Monday, April 20th

Two weeks from tomorrow is the big date! A week or so would be GREATLY appreciated, but if this kid is half as stubborn as his daddy and I are, he's not coming anytime soon. Wish me luck and sprinkle some baby-havin' dust over my way. Please.

In other news: I've decided to take Luke's newborn pictures myself. His newborn photos are probably the most important photos I'm ever going to have and I'm slightly nervous about DIY-ing it, but I really can't justify spending $400+ on a professional photographer (which is the average price of ALL the photogs in our area) and I feel like I have enough skill behind the lens to take some decent pictures. On the plus side, I'll have as much time as I need to set up shop & pose the little bug, so if it takes me a few days to get some good shots it's totally fine. Plus, how else am I going to want to spend the first week of his life besides taking naked baby pictures? Let's be real. I also already happen to have his birth announcements picked out, because I'm definitely going old school and sending out announcements. 

Well, this was short and boring. I'm off to bounce on my yoga ball and slather my hair in coconut oil while hoping and praying to sweet baby Jesus this whole having-a-baby thing will get started like, yesterday. Thanks for being a part of my completely uneventful and unglamorous life :)

Zzz

It's a sleepy Saturday afternoon here in the Roper household. Literally. Hubby is sound asleep on the couch and Mollypop is curled up against my leg on our other couch while I tap away at my keyboard. 17 days until D-Day, and time feels like it's going in slow-motion. I just re-did the poll we created for people to guess all of little guy's birth stats on a super fun website called "What's in my Belly?"and I can't wait for people to use it! I love seeing people's guesses, they're so fun to me!
Today was really slow. We went to Big 5 to exchange my new workout shorts because in a moment of total hope and forgetfulness, I got a size small, expecting my pregnant ass to fit in them. Well when I tried them on, I looked like a 10 pound sausage in a 5 pound package. I returned them for the much better-fitting mediums today, and I actually can't wait to use them. We also took Molly to the baseball field near our house to play fetch for an hour this morning and she loved every minute of it. The rest of today's activities included Mr. Man getting a haircut, and making a tattoo appointment for his next piece of art. We were supposed to go swimming, but food distracted us and we ran out of time (big surprise) so we decided we're going to take the clumsy, uncoordinated, 9-months pregnant lady bowling tonight. Will update on injuries. (Both mine and to the unsuspecting victims at the bowling alley.)

MIA

After several months of neglecting this thing, I've decided it's time to come back. It'll at least give me something to do while I impatiently wait for the arrival of the Nugget! We are officially into the teens any only have 19 days left until D-Day! I'm hoping that he'll decide to show up early because even though 19 days sounds like it would fly by, for a 9-months pregnant hormonal psychopath with an ever-growing human being inside her, it sounds like 47 months. I have organized and scrubbed my house from top to bottom at least 3 times in the last week, and we've had the hospital bags packed and ready to go for 2 weeks. When I finish the last few loads of laundry today, I am officially done cleaning and preparing for our new little roommate. Then what am I supposed to do with my time? Go out into the world and... socialize? Terrifying. I'll stay in my hermit shell and clean more, because this whole nesting thing is taking over my body and I feel like I should probably start going to meetings. "Hello, I'm Jessica and I am a bleach-aholic."
On another note, I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions continuously since yesterday and some of them are super crampy and slightly more intense than usual, and some of them are the normal painless ones. I've been exhausted for 3 days straight, and I just feel off. Hopefully this means something is brewing downtown and my body is getting ready to pop this little guy out! I'm also 2 cm dilated, and 50% effaced. I have an appointment on Wednesday and I'm keeping a good thought that my doctor will say the glorious words "You'll definitely have him within the week!" I'll keep all my millions of faithful blog-readers updated. (That's you, Mom.)
Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed that Little Bear shows up sometime soon!

Mollypop

Meet Molly! Molly is the newest four-legged addition to our family, and we love her to death already. She's the size of a large potato and just as uncoordinated as one. Her favorite hobbies are nibbling on mom and dad's faces, going "swimming" in her water bowl, and beating up her big brother Milo. The last is definitely the most entertaining to watch. Molly is a miniature Australian shepherd and she should be about the same size as Milo when she grows up. She also has the same energy level as Milo. For them, that's wonderful! They'll always have a furry friend to keep each other company and won't bother mom and dad too much to play (which we've already noticed this past week). For us, this means that we now have TWO little holy terrors running around the house. Hurricanes Milo and Molly do nothing but play tug of war, wrestle, and sprint laps around our kitchen and family room endlessly. I'm talking for hours on end. I don't mind one bit because they keep each other preoccupied and don't bother me much. The neighbors downstairs have taken to banging on their ceiling (our floor) to signal to us that they're becoming annoyed with the sound of puppy paws moving around. However, they've never said a thing to us about it bothering them. We get a little tired of the banging so we might have started throwing toys for them to chase a little more often than we used to... who knows?
My poor little Molly is sick with a tummy bug right now and has been throwing up all of her food today. I took her to the vet to have her tested for the Parvo virus and thankfully, it was negative. So, miss Molly is now on the steamed rice diet. She's not a fan of it and keeps turning her little nose up at the rice and chicken broth mixture in her little cupcake bowl on the kitchen floor, but she'll learn. She's gotta eat some time. Please pray that my little fatty gets well soon! Until then, we'll be cuddled up on the couch watching Friends. We're exciting, I know.

Sleepy Dust

The person who used to run this blog is no longer with us. She has turned into a sleep-deprived zombie who roams the empty halls of her apartment picking up dog toys that get strewn from wall to wall, pine needles that happen to get drug into the house and sprinkled everywhere while Milo plays catch with himself, and bras and socks that get flung off the second I walk in the door after a long and tiring two whole hours out of the house.
Whoever said "Oh don't worry! You'll get your energy back in your second trimester!" is a lying asshole. I'm almost into my third trimester and just walking up my stairs gives me visions of certain death. Some days I'll get a burst of energy and clean the entire house (aka the last three days) and be totally fine, and some days just making trips to and from the kitchen to eat is too much for me to handle, and in those moments I'm positive I would rather gnaw my left arm off than go make myself non-cannibalistic food. I mean who needs the old arm, anyway?
I'm currently sitting on my couch after just completing another unit, and scoring 100% on my tests I might add, and I'm so exhausted that I can't even go to sleep. Have you ever been so tired that you're NOT tired anymore? There is nothing I need more right now than to curl up on the couch and sleep until I'm not tired anymore. However, in that case, I might not wake up until next Tuesday. I've been having some late nights staying up to talk to the hubby man because while he's at work for God knows how long, he can't use his phone and has very strict hours of communication. In other words, we usually talk on Facebook any time between midnight and 3 am. So for the last 6 nights in a row, I've slept anywhere between 3 and 6 hours at night, and gotten up to let the dog out at the asscrack of dawn every morning, then continued to clean and unpack and clean some more. Now I know for most people that's an everyday routine and no reason to complain. I am not complaining because for some odd reason I like my little routine of cleaning, schoolwork, and getting out of the house. All I'm asking for is the magic sleep fairy to come sprinkle me with some knock-out dust so I can recharge. Even the energizer bunny needs a break every once in a while.

Are you there, God? It's me, Jess.

This might be the hardest thing I've ever written. Up to this point in my life, I haven't had significant problems in any aspect, and I've always been thankful for that. The last few months have been extremely difficult in all aspects of my life and it's been a full-time job just getting through it. At this point I take every blessing I can get. Anything positive that comes my way feels like a miracle, and takes away a little bit of the pain and sadness in my heart. One of the things that's taken the biggest toll on me was a phone call I received a month ago.
I was sitting on my bed signing up for my schooling program, when my phone rang. I looked down and saw "Dr. Lo's Office" across the screen. Dr. Lo is my OB/GYN and I couldn't think of why she would be calling me. A week before I got this call, I went in for Baby Roper's anatomy scan. An anatomy scan is an ultrasound that checks and measures all of baby's bones, internal organs, body parts, and if you want them to tell you, you can find out the sex of the little love goblin growing inside of you! This ultrasound took a little over an hour and I found out that Baby Roper is definitely a boy! Luke Bryson Roper: his name was already decided.
So, my phone rings, I pick it up, and Dr. Lo starts talking to me. She doesn't beat around the bush. The first thing out of her mouth is, "Your baby has two cysts on his brain called Choroid Plexus Cysts. These cysts aren't harmful themselves, but they are an indicator of Trisomy 18. We didn't see any other markers for it but we'd like to get you a secondary ultrasound with a genetic specialist, because there's still a big possibility of the disorder occurring with him. From there, we'll schedule you with a genetic counselor to discuss the future of your baby's health and your options." Anything she said after that was a blur because I was still trying to process the information I just received. How could my baby, this little being I was growing inside me and that was already perfect to me, have cysts on his brain? What was Trisomy 18? Is he going to be okay?
I got off the phone and immediately broke down. I called my mom and could barely relay the message to her because I couldn't catch my voice or my breath from crying. We both looked up Trisomy 18 and it was so much more grim than we had imagined. Babies with Trisomy 18 usually do not survive to term, and if they somehow do survive to be born, they usually don't live for longer than a few months to a year. I was devastated. Was this what was going on inside him? Would I even get to meet him?
It felt like my world was crashing down around me. The positive thing was that they didn't see any of the other things that indicate Trisomy 18, but I couldn't find a bright side to this situation. Staying positive and hopeful in a situation like this is essential, but as a first time mom who was hundreds of miles away from home, there was nothing that could have stopped me from worrying and being heartbroken. The possibility that I would never get to look into his beautiful eyes, kiss his little button nose, and feel him against my skin was enough to send me into a deep depression. Every day was a struggle for me to get out of bed, put on a smile, and make sure everyone else was happy. I was dealing with this tearing me apart on the inside, while helping others deal with their problems.
Trying to hold everything together without letting anyone know how I was feeling on the inside was terrible. I've never claimed to be a strong person until now, but I know how strong you have to be to handle something of this magnitude.
Slowly, I started to notice I wasn't being myself. I was not the same happy, loving, bubbly person I have always been. I was this shell that would carry myself around and talk to people through an empty smile. I kept myself healthy because I wanted to do anything and everything possible to help keep Luke healthy. I stayed active, ate as much as my appetite would allow, and tried my hardest not to worry or stress myself out. As time went on, I started becoming more and more convinced that everything would be okay. Whatever God intended to happen would happen, and it would be for a reason. I had to trust that He was going to take care of me. Whatever He put in my way, He would help me get through. Things slowly got easier, but I was still hollow inside. I couldn't shake the depression, and to this day I still struggle with it.
Fast forward to Monday, January 5th, 2015. Yesterday. I went in for another ultrasound to check him out and see his progress. The ultrasound technician tried to get me some pictures, but Luke is already as stubborn as a mule and was facing down and away from the tech, in the perfect position to hide his face from us. Everything went smoothly and I was out of there in the blink of an eye. I got another phone call tonight from Dr. Lo's office, and once again I couldn't think of why they'd be calling me. Maybe they were going to tell me they got the images they needed and the ultrasound was okay? Bingo. I was informed they got the image of his lower spine that they needed, and everything looked good. What I wasn't expecting was what I was told next. I was told that Luke's cysts were completely gone, and that was a very, very good thing.
It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders. I couldn't explain what I was feeling, but Luke could. He gave me some of the strongest somersaults he's ever pulled off, almost as if to say, "See mommy, I knew everything would be okay." I can't find the words to explain how I feel. Relieved? Doesn't feel strong enough. Happy? I couldn't tell you, to be honest.
Nothing compares to knowing that he's okay, and that he is just as perfect as I thought. All I can do is thank God for blessing me with a healthy baby, and thank Him for showing me my inner strength. If He had never brought me to, and through, this situation, I never would have found out how deep my love runs and how much strength I had hidden away in my soul. I pray every night that He continues to take care of Luke and guide me on the path that will bring me closer to Him.. the path that will bring me through this sadness and pain that I still have in my heart, and help heal me. My family and friends have always been so supportive and loving in every single possible way, and I am beyond thankful for them. I hope that someday soon I'm able to look back on this from a much happier and healthier place. At this point, I'm just taking it day by day, accepting and treasuring every blessing that comes into my life, and finding happiness in anything and everything that I can. How could I not find happiness in every kick, somersault, and hiccup that I feel not only in my ever-growing belly, but in my heart? I'm a very lucky and blessed human being and I am so grateful for that. We will get through this one day at a time, and one day I will be able to wake up and look back on this time as a lesson, with a genuine smile on my face and faith and happiness in my heart.

Free Puppy to Good Home

Meet Milo. 

Milo is our beloved, four-legged Gremlin. Milo loves long walks on the beach, eating socks and underwear, and shitting on the carpet. He also enjoys crying like a little WHINY BABY whenever we leave the house, and he thinks our vacuum is the devil incarnated. I love him more than anything, but sometimes this adorable face you're witnessing in the picture above is the only thing saving him from being picked up and thrown off our balcony so he can live in the woods like Chris McCandless and join a gang of ferocious coyotes. I think he'd make friends. All seriousness aside, he's such a little snuggle-bug and I know he and Baby Roper will be the best of friends! You'll see in the thousands of pictures I'll be posting of them doing EVERYTHING A NORMAL BABY AND DOG DO. Can't wait. 

Now Hiring

As I'm sitting here on my couch binge-watching the second season of Friends on Netflix and listening to the Washington rain pour down outside, something dawned on me. I don't have any friends here. All of my friends and family are in different states and countries. I've always been more comfortable with the friends I already have. Talking to them on Facebook, over text, or sometimes even Skype, helps with the distance, but nothing beats genuine human interaction. The only human interaction I'm getting at this point is my husband who happens to be in and out of my little world for work, and the cashiers at Target and Safeway. I'm starting to go crazy with just a fetus and a Beagle to talk to. Pretty soon you're going to find me sitting in the park having conversations with the pigeons and laughing maniacally to myself. I can't help that I'm shy and like to stick to what's familiar, but the loneliness is slowly eating away at my soul and I finally decided it's time to make some friends. Well... friend. We'll start with uno amigo and see how that works out... Updates to come. Brace yourself for the next post: Park singing with Pigeons.

Our progression of ultrasounds :)

9 weeks:

12 weeks:

18 weeks:

The Big Bang

One of the things I love the most about my husband is how family-oriented he is. From the time we started getting serious, he would talk about getting married and starting a family. Of course being young and crazy in love, I knew this was normal and didn't read too much into it. Time went on, we grew together and fell more in love, and I started thinking seriously about the future. Every time I pictured walking down the aisle and family portraits, he was by my side. I never could, let alone want to, picture myself with someone else. He was (and still is) everything and more to me. When he left in August of 2013 for boot camp, I experienced true loneliness for the first time. I could be in a room full of loved ones and friends and still feel like something was missing because my boyfriend was hundreds of miles away and there was no way to hear his voice or give him a huge hug and kiss like I wanted to every day. Time seemed to pass slower than ever and all I did was count down the hours, days, and weeks until I got to see him again. 13 long weeks later, we made the trip from Sacramento to San Diego to see that man of mine graduate and "officially" earn the title of a United States Marine.
Seeing him on family day was like nothing I've ever experienced before. I still remember how I felt and I get butterflies to this day thinking about how overwhelmed with pride and love I was seeing the transformation he had made. He didn't look like my little baby anymore; he looked like a man... MY man. The next day on Graduation Day, he got to be in his dress blues because he was the honor grad, and let me tell you something... no tuxedo on earth compares to the suave look and sex appeal that a handsome Marine in dress blues exudes. I was floored. What happened next still makes me smile. My boyfriend got down on one knee in front of my family, his family, all the new Marines around us and their families, and asked me to be his wife. I believe my exact words were, "Is that even a question? Yes!"
We spent a month and a half at home together for the holidays after that, and he was shipped off to his next training program for another 3 months. That one was hard on both of us, and we started seriously talking about the possibility of starting a family and picking a date for the big "I do." We got married April 4th, 2014 when he came home on leave, and we didn't actively start trying to conceive, but we stopped trying NOT to. I had gone to the doctor several times and had been diagnosed with PCOS, also known as Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I was told I had hundreds of cysts on both of my ovaries, and this was the reason for my wildly irregular periods and the reason I didn't ovulate. I was told then and there it would be near impossible for me to get pregnant and I would most likely need fertility treatments to conceive. I was devastated of course and after some long talks with my husband and lots of tears, he only had one thing to say: we would try whatever we could and he would do anything possible to make sure we got the family we both wanted. He was so compassionate about it and has been so wonderful helping me deal with anything I've come across on our journey together.
We moved in together July 5th, and a few weeks later I went on vacation with my family to Hawaii. I came home August 4th (our 4 month wedding anniversary) and badda-bing, badda-boom. A few weeks after this baby-makin' magic, we were walking through the NEX and when we passed the "family planning" aisle I got this gut feeling that caused the little voice in my head to whisper "Grab a box of pregnancy tests." So I whispered back Shut up crazy lady, you obviously don't know how my internal organs work, or better yet DON'T work, and I don't need to test. I already know the answer: I'm not pregnant. So she whispered back, "Grab the damn box" and that was that. I grabbed a box, got a funny look from the hubby, and went home and straight to the bathroom. I was sitting on the toilet after gracefully peeing on a stick as wide as a sharpie, and skillfully managing to not get my own urine all over my hands, when low and behold... the first pink line popped up. Within 5 seconds the second pink line appeared on my pee stick and good thing I was already sitting down, because I got dangerously close to passing the hell out. My heart started pounding and my stomach turned and I immediately grabbed the second stick and forced all the pee left in my body out to make sure the test wasn't defective.
Two tests, four lines, and one freaked-out crazy lady later, I was screaming for my husband to come into the bathroom. I couldn't get any words out and just waved the stick around in his face while squealing and saying things neither one of us could understand. He was shocked. Happy (I think) but shocked! Here we both were, thinking we couldn't have offspring without medical intervention, and after one perfectly timed Big Bang, we were on our way to becoming a family of three. I went to the doctor a few weeks later to confirm the good news - I was pregnant! This was 19 weeks ago and we're still going strong. Little bear is playing kickball with my bladder as I type this and I still have moments where I think "Is this really happening? Did we really get lucky enough to create a human being? Am I REALLY going to have to shove a baby out of me? DID I EVEN THINK THIS THROUGH?!" Then I calm down and remember it's all worth it, I'll be fine, and I have the best damn husband anyone could ask for. In just a few short months I get to meet the little man that is half of the big man that I love most on this earth, and I am beyond blessed with that alone.

From Dog Tags to Diapers

I'd like to start off by explaining the meaning behind the title of my blog, "From Dog Tags to Diapers". My husband and I have always had cute little sayings and phrases we would toss back and forth whenever we needed reassurance or just felt like being mushy. The first blog I ever had that was dedicated to writing novel-length posts about how amazing and perfect my then-boyfriend (now husband) was, was titled "Dog tags and Diamonds". That blog is long gone and has been replaced by this one! My original idea for the title of this blog was "Dog tags, Diamonds, and Diapers", but I came to the conclusion that it was a mouthful and would be a pain in the ass to say or type. The name has been shortened and sums up the transition of things I've come to deal with for the past two years. I've gone from dealing with dog tags to dealing with diapers. My husband is a Marine and we're expecting our first baby in a few months, so the name is self-explanatory!

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the break-down of what's going to happen. There will be plenty of swearing (it's a hard habit to break when you live with a Marine), more pictures than you can count, all of the following subjects: my hunk of a husband, our dog, the occasional selfie, family pictures, and starting sometime in April or May, this blog will further be known as lookatmycutebaby.com. Who doesn't love looking at pictures of the weird little wrinkly creatures women are constantly popping out? I know I do, and I'm convinced my kid has hit the genetic lottery, so prepare yourself now. Along with endless pictures of my family, you will also find explicitly honest posts about whatever happens to be occurring in my day-to-day life. That means everything prenatal, birth-related, postpartum, family life, school and work, all the things about my awesome hubby and marriage, and my personal journey as a woman and a mother. I hope you enjoy what you read and can relate in some way, shape, or form!