I found this in my draft from 2021 reflecting on 2020 and am now posting it in 2022.

Last year I had a baby, got toenail fungus, and started liking cucumbers. It was kind of an off year (also add the pandemic, riots, etc.)

Violet Jean Hill. You are my baby.

At various times, you've looked like a bug, a thumb, and a melon.

Some parts of our relationship are perfect. You have a delicious cheek, and I have the urge to bite. However, some parts of our relationship aren't perfect. You don't like to be abandoned, and I like to abandon you (for small amounts of time to grab a chocolate chip). 

You are skeptical, probably because I am your mother. When you get excited about something, your whole body tenses with your arms out while your bug eyes get big and you grunt. It's a crowd pleaser, but sometimes it's weird.

You also hate the blender and only chew on binkies. 

This is all I wrote.

bumpin

Bumpdate. Like major bumpdate. 

Hi 39 WEEKS! Yes, that number represents a pumpkin in my belly. Third trimester has brought migraines, back pain, restless nights and stretch marks. Like I literally just inhaled one day and got a stretch mark.

We really don't know what we're doing and still don't know the gender. So the baby gets called "it" a lot. Overall, my pregnancy wasn't too bad, but labor and 4th trimester on the other hand....I can't say I'm overjoyed. However; we have been preparing the best we can:
- I watched one Youtube video on breathing techniques and have forgotten it since. 
- I told Stephen that if I could handle him putting eye drops in my eye then I can conquer labor. It didn't end well.
- And yesterday, I gargled with mouthwash longer than 5 seconds as a practice run of conquering long stretches of pain. This has been my only success.

Stay tuned for the tales of a tired uterus and its long road to recovery.

Pregnancy in all its Colors

I am happy to announce I have thrown up twice since my last update. This, of course, means that I am now officially pregnant. Please tell everyone you know because I have yet to post on my social media. I am 21 weeks, but I can't announce until Stephen gets on board with my ideas (he has shut down all of them over the last few months). 

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Carly's Idea Vault
- Bohemian Rhapsody music video. I turn around slowly to show my belly as the song says "Mama."

- "Half-baked." At 20 weeks, I share that we are "half-baked" (aka halfway) with the pregnancy. We would dress up as the Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavor OR apply foundation to half of our face with a tinfoil sun catcher implying that we've half-baked our faces in the sun. Apparently, this is also a weed reference.

- Streakers. On Halloween when my bump is very apparent, we would be streakers for our costume. Long trench coats and a boomerang of me revealing the bump. Caption: "We hate being flashy, but this announcement is too big to hide." A little sexual, but hey, how did we get the bump in the first place?

These were my most creative/excited ones, so you can see where the issue truly lies. 

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Other pregnancy updates:
 Green  - I have puked two times. The first time was at work after eating a rice cake. The second time was when Stephen packed meatballs for his lunch and I walked out of the bedroom to the smell. I still feel nauseous if I don't eat, but it became less intense after 16 weeks.

 Red  - Pregnancy acne is the worst. It stays for weeks and leaves scars all around my mouth, chin, and cheeks. I've spent lots of money on new products without acne treatment (doctor recommended), but I might just see my dermatologist. Truly, my hormones have been very messed up pre-pregnancy since my IUD--acne included--so I shouldn't be that surprised. This has been my biggest pregnancy insecurity and I rue the day. That's all, I just rue it.

 Gray  - We are not finding out the gender. I like the surprise and I can handle not knowing. Stephen was easy to get on board, too. We simply just turned our heads during the 20-week appt. like we were turning away extra calories on a diet. It really comes down to whether the child will have a future jock itch or future camel toe. 

 Black/Blue  - I FINALLY felt the tiny thing kick. Child was very active during our 20-week appointment and I finally started feeling him/her last week. I confirm a baby kick when a toot doesn't immediately follow. 

Strawberry Shortcake

If you're currently eating a strawberry, then I ask you to stop.

That's my child you're eating.
(pause, wait....what?)

The shock in your pupils is correct, I am pregnant. However, it's not the shock I had when I found out. If I hadn't gotten pregnant by summer, I would have swallowed a baby doll by August. 

I was ready for the attention, the post-throw-up sympathy, and the "I'm too weak to work out" jargon I had already planned for Stephen. 

BUTT (‿ˠ‿)
(I have to start acting immature since I have a very young tweenager in my uterus).

Pregnancy hasn't been too crazy. Sure, I get nauseous. Sure, I get tired. But I can still function pretty normally. Disappointing? I know. I will wait for the third trimester back pain for additional sympathy. Please hold for further updates, complaints, and requests for homemade cookies (Mom).

For my future reference - a brief timeline.

May 14 - first day of my last period (bye bloody pants and cotton sticks - aka I hate you)

June 7 - a tiny patch of pre-period spotting, or is it implantation bleeding??? I asked the same thing. We went to Red Robin that night and I got major bloated...stay tuned.

June 10 - Spotting stopped, and the period is being shy. She usually comes around now--is she scared of what I'd do to her if she came into my life again? I tell Stephen, and we go buy a pregnancy test (since the $1 store one I bought came out as "inconclusive"). Sure enough, my pee knew best.

July 9 - First appointment. Heartbeat is strong. My tilted uterus made it a little difficult for a good pic. But after a few uncomfortable positions with the invasive camera stick, we have our child.

(insert picture of little leech sac)

July 11 - Cramps that sent me to the ground. Thought I was miscarrying. Was actually a very small kidney stone. 

That's all folks. I wish I had more gory details for you. In the meantime, pray for me to have a pregnancy-induced throw-up sesh, because I don't know if Stephen is fully convinced that his large forehead is living in my under-belly pooch.

To Our Second

Oh, second home. We loved you so little that we never called you anything better than "our ghetto abode." If the Loft were magic dust, then you'd just be dust. 

You weren't meant to be pretty; you were just one of our adjustment homes. A home with walls three stories up (high enough for only the best-in-shape burglars/murderers to break in). Two hard years. Two growing years. Two very hot years. 

But really hot, like we were naked from May-November (stop giggling that you saw our naked bums, ghetto abode.)

From cockroaches and sights of domestic violence to the homeless guy in the dumpster that I hit when taking out my trash. And to the scary Smiths down the street, and the complex across whose fire alarms went off once a month. Even though I guarantee we will never live that close to the Strip again, you did have one of the prettiest views from Harmon Ave. 

You were the home to our hardest two years, with salty tears staining the carpet instead of baby drool. Anxiety was the oblivious friend who wouldn't leave our couch when we wanted to go to bed. 

As excited as we are to get out of your weird area, we will always miss our safe and comfortable home.

You were a season of life. But seasons never change overnight, and our burdens don't disappear when the keys get turned in. Our next house will carry over our burdens, like how Cafe Rio points carry over if you don't spend all $10 of your free meal. We will be introduced to new problems and situations, and those walls will learn to hold us in. 

You were changes and trials.
You were memories and adjustments.

You were our hardest home, 
but still a home.

Me at 25.5

Legally an adult, but mentally a small baby with a hot husband.

999

Me:

Constantly asking Heavenly Father, "Please help Stephen to not think I'm crazy"

Answering questions from coworkers about the temple

Asking questions to coworkers about weed

Brushing my teeth for NO longer than 1 minute 12 seconds, in spite of the electric monitor telling me to brush for 2 minutes

Has heard the intros to Friends and Office more times than the sound of Stephen's voice

Counting calories for Stephen's summer challenge, but really counting how many times Steve flexes in the mirror (34)

Committing potential murder every time I drive because Vegas pigeons are suicidal.

bebe

Babies are on the mind but not in the belly.

My baby friends (friends with babies) say that a baby is supposed to fit into YOUR life and not the other way around. And I think this is absolutely sound. If my baby ever wants to listen to "Baby Shark," then I will promptly say, "only those who have working uteruses can touch the AUX cord. So, indie crap it is."

Aw, the power. I thought marriage was more of a "Best Friends Forever" concept, where my husband literally follows me around and listens to EVERY word I say....AND responds with great detail and insight. 

This has not been the case.

Stephen wanted to surprise me with a hamster a few years ago for my birthday. I like small things, but have you ever smelt a hamster? A guinea pig is at least chubbier. We thought dog for a while, but they don't verbally LOL when I speak to them with my hilarious humor. 

I want a buddy, a grocery store companion, a child who laughs when I accidentally toot, and maybe one of those babies that screams and holds onto your leg when you leave the babysitter. You never feel worse about yourself than when a child horrifically screams when they realize they have to hang out with you for two hours. PAYBACK TIME, UNIVERSE. Sorry, all 12-year-olds.

And because I can't write on here without making lists.

A list:

Selfish reasons to have a baby:
- I fidget in Sacrament mtg, and I need a better distraction than signing random letters to Stephen and having him shoo me away.

- Now other drivers who stare at me while I talk out loud will see that I have a car seat in the back and therefore talking to my baby rather than myself.

I'll update with new findings.

me and my hypo

A day in the life of a hypochondriac. Real story.


Day 1: Discovery
"My eye is really dry, must be tired."

Day 2: Communication
"It's been a day, I need to complain about my eye to Stephen."

Day 3: Curiosity
"I've slept well these past few days, which rules out tiredness. This is now serious."

Day 4: Justifying
"Has to be an invisible scratch, or a stuck eyelash? Eye looks normal, I'll be fine."

Day 5: Breakdown
This would happen after I lost my vision insurance last month. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN TO THE EYE DOCTOR." (anxious crying)

Still Day 5: Research
"Mom told me I can't go on WebMD anymore....but you have to catch these things early."



Day 6: First Diagnosis
"I've heard some people connect dry eyes to being anemic. 70% sure this is it."


Still Day 6: Call Help
"Call Dr. Mom. She will tell me what to do."

Day 7: Action
"I will go to the store and buy eyedrops."

Day 9: Desperation
"Doctor time."

I tried to solve the issue on my own, but my body reminds me that I don't have a lab coat and a cool degree. My body craves the doctor. When I go to doctor appointments, I shake from fear and love. So in this case, I did go to the doctor and I was healed of my ailment. THUS proving that my hypochondria is always right.