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Our house is in disarray right now as we figure out how to add another person to our house; many of the items from mine and Jim’s bedroom are in the dining room or family room, and there’s a rug for baby boy’s room that is laying in the floor between the family room and dining room.

This afternoon, Molly came running at me full-speed from the family room and tripped over the rug. It never even registered on her radar. She hit the ground so hard and I fully expected a bloody nose or mouth when she looked up. I immediately bent down to scoop her up and held her for a minute, then we sank to the floor and as I held her hair back to look at her face, I asked, “What did you hit?”

Wailing, Molly said, “The floor!”

I tried to hold back the laughter as she continued to cry, but I was relieved she hadn’t broken or bloodied anything {this time} and I realized the ridiculousness of my literal question. So instead, I rephrased and asked, “What hurts?”

She held out her hands. I kissed them both, gave her another hug and finished getting her dinner together.



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One thing I struggle with as a mom is trying to teach Molly how to be compassionate and empathetic. These are top-notch traits that I want her – any and all of my children – to embody. I definitely think she will learn to be kind and compassionate and understanding and empathetic by watching Jim and me and other people exhibit these behaviors, but I also think it can be directly taught. Being a mom really makes me stop and think about every situation, knowing that Molly is watching how I react and will imitate me. If I have the chance to do the right thing, I want to do it and I need to remember that sometimes I have to go out of my way to do the right thing, not just when it’s convenient because I’m already there.

I just read a blog post that I wish I had written and I cannot stop thinking about it. I want to tell Molly exactly what this woman is telling her child, and I want her to know I mean it because of the way we live and treat others and each other.

We don’t send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can’t lose it. That’s done.

We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.

Kind people are brave people. Brave is not a feeling that you should wait for. It is a decision. It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.

I love it. Now go read the rest of her letter.

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The Giffin family had a lot to celebrate this weekend!

Our newest nephew Jack was born early Saturday morning – 8 weeks early. We talked to Lindsay and Geoff on Saturday night, and they are over the moon in love. Lindsay is doing well, and Jack is spending time in the NICU while he gets a bit stronger. We are so excited to welcome him to the family!

And Wrigley, our other nephew on Jim’s side of the family, turned ONE today! We couldn’t make the trip to Northern Virginia to celebrate with them, but Jon sent a video of Wrigley eating his cupcake, which was so fun to watch. I didn’t watch it until after Molly went to bed, but I can’t wait to show it to her tomorrow. I know she’ll think it’s hilarious!

Happy birthday, Jack and Wrigley! And happy *birth* days to Lindsay and Alisha. What a special day to commemorate.

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Pregnant? Oh, yes. I’m pregnant. I’m in a weird place these past two weeks where I haven’t been physically sick and we’re not really doing anything around the house to plan for the babe’s arrival yet, and then throw in the beginning of the fall semester, a three-year-old and Junior League commitments, and I kind of forget about this pregnancy sometimes.

I’m not complaining, and I know this is typical of subsequent pregnancies. I’m so grateful that I’m not suffering from all-day sickness anymore and I’m glad I still have a bit of time to go before we become a family of four. But I’m also starting to panic that we haven’t done more to prepare for this baby, like figuring out where he’s going to sleep. I know that *he* won’t care if his room’s not ready, BUT it’s important to me and I want to create a sweet space for him, and get Molly settled in a new room. So, I’m officially moving that high up on the priority list. {Plus, it’s fun to decorate new spaces!}

Otherwise, there’s nothing to report. I’m still going to the doctor once a month. I’m finally back to my pre-pregnancy weight {and have a feeling I will have far surpassed that by the time I visit the OB again in September!}. My back and hips hurt. The vomiting and headaches have ceased. I need to stop buying summer maternity clothes and save up for fall ones.

I’m going to sell the pink cloth diapers and a few other “pink” items and start stocking up on green and yellow cloth diapers and find a neutral colored bouncy seat and some white and gray blankets. I loved, loved, loved all the pink stuff for Molly {and I still do!} but I’m anticipating that wrapping my baby boy in a pink blanket and strolling him around in a pink stroller with a pink cloth diaper cover on his bum will bother *some* people.

I certainly don’t want to rush this pregnancy, for several reasons. The main one being that we’re totally not ready for his arrival, but also because I’m trying to remember to focus on this time with just Molly. However, I am looking forward to eating a turkey sandwich, going out for sushi and having a glass of wine.

We’re on our way to Molly’s three-year well visit. I’ll report back this weekend with an update! Also, please say a prayer for my sister-in-law Lindsay and brother-in-law Geoff; they are sitting on pins and needles, I bet, while their sweet baby decides whether to come several weeks early. Lindsay is on hospital bed rest and we’re keeping our fingers crossed that the babe decides to hang out right where he/she is for the moment!

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Molly and I had a particularly difficult afternoon one day this week. She was testing every limit, I had multiple deadlines I was trying to meet, and we were both tired. We ventured out of the house for a change of scenery and I’m not sure that was the best idea. I pretty much wanted to leave her in a parking lot by the time we were done with our errands. {I didn’t leave her, obviously!} By the time we got home and fought some more about dinner, a bath, how many books at bedtime, etc. we snuggle in her bed for prayers.

After we said our normal prayers, I suggested we say extra prayers: for my patience and her listening. She readily agreed.

Without prompting, she looked at the ceiling and said, “God, help me listen to my Mommy.”

Then she looked at me expectantly and said, “Now it’s your turn to ask.”

I died. I mean, how sweet is that? So I immediately asked God for patience with Molly and to remember that she is growing and learning. She won’t do that without testing her limits and I *know* that. I just sometimes need a little help accepting it.

And I’m glad I prayed for patience because then she got out of the bed three times and needed to be tucked back in. But I did it gladly, with a smile.

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We celebrated Molly’s birthday in typical Heidi fashion, with a week of festivities. On her birthday, Jim and Molly made chocolate chip pancakes to start the day.

Molly had camp at her preschool, so Jim and I took cookies at the end of the day. Molly was so proud to pass out the cookies and have her buddies sign “Happy Birthday” to her.

After school, we went to Loco Lime where Molly had chips and queso, then we came home so she could open her gifts from us. I put the wrapped gifts on the ottoman before we went to pick her up, and when she walked in and saw them, she was thrilled that someone had left presents for her. I’m pretty sure she said that the Easter Bunny had been here, but I can’t remember now! She wasn’t thrilled that we wanted to take a picture of her before she could open her gifts.

Later that afternoon, we had some playdate friends over to play in the baby pools and have snack and cupcakes with us. It was just the right number of kids, I think, and Molly really seemed to enjoy herself.

Then we continued the celebrating with a pool party for Molly and Addison on Saturday – pictures to come soon on the SBN blog!

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My due date with Molly had arrived.

But she had not.
I went to my 40 week appointment and was devastated when the doctors told me there was little progress (between 1 and 2 cm!) and that they’d let me go 10-12 days before an induction. While I didn’t want to go 10-12 more days, I didn’t want to be induced more. I cried, called my mom and my sister, and we did what any normal woman would do – we went shopping! Jim and I walked miles and miles that week, ate lots of Dairy Queen and watched more movies than I probably ever have in my entire life. {I’m pretty sure I told you guys this story already, but I enjoy retelling it. Obviously.}

I had four more doctor appointments before they finally said I had to have this baby and scheduled me for an induction. I needed to choose between August 6 or 7; my favorite doctor was on-call August 6, so I chose that day. It was so weird to know that the next day I was going to wake up, take a shower, and waltz into the hospital to have my baby. The last six weeks of my pregnancy, I was anticipating a dramatic water breaking event, or intense contractions stopping me in my tracks.

There was a dramatic water breaking event – just with something that resembled a knitting needle. And there were intense contractions and lots of vomiting that I endured for 8 hours before asking for an epidural that didn’t really relieve the pain. I don’t even know what words to use to describe that day, as we waited for the labor to progress. It was scary and calm and funny and sweet all at the same time.

Hours and hours later, we sent Jim to get something to eat. I was stalled at nine cm and remained there for three hours. The nurse kept checking the contractions and Molly’s heart rate {they had turned down the heart rate monitor at this point}; Dr. B came in while Jim was gone and hesitated, seeing that Jim wasn’t there. He said he was just checking in, which was weird, because they don’t do that. When Jim came back, the nurse and Dr. B came back in right away and told us I needed to have a c-section.

I wanted to brush my teeth, which I remember being a funny request. It feels like it was only minutes before I was wheeled to the operating room. I remember Dr. B making a joke about watching “Grey’s Anatomy” and being prepared for the surgery. It was almost time for him to go home, and I had a new nurse at this point. I threw up while strapped to the operating table, which is kind of hard to do, by the way. I remember so much about the surgery and recovery afterwards; it felt like forever before I could actually *hold* Molly and I know it was forever before I could sit up on my own!

Jim was so excited to introduce Molly to our parents and Beverly, all of whom had waited ALL day for Molly’s arrival.

While Molly’s birth story is not exactly what I had planned, she was perfect and healthy and lovely and I know in the end it doesn’t matter how she arrived in this world. It’s so crazy to think that it’s been almost three years since she was born.

And obviously it’s true that moms DO “forget” the pain of childbirth; I mean, I’m getting ready to do it again, right?

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