Paisley Leather presents Laila's Paisley Nursery

Trevor is fielding the Jehovah's Witnesses who just rang our doorbell and I'm popping by to say hello to you. Just a lazy Saturday morning at the Chapman house...

Hmmm... It is an interesting idea, door to door evangelism in our east Dallas neighborhood. I wonder at the effectiveness of such a method. Perhaps next time we should invite them in for a cup of tea and a chat. Friends, do any of you have stories about door to door prosletyzers and your encounters with them? I would be interested in hearing them... Comment away! Well, actually, have a look at these nursery photos first. That's the reason I popped by in the first place.

But first, I just want to tell you that we talked with the midwife on Thursday evening and she said that, at this point, if Laila's coming, we're gonna let her come! That means that my fears of being separated from her because of the NICU, my discomfort with the idea of using drugs to stop labor and my unease over the idea of having to give Laila steroids to speed up her lung development are behind us! Holly The Midwife says that Laila is cleared for take-off! Actually, umm... I think cleared for landing is more appropriate. I'm so grateful! We made it through 3 weeks of staving off contractions and we're emerging on the other side! Hearing this from Holly, my friends, was like a healing balm to my soul. I hit a pretty low place on Wednesday and Thursday because I was experiencing stronger and more painful contractions and was having a really hard time stopping them. I was haunted by the idea that Laila would come out and have to be separated from us and I couldn't imagine her out of my womb but not in my arms. Even now, a lump rises in my throat when I think about being separated from her. Whew. Shake it off, Chels. Pull yourself together. This is a celebration post!

So, the point is: She's a-comin and we're excited!
And her lovely nursery awaits...



A close-up of the AMAZING banner her Auntie Crystal made for her...



Her window valance and whimsical butterfly mobile... (Thank you, Aunt Judi!)



And the sign above her closet... (Thank you, Auntie Lezlie!)





A HUGE round of grateful applause to Laila's Nonna and Papa Bear AKA my precious Mom and Dad, for gifting us with all of the beautiful bedding you've seen in the above photos. You are going to be the spoiling-est grandparents EVER! And I say, "bring it on"! :) Thank you, Shmoopy and Daddy!

So, in conclusion, we're waiting here... with baited breath... for the moment that she arrives and completely ROCKS OUR WORLD... and we are going to love every minute of it.

Good Thing I Love My House

So, they call it "Modified Bedrest" and it's what they make you do when you are 33 weeks and 1 day pregnant and you start having contractions that hurt... Not those innocent little Braxton-Hicks contractions, my friends... The real ones. The ones that make your cervix start to thin out and begin that lovely journey to 10 centimeters of glorious dilation. The ones that feel like someone is twisting your uterus like a dish towel being rung out. Oh, uh, my apologies to any male readers out there. That may have been a little too much information. Actually, I don't think I have any male readers out there, except my Dad... who can totally handle a little cervix talk. The man watched my little brother be removed from my mother's womb, ya'll, like, actually watched it happen. He's crazy tough.

By the way, when Clay came out, he was asleep. Seriously, the child was totally chilling. Evidence of the cool cat he would grow up to be? I think yes. Check out the cool-ness... It's unparalleled, really.



I, on the other hand, came out screaming like a banchee... But are we suprised? My Mama says I was mad as a hornet about how long the whole process was taking and came out with a little conehead to show for it. Poor baby. No child should be compared to Dan Akroyd, seriously.


See what I mean? That's rather disturbing, actually.

While we're on the subject of me and my little bro, how about some fun pictures of the two of us?



Too cool for school...


And we like to flare our nostrils...


And we're REALLY HAPPY!!


Wow, check out my collar bones. I miss those. Oh, and also my cheek bones... and only the one chin. Hmmm... I'm sure I'll see that face in the mirror again someday... :)

Laila is so worth it, though. And she's definitely worth all of this laying around and missing my Starbucks.
In loving memory...


I liken this bedrest thing to naps in pre-school. Remember how much you hated having to take a nap back then? I mean, I remember loathing naptime, having to be practically strapped to my nap mat and threatened within an inch of my life if I didn't stay put and close my eyes! Somewhere around 5th grade, though, I began to see the value of that nap mat that was once so burdensome to my little preschool agenda. I began to long for someone to bust out a nap mat and declare that naptime had been instituted for middle schoolers and would we all please put our heads down and close our eyes?? Alas, it never happened... And, according to all reports, once Laila arrives, I will never again, in my entire life, ever have another afternoon in which I lay around thinking, "La di da... I wonder what I should do now..." All of you Moms out there are knowingly nodding your heads, slightly charmed by my naivete and saying these like, "You better enjoy that rest while you can!" and "Oh, if someone would only put me on bedrest!" and "Girl, you don't even know..." I know, I know. You're right. I should be grateful. Sigh.

Anyway, we're in the home stretch! Today is 35 weeks and, as of this next Monday, we will be home free and Laila can come any old time she likes! As my Grandat said, "She's already looking for the door!"

I just think she's an overachiever, ready to take on this great big world and anxious to get a headstart! "Hello World! I'm Laila Chapman and I've got work to do! I can't be bothered by things like due dates and lung development! Here I come!"

Okay, Little Champ, just stay in there 5 more days, will you? For Mommy?