Snakes, snails & puppy dogs' tails

Introducing: our little man, Lawson Michael Kirby!

Eeek! If I had any reservations about finding out the sex of the baby beforehand (hint: I didn't), they would have disappeared if I had known how much more REAL it all feels now! (Seriously... a BABY!)

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. Trevor got a new job and went back to school (woot!), we found out our little "it" is a "he", and we're looking to move soon (fingers crossed!). In the midst of it all, I've done what any girl would do... spend my days pinteresting.

Knowing we're having a little baby boy makes it easier to start making nursery decisions, which is very exciting (although it is a little sad to not have an excuse to pin cute little girl things!). Here are some things I'm loving right now:

Pegboard? Both cute & functional!

Wall of books!

I WISH we could do this! Not quite so sure it's renter-friendly...

Something like this with our wedding bunting would be fun! Not sure it's mobile-y enough though.

I realize this is more girlish, but I LOVE that rug!

Baskets on the wall = genius.

If I could just copy and paste this whole room, I would. I'd do it.

Or this one! Gahhh.

Does anyone else feel like Pinterest has this way of making you ITCH to paint something, like, now?

Baby!

That's right, folks, I'm pregnant! *Squeeeeeal*

Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), we are thrilled and terrified and just about every emotion in between. I mean, there is a baby growing in me right now! Whaaa?!

Let's go ahead and address the FAQs right up front:

• When/how did you find out? I took a pregnancy test first thing in the morning on April 19th (the day before Easter). Trevor was in the loop, but I still stayed in the bathroom for the full three minutes (plus thirty more seconds of staring at the stick) before taking it back in the room to show Trev. Wide-eyed hugs and loads of giddy/shaky laughter ensued.
• Was this planned? Yep! 
• When's the due date? This is actually a tricky question. Using the "normal" method of calculation, the due date should be December 18th. However, at my last doctor's appointment at 11 weeks, we learned that the baby's measurements more accurately lined up with a 9-week-old fetus. That makes the new due date December 31st. We'll see if anything has changed at the next appointment. (Personally, I think the further from Christmas baby can come, the better!)
• Are you going to find out the gender? Um, YES, as soon as humanly possible! I cannot for the LIFE of me understand not wanting (or more like NEEDING) to know. Maybe that's just me.
• Are you hoping for a girl or boy? Because it's our first, I don't have a strong preference. Trevor, on the other hand, is dyyyyying for a boy. If we have a girl, my poor husband will be scared out of his mind. This leads him to insist that he KNOWS it is a boy... which sort of leads me to hope it's a girl.
• Do you have names picked out? Not really. Trev and I have a hard time agreeing on names, so the list we do have is quite short, but nothing is definite.

In a nutshell, pregnancy is proving to be gloriously awkward. I find myself walking with my hands on my stomach, obsessively reading every book/article/website I see, and constantly praying God, protect my baby protect my baby protect my baby. Sometimes it feels completely unreal (surreal?), occasionally it feels like I've been pregnant forever, and other moments contain panicky is-this-real-life freak outs. So far I've experienced nausea, fatigue, serious hunger, loss of appetite, complete joy, and paralyzing fear. Bring on the second trimester energy!

Now let's talk about Trevor, because seriously, the man is a total catch. He makes ginger ale runs like nobody's business, and he actually put up with eating Taco Bell on a daily basis for weeks on end with no complaint (back when bean burritos were the only thing I could stomach--thank goodness that seems to be over!). Above all, though, I'm just so grateful to have a partner through all of this. It's been invaluable already (I tend to be paranoid and a bit of an over-analyzer, you know), and I can't imagine how I'd get through these next few months (and then years!) without him. This is especially true because I'm never sure where to draw the line when it comes to sharing (do you actually care that I could only eat bean burritos for weeks?), and I can count on Trevor to listen. Or, you know, pretend to listen, which is all I ask.

Speaking of sharing (and paranoia), I'm slightly terrified to post this. I have this fear before every appointment that we'll learn we lost the baby, or something will go horribly wrong. I'm also very concerned about being insensitive to those who have suffered that loss personally or are struggling with infertility. I do not want to add to that pain, and for that reason, I've debated including any pregnancy updates on the blog at all.

In the end, though, I decided to go ahead and write this post for a few reasons:

1. I can't (and don't want to) pretend this isn't happening! This blog is the closest thing I have to a diary, and if I can't write about the pregnancy and baby here, I might as well delete the blog, right?
2. If the unthinkable happens and we do lose the baby, I think I will want to write about it--eventually. I tend to process by writing, in case you haven't gathered that.
3. Perhaps most importantly, those who will read this blog are likely people that are interested in my life, and therefore people that are interested in Baby Kirby. (If you're reading this and I don't know you, well, hi! Welcome to the rambling thoughts in my head.)

So there you have it! This post is full of tangents, which I will chalk up to pregnancy brain, and we can ignore the fact that all the previous posts are also full of tangents. Deal?

Heritage

Just over three weeks ago, my grandpa Ivan Kounter passed away (on April Fool's Day, no less--we KNOW he planned that!). I contemplated giving a tribute at the memorial service, but eventually I decided I'd be blubbering so much that no one would be able to understand me anyway. Instead, I'll post it here, where no one can see my ugly crying face.

All my life, I've been told I have an amazing heritage. I have an incredible family, with four godly, inspirational grandparents, the best parents and brothers, and loads of aunts and uncles and cousins, so accepting that I have this amazing heritage has never been challenging for me. However, I've been proud of my heritage the way I think many of us say we're proud to be American: we mean it, we know it to be true, but we don't put a lot of thought into why that is or what it means as often as we should (which, by the way, my grandpa would have considered sacrilege). Lately I've been thinking a lot about this idea of heritage and what exactly it people mean when they say my grandpa left it for me and my family.

My grandma, Lorraine, and my grandpa

Many of you knew my grandpa as a pastor. He pastored all over the nation--in Kansas, Texas, Oklahoma, Banning, Spring Valley and here at Olive Knolls in Bakersfield. But you may not know that it wasn't his plan to become a pastor. (Disclaimer: I'm about to tell a story my grandpa used to relate to me, which means two things. One, you've probably all heard it many times, and two, it may not be very factual.) When my grandpa was in college at Bethany--now Southern Naz--he attended a service where they talked about surrendering your life to God. My grandpa leaned to the friend sitting next to him and whispered, "I really think I'm being called into the ministry." He had been struggling with this call for a while, and his friend was aware that my grandpa did not want to enter the ministry. So his friend said, "You know, sometimes God just wants to know we're willing to obey." To which my grandpa thought, "Oh, well, if that's all this is, sure, I can be 'willing'." And he went down to the altar, and his life--and all our lives--were changed, because as it turned out, God did not just want willingness from him. God had big plans for Ivan Kounter.

Me & grandpa, post Christmas caroling in 2013

Now, I think it's important to note that my grandpa was not perfect. He had his fair share of flaws. For instance, you could not yawn around him. I could ask any number of you to recite the joke he told each and every time he caught someone yawning. "You're making me homesick! ....I used to live in a cave!"

He was also a man of great convictions, which sometimes translated to mean he was a man of great stubbornness. I remember one day we had been out doing errands and I was driving us home, and the whole way he insisted I was going the wrong way. When we pulled up to his house, he said, "It's okay, kid, you got us here eventually."

My grandpa was also super competitive--though to be fair, I think that's less of a fault and more of a Kounter gene. (My mom can attest to that.) One summer we played Chinese checkers nearly every day, and without fail, I lost. Aaaand he laughed in my face. Until eventually, I got good enough to beat him fairly consistently, at which point he got "bored" with Chinese checkers.

But, as insurmountable as these flaws may seem, my grandpa was more than his cheesy jokes, his stubbornness and his competitive nature. He was a man who started each day with prayer. He greeted, every Sunday, like the church's future depended on how big his smile could be and how many hands he could shake. He would have given his arms away if you told him you had need of them. He was radiant with the love of the Holy Spirit that lived in him and worked through him.

My cousins & brothers: Adam, Jake, Brad, Nathan, Jake & Kyle

Presenting the flag to my aunt Marilyn

I'm learning that these things are my heritage. The fact that Olive Knolls could barely hold the amount of people that showed up to his memorial service is a testimony to his heritage. The food offers we received in the days following his death, the texts and calls and hundreds of Facebook comments from people I've never met, all saying "Ivan Kounter blessed my life"--that's the heritage he left. I can only hope to leave that kind of legacy.

We love you, grandpa.

The Kounter family, each wearing a tie from my grandpa's massive collection

Oh, hello, 2014

This year has so far been a whirlwind of straight-up crazy. In the last 6 weeks:

• I accepted a job at the Bakersfield branch of PLNU (okay, so that was in December, but still)
• Trevor began the job hunt
• I left my job (amidst many tears)
• Trevor left his job (amidst screams of mirth and joyful dancing)
• We said goodbye to the incredible people and place of San Diego, including our beloved little apartment
• We picked up and moved to Bakersfield, CA... More specifically, we moved in with my parents and the only brother still at home, Timmy Wimmy (he loves that)
• I started said job at PLNU Bakersfield
• Trev & I celebrated NINE YEARS together on the 9th (golden anniversary, woot!) with a weekend trip back to SD (just couldn't stay away) and Disneyland
• We started a brand new small group (YAY!)
• Trevor continued continues the job hunt (and a hunt it is, my friends)

I have experienced every emotion under the sun. Yet in the midst of it all, I am so at peace. (Isn't it funny how that works?) It's clear to both of us that this is where we are supposed to be. Don't misunderstand, we love San Diego with a massive chunk of our hearts (Trevor will cry if you ask him about it), but God is at work in our hearts and in our Bakersfield church and we are thrilled to be here.

Cue the photo roll....

New Year's Eve with the gang

We learned that Ender plays tug-a-war... viciously.

My dad played in a tennis tournament in SD... complete with a headband mullet. So proud.

We saw our beautiful alumni brick on Caf Lane!

My kindergarten picture added to the wall at work! See me?

Trev broke a million on Astro Blasters... AGAIN... stud.

Celebrating 9 years at Disneyland

One thing I'm learning over and over is that God is in control. He has a plan, and it's better than ours. Being in this strange limbo is not my favorite. I'm very much a "create a plan, create 5 back up plans, and cry when something goes wrong" kind of gal... so I'm a little out of my element here. I'm learning that trust is an active part of faith. Much like love, and commitment, and positivity, putting my trust in the Lord is a choice I have to make each minute of each day. It sounds hard to me, and it definitely is challenging to let go, but considering that the only other alternative is figuring things out on my own... why wouldn't I entrust my future into the hands of the One who knows what's ahead? Why wouldn't I give my life to the One who loves me more deeply than I can understand?

In memory

Dear husband,

Four years ago, a tragedy occurred and suddenly your dad was gone. I know you think of that day more than you mention, and I'm sure you mention it less than you want to. I can only imagine how hard it must be to live in that space where you aren't sure if you want to remember or forget.

That day, our lives were changed forever. The following weeks and months and years were fraught with despair, hope, and learning how to keep on going. It hurts to dig into those memories but it fills me with a keen sense of overwhelming gratefulness to look back and see how God's presence was holding us up.

During that time I watched as people I had rarely heard mention of pulled you aside to tell you stories and ask how they could help. I remember how much FOOD there was at the memorial service. I saw the healing continue years later when you spoke in church, and the outpouring of support and the sense of solidarity that followed.

We redefined a lot of words four years ago, like "grief" and "mourning". What had been abstract concepts became very real, and then they threatened to be the only reality. But we also learned the meaning of God's peace, hope, and faithfulness, and you refused to be crushed.

Today, you are filled with the joy of the Lord.

Today, you are closer to your family.

Today, you know that you are stronger than you would have believed.

Today, you are the very image of restoration, hope, and renewed life.

You have touched lives with your story and your perseverance, Trev, and I am blessed by you every single day. I miss your dad, and I'll always wish I could have had the chance to get to know him better, but I'm thankful for the times I had with him and thankful for the memories you've shared with me. I have no doubt that he would be so proud of the man, husband, brother, uncle and friend you are today.

Ninth of July

So this post is a bit delayed (whoops), but I can't resist sharing.

Because we were at Family Camp over Independence Day, we didn't really celebrate the 4th of July in the traditional sense--and I'm BIG on fireworks, hot dogs and the like, so this was a bummer--but it made receiving this text from my husband all the more sweet:

"It's America night! Since we didn't celebrate the 4th properly we're giving it another go!

We're having hot dogs and chips and coke with a double feature of Independence Day and The Patriot."

Um, yes, this is my life. I told you he was the best! And the night was all it promised to be. (Note the patriotic shirts.)

Family camp

There is a place that holds a very special place in my heart, nestled up near Yosemite, called Camp Sugar Pine. (Precious, no?) Every year, our church district--Central Cal Nazarenes, woot!--gathers there for a week. Filled to the brim with sports, games, quality chats, worship and sermons, and catching up with friends and family... basically everything my little heart desires.

This year was my first as a grown married woman (we couldn't make it last year due to brand spankin new jobs), and it was just incredible. (Updated post to come once I get the basketball pictures uploaded...)

On the way home we stopped at this place called Bravo Farms. Um, this place is the coolest. How do I begin to describe it? It's a restaurant, complete with a tree house, a petting zoo, a mini golf course, an apple-picking train ride, and a bounce house:

Saturday reflections

Things I'm loving this week:

1. This list of 10 thrifting tips.

2. The incredible Jessica Rey and her presentation on modesty and the bikini. 

3. Brookside's dark chocolate acai pieces. Oh my.


Things I'm grateful for this week:

1. Movie exchanges with friends.

2. Pep talks from my husband. (He's the absolute best.)

3. Our engagement and wedding picture shutterfly books.


Things I want to try:

1. This DIY paint chip cityscape art.

2. This gradient nail art.

3. Making some sort of yearbook for our first year of marriage, like these (from my all-time favorite blog), or this one.

His name is Ender Wiggin

It's time to introduce someone very important. Someone near and dear to our hearts. Someone who would no doubt be very angry he hadn't yet been introduced, if he had any awareness of this blog.

His name is Ender Wiggin, the destroyer of worlds, and he is our cat.

He is the best cat ever. We named him after Orson Scott Card's book (soon to be movie--mixed feelings on that) Ender's Game. (Hopefully you'd figured that out. If not, go read it!)

Ender is sweet and cuddly when he wants to be...

    

...completely vicious when he wants to be (all in good fun, usually)...

 ...and acts like a dog more than a cat (we're talking tail-chasing and fetch-playing). He's also excellent birth control:

Trev & I are obsessed. I feel sorry for my instagram followers sometimes. But really, can you blame me?