Some have this:

I have this one:

When I got this one, it came in superhero packaging. My nephew C said, "This guy is cool, but I wish he had more weapons." We responded with "Oh, he does! He can turn water into wine! Walk on water! Make people kill each other in his name!" I feel that Jesus and I now have a better relationship. I took him out of the packaging. He helps me each day. Especially when it comes to keeping track of things I lose.

Here's Jesus holding my Color Purple tickets!

No more wondering if we put these tickets in a safe spot!

Hey...where's my awesome Keihls Lip Balm?

Thanks Jesus!

Jesus knows everything. Like when it's time for a wax!

Jesus Christ! Where's my phone?

Though sometimes bogged down by the trappings of technology:

Jesus is all right. This blog entry was going to be about how I've become more spiritual lately. I have. And Jesus and I now have an understanding. He's a huge help in many circumstances. But mostly him and God are good at letting us figure it out on our own.

Republican women don't look for things like intelligence. They look for things like closeness to God, being able to raise a family of five and go to work every day in spite of the challenges life throws. They want a "normal person".

Well you know what? If I wanted a normal person, your average Joe to lead the country, I would have voted for George W. Bush! Why is is wrong to want extraordinary? I want someone WAY smarter than me. Someone who makes (or has made) WAY better decisions than I. Someone who is better educated, and will put my country before EVERYTHING. Normal people don't want that job. Extraordinary people do.

Sarah Palin is not normal. She's an idiot. I couldn't care less about her daughter getting pregnant - that is beside the point. The fact is she has no experience. Not a little, like our democratic nominee, but none. Never traveled. Called the Iraq war "A task that is from God". She supported Buchanan because W wasn't conservative enough!

Obama served in the state senate. The state of Illinois (pop. 12,831,970). He then served those 12,831,970 in the US senate. Palin served as mayor of Wasilla (pop. 6,700). She then governed Alaska for 2 years (pop. 670,000). Her experience with Inuit people is certainly greater than Obamas. 15% of the population is Native Alaskan. That's 98,000 people, give or take. Obama represents about the same percentage of African Americans. That's like the same. Give or take 1,902,000 people.

Why then did the McCain team think so little of their own constituency to throw a vagina their way in hopes of securing the election? Hail Mary, baby. It's all about the Hail Mary.

Josie has no agenda other than getting her needs met. She doesn't lie about it, she doesn't even *know* what manipulation is. She needs food, preferably of the boob variety. She needs to be kept clean. She needs an enormous amount of cuddling. We provide these things for her and she is happy. Very happy. Sometimes, she's pissed. And that brings me to how awesome she is: She can be SO FUCKING PISSED. She can scream in the car for like 3 minutes and M will swear it was 30. She can be so angry while you're rocking her that you start to sweat. She has a very delicate little cry until it turns evil. It's like she's going to start convulsing. Then you do the right thing: feed her, burp her, make her gas go away: soothe her in some way and in an instant she's ok. There's no grudge. One second the world is going to end and the next: you're awesome. She's not mad that it took you an hour to make it better. She's just happy you did. No hard feelings, Mom! You tried, Dad, and that's what counts!

I don't know any grownups like that.

The next is Parker. He's such a trooper. He and Josie got off to a bad start. He was confused and scared about this smelly loud creature that is now in our bed while he's on the floor. M brings him on walks almost daily and that helps, but this week M is not here and I'm alone with Josie and Parker and my milk supply is kicking my ass (feeding fine, pumping is not happening) and I just can't. But he's cool. He needs food, he needs to play a bit and to sleep. That's a pure heart. He's also cool with hanging in Josie's room while we play on the floor. He's totally ok with it.

I don't know any people like that.

We're all learning how to do this. Josie is 10 weeks tomorrow. I can't believe how fast this is going. And for the first time in Blog History, I'm going to post a picture of myself. M took it a few weeks back, and I hope it is sufficient to those who have asked via email to see pics. I saw a picture of me at my wedding yesterday and I was sort of grossed out. I'm down 30 lbs. since then, and it's a HUGE difference in those pictures. Anyway, here is a pic of me and the girl:

Why was I shopping with the nanny? Because I go back to work tomorrow. And I need new clothes. Since giving birth, I am 24 lbs UNDER my pre-pregnancy weight. That's right folks. I am 35 lbs. lighter than I was at my wedding. I went jeans shopping the other day and fit into the ones I saw and liked. It's fucking amazing. I am truly happy about this anomaly, but it does mean that none of my clothes fit. But you know what? I'm ok with that. I like being 2 sizes smaller. Hello stupid denim prices!

Things are going great. Josie is like nothing I expected. She is just the most spectacular being that has ever lived. I am not biased. It's true.

And the cool thing is, she'll only be alive for like 8 months of the worst administration ever. She will start her early years in a country headed by a black man. How cool is that? And one of my friends is marrying his partner this summer! What an absolutely fantastic time to be born. Yay her.

Here's some baby-glory for you. I will update again soon!

Monday, May 5th: 2 days past my due date, but my midwife was concerned about Josie’s size coupled with my desire to have a natural labor and delivery. She checked me and I was still, 3 weeks later, only 1 cm dilated. She had me come back later that day for a dose of Prostin, which helps dilation.

Wednesday, May 7th: 4 days past due.

1pm - Went for second dose of Prostin. It’s given in labor & delivery so they can monitor you and the baby for any contractions. After I got the dose, they said “Go walk for an hour. FAST.” Off we went, hauling ass around the hospital with me in just a gown looking like a lunatic.

3pm – Standing in front of the popcorn cart, I had my first real contraction. I turned to M and said, with tears in my eyes, “Whoa. That was an eye opener.” I got hooked back up to the monitors and my midwife came in to strip my membranes (look it up). She said for me to go home and eat dinner, call my doula and she’d see me likely that evening or the following morning for delivery.

11:30pm – I was having contractions all night, but nothing really timeable. I took a bath, a shower, walked. Nothing really got them to come faster. Finally M and I got into bed and tried to get some sleep. That’s when it happened. I had a contraction that changed everything: my water broke.

11:30 – 2:30am – I knew it would happen in the middle of the night. That’s how it happens. M was helping me through the extremely painful and mind numbing contractions for hours. I said “Fuck this. Fuck the doula, let’s not even call her. Get me to the hospital and get me the fucking epidural.” Thankfully, he called the doula then and said “Layla’s not digging the pain so much.” She came over then.

3:00am – 4:30am – More laboring at home. The pain was unreal at this point, but my doula was helping me through with massage and M was holding my hand and rubbing my back. At about 4am I felt like I wanted to start pushing. The pain was so strong at this point that I threw up. I said “Now. We need to go to the hospital now.” On to the hospital…

4:30am – 8:45am – When I got to the hospital my midwife checked me and I was only 4cm. Not happy. In an hour or so, I got to 7cms. Better. But then I stopped. No more progress. I was walking through the contractions, hoping to progress more. I was so tired at this point, but they were so strong I couldn’t rest. I literally would start shaking when I felt it coming because it was so bad. At about 8am my midwife came in and said, “We need to talk. You aren’t progressing at all. You’re stalled out and we need to do something. I’d like to give you Pitocin.” Now, I had said from the get-go I didn’t want Pitocin because it makes contractions unbearable and would lead to an epidural. At this point, I had been in labor naturally for 9 hours. I said, “Do it. Get me the Pitocin.” I told M that I thought I needed the epidural. My doula wanted me to think about it. I did. For 2 seconds. I said, “I think 9 hours of unmedicated labor makes me an expert. I’m done being empowered. Get me the fucking epi.” And they did.

8:45am – 3:53pm – I was under the impression that I’d get it and have a baby in a few hours. Oh, I was wrong. I continued to stall at 7cm for over 6 hours. They upped the Pitocin a few times and finally at about 2pm I got to a 10cm dilation. However, the baby was not moving into the birth canal. My midwife let me labor for a while longer to see if I could move her at all. If I couldn’t, I was getting a c-section. The labor & delivery nurse said “Let’s see if you push through a contraction if she moves at all.” No problem. I pushed with everything I had. “Holy shit! Let’s get the midwife in here.” Apparently I push well. We started “official pushes” at 3:30pm.

M watched the whole thing. He stayed at my side while I lied on my right side with my doula holding one leg and my midwife holding the other. I pushed for 20 minutes when my midwife said “Ok, I want to prepare you for something: the cord is wrapped around her neck. I’m going to tell you *exactly* when to push, and when to stop. You have to listen to me carefully, I may yell at you. When she gets far enough out, I’m going to try to loop the cord around her neck. If I can’t, I’m going to cut it. Ok?” Ok. At this point I should have freaked out. For some reason – maybe my trust in my midwife – I didn’t. I was pushing like she said. At one point she said, “Ready? I want you to push and visualize her moving slowly: One centimeter. One centimeter. One centimeter.” And I literally was pushing her out that slowly. I felt it.

As the head emerged, the midwife said, “Here we go,” and unlooped the cord from her neck. Then she said “Oh my god,” and unlooped a second time. Then she said “No way!” and unlooped the cord a third time. Three times the cord was wrapped around her neck. I found out a bit later that we were rushed because her heart rate was decelerating.

And just like that, out she came. Crying and angry. But healthy and hearty. They put her on me, all covered in goo, and I cuddled her right away, with the (extremely long) cord still attached. Then M cut the cord and I nursed her. Then they told M to help get her weighed and measured and they delivered my placenta. Well, not so much delivered, but had to go in after it. I was basically fisted by my midwife. She said “Thank god you got the epidural because that would have REALLY hurt.”

8lbs 5oz, 21 ¼” long, born at 3:53pm on May 8th, our little baby Josie joined us. About 25 hours after that first contraction, 16 hours after my water broke, and a 2nd degree tear. It was a challenge, and full of drama, but did you expect anything else?

She’s now over 9lbs after losing some after the birth, and is 22” long. She’s amazing. Seriously, this has been the most cliché inspiring life-changing event. I am so in love with 9lbs of fury, it’s just awesome. I spend my days kissing her lips, her fat cheeks, her thighs. I watch M get tears welling up in his eyes just looking at this amazing miracle. We sit there and argue her cutest points. We are frustrated and sleep-deprived and so utterly happy. It’s just beautiful. Nothing else matters. Nothing. As she was born, I was reborn.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…

Anyway, you know I love to cook. Love it. But since getting pregnant, I haven't really had the desire to cook nor have I been a cravings sort of preggo. It's actually quite disappointing to me, and to a great extent, to M. I'm quite happy to have a half of a grapefruit, an english muffin and a few sticks of celery for dinner. M isn't. So in his protest, he's happily taken on the gourmet role in our kitchen. We used to cook together, but he's been much better on his own. Occasionally I'll chop veggies, but for the most part I lie on the couch and watch him. He's good.

A few weeks back we did a pan seared snapper on a bed of juilanned vegetables with a lemon butter sauce and herbed rice. I helped with that one. It was the best fish I've ever had. But then about 2 weeks ago M came home from New Orleans (his home away from home and where he would stash his other family were he to have one. he's really there a lot) with a new recipe: Creole Shrimp. I like shrimp. I like Creole. The two together are sublime. Over rice, you can't go wrong. I'm spoiled now living in the south: I get some damn good Cajun and Creole.

I present to you...M's Creole Shrimp!

Celery, onions, peppers (The Trinity: a Creole/Cajun version of a Mirepoix), tomatoes, love, shrimp, basil, cayenne, etc., it's all there. We're in love with this new dish. I like not cooking.

Update on the bambino: I just passed my first due date. The due date moved to May 3rd from April 27th early on because I was measuring pretty small. Now I'm not. I'd say we'll be greeting our baby girl within the next week.

Yes, I'm ready in the sense that I have everything in order. I have a nursery, stroller, boobs, clothes, midwife, doula. I've nested more than I thought I could. I've paid off every credit card. I refinanced our home down to an awesome rate. I sold my little Honda. I remodeled 2 rooms in my house and did an overhaul of my yard. Does that mean I'm ready?

Well, I'm not. I'm scared. I'm scared of labor and delivery. I know that I'm in for a world of pain. I also know that I chose to have an intervention-free delivery because I did an enormous amount of research. I know that this drug-free route is what I want. I know that shit happens, and anything could derail my plans. That's all ok. But I'm still afraid of it. But beyond that, I'm actually really reluctant to release my little girl to the world.

This time has been so awesome. I love her and me. Me and her. I love the bond that I alone share with her. I love our moments together and the fact that I can spend hours with her and never get bored or lonely. I love every kick, push, gesture that she gives me. Even the ones that hurt. I am sad to see these go. I know I will love her more every day I know her, but this little time together has been so amazing.

M says that I've been pregnant forever. Now, though, it's coming to a close. Didn't we just get our positive like a week ago? I can go "any day" they say. I'm dilated. I'm effaced. I'm 6 days from my original due date. She's big and ready. As am I. Or, as ready as I'll ever be.

Coming soon: Pictures of my awesome new hybrid car and some food porn courtesy of my gourmet husband.

I grew.

We're actually really ready. My midwife measured me on Monday and recommended that I have my bag packed this week. Rather than do that, I'm going to ignore her advice and just pray that the baby decides to wait it out another 3 or 4 weeks. Her nursery is more or less done, her clothes are washed (shout out to T who sent me a CASE of 7th Generation Baby Detergent!), diapers at the ready, various products acquired (shout out to Neiman Marcus who now owns a good portion of my bank account due to their wide selection of Keihl's Baby products), coming home outfit ready (I had no clue how important people think this part is. It's really pretty, btw. Pale greens and yellows).

M somehow almost crushed his larynx while putting the crib together. It was almost too cliché, watching him and my brother perform this feat. Hilarious, though. We have bouncer(s), a swing, stroller(s), crib, bassinet (for our room), dresser, etc. Let's just say that she's got nicer furniture than us, and a much more varied wardrobe. Her aunt is shopping at Fred Segal for her, her Grandpa at Neiman's. I think it's because they're in CA, so they feel it's ok for some reason to overpay and spoil pre-natally.

We took our birthing class with our doula last week, which M found utterly horrifying. The other night we took "The Basics of Baby Care", leaving M as an extraordinary swaddler, if not an inept diaperer. He'll work on the last part. I'm finding these classes to be really geared for people who have little to no intuition when it comes to common sense, though some things they explain (how to take a rectal temperature, for instance) are extremely helpful. My neighbor gave me the best advice: "Listen to what people say, then toss it out the window because you're not going to listen to them anyway. Do what's right for you."

So far I would say that most people do have good advice:
 Sleep when the baby sleeps.
 Don't worry about following routines.
 Pick your baby up all the time.

Some people aren't helpful in the slightest:
 You say you're going to breastfeed that long. Just you wait.
 Let her cry it out from the beginning or you’ll spoil her.
 You have no idea what childbirth is going to be like. I bet you get the drugs.
 All the experts. What do they know? We did all of that stuff when we were starting out and our kids are fine!
 Black!?! Who puts their baby in a BLACK crib?

People are weird. I like to think they really do want to help, but I know in some cases they just want to hear themselves speak. Even if the words amount to shit.

And, the nesting. The nesting is fun. Mostly because I don't clean my own house (I know my limitations) to begin with, nor do I do dishes or laundry (thanks, hon), and if I did it would be disastrous since I can't bend down at all. So my nesting is consisting of rearranging the bedding in the crib, rearranging the clothes in the drawers and spending a ludicrous amount of money having work done to my house. I thought I was crazy for doing this, but there was a Times article last week about Nesting with a Vengeance. I nested my finances too and paid off all of my debt. It's weird how something I can't control (birth, pregnancy, parenthood to an extent) has made me much more in control of things I used to let fall away.

Anyway, there's my update. I'll likely post more frequently once I go on maternity leave in 2 weeks. Here's hoping she doesn't make her debut before that!

I'll update shortly with some major bellyage. Here's a taste:

When it's being enjoyed a mere 70 feet from the Caribbean Sea.

We're in Grand Cayman right now. My initial intent was to journal this trip, this last hurrah before parenthood each day I was here. But truth be told, being on a deadline, even self-imposed, seemed a little against the point of the trip. Americans, I've heard, don't vacation well. We don't relax, kick back, know how to let it go. I'll tell you what, we were a little nervous of our inability to do nothing. Over the past few days, I've gotten over it. I'm quite good at this. My day so far:

7:45am - Woke to M placing a cup of coffee on my bedside table and opening the blinds to revel the turquiose water that was only audible through my open windows a moment earlier.

He said, "Man you were really hugging that pillow last night. Were you ok?"

"Yeah, I was using it as a breath shield from you..." I replied. "You reeked of Cohiba's and Caymanian Rum. It was like sleeping with a pirate." M has been relishing the Cohiba's and the real Romeo and Julieta's and Montecristo's that are sold everywhere here, just a stones throw from Cuba. I've been relishing the amazing fruit punch's and desserts. On to our day...

8:30 - First Breakfast, consisting of the aforementioned Raisin Bran. Read on balcony for an hour. Contemplate where to read next.

9:30 - Go onto beach and stake claim under a Pallapa. Lie on chair. Read.

10:00 - Get bored. Go swim for a bit.

10:30 - Back in chair. Lie in sun. Read.

11:30 - Back to condo for 2nd breakfast: Fried eggs, leftover steak from previous nights dinner, toast. Read.

Noon - It's been a long day so far. Lie in bed for a few minutes. Get up and book pre-natal massage and facial at the nearby Ritz Cartlon for me and 1/2 day deep sea fishing trip for M. We're spending the first half of Valentines day enjoying one another's gifts to each other completely apart. We're ok with that. It's going to be our big splurgy day considering we got the condo for nothing and used miles to get here. We're really going to kill it tomorrow.

The Rest of the Day - We don't know. At some point M will make me drive him (not big on the driving on the left-side of the road thing, considering I almost killed us the first night at a surprisingly confusing roundabout) to get some freshly caught mahi mahi for him to grill up tonight. The rest of the day will likley be consumed with me reading and him making the most of the tax-free booze status.

We like doing nothing. We know we have a lot to do when we get back, but that's ok. However, we all know that no vacation with M is complete without him breaking something. So I'll sign off with "Here's What Happens When you Mix Cayman Beer, Rum and Wine for 7 Hours":

On a quick end note, when I was a kid I knew nothing about God. My parents weren't religious so we learned NOTHING about God. So I had my own idea of what God looked like. In my head, God looks as close to this as possible:

There are some things you can't avoid when you're expecting: a foot under the ribs at 3am, nervousness, anticipation...they're all there. That's ok, though. We're spending the next 3 months getting ready for the arrival of the center of the universe. We've been working hard to save money and to prepare her room (new carpet, new paint, new windows), to get the yard ready (drainage, deck, lawn) and to get emotionally ready (therapy). We're having a shower, or Party of Impending Parenthood as we're calling it since the fellas will be there too.

All exciting stuff.

But right now what's exciting me today is the fact that M and I leave 2 weeks from Sunday for Grand Cayman for 5 days. We're staying in a 3 BR Penthouse Condo on 7 Mile Beach - just the two of us. We're going to spend days literally doing NOTHING. Hammocks, fruity tropical drinks, white sand and sun. Snorkeling and fishing and swimming. Reading and listening to iPods with no interruptions. No work. No one to bother us. I cannot wait. On that note, I'll end with a snapshot of where we'll be. And when I get back, I'll be in full on baby-mode. I'm 26 weeks pregnant, and will be officially full term at 37 weeks. That's a possible 11 weeks till she can make her appearance. I got a LOT to do!

The first question I'll address is "How is pregnancy treating you?" Well, let's just say good. Ok, really good. It's hard because I never thought I'd be that woman, but pregnancy fucking rocks. Once I got over the 1st trimester awfulness, this became the best thing ever. I love it. I love how I feel, I love that I haven't drank or smoked or done anything remotely self-destructive that doesn't involve candy in so long. I lost so much weight in the first three months by not drinking (or eating...thanks morning sickness!) that I've gone down 2 sizes.

My daughter (!) is jumping and kicking all over the place. She's perfect and precious and I never expected to love something that I haven't met so much. She and I are sharing this insanely intimate and special bond right now, something I know I'll never have again, so I'm trying to cherish it and be patient with it and not rush this time. It's such an amazing experience.

I fired my OB. She wasn't too forthcoming when I asked her about her c-section rate, and how she'd deal with a breech baby, etc. I hired a doula, whom I adore, and am now being cared for by a midwife whom I also love. I have chosen to go with the route that will lead me to the least possibility of intervention. No pitocin, no epidural. Obviously there are exceptions, and if there are complications, surely I will make the decision best for us, but I won't do it as a matter of routine, you know?

I'm surprised at how surprised people are that I'm doing so much research on the whole birthing experience. I mean, this is my one and only chance. Why would you not want to know everything? A co-worker of mine is going the epidural/pitocin OB route, and she's about 3 weeks ahead of me. I'm excited to see how our experiences will differ. As long as our daughters are healthy and happy afterwards, that's all I care about.

On a lighter note, M and I have booked a trip to Grand Cayman for February. A good friend is lending us her condo there right on the beach and I plan on spending 5 days just floating and hammocking. I'm going to bring no less that 5 books with me to devour whilst lying on my beach chair under the shade of a crooked palm. M will lie in the shade of my belly. We're quite excited!

I hope you all had a fantastic holiday. I'll try to write more, give better updates, etc. For now, how about we all just marvel at how lovely her spinal column is!