Dear Rowan.

I will admit, when I pulled the little blue anchor shoes out of that box, I was slightly disappointed they weren't the other pair, the girl pair. I felt in my heart for so long that you were a girl, and finding out that you are a boy was quite surprising. It took me a few days to come to terms with it. I had a hard time picturing myself with a little boy, to be honest. I knew I wanted a son, but to actually imagine him in my life, in our lives, was far fetched. Since I saw that positive sign so many weeks ago, I envisioned a little girl, with light brown curly hair and big blue eyes, wearing dresses and bows. I had pictured dressing her up in froo-froo dresses and cute tights and little girly shoes.

But now. Everything is so completely different. Now, I can only imagine you, a sweet, pouty-lipped little boy with curls and baby blues like your daddy. I see you looking oh-so-stylish in skinny jeans and a sweater and baby Toms because Daddy wouldn't have it any other way. When I think about the future, our future, all I see is you, my son.

I'm still amazed that you're actually in there. I wake up most days and have to convince myself that we will be meeting you in a few months, and I can't even fathom how blessed you have made me. I feel your sweet kicks and jabs so often throughout the day. I like to just lay there with my hands pressed up against my ever-growing belly to feel you. Even as I write this, I feel you wiggling around and it just makes me want to cry. And most days I do, because feeling you is the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. Daddy gets to feel you now, too, and he is amazed every single time. Sometimes, the sweet little kicks aren't so sweet when I feel them in my back or my ribs. Sometimes, my back hurts so bad that I could cry. I have to pee every half hour. I'm slowly losing the ability to do simple tasks, like shave my legs and I'm sure I won't be able to see my feet very soon. Everything makes me cry--like everything. Things that don't even really make sense bring tears to my eyes at the drop of a hat. There are days when I feel like I could eat a five-course meal every hour and days when one Cheerio makes me nauseous. Yet, I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world because I know what the end result is going to be.

I always said I would go to Disneyland before I had kids. Just to experience the magic for myself. Mostly, I wanted to ride the teacups. I wanted to travel across Europe before having kids. See the Eiffel Tower. Ride a double decker bus in London. Eat pasta in Italy. Cliff dive in Greece.  I wanted to have a career established so you would never have to be without. I wanted to go on a honeymoon to a tropical paradise and relax in a hammock over the ocean. I wanted to be fit so I would have a healthy pregnancy, not to mention a cute belly when the time came.

There were so many things I had planned to do before having kids. Then again, doesn't everybody have those things? Yet, here I am and haven't done a single one. But here's the kicker: I'm okay with that. No, I haven't traveled to exotic places or lost the weight I needed to or gotten an amazing career started. I haven't gone on all the adventures I wanted to. But you, my little boy, are going to be the most amazing thing I ever do. You are going to take me places I never dreamed of. You are going to teach me so many new, wonderful things. You are going to push my limits and challenge me to no end. And I cannot imagine a better journey to go on.

As a new mommy, I don't know all the tricks. I don't really know anything, actually. I like to tell myself because of my background in childcare that I know what to expect, but that's not true. It's going to be completely different because you are mine. My child. I am not going to do everything right all the time. I probably won't do everything right most of the time. I am going to make a lot of mistakes. I am going to say things I don't mean and get angry when I shouldn't and sometimes wish I wasn't a mom. Stress and sleep deprivation can do crazy things to a person, so I've been told. I'm going to take too many pictures and brag about the cute little thing you did that every single baby does all the time, but because it's you, it's an amazing accomplishment. I'm going to talk and post about you so much people will get tired of hearing about it. I'm probably going to embarrass you, along the line at some point, because I so desperately want to be the cool mom (which I actually am, you just won't get it quite yet).

Just know I am going to be the best mom I can possibly be. I will try my hardest every single day to make you happy and healthy and raise you with the kind of life you deserve. I will do anything for you. Except get you out of gym class--suck it up, Kid.

You have given me the greatest gift I could ever receive. You have made me a mommy. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it--I know I don't deserve you. Just know that I love you, baby boy. Unconditionally.

Also, I hope you don't hate you name. Honestly, it's better than what your dad wanted to name you: Frodo.
It could be worse.

<3

Florida.

It's been about three-ish weeks since I've become a Florida resident and lots of things have changed on top of my zip code. It has been difficult being so far from the comforts of home, family, and friends, but I take it one day at a time in hopes of learning the ropes. I'm not working, which makes me feel like a bum, slightly lonely and unproductive, but relaxing to a point. We have officially adopted a Beagle/Labrador mix and that is a learning experience in itself. I've never trained a puppy before, but according to my husband it's "super easy" and anyone can do it, not to mention great practice for when the baby gets here.

Yeah. Okay.

I thought I had a few years before I had to tell another being to stop humping everything in sight (other than my husband, of course), but apparently I was wrong. Hopefully, I won't have to train my baby to not bite my ankles and growl and lunge at my face bearing his teeth. I am living alone for the first time in my life, which is both liberating and trying at times. I have never been that great at being alone, but the upside is, I can cook naked if I wanted to (not that I have... Or have I? O_o).

The biggest challenge I have faced thus far is learning to be a military wife. I watched Army Wives for a long time, and most of my knowledge about what it meant to be a spouse to a service member came from there. Yes, it was a television show. But it wasn't completely inaccurate. I learned some terms that have come in handy. But actually experiencing is an entirely different thing that you can't really prepare yourself for, no matter how many times you watch Roxy and Pamela complain about the military.

So, here are some things I have learned, realized or accepted (half or whole-heartedly) in the journey, thus far:

No PDA. As I'm sure most people suspect, I am a huge advocate of PDA. Not full-on-make-a-baby kind of PDA, but I enjoy kissing my husband whenever I want. I like to hold his hand. I want to throw my arms around him after not seeing him for a few days; hell, I want to throw my arms around him just because I can. But no. Anywhere on base, regardless if he is in uniform or civies (civilian clothes for you nonmilitary folk), we basically have to treat each other like we have the Black Plague. When walking, we're usually about three feet apart from each other. It feels a lot like a sixth grade dance and the United States Navy is the crotchety, old English teacher standing close by to make sure there's no canoodling.

I don't really exist. I mean, obviously, I do, but when I am on base, I'm not really acknowledged. My husband gets the "Sup, Greer" (yes, people still say "sup") or "Hey, Greer, do you *insert something Navy/work/school related*?" from his fellow sailors while I just sit by as an acquaintance and wait until they finish their banter. I do get the occasional "Hey, Greer's Wife" from one person that I met before boot camp. This just may be a guy thing, not getting introductions or giving them. I guess I should just embrace my newfound identity as Greer's Wife. Why not? In a few years, I'll just be Rowan's Mom.

And when I am on base, I feel completely scrutinized with every step. There are so many rules to follow and I always feel like I'm doing everything wrong. He tells me not to stress and just relax, but that's hard to do when he criticizes me for walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk or not smiling at the guard who's on watch at the gate. And sometimes, I forget that I'm not allowed to touch my husband and try to grab his hand. How DARE I?! But really, it's not an easy task walking around one a military base where everyone is in uniform and you have to say and do all the right things because God forbid you step out of bounds with someone who is way on up there and it comes back to bite your husband in the ass. Usually, I just keep my mouth shut and walk with my tail between my legs, metaphorically speaking.

The Navy will always come first. Above my husband's happiness, his son's, and my own. They are his priority for the time being, and, though it's not always an easy feat to tackle, I have to accept that. That is one thing that Army Wives taught me.

Nothing is certain. Everything is pretty much always up in the air, all the time. Sure, we have our routine for the time being, but even that's going to change soon. We have no idea when he will graduate, no clue as to when he will get his orders, and only God knows where we'll be this time next year. Everything can change at the drop of a hat, which for a wife, isn't always preferable, especially a pregnant one. I will say, however, they can be somewhat accommodating. To ensure that we stick around here long enough for our son to be born, we just have to fill out some paperwork. Now whether or not that actually ends up happening is completely up to them. But I have faith.

I totally get where the phrase "cuss like a sailor" comes from. I thought The Wolf of Wall Street  was bad. Jordan Belfort ain't got nothing on a base full of sailors. Even when we are home, my husband insists on talking to me like "one of the guys". I am seriously considering starting a swear jar. If he keeps it up, we'll have enough for Rowan's college fund by the time we leave here. Maybe a new car, too.

There really is a sense of community among the military. I am still working on immersing myself in the newness of it all; it takes social skill, which I lack. There are lots of resources for just spouses alone, and the family as a whole. I know my son will be taken care of when he is born. I have had a great experience at the naval hospital so far, which was a relief after hearing so many horror stories. You can just tell they take care of you, and for that I am grateful. Not to mention all the military discounts.

Whenever I watch a completely unrealistic movie like Godzilla and Battleship, ones where the Navy is especially prevalent,  I cry. Yes, I cried during Godzilla. Three times. Movies like this just showcase tragedy and great loss, something I am not equipped to handle at the moment, and they force me to face a subject I avoid at all costs: deployment. I know I have to talk about it sometime, preferably before he leaves, but the thought of him not being around is really hard to grasp. So many spouses go through it, and I never thought I would be one of them. The idea of essentially being a single parent isn't ideal to anyone. I know once the baby is born and we get a little more used to military life, I will probably feel a little better prepared to handle a deployment. But right now, especially because we are still separated so much of the time, I just want to be with him. All of the time. Sue me.

Every girl loves a man in uniform. Don't try to deny it. What's better than seeing a sexy sailor in his dress whites, looking all dapper and polished? Being able to bring him home and take it off of him.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too over the top. But, really, my husband looks so good in his uniform. Not that you would ever know, because he won't let me take pictures of him. Another rule (shocked face): no pictures of service members in uniform on social media. Do people always follow these rules? No. I see plenty of people on Facebook in their uniforms--most of the time, looking all thug-life or drinking a beer. You know, keeping it classy. I also see plenty of people on base holding hands, walking arm in arm, showing their love off to the world. It's really too bad that my husband is SUCH a good person and follows all the rules. 

I know we are just getting started on this adventure, and we will struggle and strive through the hard times that are sure to come, but I couldn't ask for a better sidekick to see me through it. I can't wait to learn more.

And I'll leave you with this. 

Those are palm trees right out my front door. You're welcome.

Just One More Week.

       Today has been an emotional day. Call it crazy pregnancy hormones. Call it stress or anxiety, but either way, I've cried numerous times at, well, nothing. This next week holds a lot of exciting happenings. Tuesday I’ll get to see my sweet little one and they will, hopefully, be able to tell me whether he or she is a he or she. Friday is the day I have been waiting for since March 3—the day my husband is officially a sailor, the day he’s in my arms again, and the day we will find out, together, if we are welcoming a son or daughter. It breaks my heart to think we may only have a few hours together that day before he flies out to Pensacola, but I will take any time I can get with him.

        Some have questioned my decision to move to Pensacola, even before I was pregnant. And some have said being pregnant is an even bigger reason to NOT move away—which makes zero sense, considering staying would mean he would miss the birth of his child. Won’t it be hard, being away from family? You can’t work because you’re pregnant, how will you afford housing? He can’t live with you. It’s only six months; it’s pointless to even go down there. You’ll get lonely. He’s going to be too busy to see you. I've heard it all, from those who are just looking out for me to some who have actually done this very thing. There is one very simple explanation for why I am going to move.

He.

Is.

There.

       I will do what I have to do to be with my husband, wherever he is, whether it’s for six months or sixty years. Simple as that. There was a brief moment when we were unsure of the duration of his A school; we thought it may only be two months (the issue was cleared up, no worries). Did that change my mind? Did the thought of packing up and moving hundreds of miles away, just to pack up and move again in two months, make me question whether or not it was a good idea or even worth it? No. Because I will do anything to be with him.

       Yes, it’s going to be difficult being far from family. No, I don’t know if I will be able to work or not. No, we will not be able to live together. Yes, it will get lonely. Yes, there may be times when he is too busy to be around for a day or more. But have any of these things swayed my decision in the least? No. When we signed up for a military lifestyle, we already knew all of those things were going to play a role in this new adventure. It’s the military. It’s unexpected, unpredictable, and quite often uncertain.

       I’m not naïve to the fact that it’s going to be different and it’s going to be hard. These last few weeks have been stressful, emotional, and some days, completely unbearable, and I know this will not be the last time he’s gone, nor is this the longest stretch of time he will be gone. But I've made it through this and I will make it through the other times. Because that’s what you do for love. You fight for it, even if it seems pointless. You make it work, even when it’s hard. You find a way. Even when every path seems daunting, covered with thorns, and you can plainly see those who've tried and failed.

       Picture this: you fall in love so hard and so fast with the most amazing person you have ever met, and then think you will never have him. You spend a year without that person being in your life, yet still thinking about them every single day, when suddenly, there he is again. After a long year of not being together, all you want is to be together, all the time, no matter what. Fast forward almost four years, and the love that began at a silly church party is strong and growing every second. Marriage, baby on the way, new adventures on the horizon. And still, all you want is to be together, all the time, no matter what.

        Some laugh at us because we are so lovey-dovey, mushy, or whatever you want to call it. I write to him every single day. I keep pictures of him in my purse. I sleep wearing his sweatshirt and with his old teddy bear. Tell me, why is any of that a bad thing? Why is it silly or embarrassing or even inappropriate to kiss each other or hold hands or stare longingly into each other’s eyes when we’re around other people? Why can’t we still act like newlyweds when we’re not? Why can’t we be in the honeymoon stage after years of being together?

        Everyone experiences love differently, and I’m sorry that some think ours is ridiculous because it’s really quite magical.

        Well, there you have it. Whether you questioned my decisions or could have cared less. Whether you agree or disagree with them. Whether you think I’m so strong or completely stupid. I am doing what my husband and I have decided on, what I think is best for us as husband and wife/mommy-and-daddy-to-be.

<3

Day One.

Today, I woke up way too early and knew it would be a grumpy-let's-just-make-it-to-the-end-of-today day. Much to my surprise, it's ending quite nicely and the day was anything but. Sure,  I am stuck at work--but can you really consider it stuck when I am, in fact, blogging at this very moment (obviously O_o). And I am tired. And I wish I was at home with my husband, snuggling in bed because we are old people and like to go to bed at a decent hour and WOULD YOU TURN THAT RACKET DOWN?!

Ahem. The point is, today was a GOOD day. This morning I got to (and by "got to" I mean spent an ungodly amount of time trying to get them to cooperate) take a pregnancy announcement for my sister of my niece and nephews, which, bee-tee-dubs, turned out super adorable. And it was just so exciting because I will be aunt to number FOURTEEN (divided among several siblings, hello, my sister is not a Duggar). My sister and her chosen other half make adorable children, and while they do not like having their picture taken, always make for great photos. Maybe this kid will be different? One can hope.

After leaving, I went home with every intention to nap until I began planning out our yard sale for next week, which rocketed me into ideas about future events when I came up with a brilliant plan for the fall. From there, I spent the next few hours Googling, Facebooking, Pinteresting, and all the other ings you can think of until I realized how excited I was about all of this. Coming up with ideas about raising money for a cause so dear to my heart make me giddy with excitement.

I have been having so many doubts about this "career path" if you will that I have decided on, wondering if this degree will even get me anywhere because I have no clue what I want to do with it. When I decided to do my last internship for my degree at the CF Foundation chapter in Nashville, it was partly because I thought it would be fun, and partly because I thought it would be easy. Granted, I haven't even started yet and I have no clue how it's going to be. I am hopeful that it will be fun and easy. But I am also hopeful that it will teach me. Challenge me. Show me a path that I did not know I wanted to take. This kind of work may be nothing like what I was doing today, but I feel very strongly about getting it accomplished either way.

To end with a quote:
"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant."
-Robert Louis Stevenson