. Quickly finding a headlamp, I searched the area and found the culprit. Not a katydid this time. Possibly even more gross and definitely bigger. There, crawling around in our tent, was a giant centipede, probably 3 inches long. That is what was on my leg. That is what I flung at the tent door. That is what I ultimately threw with all my strength out the tent door and into the great wide open. Eeeeewwwww.

Of course, having woke up in the middle of the night, now I had to pee, and it was raining outside. After much debate, I ran outside quickly and popped a squat in the middle of the woods, praying for no bugs to attack me during this vulnerable time. God heard my prayers, and even stopped the rain.

I snuggled back in the tent with Chris, but only before thoroughly searching the sleeping bag for any new additions. Thankfully we were in the clear, and I slept a little more.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful...but I still can't believe a katydid landed on my face.

To The New Dads Out There...

So fellas, the last blog was for single girls, and this one is for you men who have a little one on the way, or even plan on having one on the way at some point in your lives.

After a conversation I had last night with a couple who are expecting their first any day now, I thought I might need to give the guys some advice about what its like on their end, where to stand, what to say (and not say), what to watch and not watch, etc.

So here are some tips for upcoming fathers during labor and delivery.

1. Do whatever your wife/partner needs. Get her ice. Rub her back, or don't touch her, depending on what she says. She needs you to be available and she needs you to not get your feelings hurt if she tells you to stop talking while she's having a contraction. She means it, but in a good way.

2. Ask questions of your nurse and provider as to how you can help. It makes you feel more involved and it helps us too. We love helpful poppies.

3. Don't let your wife/partner watch any medical shows during her labor, which she might want to do after her epidural. They are OK at home, but watching "Emergency Birth" or "ER" or even "House" is a bad idea in the hospital. Not good for the soul.

4. Don't let the pain your wife is experiencing freak you out. Its awful to watch someone you love hurt so bad, but remember, its normal and natural and YOU CAN'T FIX IT. You can support her and love her and say sweet things, but let me say again, YOU CAN'T FIX IT. Unless she gets an epidural, its going to hurt the whole way through. Just be there, and pray a lot.


5. When mommy finally gets to start pushing, stand up by her head and support it while she pushes. That gives you closeness with her, and if you are squeamish, it'll help block your view of the action taking place a little further down. Sometimes a nurse might ask you to hold a leg, but that definitely gives you more of a front row seat. Its OK to say no or sit down. No passing out please. We already have two patients and definitely don't need a third at that point.

6. The nurse might ask you if you want to see the head as mom is pushing (we can usually start to see the top of the baby's head after a while). You can always decline. Like I said before, no passing out. Often we ask if mommy wants to touch the top of the head when it gets low enough. Don't be weirded out if she does--I mean, like the fact that she's pushing another human being out of her body isn't weird enough.

7. Encourage your girl as she's pushing--use phrases like, "Go Mama go!" or "You're doing it, you're doing it!" or "I can see the head!" help a lot. If mom has an epidural, she's usually be very sweet and responsive. If she's going "all natural" (emphasis on the "al"), she might not be as sweet, so don't say things like, "Enjoy these last moments of pregnancy" or "I'm almost sad its over". Yeah, not helpful. There's nothing enjoyable about that part except that its almost over. That's all she's shooting for at that point.

8. Cut the cord if offered by the provider unless its going to make you puke. Its a cool gesture, and honestly, after what your girl just did, its a fairly easy way to say, "I was with you baby, all the way, and I still am."

9. Unless you are super geeky and into science, don't watch the placenta come out. Its unexpected and weird and kind of gross. You just had a baby--don't let the afterbirth ruin your day.

10. If at any time you need some fresh air, by all means take it. If you need to sit, then sit. If you need some juice or coffee, get yourself some. Your girl is going through one of the hardest and best days of her life. She needs you to be on your game.

11. Try not to be weirded out by everything that happens in and around your girl's va-jay-jay. It means some very different to nurses and docs than it does to you. For us, its where something very important has to come out--totally opposite of your experience. We don't blink an eye about having to feel all around up there. Its an odd thing, I'm sure, to have strangers poking around, but remember, we do this every day to dozens of women we've never met. The only one who might think its weird is you, so get over it and support your girl.

12. When its all said and done, hold your baby and kiss your woman. I think she deserves it!

So there you have it. Now dads, you know what to do and what not to do. So go out there and have some babies!

To my single girls

Being single has its perks--something you really learn AFTER you are married--but personally, I love being married way more than I liked being single. And while I sometimes remember what it was like to come home after a long day and not have to answer to anyone, I'll take having someone to come home to over an empty house and pint of Ben and Jerry's any day.

Being married means having a partner and a friend all the time, during the big things like moving and jobs and life goals to the mundane things like grocery shopping, cooking, and sleeping. I haven't been lonely since getting married. I haven't gotten bored. I've laughed way more. I've learned to fight better. I've loved someone for who they are and received that same love back. I've seen God's grace played out on a daily basis. Who wouldn't want that?

This is why I pray for my single friends--so they too can know what its like to be loved in a very tangible way, so the longing in their hearts for a mate can be relieved and overwhelmed by love and commitment, so they can come home to someone that is committed to them for life and not just through the end of their lease.

For some girls, they are OK not being married, but for most, this is something they long for deeply. Deeply. Its something they've asked God to take away because it hurts. Its what they are afraid to talk about for fear of crying real hard at Starbucks into their Chai Tea Latte. Its personal, and its painful.

Its hard getting into your late 20s and 30s and not see any prospects. You wonder if there is something wrong with you. You wonder if it will ever happen. You wonder how on earth you will meet anyone who meets your standards, which you know are reasonable and not too high. You want to trust God, but that trust waivers with each wedding you attend and with each friend that calls to say that he finally asked her out.

Dang. When's my turn. Surely I have something to offer, right? I'm kind and gentle and compassionate and passionate...I'd be a good wife, I just know it. We could do great things together and have adventures and raise our kids to love God. Why am I alone at home every weekend, watching Bridget Jones's Diary again?

But I regress...

Having been that girl and now not being that girl, I pray real hard that God will raise up men who will take a chance on my girl friends who aren't just out of college, who are pretty and sweet and independent but not too independent, who have big goals like missions and church planting and hard core ministry in hard core places. These are girls who will sharpen a man and hold him accountable to his responsibilities before the Lord. They are Proverbs 31 women, and they are amazing. They are the girls I look at and wonder, "Why are guys so blind?"

So girls, you are in my prayers, intently and consistently, and until the big prayers for husbands and families are answered, I also pray for courage, peace, and love. And just know that in those moments when you have a hard time trusting God, someone else is trusting Him for you.

Family History

Ever since visiting my sister a few weeks ago, I've wanted to write a little ditty about our family history b/c its unusual and interesting and it involved one of my favorite things ever--the Appalachian mountains.

I'll start with my mom's side of the family, the Johnston side, b/c that is shorter and sweeter. The Johnston clan originated on the English/Scottish border hundreds of years ago as "Johnstone" and ended up moving to the States during colonization, eventually landing in rural, western Kentucky where my mom was born, 1 of 7 kids, to a farmer and his sweet wife Katie, my grandmother and name sake. They were poor and backwoods--my mom still remembers using an outhouse and chamberpot and getting water from the well. Up until a few years ago, the well and outhouse were still standing at the farm, though unused for years. Grandpa took to storing chicken wire in the outhouse, which I'm sure was not its original purpose. And for those of you wondering, it was only a 1 seater.

My grandparents farmed until they passed away--growing soy beans, corn, tobacco, pigs, and cows. I saw my first birth there (baby pigs), my first death (a deer get shot), caught my first fish, ate my first bite of squirrel and turtle (yes, turtle), learned how to snap peas, can strawberries, make peach preserves, clean a fish and fry it up, and remove ticks. That farm was a haven for learning, and my grandparents and parents were great teachers. What I gathered there didn't necessarily improve my SAT scores, it vastly improved my life, and that matters a little more than stupid SATs.

Now on my dad's side, this is where it gets a little more interesting historically, and its how the Appalachians tie in. My great grandmother was a Cable, and she married a Carringer, which is my maiden name. Now during the Revolutionary war, John Cable arrived to fight the colonist turncoats for the English, though he was German, a Hessian hired to fight by the mother country. John ended up defecting after the war and settling down in the heart of the Appalachians, in what is now east Tennessee. Other families joined around the settlement, and the area became known as Cade's Cove.

For years, Cade's Cove thrived and grew, until the Civil war, when the settlement became suspicious of outsiders, gathered their ranks, and shut off from the rest of the country. There was a little cousin on cousin marriage, I'm sure. These people perfectly fit the "hill billy" mold--poor, uneducated farmers who lived mostly off what the land provided them. My dad still remembers visiting his grandmother, Fanny Cable, up in the holler where her fridge was a cold spring under a rock and she sang "Angel Band" as she cooked in her apron. Fanny had 11 kids, one being my grandpa, at her home there in east Tennessee.

Cade's Cove still exists as a state park, and if you visit there, you can see Cable's Mill, started by John Cable, where my great grandma, Fanny, worked as a young woman. It even has a water wheel.

As a kid, we moved a lot, and no where ever felt like home to me until we landed in North Carolina, where my dad grew up, and especially when I went to school in Asheville. That was my first time really diving in to Appalachian life, with the music and dancing and craft and food. Up there you can still find Carringers and Cables and Crisps, names you don't see too often outside the hills of North Carolina and Tennessee. There, you find people who are country, and sweet, and use muscadines for cider and possum grease for croup. That's where I feel most at home. As much as I love my parents and love being at their house, its the mountains that call my name.

Chris and I talk about moving there one day, somewhere in the Appalachians. We want our kids to play in the woods and have animals and grow a garden. I want those things for me too. I'd like to have a life a little like my great grandmother and my grandparents in Kentucky--a little less money, a little more faith, and a lot more of God's creation around me.

Maybe one day...