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Monthly Archives

March 2015
The Little Baby Who Cried Wolf It’s been an eventful week in the Morgan household as we had YET ANOTHER false alarm this past Sunday. You’d think that by the third time around the labor and delivery block I’d have a knack for what true labor feels like, but this is one tricky little baby.

This is the little baby who cried wolf.

To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t blame our baby. I blame the pastor who preached such a wonderful sermon at our church this past Sunday.

[Well, that seems reasonable.]

I’ll explain.

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As Brian and I near the end of our carefree parenting days in a man-to-man defense and move into a zone defense, it seems fitting to publish the rest of our family/maternity photos. It’s difficult for me to imagine how different our lives will look and feel this time next week.

Family Photos

I had an OB appointment this past Tuesday, and I AM actually making some progress in the laboring department. So, it appears that you all should hear some baby news from us by the end of next week if not sooner, Lord willing!

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Feeling Lucky

Aaaahhhhhhhh, St. Patrick’s Day. The day I remember from childhood as an excuse for all the little girls with green scrunchies and embroidered, clover jumpers to run around pinching the crap out of those of us who forgot to wear green to school.

I’m pretty sure Saint Patrick is the patron saint of mean little girls.

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Operation: False Alarm

I know I promised I would publish the rest of our family photos this week unless, of course, something else happened.

Well, something else happened. 

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With a Little Help from My Girlfriends

Several weeks ago I received a message from my precious friend Donna to ask if she could throw me a baby shower in Georgia. First of all…let me just stop right here so I can confess something. Thoughtfulness is probably not my super power.

If you listen closely, you can hear my family violently nodding their heads in agreement.

I’m forgetful. I’m self-centered by nature. I’m a procrastinator. And I can be selfish with my time.

If there was a support group for people like me, NO ONE would show up for the meetings.

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Four More Weeks

Last September I had dinner with my dear, childhood friends Liz and Donna. Liz was in her third trimester with twin babies (her 3rd and 4th kids), and I recall that she was lamenting her overall state of discomfort. She had weeks left before she was officially full term, but Liz said she would have let the doctor rip her open that moment—right on a table in the middle of Panera Bread—to end her suffering.

Okay, those are my melodramatic words, not hers.

I was at the barely-there baby bump phase of this pregnancy, and I remember encouraging/lecturing her on the importance of carrying full term and the absolute atrocity of c-sections for the sake of the mother’s comfort or convenience. Shame on these mothers for wanting to rip a child out of the womb before he or she is fully developed, I thought to myself. Shame on them!

Oh…stupid, stupid Katy. 

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