As I’m currently going through another life change (more on that later), it’s good for me to read these “transition-type” posts. They remind me that change is always hard, but we adjust, and things always get better. Two weeks ago, I packed up my cube at WV to start a new career as a stay-at-home mom with Miles. I probably cried every other day at home and even at work during the weeks leading up to my departure. But today as I’m reminded of how far I’ve come since those first few months at WV, I’m reassured that, six years from now, I’ll also look back and see how far I’ve come in my new role.

On 11/11/11, the Friday before Miles’ birth, I wrote up extensive notes for my co-worker who would be my backup while I was on leave. I was in the middle of several projects, so I made sure my co-worker knew what still needed to be done. I honestly thought I’d be around to finish up several more assignments, but I wanted to be prepared.

SATURDAY, 11/12
Matt’s friend Nate (who Matt hadn’t seen in years and who I’d never met) was in town for work and stayed with us for one night. I saw him glance at my belly when he first walked in, but he didn’t say anything. After all, he’d never met me before, so he had no idea if the belly was a product of too many bobas or if I really was pregnant. He played it safe and instead asked about the high chair sitting in the corner of our dining room. When he realized I was pregnant, he urged us to have the baby that weekend while he was in town. “I’ll try,” I said. “But I can’t promise anything.”

He arrived pretty late, so we had an extended dinner to catch up on the last 10+ years. We stayed up until 1 a.m. – later then I’d stayed up in a long, long time. My midwife had advised me to sleep early whenever possible. You never know when you’ll go into labor, and you’ll need all the energy you can get. That night, I sent an email to Na saying, “If I end up going into labor tomorrow, I’ll be so exhausted from being up late…so let’s hope I don’t go into labor tomorrow!”

SUNDAY, 11/13
Out of habit, I woke up that morning at 7 a.m. and noticed some uterine cramping. I’d heard from other moms that this could be the start of labor, although it could still mean labor was a few days away…or it could be nothing at all. With this in mind, I couldn’t go back to sleep. The timing between the cramping wasn’t regular…sometimes 10 minutes, other times 30 minutes. After awhile, the cramping lessened, so I went back to sleep while Matt went to church, and I woke up around noon. By then, the cramping had stopped.

Since Nate is big on food, we took him first to Bakery Nouveau and then to Lunchbox Laboratory. I was expecting the baby to be really active after all the pastries, but I wasn’t feeling much movement. At Lunchbox Lab, I kept drinking ice water in hopes that it would get the baby moving. Nope. I didn’t want to worry too much yet, but after lunch, I called the midwife’s office.

We’d walked from Lunchbox Lab to REI, and I was wandering around on my own in the store. I spoke with the midwife on duty, Melissa, who first admonished me for eating pastries when I had gestational diabetes, and then asked me to come into the hospital so she could monitor the baby’s heartrate. We said goodbye to Nate and headed to Valley Medical in Kent.

Around 5 p.m., we checked into triage at the birth center, and I got hooked up to a machine that monitored the baby’s heartrate and my contractions. The contractions were still irregular and pretty weak, but the nurse noticed correlation between the dips in the baby’s heartrate and my contractions. The nurse told us we’d only have to be monitored for about 30 minutes, but 30 minutes turned into about two hours. Melissa came by and told us the dips in the baby’s heartrate were frequent enough to raise some red flags. She asked us to stick around a little longer for the ultrasound tech to run some tests.

It was exciting to see the baby again in the ultrasound. We reminded the tech that we didn’t want to know what we were having, so she was careful not to clue us in on the baby’s sex. She zoomed in a couple of times on the baby’s face, and we saw him sticking out his tongue. She printed out a couple of shots as a souvenir. The test took about 30 minutes, and afterward, she told us that we passed all the tests except for one. She didn’t see any signs of the baby breathing – or, rather, practicing breathing. But because everything else looked fine, she wasn’t worried. Just because she didn’t see signs of it at the moment didn’t mean the baby wasn’t breathing.

About 30 minutes after the test was completed, Melissa returned. She’d gone over the test results with an OB, and they both preferred to keep me overnight. “I’m 95% sure the baby is fine, based on the heartrate monitor and the ultrasound. But it’s the 5% that makes me want to keep you guys overnight. We could keep you overnight and run the tests again tomorrow or we could induce you tonight.” She gave us time to discuss it on our own. Until that point, I hadn’t been worrying, but after Melissa left, I started to tear up. We’ve made it this far, I thought. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something was wrong with the baby. It made sense to get the baby out sooner than later, if the healthcare professionals were worried, but I didn’t want to be induced.

By then, it was 10 p.m. Matt went home to get our stuff for the night. Thankfully I already had a bag partially packed (with a checklist of outstanding items), but Matt still had to pack for himself. While he was gone, the nurse checked me into a room. I was pretty excited, since I’d never stayed in a hospital before, and I sort of viewed it like being in a hotel for the night. I turned on the TV, wrote in my journal, and made some calls. I couldn’t make long-distance calls from the hospital room, but we’d set up local Google voice phone numbers for our families. I called my parents and Keba, who emailed a couple of friends to let them know what was going on.

Melissa stopped in and said that she’d been monitoring the baby’s heartrate and my contractions from the nurses’ station. The baby’s heartrate was more consistent now and wasn’t worrying her, which I was relieved to hear. “If the baby had been doing this earlier, we would’ve sent you home!” she said. Even with the baby’s heartrate stabilized, Melissa was confident that we wouldn’t be leaving without a baby. But whether that would be in a day or two or possibly more, she wasn’t sure. She then offered to check for dilation and/or do a cervical sweep, which is a natural way of possibly inducing labor. I told her I wanted to wait until Matt returned before making any decisions.

Matt came back to the hospital at 11:30. We hadn’t eaten since our lunch at Lunchbox Lab, so he brought food from home. I showered, changed into my pajamas and finished my dinner around midnight. With gestational diabetes, I had to check my glucose level two hours after each meal, so Bernie (the nurse) promised to come back at 2 a.m. to check my level. Matt was unpacking and trying to get online while I tried to sleep. I was having a hard time falling fast asleep, partly from excitement and partly from increasing contractions.

MONDAY, 11/14

At 2 a.m., Bernie woke me up to take my glucose level. I think Matt was still up, on the computer. The details are fuzzy on the timing, but I think shortly after that, the contractions came faster and stronger, to the point where I couldn’t just lay in bed anymore. Every time a contraction hit, Matt pushed on my lower back to alleviate the pain. We went for a walk in the hall, but it was too hard to get through a contraction out there. We returned to the hospital room, where I leaned against a wall while Matt stood behind me. When that got too uncomfortable, I returned to the bed. I remember sitting on the bed with my legs hanging over the side. They were shaking uncontrollably because I was so tense. It was funny, yet disconcerting at the same time.

Our friends Emily and Marc had delivered with the midwives at Valley Medical not too long before we were there. Emily had mentioned how, during delivery, she sat in the glider while the nurse and midwife massaged her hands. Where were my nurse and midwife? I wondered. Then I thought, “They’re monitoring my contractions, so maybe I’m not really in labor yet, so they’re not coming to help us out.” And, honestly, having someone massage my hands at that point would NOT have helped at all.

It’s funny to think about the things I packed that I thought would help us through labor. During one of our childbirth classes, we were told to pack snacks (a variety, since you don’t know what you’ll feel like eating), tennis balls for massaging your back, music. So I went all out. I had packed sour gummy apple rings and chocolate raisins (because I didn’t know if I’d be in the mood for sour gummies or chocolate). For music, I brought Lisa Loeb (for general purposes), Glee soundtracks (to put me in a happy mood), worship music (to soothe me), and Beastie Boys (to help me feel tough). I also packed a new can of tennis balls, battery-powered candles (for ambiance), and an exercise ball (which Matt never got time to inflate).

Matt ended up playing Norah Jones-esque music the entire time, which I barely noticed. Melissa, on the other hand, said we had one of the best labor playlists she’d ever heard. :) During the contractions, Bernie would occasionally appear to adjust the fetal monitor around my belly, since my movements caused it to slip out of place. She’d reach around me as I hunched over the foot of my bed, make some adjustments, and then sneak back out of the room without saying much to me. Was I really not in labor yet for her to give us any guidance?? We’d heard that women often ask for an epidural during the transition phase of labor, so I wondered, “If I’m not in labor yet – and it’s already this painful – how will I get through the transition phase without drugs?!” I’d hoped to have a natural delivery, but I also prepared myself to do whatever was necessary to have a positive and healthy birth experience.

I discovered that the best position for me was to hunch over the foot of my bed, with my arms holding me up against the mattress. Matt stayed behind me the whole time, constantly pressing against my lower back. He’d downloaded an app on his iPhone to help us track the contractions, but he couldn’t get his phone from across the room because my contractions were coming so quickly. I recall a lot of moaning, not caring to control some bodily functions, and trying to keep my jaw relaxed (since I’d heard that a relaxed jaw meant a relaxed perineum). At first, I kept my eyes closed during the contractions, but I discovered that they were more bearable when I stared intensely at one specific spot of stitching on the mattress. So when each contraction hit, I fixated on the stitching, relaxed my jaw, and breathed heavily.

Although I obviously did the hard work, I need to commend Matt for being an amazing coach. I couldn’t have done it without him. Honestly, I was a bit skeptical of how attentive he would be. Even when we were in triage, we had a practice run. I told him when a contraction was occurring, and I had to tell him twice because he was busy with his iPhone. Oh great, I thought. I’m going to laboring on my own. But when it was the real deal, Matt was great. During our birthing class, we’d established that he needed to be behind me (I didn’t want him breathing in my face) and his touch had to be deliberate and firm. Light, feathery caresses were only going to annoy me. So during labor, his pressure on my back was perfect, and his counting aloud helped me to regulate my breathing.

During our class, we’d learned to breathe and count aloud. “One two threeee,” or “Hoo hoo heeee,” which – at the time – seemed silly, but man, that stuff works. I remember saying, “One two breeattthe” because I had to tell myself audibly to breathe through the pain.

5 a.m. rolled around, and Bernie was back to adjust the fetal monitor. Instead of leaving right away, she said, “It sounds like you want to push. Maybe we should see how dilated you are.” How nice of you to notice! I really had no expectations, mostly because I didn’t want to be disappointed. Bernie said, “I can’t feel your cervix.” Um, OK. So what does that mean, I asked. “It means you’re probably 9 centimeters dilated,” she replied. Oh. OH! “I better get Melissa,” Bernie said. “You’re about to have a baby!”

I didn’t want to start pushing until Melissa confirmed that it was OK for me to. Melissa had been sleeping, so by the time she arrived, a very long 30 minutes had passed. In the meantime, other people came in and out of the room, bringing in equipment to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

At 5:30, Melissa confirmed I was indeed 9 centimeters dilated, and I could do whatever I felt like my body needed to do. I thought the end was near, but we weren’t quite there yet. By this time, I was exhausted, but the pushing felt so good. The contractions were no longer so close together, so in between them, I closed my eyes and even dozed off a couple of times. I don’t even remember when I changed out of my pajamas and into the hospital gown. Without my contacts or glasses, Matt, Melissa and Bernie were blurry, hovering around me. I was sort of listening to their conversations, but I was too tired to really interact with them. And after each contraction, Matt wiped my face with a wet cloth and forced me to drink water.

I tried every position possible when it came to pushing. I sat on the toilet, I squatted on the bed while hoisting myself up on a pull-up bar, I laid on my side with one leg up on a bar, I squatted at the foot of my bed, and I crouched on all fours on the bed. I didn’t find out until later, but Melissa was frequently losing the baby’s heartbeat during contractions. So in between contractions, she often asked me to move. I was so drained, but my body somehow managed to move (or allowed them to move me) into whatever position Melissa wanted.

At one point, Melissa asked Matt if he wanted to see the baby’s head crowning. He hesitated for a few seconds and then decided to look. I even got to reach down to feel the baby’s head. “It’s slimy,” I remember saying. I never thought I’d be one to want to see more, but I told Matt to take pictures so I’d be able to see them later. Looking back, I wish he’d taken more pictures of the whole scene.

At 6 a.m., Melissa asked if our employers knew we wouldn’t be in. Monday was my normal telecommute day, so no one was expecting me in the office. Still, Matt texted his and my managers. (My manager actually didn’t get the text, so he didn’t find out till later in the afternoon that we were in the hospital!)

It’s interesting how fuzzy my memory is of the pushing stage, yet there are certain clear moments that come through, like telling Matt which manager to text, Melissa braiding my hair while I pushed on the toilet and my bobby pin falling into the toilet bowl, and the sound and sensation of my water breaking mid-push.

The pushing lasted a long time, although Melissa nor Bernie ever seemed concerned. They kept telling me I was doing a great job and was making progress. I’ve had friends tell me that they, too, were told they were making progress during the pushing stage, only to find out later that they hadn’t really been progressing. In between contractions, I asked Matt if I was really making progress or if they all were just saying that. He said, “You really are making progress!” When I asked him later on about that, he said, “I lied through my teeth.” :P

Matt actually was worried about how long it was taking me to push the baby out. He kept watching Melissa and Bernie to see if they looked concerned, but they never seemed worried.

At nearly 7 a.m., another contraction was on its way. Melissa and Bernie sounded more excited now, “You’re so close!! Give it all you’ve got!” Something had changed in their voices, and I knew they weren’t lying to me. I pushed as hard as possible, felt a slight burning sensation, and then sweet relief as the baby came sliding out. I’d been lying on my side, with one leg up on a bar, so I relaxed and laid onto my back.

“It’s a boy!” I heard Matt announce. My response: “Really?”

Someone put the baby on my chest. He was wriggly and slimy. “Hold him! Hold him!” Oh yeah. Good idea. I wrapped my arms around the little guy and looked down to see his eyes scrunched tight and his mouth open in a tiny cry. I was excited to meet him, but also very relieved that the pushing was over. I didn’t cry, but I remember I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t believe we were finally meeting our baby, and that he was here, safe and healthy.

Again, things are fuzzy in my memory. I held him for a very long time against my chest. He was such a tiny baby, at 5 lbs., 8 oz. I don’t even remember when we first said aloud that his name would be Miles Emerson. But I do remember Melissa and Bernie reminding us (more than once) to order breakfast and rest. I also remember Matt cutting the umbilical cord and Melissa holding up the placenta (while Matt took pics) and giving him an explanation of its parts. We also found out that the cord had been bunched up under Miles’ neck, so every time I contracted, his head scrunched downward and constricted the cord (hence the drop in his heartrate). It wasn’t until after we ate breakfast and talked to all of our family members that we finally got some sleep around 2 p.m. We were both so exhausted, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off of Miles, who was fast asleep in the bassinet next to my bed.

Part of me feels like that night at the hospital happened just days or weeks ago. Yet another part of me feels like he has been with us for much longer than five months. Already, he has changed so much in appearance and behavior. He has brought so much joy into our home, our marriage, our families, and our community. I get overwhelmed when I think about this great responsibility of raising up a life, but I have to remember that we’re not in this alone. We can do it only with God’s wisdom and strength, the support of family and friends, and unity as parents. My prayer for Miles is that he becomes a boy and a man who loves and fears God and who has a heart of compassion for people in physical, spiritual and emotional need.

P.S. For more of Matt’s perspective on Miles and parenthood, check out littlemanmiles.wordpress.com.

(My first picture with Miles, minutes after his birth)

Looking for another fun kids’ album? Lisa Loeb never disappoints!

(Thanks, Dorc, for the CD – and thanks, Kit, for telling her about it!)

No matter how you slice it, your family’s name all have different numbers of letters!
3 – Mel
4 – Matt
5 – Miles
6 – Melody
7 – Matthew

As someone who likes finding patterns in words, I was ecstatic (and even more so when I realized our preferred girl name has 8 letters!). Is it a weird way to start a postcard (or any correspondence, for that matter)? Yes, but I feel like it gives you a good idea of who ET is. He can get away with writing that kind of stuff, and he knows that I’ll appreciate it, too.

I don’t exactly remember when ET and his siblings first started attending our church. But I do remember one night after our youth group meeting, Kris and I approached ET and his brother Wayne and declared that they’d be our stunt doubles. Why we needed stunt doubles in the first place is beyond me. But we knew that if we ever yelled, “Double on the double!” they’d come to our rescue.

At some point, ET and I became good friends through long letters and IRC chats. We droned on and on about our crushes who were given code names. As we moved out of Sacramento, we kept in touch through letters/emails and occasional visits. But now that the distance is greater, we’ve transitioned to exchanging occasional emails, phone calls on birthdays, and postcards during our travels. Often, I won’t even realize he’s traveled until I get a postcard saying, “I’m at the airport in [insert city here],” and it’s always a treat to hear about his travels.

ET’s one of the few friends who I carry around with me no matter where I go, and I would feel the loss if it were otherwise. He always evokes laughter, and makes me think about big and little things. He’s like a big kid, but can also spur deep conversations. Although our communication may be sporadic, I know I can still email or talk to him about anything, trivial or important, silly or serious. He brings out the rambler in me, and I never feel like have to filter my words around him. He’s spontaneous, adventurous, quirky, and just an all-around good guy.

ET took awhile to respond to my interview questions (and I took even longer to post them), but the results are well worth the wait. Check them out, and be sure to click on them to get a closer look…

1. One goal you’re striving for…

2. If you could stay awake for 24 hours, what would you want to be doing?

3. You’re stranded on an island and you have two books, two music albums and two movies with you. Which would they be?

4. What was your biggest realization from your recent trip to Japan?

5. Which Harry Potter character do you most identify with and why?

6. One word you’d use to describe yourself.

7. One word that others would use to describe you.

8. On your worst day at work, what do you tell yourself to motivate you to keep on teaching?

9. If you could change any one aspect of yourself, what would it be?

10. Describe one of the greatest lessons you’ve learned from your parents.

11. Of all the baseball stadiums you’ve visited, which is the most memorable and why?

12. If you weren’t a teacher and salary wasn’t a factor, what would be your dream job?

13. If you could go back in time and visit yourself in a previous time, what would you tell yourself?

Now that Miles is with us, and as he’s becoming more and more fascinated by things around him (namely lights right now), I wonder what will capture his interest as he grows older. I look forward to witnessing his child-like wonder and reliving that sense of amazement that often gets suppressed as an adult. Will he delight in the first signs of life growing out of the ground at the start of spring or have his breath taken away every time Mt. Rainier shows itself? Will he gather autumn leaves and preserve their color by pressing them between the pages of books? Will he lie on the grass and point out animals and objects in the clouds? I don’t want to direct his interests, but I hope that he’s not so engrossed in the latest tech toy that he overlooks the simple beauties of the earth.
Conservationist Rachel Carson wrote:

“A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that cleareyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an underfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.

What is the value of preserving and strengthening the sense of awe and wonder, this recognition of something beyond the boundaries of human existence? Is the exploration of the natural world just a pleasant way to pass the golden hours of childhood or is there something deeper? …

Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. … Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature – the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.”

As another year begins (as of 32 minutes ago!) and another cycle of seasons continues, I’m excited to see what 2012 holds. More so, I look forward to experiencing a new year with Miles and seeing the world through his eyes.

Happy new year, friends!

(See more pics at picasaweb.google.com/taffystay)

Miles Emerson was born on Monday, Nov. 14, at 6:56 a.m. He weighed 5 lbs., 8 oz., and supposedly measured 16.5 inches. I say “supposedly” because at our pediatrician appointment four days later, Miles measured 18 inches. Rather than assuming Miles grew an inch and a half in a short amount of time, the doc guessed that the nurse who measured Miles didn’t fully stretch him out before announcing his length.

His arrival was a bit of a surprise. We went to the hospital on Sunday evening for monitoring, since I hadn’t felt much of the baby’s movement throughout the day. To make a long story short, we were asked to stay overnight at the hospital to undergo further monitoring throughout the night and testing the following day. But my contractions intensified in the middle of the night, resulting in Miles’ arrival the following morning. I have yet to journal my birth experience, which seems like a blur, but when I do, maybe I’ll post it here.

He’s a fun little guy with a full head of hair like Matt. When he has milk coma, his eyes roll around and he smiles spontaneously. When he’s awake, his curious eyes take in the world, and he seems to sleep best when he’s close to us. He’s a joy to have around, and we are loving our time of getting to know him.

(Miles at birth)

(A few days old)

For months, the relatives on my dad’s side exchanged emails about how we’d celebrate my grandpa’s birthday. We kept this a surprise from my grandparents, who had no idea that all of us (minus a few spouses) would be flying in for the occasion. The biggest surprise probably would be the appearance of one of my uncles who has been working in Japan for the past few years.

One of our gift ideas was to put together a photobook using old and recent photos, which I volunteered to gather and put into an album. I received old photos of the grandkids, hanging out with our grandparents; graduation and wedding photos; and photos from my dad’s and his siblings’ childhood both in Hong Kong and in the States. Some of the photos were even older, showing my grandpa as a teenager, a young man and a young father.

I had no idea so many old photos existed, stashed away in photo albums in my grandparents’ house. I’d known my grandparents as being elderly for so long that I’d never really thought that they were once teenagers or young adults. Even seeing my dad, aunt and uncles as kids and as teenagers threw me off. I didn’t expect the photos to impact me so much, but it got to the point where I couldn’t work on the photo book at night or else I’d lay awake thinking about the past.

At the age of 13, my dad and his family immigrated from Hong Kong to the U.S. on a cruise ship. The year was 1964. They packed up their furniture and other belongings and made their way across the ocean, making a short stop in Hawaii. (My grandparents still have the kitchen table that they brought from HK.) My dad talks about how, for the first few days, all the immigrant kids ran around the ship in their pajamas until the crew told them they had to wear regular clothes.

One of the photos that impacted me the most was from this trip (click on the first photo below). My grandparents, another couple and my dad are walking along a big street in Hawaii (looks like Oahu), palm trees visible in the background. My grandma’s hair is nicely curled, and she’s dressed in a stylish skirt suit. My grandpa, who I don’t even recognize, is wearing slacks, a collared shirt, and a thin dark tie. My dad, a scrawny little boy with big plastic glasses, is following closely behind my grandpa.

It’s my dad’s expression that caught my attention. He’s looking off ahead, like he’s taking everything in. He’s not necessarily in awe, and he’s not scared – he’s just curious. I see this look on his face even now as an adult, when he’s taking in his surroundings. As I look at the picture, I wonder what he’s looking at, what he’s thinking…and then I wonder what it’s like for a young teen to start new in a country that is so different from all he’s known. I wonder what it’s like for my grandparents to move their four children across the world, taking a risk that life will be better here. And then I realize, sadly, that there’s so much about both my parents’ childhood, their past, and my grandparents’ past that I’m unaware of.

I’m very fortunate that all of my grandparents are still alive, and I even remember when my two great-grandmothers were alive. But I know my grandparents won’t be around forever. I feel like there’s so much wisdom and experience that I haven’t gleaned from them, and I know the language barrier is what prevents me from having deeper conversations with them. I know there are ways around it…letters, asking my parents to help me when I don’t know the words in Chinese…I just need to make it a priority. On the other hand, I know that I can still take advantage of my relationship with my parents, especially the fact that they’re still in good health and speak English. I’m sure having our own kids will give me a new understanding and appreciation for them.

Another outcome from my grandpa’s celebration was a greater sense of unity among our family, especially among the cousins. All of my cousins are younger than I am, so I remember when many of them were very young. I remember holding some of them when they were born and playing hide-and-seek with them in my grandparents’ house. I also remember when they got older and feeling clueless about talking to teenagers.

But now that we’re all out of college and, in a sense, in the same stage of life, there’s a greater desire to keep in touch and to be family. We’re spread all over the country, so it’s a huge deal when we’re all back in Sacramento together. The night after our grandpa’s birthday dinner, all the cousins came back to my parents’ house to play Taboo (a rematch from the night of Kim and Mike’s wedding) and Mafia. It was probably after 10 p.m., we were visibly tired, but we all knew it was important to have that time together.

Little did I know that the next day, grandpa’s “second birthday celebration” was actually a surprise double baby shower for Kim and Mike (who had their baby a few weeks ago!) and me. Auntie Anna cooked all the food, and the girl cousins did an amazing job decorating and planning everything. I don’t like to use the throw the word “blessed” around, but I truly felt blessed to celebrate our baby with the family and to have them be a part of this exciting time. (My cousin, Traci, who is a wonderful writer, also wrote about the occasion on her blog.)

I couldn’t help but wonder what holidays will be like when my grandparents are no longer around. As the younger generations grow our families, will we branch off and have our own family gatherings? I honestly can’t imagine celebrating Christmas without being with aunts, uncles and cousins – whether they be on my side or Matt’s side. That’s what holidays have always been like, and it wouldn’t make sense not to still be a part of each others’ lives. Just thinking too far ahead makes me sad about the unknown, so once again, I have to remind myself to enjoy the present.

Next month, we hope to be driving back to California with a new baby in tow, and I’m incredibly excited about celebrating this new life with all our loved ones. I’m especially glad to have a new Christmas to get me over the hurdle of last year’s painful memories. Even hearing Christmas music is still difficult for me. But I pray that the joy of this year’s holidays will be healing.

Happy November, everyone!

(In the big family photo, my grandpa’s giving my grandma a look that says, “Who ARE these people?!”

Over the past few weeks, I’ve visited two amazing bookstores. The first was Green Apple in SF’s Richmond District. I love this place probably more for nostalgic reasons than anything else, but also for its rough charm, creaky floors and handwritten signs. Then there’s Powell’s in Portland, an unpretentious monster that claims to be the world’s (yes, WORLD’S!) largest independent new and used bookstore. Oh how I love going into independent bookstores, which always seem to have mazes of aisles, just the right amount of clutter and personality – all of which are lacking in the big box bookstores. And the smaller the store, the creakier the shelves and floors seem to be. The best ones are those with tight aisles and wooden shelves that threaten to fall over if you shove a book too firmly back into place.

Despite my awe of bookstores, I left both of these places empty-handed (well, except for a toddler t-shirt from Green Apple), but empty-handed in terms of books. I entered the bookstores hoping to come out with an exciting new book, but each time, I choked when faced with options.

Unless I have a specific book in mind, I tend to get overwhelmed in bookstores. It’s usually hard for me to focus once inside because my eyes are wandering faster than my feet. My first stop is usually the sale section, where I might spot something interesting – but not interesting enough for me to buy it. My second stop might be the reference section, where I read spine after spine of writing and grammar books. Several of them might sound interesting…but how do I know they’re worth my money or my time? I would be taking a huge risk if I just bought a random book without knowing what other people said about it!

Even if I found a book that I thought was worth my time, I’m just too frugal to buy a brand-new book. Even used books could cost as much as a new book, depending on the store. And as much as I want to support indy bookstores, let’s all be honest and say that amazon.com will usually get you a better deal. So do I pay $15 for a used book, or do I opt for the “Like New” version from amazon.com for $6, including shipping? I’m the type of person who compares the price per ounce or pound between brands when I go grocery shopping, so you could guess where I buy my books.

Over the years, I’ve drastically reduced the number of books I buy. After moving so many times over the past 10 or so years, I’ve realized that – aside from furniture – boxes of books are the heaviest things to move. I’ve purged a lot of my books, which pains me every time. Each book has a memory – of whoever gave it to me, where I bought it, what the content makes me think of. But over time, I’ve only kept books that I really enjoy, could see myself reading again or are good reference books for the future. Real estate on my bookshelf is precious, so I need to make sure the books I have are ones that mean something to me.

I used to spend a lot of time in bookstores – reading magazines or sitting among the shelves reading books I was too cheap to buy. In college, I worked at Learningsmith, which was located right next to a Waldenbooks (or something like that). Sometimes during my breaks, I’d go to the bookstore, sit on the floor and read. I think I even kept a bookmark in the book that I was reading so I could always pick up where I left off. But now, I go to bookstores less and less, for the reasons I mentioned above. I still read a lot – but my books always come from the library. If I like a book enough, I’ll buy it – but never at full price.

This whole post may sound like I actually dislike bookstores because they overwhelm me and charge more than I’d like to spend. But that’s not the case. What I get most out of bookstores is inspiration. When I’m browsing through the reference section – even while I’m feeling overwhelmed – I’m also inspired and excited to be a better writer, to have a stronger vocabulary, to write more often, or to revisit the rules of grammar that we once learned and forgot. Or I walk through the section of classics and think about how I need to read more of these books that are classics for a reason – either for their subject, writing style or both. Bookstores make me want to become a better, smarter, more well-rounded person. And even though I leave empty-handed, the inspiration that I’ve gained is priceless.

The second best part was stumbling upon this illustrator. He’s illustrated children’s books, but his work also appeals to adults. I feel like I could easily get lost in his drawings. There are visual elements to enjoy, but the emotions behind the drawings take me deeper… into my memories and my imagination.

Of the work in his gallery, I’d say my faves are: Date Night, Snow Giraffe, Lurking and Davey’s Dream.

What do you guys think?