An Adirondack Nursery

The PK Posse |Preston's Adirondack Nursery

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been dreaming up themes for my babies nurseries. When I became pregnant with Preston, it was finally time to put some of those ideas into action! When I first approached Joshua with the idea of doing an Adirondack themed nursery, he loved it and I was thrilled! I grew up in the ADKs and Josh has been going up there with me since we first met, and we were married right on the gorgeous Lake George – surrounded by our favorite mountains. Since we now live in North Carolina, it was important to both of us to bring “a piece of home” into Preston’s life. Everything here is coastal, beachy, and southern, so we wanted somewhat of the opposite for his nursery.

Another idea both Joshua and I agreed on was that we weren’t really into “baby themes.” We wanted a more masculine theme that Preston could grow up with. We plan for Preston’s room to keep this theme the whole time he lives in our home. Even the crib is a convertible crib, so the back of the crib will become the future headboard of his future full size bed! All in, baby.

The wooden accent wall was something I loved, but Joshua took upon himself to create for Preston. He built the entire wall out of wooden pallets! It was the first piece to go into the nursery and it set up the whole feel for the room. It was a real labor of love! Overall, we’re so pleased with how it all turned out. From the curtains, to the rug, to the paint color, to the bedding, to the wall art, to the furniture, we hand picked every item in this room for our sweet baby boy. Our close friend Shana made the awesome sign hanging over his crib with his name.

Josh and I thrive on a good project we can work on together, and creating this special place for our little darling was such a fun, engaging, creative, heartwarming experience. We couldn’t wait to bring him home into a room we made together, just for him!

Adirondack Nursery Crib, Bedding, Chifferobe Adirondack Nursery | Glider, Double Dresser, Lamps, Mountain Art Adirondack Nursery | Double Dresser, ADK Decor, Mountain Art, Bear Lamp Adirondack Nursery | Chifferobe, CurtainsAdirondack Nursery | ADK DecorAdirondack Nursery | Tree Decor, Bookends, Deer and BearsAdirondack Nursery | Stuffed Animal Mounted Wall Hooks Adirondack Nursery | Rocker Glider, ADK PillowAdirondack Nursery | ADK Bears, Chipmunk

Hope you enjoy and that this inspires anyone else who may be considering an Adirondack, mountain, wilderness, or all around masculine theme for their little one!

Crib, Chifforobe, and Double Dresser | Baby Cache
Glider Rocker and Nursing Ottoman | Shermag (similar)
Moose Rug | Hautman Brothers
Curtains | Alton Print Grommet Window Panels
Adirondack Bedding | Donna Sharp
Wall Hooks, Bear Lamps, Placemats | Lake George, NY and Bolton Landing, NY village shops
Bookends | White Branch
Mountain Art | Etsy
Cabin Light Switch | Rivers Edge

Lastly, since I love a good before and after… Here is what this room looked like before it became Preston’s nursery. What a transformation!

The PK Posse | Former Guest Room

Making Things Happen

In early November of 2015, I had the privilege of attending the Making Things Happen conference in Chapel Hill, NC. Here is a bit of paraphrasing from the event description, because I can’t really say it much better.

This two-day conference, led by Lara Casey, author of Make it Happen, is designed to fire you up and set you on a powerful path. During the conference, led by Lara Casey, attendees dig deep, establish priorities, uncover a purposeful vision for their life and business, set goals, and discover how to make what matters most happen. Making Things Happen was founded on the idea that you have the choice to change your life. It was designed to fire people up to make bold decisions towards their best lives and empower them to step into their fears instead of away from them. Even those who have gone through the Making Things Happen experience have a hard time articulating it, but that’s okay – alums are encouraged to let their actions explain the powerful changes they’ve experienced! 

The conference was enlightening for me. It helped me figure things out in both my personal and professional life in ways I didn’t even think I needed. It helped me uncover what really matters to me, what matters most. And it gave me the wisdom and clarity to make “it” happen. “It” is something different and personal for everyone. For me, “it” became balance.

I’ve had a little over two months to digest everything I learned, and while I don’t plan to do a big long post about the conference, I do plan to incorporate bits and pieces into my posts here and there.

I went to Chapel Hill feeling so overwhelmed and exhausted. I left feeling purposeful and encouraged. I thought I went to figure out what to do in my career. I work from home full-time as a graphic designer and social media strategist for a government contractor out out the NoVA/DC area, which has never been my dream job but has provided a stable income for my family for the past four years. Since giving birth to Preston a year ago, I had come to resent my job for taking time away from Preston. I recently learned that I’ll more than likely be losing my job in the next 6 months or so because the contract I work on was not renewed with the government. It left me terrified and scared about not being able to contribute to our family’s income. I’ve always wanted to own my own business, but after I failed at my first freelance attempt several years ago and went into a bad depression, I’ve been scared to try again. I felt overwhelmed with what to do next. Everything has been piling up — chores, housework, work, fights with Joshua. At the conference, Lara shared a story about one morning when she yelled at her young daughter because she was so stressed out with work, and that was the first point in the conference when I broke down. I’ve done this, I’ve done this more than once. I’ve yelled at my sweet, sweet baby boy, for no reason other than being too stressed to handle whatever the situation was in a positive and intentional way. He never deserved that from me. I’m crying as I type this, because I hate that I’ve done it. I hate that I filled my tank with so much of what doesn’t matter that it took over what does matter.

::deep breath::

I know now that work and business are not my first priority. It’s my family. It’s my husband and my baby. They are my reasons for it all, and I want to make balance happen. I’ve been working on it everyday since leaving the conference, and I’ve already messed up several times. But as I also learned, sometimes your mess becomes your message. And my mess is becoming my message. Somehow, after setting my priority as family and giving myself permission to keep them at #1, everything else has been falling into place. I don’t understand it, and it’s crazy and messy and not totally how I pictured it, but it’s all happening.

I am so grateful to Lara Casey, to my breakout session leaders, and to the new friends I made in those two days for changing my life and giving me perspective and purpose.

// Photos by Callie Davis of Nancy Ray Photography

Size Does Matter, Right?

Get your mind out of the gutter, not that size! Your size. Your body size. Your clothing size. Big shoes generally mean you are a taller person. Big pants sizes generally mean you are a larger person. But does that matter? Of course it does… Or so I’ve been told.

I am so embarrassed by my size. I’m embarrassed because for me, it means that I’m eating my emotions, and you can see them. I’m embarrassed because I have an obvious, blatant, in-your-face and in-my-pants-size struggle that is visible to anyone I meet. “Hi, I’m Dani… Yes, I’m fat. Yes, I have issues. Yes, this is the first impression I make.”

If you watch The Biggest Loser or Extreme Weight Loss or any of those reality-style weight loss TV shows, which of course I’m addicted to, you know there are often deeper rooted issues than just eating too much food. A lot of people think that fat people are just fat because they are lazy and don’t care about themselves. And maybe some are. But more often than not, there are a lot of layers to that onion. ;-)

There has not been any one significant event in my life that affected me and made me eat more than I should, but I do struggle with depression. I don’t deal with stress very well, and there are a lot of stressful things in my life that I don’t handle the most gracefully. I’ve battled with depression since I was in high school, and definitely in college. I’ve seen therapists, I’ve been on medications. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not hiding it… Or hiding behind it. Everyone struggles. It’s life. It’s okay. I could have been dealt a lot worse of a hand.

I started putting on weight my senior year of college, after the stress of school, finals, my portfolio, applying for jobs, becoming financially independent, etc. Then, after I met Joshua, there were the deployments. The first wasn’t too terrible; we got by. But the second… It was terrible. I used to walk back and forth in front of the family room bay window, looking up and down the street for the black unmarked government car. I was terrified. Every week it was a new casualty or more time without hearing from Josh. He told me before he left not to expect him to come home, and it was bad. It messed with my head and my heart. But again, we got by. Also during this time, my parents separated (and later divorced). After that, it was my failed freelance business. Unhappiness in my career. Moving far, far away from my close-knit family and missing them constantly, every day, even right now. Then it was the gluten allergy, the low Vitamin D, the borderline hypothyroidism, and of course the ugly depression peeking through every now and again. I put on the weight rather quickly. I just kept growing. Bigger. And bigger. And bigger. And I felt more and more out of control. And then we moved to North Carolina.

I was a target of bullying because of my size. It’s funny the way highs and lows work sometimes… It happened at my lowest emotionally while I weighed my highest. A couple of new friends thought it would be the right thing to do to tell me what was being said about me by people I had not even met in person. It crushed me. To this day, I will never forget the comments that were made or the people who said them. I will never forget how badly it hurt, or how ashamed I felt. How embarrassed. How alone. I’ve since forgiven them and moved past it, but you know how that is. You still can’t forget when someone hurts you like that. Especially when they never apologized.

So this is what I want to say. The next time you are about to make a nasty comment or snide remark — even to yourself, because we’ve all probably done it at some point in time, as I know I have — just think first. That person could be depressed. That person could be struggling. That person could be homesick. That person could be hanging on by a thread. She could be needing a friend. She could be needing support, without judgement, or someone to talk to. She could just need for you to not make comments about her size, or not to judge her so harshly before you even meet her. She could need you to see past the surface. She could need help.

I needed help. It took me much too long to open myself to accept it.

Every day is a battle with food for me. I don’t know why I’m like this or what’s wrong with me. I was raised in a healthy household and my parents and brother are not overweight or obese. Just me. I was. I am.

Which brings me to another point: What NOT to say to someone who is LOSING weight. Here are some examples of bad ideas:

  • How much do you weigh now?
  • What was your highest weight?
  • What is your goal weight?

Just don’t ask “numbers” at all, unless she offers them to you. By the way, what’s your weight? What’s the highest YOU’VE weighed?

More bad ideas:

  • I don’t believe in the type of diet you’re following.
  • Do you even have that much to lose?
  • I bet we weigh the same now.
  • I think the diet you’re on is too expensive.
  • I think the diet you’re on is too restrictive.
  • I would NEVER do that.
  • Aren’t you afraid you’re going to gain it all back?
  • I just won’t believe your diet works until I see the results.
  • You’re going to look anorexic at your goal weight.

No, friends… Just, no. Want to know what you can say?

  • Good for you!
  • Wow, you really have willpower!
  • Get it, girl.
  • I’m proud of you.
  • Let’s go shopping!
  • Keep it up.

Otherwise, give a genuine compliment, or… Just say nothing at all. Positive and supportive comments are all that are necessary. No one wants to hear about your cousin’s sister’s best friend’s co-worker that tried the exact same thing to lose weight, and it didn’t work. Or it did work, but she gained it all back.

Yeah, size matters. But other things matter more.

I struggle. But I’m happy. I’m trying. I’m fighting. I’m winning.

Our Birth Story


I absolutely love sharing our stories here on our family blog! This might be the best one so far. It’s the day we became parents! This is a continuation from My Pregnancy Story.

On Monday, November 10th, 2014 — The Marine Corps Birthday — I went in for my regular non-stress test (NST) at 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant. At this point, I was at the doctor’s office two days a week. One day for the NST with my OB, the other day at the high risk doctors for an ultrasound. They actually got a good reading and I didn’t have to go to another office for an ultrasound this morning! But… My blood pressure. The doctor said that it was high enough to put both Preston and I in danger, and today was the day I would be induced! “Head on over to the hospital and let’s deliver that baby!” she said. “Can I go home first to get my hospital bag?” I asked. (And get my husband? And bring Lady to the neighbors? And clean my kitchen? And finish up my work emails? And put a little makeup on?) “Nope, you have to go straight to the hospital.” Fortunately, I had already been prepared to be induced at 38 weeks per the doctor’s orders, so my bag was packed and my nesting had kicked in a few weeks prior, so most of the house was already squeaky clean. I even had a last minute list prepared to text Joshua in case of this very scenario.

Thank the Lord that Joshua answered my phone call right away, left work and went home to take care of Lady and get my bag, and met me at the hospital just as I was admitted to a room around noon. The nurses hooked me up to an IV and I pulled up my laptop to wrap up those work emails before my maternity leave started!


This is where I tell you that I planned to have a natural birth, minus the pitocin. Everyone will tell you that contractions are much worse with pitocin, and that if you’re going to be induced you probably won’t be able to deliver naturally because it’ll hurt too damn bad. Everyone will also tell you that even though you’re induced now, it could take up to 48 hours to actually deliver. The sweet nurses I had told us that I could sit back and relax, because I wouldn’t be having our baby until the next day.

Everyone isn’t always right.

Everyone’s bodies are different.

They started the pitocin around 1:30pm that afternoon, when I was already about 3cm dilated before arriving to the hospital. The contractions started about an hour later, and to be honest, I didn’t even know I was having them. The nurses saw them on the monitor I was hooked up to. Joshua and I had been preparing for our natural birth plan by having a big balance ball in the truck for me to bounce on during contractions, and by planning to walk the hospital hallways to help get through it. But because of my blood pressure, I was not allowed to do either of these things. In fact, I was told I had to stay in the bed. Period. I could only get up to pee.

I had this terrible fear of pooping during labor. I know, it probably sounds silly, but — I absolutely did not want to poop! I knew I’d be able to control my body if I didn’t get an epidural, and that was really important to me. I didn’t want to give Preston unnecessary drugs when I’d already been taking two medications throughout my pregnancy. But the plan to have a natural birth was slowly being taken away after learning that I couldn’t leave the bed.

I was so lucky to have an amazing nurse that had also had natural births, so she was very supportive and encouraging during my entire labor. I knew her shift ended at 7pm, so I wasn’t planning for her to be there for the actual delivery, which I was really hoping for. She had a nursing intern from the local college shadowing her the whole day, too. That was a little awkward, but I thought of all my nursing friends and how good of an experience it would be for them as students, so I gave the okay for her to be in the room with my main nurse.

Then at around 4:30pm, my water broke! It was the oddest feeling ever. It was like a really bad cramp and then suddenly, warm water trickling down my legs. It wasn’t gross, it was just uncomfortable. The nurses checked me and I was 4-5cm dilated. They said, “Wow, you’re progressing sooner than expected! It looks like you’ll be having this baby tonight, probably between 10pm and midnight! Hang in there!” Somehow or other, I convinced Josh to take a nap so he could be well rested for the real work to begin. He reluctantly agreed!


The contractions started to get stronger and stronger. Each one was worse than the previous one. Finally, I couldn’t take anymore. At 6pm, I begged for an epidural. “Josh, I can’t do this. Josh, I need the epidural. Josh, I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too bad. I need it. I need it now. Get the nurse. Get the nurse now!” Joshua was so calm, so sweet, and so encouraging. He was really pulling for me to have Preston naturally, and kept trying to talk me out of the epidural. Of course, in my pregnant rage, I just kept getting more and more adamant that I absolutely positively NEEDED it. “I can NOT do this for another 6 hours. I can’t do this until midnight. Get the nurse! Now!”

The nurse came in and said it would take a half hour before the anesthesiologist could come up to the room to administer the epidural. “I feel like I have to push,” I told her. “No sweetie, don’t push, it’s too soon.”

“No, I have to push. Either I have to push or I have to poop, but either way… I HAVE TO PUSH.” So she checked me again, and…

“Honey, you’re 10cm dilated! Let’s bring the doctor in! You don’t have time for the epidural, your baby is coming NOW! You’ve got this! You can do this!”

The doctor arrived, and literally – two pushes later – Preston Kade entered the world at 6:47pm, a mere 5 hours after being induced. Cue the happy tears! I could do it, and I did do it. I felt everything. Everything. It was painful, but it was so worth it.

Joshua cut the umbilical cord and before I could hold him, he was whisked over to the NICU table for a look-over because he was so tiny. 5 lbs 8 oz, 17 3/4 inches long. I yelled across the room to the doctors and Joshua, who was over at the NICU table with him, “His back, how is his back?! His foot, what about his foot?” and Josh yelled back, “He’s perfect! His back and his foot are perfect!”

After they cleaned him and wrapped him up, they finally brought him over to me. As Josh reached out to hand him to me, I saw just how tiny he was and became paralyzed with fear. “Wait, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to hold him. I don’t know what to do! What do I do?!”

Joshua placed him on my chest, and I immediately felt calm. I felt peace. I felt full of love. Joshua and I were both crying as we kissed each other and kissed his sweet, tiny face. It was the most precious moment of my entire life. It was the day we became a family of three.

PKP-BirthStory4-rev-20August2015 PKP-BirthStory5-rev-20August2015PKP-BirthStory6-20August2015 PKP-BirthStory7-20August2015

I did not develop gestational diabetes or preeclampsia. They labeled me as PIH for “why” they induced me — pregnancy-induced hypertension. Not the same thing as preeclampsia. Preston did not have a club foot or spina bifida. He was born 2 1/2 weeks early and quite tiny for his gestational age, but perfectly healthy. I loved being pregnant and I can’t wait to be pregnant again, but I made a promise to both myself and to Joshua that I would not bring another child into this world until my weight was at a “normal” BMI and my blood pressure was at a “normal” level. I’m so proud to say that I’ve been working very hard at this and nine months later, I’m down 60 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight. I’m off all medications and my blood pressure and thyroid are all normal! I have my health back and can’t wait to grow our family after I reach my weight loss goal.

We weren’t trying to conceive when we found out we were expecting, but I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe in God and that he has a plan for everyone. Preston was the plan for Joshua and I. He was given to us when we needed him the most, and he’s made our family strong and full of more love than we know what to do with. He’s turned our lives upside down, and made us better people and better partners to one another. He’s the best thing that’s happened to us, hands down. We are so very blessed!


Other posts in “The Pregnancy Files” series:

Our Pregnancy Announcement
Gender Reveal: #TeamPink or #TeamBlue?
The Pregnancy Questionnaire
My Pregnancy Story
Our Birth Story

Coming soon:

My Baby Bump
Baby Shower Love
An Adirondack Nursery
Holiday Birth Announcements
Favorite Pregnancy Books
Ultrasound Photo Albums
What’s in my Hospital Bag?
Plus Size & Pregnant: Style and Tips
Pregnancy Essentials

My Pregnancy Story


I’ve wanted to share my pregnancy story for awhile now that Preston is here and healthy. I didn’t have the smoothest pregnancy, and I also didn’t share many of the details about it except with family and a few close friends. But all during my pregnancy and Preston’s first few months of life, reading other mama’s blogs was a godsend for me. Reading their stories helped me feel like I had someone I could relate to and compare symptoms and milestones with. So here we go.

A Note About My Pregnancy

Before I begin, I have to say this: I loved being pregnant. I adored being pregnant. I’ve never felt as happy, strong, or proud in my life as I did being pregnant. I loved my belly, I loved my maternity clothes, I loved planning the nursery, I loved feeling him move, I loved the ultrasounds, I loved it all. I also had an absolutely amazing pregnancy, symptoms-wise. I never had morning sickness, I never had nausea. I hardly had any cramps or back pain at all, until the very end. Pregnancy itself, and feeling my body grow and change, was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. It was beautiful. I was blessed beyond belief to give birth to a healthy, strong, perfect baby boy.


Complications and Being High Risk

So this is how it was also difficult. One of the biggest reasons Joshua and I both wanted to wait to conceive was so that I could get my health and weight in check. I had just completed an 8-week Crossfit intro class and was down about 15 pounds, but even then my weight was a serious issue. It caused me to have high blood pressure. I had just been put on blood pressure medication two weeks prior to finding out I was pregnant, right after being unofficially diagnosed with chronic hypertension. I also had borderline hypothyroidism and was on a medication for that. Because of these 3 factors (weight, thyroid, but mainly high blood pressure), I was considered a high risk pregnancy and sent to a special office for maternal fetal medicine.

The high risk doctor had its pros and cons. The pros were that I was monitored very closely (a little too closely if you ask some people close to me), and that I had frequent ultrasounds to check on Baby PK. From the very beginning, PK was just perfect. No issues at all. I had some light spotting around the 7-week mark and the high risk doctors saw me and said everything looked just fine. Spotting can be very normal in any pregnancy and possibly caused by implantation or something like that.

The cons were that they scared me. Not in the sense that I was scared to go — I loved going! — but scared me by running a lot of tests and constantly checking for worst case scenario. Preeclampsia and gestational diabetes were the biggest fears of my doctors. I was tested early for diabetes at 24 weeks, and then tested again at the usual 32 weeks, and passed with flying colors both times. I was also taking my blood pressure daily at home and put on a pregnancy-safe blood pressure medication for the duration of my pregnancy. My BP was steady through most of the 8 months, but started to climb toward the last month before I delivered.


The First Scare

At around 18 weeks, I had my monthly ultrasound at the high risk doctor. Joshua made a point to take off work and drive the hour and a half from base down to my doctor’s office to be there with me for just about all of my ultrasounds. We saw our sweet tiny baby on the monitor, were told that his heart beat sounded great and his growth was right on track, and then were told we had to meet with the genetic counselor. Cue the fear. Was this normal? We had no idea. She came in and said that as a result of the tests they had run at our last appointment, my AFP levels were high. The test for Down Syndrome had come back negative, and all other factors were ruled out, which only left two possibilities: Either it was just an unexplained fluke, or our baby had spina bifida. The genetics counselor asked us if we had any questions and told us our doctor would be in shortly to discuss the test results with us in more detail.

Tears streaming down my face, disbelief all over Josh’s, we waited for the doctor to come in and explain to us that based on the ultrasound we had today, our baby did not appear to have any holes in his spine, so it was more than likely an unexplained result. She promised that they would watch closely in the upcoming weeks, but that there did not seem to be any reason to be concerned. One cause of elevated AFP levels could be that the baby swallowed blood — not harmful to him at all — but also a possible link to the spotting I had so early on.

It didn’t matter what she said after spina bifida. It didn’t matter that she said it was more than likely okay. All that I could think about was my sweet, sweet little baby being born less than healthy. One person close to us even asked us if we planned to “keep” him after hearing these results. It was a very tense and difficult time in my pregnancy. Luckily, it was also an unnecessary worry, because Preston was born healthy and without spina bifida. But I can still remember that conversation with the genetic counselor word for word. I can still see her explaining how spina bifida happens, as she demonstrated how the neural tube is formed by folding a piece of paper up into a tight cylinder and then pulling the paper apart in the center to show where the tube did not form properly to close. Instead, it left a hole in the spine. I went home and researched it until I couldn’t see straight anymore.

All the while, I felt wonderful. The worst part about my whole pregnancy was the doctor appointments. For the entire last month of my pregnancy, I was required to do weekly non-stress tests (NSTs) at my OB to make sure the baby was still healthy and doing well, AND weekly ultrasounds at the high risk doctor. These, in turn, caused a new level of stress. The latest appointments the offices offered were at 3pm. The offices were an hour away. I had to take off work at 2pm to get there and by the time I was leaving the office, it was 5pm and I was in rush hour trying to get back home. I had to make up the work hours later that night or early in the morning before I left. Most of the NSTs didn’t even work and I was sent to another office for an emergency ultrasound. Either he was moving too much or not moving enough for their stupid tests. They liked to tell me my baby was “being difficult.” I don’t know what ultrasound tech in her right mind thinks it’s okay to tell a newly expecting, first time mother that her unborn baby is being “difficult,” but that should really be banned from their vocabulary. Terrible bedside manner. And it was more than one tech that would say this to me!

I was sent to the lab to have my blood checked for preeclampsia several times. I also have very tiny veins so they had to draw blood from the tops of my hands every time. Once, the baby wasn’t moving enough for the NST (even though he was moving all morning long before I went in for the test), and I was sent to the hospital to be hooked up and monitored because they couldn’t fit me in for an emergency ultrasound. Other times, he “wouldn’t sit still long enough” for them to get an accurate heart rate reading. Off for more ultrasounds. My BP was also rising from the extra stress caused by the doctors and trips to the hospital.




The Second Scare

The second biggest scare happened around 36 weeks. At this point, I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and my blood pressure was steadily rising. I was seeing my regular OB once a week for non-stress tests and the specialists once a week for ultrasounds, driving an hour each way to every appointment. The ultrasound tech was looking on the monitor and said, “Has anyone mentioned a club foot to you?” Stop. What did she just say? “No? Oh, okay, well it just looks like it’s a club foot, his left one here.”

Cue the fear, take two. I thought “I’m being seen twice a week, how would anyone have missed this?” It caused stress, which caused my blood pressure to rise. It caused panic, which caused me to go back through every single ultrasound photo to look for his left foot. Wouldn’t you know? Every last photo was of his right foot only. I had to wait a whole week to ask the high risk doctors about it. This of course gave me plenty of opportunity in the meantime to research club feet. And wouldn’t you know? A club foot can be linked to spina bifida. 

I’m sure you can just imagine the state I was in after finding this research. Thoughts like “He does have spina bifida, those tests were right, they just missed it on the ultrasounds, ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod” were all I could think about. You guys, it was awful. Again, it was so unnecessary. Again, the high risk doctors said that everything looked fine from their ultrasounds, but we wouldn’t know for sure until he was born.

I could feel him kicking, moving, and hiccuping often. I purchased my own fetal doppler to listen to his heart when I wasn’t at the doctor just to assure myself that everything was okay. All these scares, all for nothing. Aside from this stress, Joshua and I were so prepared! We took as many baby classes as we could possibly fit into our schedules. Lamaze Childbirth, Budget for Baby, Infant Care, Baby Care, After the Birth, Prepared Childbirth. You name it, if it was offered within a 60-mile radius, we took it! We also had so much fun getting the house ready for his nursery. We went all out with an Adirondack theme, complete with a wooden accent wall. From our side, everything was going smoothly. We were preparing. We were just about ready.

And then, at 37 weeks and 4 days, I was sent to Labor & Delivery to be induced…


Next up in The Pregnancy Files: Our Birth Story.

Other posts in “The Pregnancy Files” series:

Our Pregnancy Announcement
Gender Reveal: #TeamPink or #TeamBlue?
The Pregnancy Questionnaire
My Pregnancy Story
Our Birth Story

Coming soon:

My Baby Bump
Baby Shower Love
An Adirondack Nursery
Holiday Birth Announcements
Favorite Pregnancy Books
Ultrasound Photo Albums
What’s in my Hospital Bag?
Plus Size & Pregnant: Style and Tips
Pregnancy Essentials