MIA: Baby Girl Olsen

Today is Baby Girl's big day!!!  Now, if only she were here to see it.

Yes, today officially marks 40 weeks of pregnancy.  In mid-November, through the miracle of science, technology, and medicinal innovations, Celeste and I went through the IUI procedure for the fourth time.  It came at the end of a grueling 3 and a half year stretch of trying to conceive.  You know what they say: fourth time’s a charm.  Well it was for us, anyway.

We did a pregnancy test on the weekend of Thanksgiving, almost as a formality.  I’m ashamed to say it, but we had kind of given up at that point.  I was already deep into my research on adoption, and had come to terms with that being our only reasonable path to parenthood.  Then, thanks to a white stick that had a digital reader on one end and a urine sample on the other, our worlds changed in an instant.  Celeste was pregnant.

I am not quite on pins and needles, but I have felt a measure of anxiety as I’ve gone throughout the day.  The fact that I’ve done nothing today that wasn’t in the “baby preparation” category has probably only made it more pronounced.  I assembled a newly-arrived bookshelf/toy box.  I assembled a baby swingy thing.  I painted a “V” and hung it on the wall.  I cleaned the car.  I vacuumed the house.  Then, when I realized that vacuuming doesn’t do much to suck up Merlin’s hair, I hand-scraped our carpets until the majority of his dog hair was in a trashcan (what a joy it is to gather balls of dog hair the size of tumbleweed).

And now, with all of our pressing “to do” list items crossed off, we’re just sitting and enjoying a quiet evening together.  My mother-in-law Cindy, who flew in a couple of days ago, is reading on her tablet.  Celeste is in the other room talking to a friend from Colorado.  I am in the living room, typing away my thoughts while Merlin stares at me with wanting eyes.  It’s getting late, and it seems certain that Baby Girl will not be born on her actual due date, which is okay.  We were anticipating that.  But we are ready.  Or, I should say, as ready as we can be.

One thing that has been a constant presence on my mind is just how much I love my dear wife, Celeste.  I am continually reminded how lucky I am to have her forever at my side.  She is a marvel of strength, grit, grace, and beauty.  I can only hope our daughter inherits her mother’s long list of qualities, while avoiding the IED’s of my character.

Here's to August 10th.  Can't wait to see what it brings.

Baby Girl Olsen

A Daughter: The companion, the friend, and the confidant of her mother, and the object of a pleasure something like the love between the angels to her father.

                                                             ~ Richard Steele, 1710

Life is busy and as hectic as ever.  The school year always reaches a fever pitch around this time of year, and when you couple that with all our extra-curriculars, it's almost unbearable.  But all I want to do right now is talk about our baby girl.  Yes.  We are having a baby girl, and she is already the most wonderful, precious, adorable, and perfect thing God ever made (and yes, I’m including myself in that analysis).  Our daughter (whose name has not been decided, and probably won't be until the day she is born, so don't bother asking.  The one thing I can tell you is that Celeste Jr. is off the table, much to my disappointment) recently revealed her gender to us, and at the same ultrasound session, we discovered that she is developing perfectly.  Perfectly.  Two arms, two legs, a steady heartbeat and a fully developed brain.  Everything is looking perfect, which is fitting for our perfect little girl.  She is perfect.  Celeste and I are  all ooey-gooey about it.  I hope that never stops.

Her precious profile

Her adorable legs and feet

 

Hands by her face

 

We had a "Gender Reveal Party" last week with some friends.  Apparently this is a thing on the east coast, but I had never heard of it before moving here.  The basic idea is people come over to your house and eat cake.  The twist on the thing is that the cake is made with a special food coloring of pink or blue, and no one can see the inside of it until you either cut the cake or plunge into it face first.  To make this reveal party even more interesting, Celeste and I asked our nurse not to tell us the gender when we went to the doctor last week, and instead had her write it down and put it in an envelope.  The envelope was then delivered to a trusted friend and confidant, the very talented Laura Skinner, who then made cupcakes instead of cake.  When all our friends had gathered around, Celeste and I stood in front of them and took big bites into our specially made cupcakes.  I looked down and saw pink.  Pink.  Girl.  Perfect.

Pre-reveal - beautifully done, Laura!



 

Our pink surprise!

 

I am aware, of course, how difficult life is going to be once our little treasure comes into the world.  Being a school administrator is taxing enough, but adding to that a doctorate and a needy miniature human, and things could really get crazy over the next few years.  But I’m game.  I’ve always been game for the kind of life that doesn’t offer the luxury of 8 hours of sleep or professional doldrums.

 

 

Baby Girl Olsen, we anxiously await your arrival.  On or around August 9th, you will make the happiest couple in the world even happier, if such a thing is possible.

 

 

For those of you wanting a belly shot -

here is a rare selfie of Celeste, 23 weeks pregnant

Yes, We're Having a Baby...

When we went home for Christmas a couple of months ago, we were immediately seized upon by family with questions and updates about our family planning.  This was not unexpected.  We were open to talking about it as we had been in the past, but this time around Celeste and I repeatedly deflected questions as best we could.  What my family didn't know was that we were were trying to keep our surprise a surprise.  In essence, this meant lying through our teeth over and over again.  We were spitting bald-faced lies left and right to the people we care most about.  They showed genuine concern.  We responded with strategic dishonesty.

Then came Christmas morning.  Many a present were unwrapped, many hugs given, and smiles were exchanged like currency in a large living room at my parent's house that now struggles to hold our swollen extended family.  It was the last Christmas morning we would spend together as an entire Olsen Clan.  And just in time.  For Celeste and I, it was our first Christmas in Utah since 2009.

The morning eventually lulled and the initial Christmas-fueled adrenaline started to wear off.  At this moment, Celeste and I delivered a neatly wrapped Christmas card to my mother, who was sitting next to my dad.  She removed the wrapping paper, opened the card, and began to weep.  She showed it to my dad.  He studied it for a moment, then lifted his eyebrows to the ceiling and opened his mouth in awe.

It was our baby.

Mama and Baby Olsen

Somewhere in the indistinctive lines and shapes of a black-and-white ultrasound photograph, our little Baby Olsen, no bigger than a pea, was there, smiling back at grandma and grandpa.  Their reaction to a seemingly insignificant Christmas card stirred curiosity throughout the room, and while some of my siblings moved toward my parents to figure out what was going on, others knew it without having to look.

We were expecting.  Baby Olsen was finally on its way.

The room erupted in cheers, sobs, and gleeful congratulations.  Celeste and I couldn't contain our emotions, and cried along with everyone else.  A similar reaction took place later that afternoon when we presented a similar card to Celeste's mom at their family home.  She had a somewhat stranger - but no less happy - reaction (she opened the card, yelled "No!" in disbelief then began to cry and tried to open another present.)

The Olsen Clan's final Christmas together.  In the center, Celeste and I are holding up the card with the ultrasound we gave to our mothers.  On another note, this is the only recorded time in history that my brother Wade has out-smiled his wife Amber for a photograph.

While sparing you the unpleasant details, I will tell you that Celeste and I have been struggling to get pregnant for about three years now.  We underwent several tests and medical procedures for this miracle to take place, not to mention severe mental and emotional turmoil that tested our capacity for pain.  But now you will find no two expectant parents happier or more grateful than us. Countless prayers have been answered, and countless wounds have been healed.  All our pain and frustration were melted by a plastic stick with a dash of urine on it, a computer screen with a microscopic heartbeat, and a family whose love and support knows no bounds.

Baby Olsen, now the size of an apple, is due August 9th, 2014.

Baby Olsen, clearly a genius.  Like an orange on a toothpick.