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?

Your Vote Counts!

Dear reader, consider yourself loved. Consider yourself valued.
Consider yourself... solicited.



Trevor and I are working on Laila's middle name. As I've mentioned, this is a serious decision. The world will call this child by the name we give her for the rest of her life. And, of course, her middle name is especially important because this is what she'll be hearing from us every time she gets in trouble... I'm joking, of course. Laila will never be in trouble... Ahem. Anyway.
These things can't be taken lightly at any rate!

So, we'd like your opinion...

Here are the finalists, in no particular order:
Laila Layne Chapman
Laila Grace Chapman
Laila Zoe Chapman
Laila Belle Chapman

Trevor would like for me to tell you that he reserves the right to completely ignore the results of this survey (he's just being spicey, you see) but I promise that your thoughtful comments will be valued and carefully considered.

Your Vote Counts!

Musings from a Monday...

Lean Cuisine Pizza: is not a meal. It's barely a snack... and now I'm hungry again.

Pandora Radio: I LOVE Pandora. Have you, dear reader, been introduced to it's greatness? I've been listening to the Norah Jones station this morning and have discovered two new songs that I will be adding to my "chill" playlist. "Dream" by Priscilla Ahn and "Heal Over" by KT Tunstall. You should have a listen. You'll be glad you did. And, while I'm on the subject of music, let me just give some love to my Music Guru and Best Pal, Jennifer Powell, who always finds the most wonderful and creative music and then, in her generosity, shares it with me. You should read her blog. See the list to the right. No, not the "About Me" section... that's about me... down a little... right. There you are. Notes from G Street. She's adorable. Here's a picture of us at my wedding...



The Phenomenon of Belly Touching: Now, I was warned, well and often, by good friends who've gone before me, that I would find myself being unapologetically touched by people once I was blatantly and unmistakeably pregnant. This was not something that concerned me. I'm a touchy kind of person. I hug people I first meet. I welcome kisses from friends visiting from France. I value the human connection. My bubble tends to be rather small... So far, I've actually experienced less belly touching than I expected. Oh you know, the occasional older lady at the grocery store, friends and family, of course, and children especially seem fascinated by my protruding middle, however, The Line was crossed last week when a male student at SMU just couldn't resist reaching out for a little rub. WHAT?! I mean, we're talking a complete stranger, a MAN and a college student at that! After congratulating me like we were old friends, he went on to explain that he has "about a million" neices and nephews and that he LOVES children. "Now I don't have any myself, of course" he says, "Ya gotta find the right girl first, you know!! Ha ha ha... You must have found the right one, though! I mean, the right guy in your case... Cause you're clearly the right girl! Ha ha ha" and, all the while, I'm still totally amazed and, frankly, rather speechless, feeling confused because, while I'm a bit charmed by his enthusiasm, I'm also resisting the urge to slap his face for feeling so free to just TOUCH me. I mean, yes, the belly has the baby in it but it's still MY belly, after all. Still very much A Part. Of. Me. I walked away totally in awe, smiling a bit, I'll admit, but, still, totally in awe. Here was Laila's reaction:



How would you have reacted?

And now... a word on Valentine's Day.

http://deepforestgreen.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-entry-about-valentines-day-for.html

See? See how I did that? I just tricked you into thinking that we had only just talked yesterday and that I was just popping by to share the interesting link I had just discovered (via one Amy Atkins) when, in reality, it has been shamefully long since we talked... I'm so tricky.

I've missed you.

Happy Valentine's weekend, dear friends! And, coincidentally, happy Winter Wonderland as well! Here is our house in the snow...



What is it about snow that feels so romantic? Perhaps its the snuggling that you know must follow a joyful romp in the snow. Last night, Trevor and I played in the snow at our local park. We wowed the children with our huge snow cave, defeated the punk kids who tried to start a snowball fight with us and then came home to sit in front of the fire and sip hot tea... Earl Grey for my husband, Mint Medley for me. It was wonderful... and, just as we got all snuggled up on the couch to watch The Office, the power went out. It was delicious. We moved our snuggles to the bedroom, opened the blinds and watched the snow fall instead. I'll spare you the details on the rest of the evening but let me just say: Yum-my.

Here's a picture of me and Trev on his birthday... just for fun.



Would anyone like an update on the baby girl? Well, she has an official name. Yes, we did not take lightly the task of deciding what this precious child should be called for the rest of her ever loving life... We took our sweet time. We are still deciding on her middle name but her first name is officially (drum roll, please)... Laila! Pronounced LILA. It is the Hebrew word for "night" and, just as the night sky reflects the sheer majesty and glory of God, we pray that she would reflect God's majesty and glory, that she would be a reflection of His infinite beauty. Yes, Lord. May it be so. Amen. If you would like to make suggestions as to her middle name, feel free!

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I CAN'T WAIT to see her beautiful face! Hmm... the only thing is... that I know, in order for this to happen, I'll have to give birth to her. Wow. Big, deep exhale. Really, friends, its just the absolute unknowing that gets to me. I've tried to glean wisdom from friends and family. I've asked for the down and dirty, nitty gritty stories and, still, I know that I simply don't know what it will be like, how I will respond, what I will feel. One thing is for sure: for the joy set before me, I will endure. For the joy set before me, I will persevere. For the joy of looking into Laila's eyes and seeing Trevor hold her and kiss her and beginning our journey as a new family, I will give her the gift of birth... Cause, really, the alternative is staying pregnant forever and that is definitely not. an. option.

Would you like to see photos of our ongoing nursery project?

Well, here is her chandelier...



And here are her changing table and crib (found for cheap on Craig's list!)...





And, now... I speak about this in hushed reverence. My husband is amazing. He is truly a Renaissance man; lover, engineer, poet and, now, I find out that he is also an artist. Look what he did for his girls...


Yes, that amazing, beautiful horse is painted on the wall. I was speechless. Really, I still am...

And now for the whole picture...



I invite you, dear friend, to come and see the nursery in person. We'll drink hot tea and sit in front of the fireplace. No romp in the snow required.

These Days

Hmm... I just found a hole in the armpit of my favorite long sleeve tee. Just when I was sitting down to blog... Dang. I love this tee. I got it on a mission trip to England, summer 2004. I traded shirts with a High School kid we ministered to who wanted a shirt that said "Texas" on it somewhere. I happened to have one. Now, I have this one instead. It says "England '03" on the sleeve and I have no idea what happened in England in 2003 that would justify having a shirt to document it. Love it, though. Have worn it well.

Hello friend.

My sweet friend, Amy, just commented on a previous blog post of mine and finished with the encouragement... "Enjoy these days." That makes me smile.

"These Days"...
These days, I spend most of my moments in wonderment. I am in wonder of the life growing inside of me, wonderment at the fact that God would take me, a broken vessel, and turn me into a sacred temple. Voila! This concept, this bit of theology, that our bodies are temples of the living God has never seemed quite so real to me as it does now... as it has for the past 10 weeks, the amount of time I've spent knowing that there is a life growing inside of me.

I have been in Kansas City with the Alexander children since Thursday and we have had some interesting talks about the fact that there is a baby in my tummy. Yesterday morning, I was explaning to the children how, right now, my body is helping God make the baby inside of me. Whitby (age 6), completely on the edge of her seat, asked me the most amazing question.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel God's hands?"

Wow.

To be honest, I know very little about what is going on inside. I read my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" iPhone app every Wednesday (my turn day) to find out what is happening with the baby this week. I've spent serious amounts of time poring over the charts in my midwife's office looking at what grows when and how the baby looks when eyelids are forming, etc. but, ultimately, I am clueless about how this child is actually being formed, like, biologically.

But Whitby gets it. God's hands are inside of my body and they are lovingly and, with intricate and careful detail, knitting our baby together in this secret place. It is a complete and utter mystery. It is an incredible and awe-inspiring miracle. And the fact that God allows me to co-labor with him, the fact that my body knows to do the things it does, the fact that Trevor and I had the privelege of being involved in this process of creation, the fact that we are now partners with God in building this life, I'm... well, I'm... speechless (and we know how often that happens).

"These days" are spent thinking about every thing that I eat, slowly, as the days go by, ruling out certain items in my closet, feeling the sensations of a growing uterus, talking to the baby (Liz, can the baby hear me yet?), running to the bathroom, counting the weeks (14 weeks and 3 days gestational age, which is a new term in my vocab), drinking tons of water, paying attention to the baby aisle at every store I'm in, experiencing the bathroom at every store I'm in, trying not to toss my cookies every time I take my pre-natal vitamins, trying to think up new ways of avoiding calling the baby "it" (until that glorious day sometime in the second week of December when we'll find out if the baby is a "he" or a "she"), trying not to crave Diet Dr. Pepper, bouncing names off Trevor, thinking, praying and talking about labor... and, mostly, dreaming about who this child will be and all of the ways that Trevor and I are going to continue our story with this sweet baby in our life.

It is my distinct pleasure to introduce to you, dear reader, Baby Chapman!
At 9 weeks.



_______ can't wait to meet you.

In Love with the 80's

Last Saturday morning, I woke up with an unusual craving... not for pickles, chocolate or even a peanut butter and banana sandwich (ooh, sounds pretty good right now, though). This craving was for some good old fashioned 80's jams. Fortunately for me, the activities planned for the day would afford the perfect opportunity! We spent all day Saturday painting our TV room. It used to be this kind of maroon color with gold, spongey... um... action. The house came that way. I promise, we did not sponge our TV room! It was a bit chaotic... and dark... but, now, it is the most lovely shade of blue. It makes me sigh when I walk into that room now... I feel peaceful, light, as though I am floating in a lovely sea of blue, with the seagulls singing above me and the sunshine warm on my face...


Whew - I went somewhere for a minute there! Back now!

So, the painting afforded an awesome opportunity to jam to some good 80's rock. My sweet husband acquiesced and soon we found ourselves dancing to the music! Now, if you at some point, find yourself overcome with this craving as I did. Let me give you the remedy. Create the "Journey Station" on Pandora.com and you will quickly be transported back to the days of neon, big hair and t-top thunderbirds.
Kinda makes you wanna watch Saved by the Bell, doesn't it?! Now, be honest, you know you always wanted to be Kelly Kapowski!

For some of my (ahem) older friends, this musical journey might conjure junior high, high school... maybe, for some of you, even college memories! For me, however, it takes me back to the delightful days of childhood, specifically ages 2-7. When I hear Heart's "These Dreams" or Madonna's "Papa, Don't Preach", I'm immediately whisked back to Saturday mornings dancing in the living room while my mom cleaned the house with all the windows open... She would always play the music loud when she cleaned the house. I can literally smell the freshness of outside, the subtle scent of baking blueberry muffins still hanging on the air and a little bit of Lysol. I can feel the breeze on my face as I twirled around the living room and I can hear my sweet mommy's beautiful voice. When I listen to 80's music, the thing is... I'm not moved by the lyrics or the beat neccesairily. I'm inspired, I'm entertained, I'm moved because of the memories associated... and because, in my head, I hear my mommy's precious voice, singing along.


Isn't she lovely?
What memories do 80's songs conjure for you?