Little Baby Clark is on the way!

Every ear will hear the story of Your furious love.
 

May 21st, 2016, Drew and I found out we were EXPECTING a BABY. Like this is not a drill, we are pregnant. (Well, I am.) (this is Kaylee speaking, to be perfectly clear.) Do people get annoyed when other people say "we are pregnant" instead of "I am pregnant"? If so, I will stop it right now and never do it again. Be a friend and let me know. 

I want to write all this down and share all these pictures so I can remember every moment. So get ready for a story with details. 

So how did we find out? 

I suspected it right away. I cannot begin to explain to you the feeling, but it's almost like I just knew. I felt slow and sleepy and I was running to the bathroom every hour on the hour. It was too early to be having symptoms, but somehow I felt like I was. Even if it was just a weird placebo. I started telling Lindsay in a joking way, "I'm so pregnant." And we both had a good laugh about it and shrugged it off. It couldn't be true. 

But then it was. I took a test the next week. And the result came up almost immediately. This thing seemed pretty dang sure.

So how did I tell Drew? (You see his feet in the above photo, but this photo was taken a little later.)
I DO NOT KNOW how you people wait and do something cute to surprise your husbands. When you find out you're preg, the literal only person you can tell for a while is your husband. So I needed him to know IMMEDIATELY so we could freak out together! I took it, got my immediate result, and called Drew. It seemed tacky to throw it at him over the phone, so I made sure he was alone and told him to come to the house STAT. (It was a total construction zone - as seen in above photo - so we weren't living there at this moment.) 

I tucked the test into the waistband of my Nike shorts and started pacing around the house thinking thoughts like, Did I have a margarita with dinner last week? and I'm pretty sure I took a pain pill after that dental procedure. Is that awful?? (Update, no. It's fine and baby is fine.) 

Drew walks in two hours (or like five minutes but whatever it seemed like a lifetime) later and he brought friends. My Poppy and my Uncle Darren follow him into our house. SHOOT. 

"Drew. You said you were alone."

"Yeah Poppy and Darren wanted to see progress." 

"Okaaaaaay...." 

So they walk around and check things out a while. Fifteen minutes pass. They're ready to leave. Then who walks in, my mom! "Oh hi mom! Didn't expect to see you here today!" (It was her birthday by the way, so I was actually pumped to see her. It was just inconveniently timed.)

So they finally all head out. It's just me and Drew. This is my moment. Should I just show him the test? Should I start crying happy tears? Should I cry sad tears—like, is he gonna freak out in a bad way? Are we happy about this? I feel happy I think. 

So he's rambling on about paint samples and in the dead middle of his sentence I blurt out, "I'M PREGNANT". He freezes. He smiles. Smiling is a good thing, I feel relieved. I do NOT remember what he said. Something along the lines of, seriously??!! But mostly I just remember that smile and how everything really was going to be okay. I whipped that pregnancy test out to show him the proof and he said, "Has that been in there the whole time?" 

I died. 

So a few weeks passed, and we kept this thing under tight wraps. Except when I accidentally blurted out to Lindsay that YES I actually was pregnant after all. It helped to have ONE other person to talk to! 

We ordered cutie mugs to give to all three sets of parents and my poppy (who we were living with at the time) as a surprise. I'm dumb and only thought to take a photo of one set!! But you get the point! 

Mugs in the construction zone that was our house at this time. Ignore the mess.

We found out we were pregnant early, but we thought we were already at 6 weeks! (We weren't) So we went ahead and told the parents only a few weeks after we found out. 

My mom and step dad were the first set of parents to find out the news. We gave them their mugs and they'd been keeping our dog, Emma, for us while we were staying with Poppy. So mom thought "Grandma Kristy" was in reference to Emma being her granddog. Kevin quickly put it together and said, "Kristy. They're pregnant!" She literally did like a jaw drop and said "No you're not." Like this lady was SO shocked that she could not say another word! We definitely surprised them! 

We told my dad and Gina next! We met them at their house and gave them their mugs. Gina immediately said I KNEW IT! We were both like "HOW?!" My dad was just plain pumped. He's been saying since we got married, "When I'm grandpa this will be a YES house! If it doesn't hurt them, the answer is YES." Scary part is, I know he's serious.

We told Drew's parents and sister, Amy, next at their house in Georgetown. They did not get it, either! It took a second for it to sink in! But when it did, they were, of course, stoked. Again, so confused. I think someone even said "How did this happen?!" Hahahaha. A lot of hugging and laughing commenced.

Last to get his mug was poppy. We waited a while to tell him, because we wanted to make sure this little baby Clark was gonna stick around! But when we were pretty sure, we gave him his mug. His was a little different. It didn't say "Established 2017" like everyone else's. He's been a Poppy since '92, after all. His said "Poppy - Est. '92, '98, '03, '04 and '17"

He, of course, did not get it either. But when we told him, he teared up. Which you can see if you look real close at this photo. So. Stinkin'. Cute. He had his coffee in it the very next morning. 

We had our first ultrasound June 7th. I was nervous. I don't think Drew was nervous. Maybe uncomfortable is what Drew was. He'd never been to an OBGYN appointment with me before. And then all of a sudden, BAM, I had to drop my clothes and get in a grandma robe?? What the heck was goin' on??

Don't worry. I took a selfie in the granny robe so we could preserve the uncomfortable moment. You're welcome.

ALL WAS GOOD! Baby looked like a little bean. DEFINITELY didn't look like a baby. We even SAW its little heart beating. IT WAS BEATING FOR REAL. This seemed like a miracle to me. Seriously. 

After I put normal clothes back on, we of course took an excited blurry selfie with "Baby's first portrait". 

From here on out things get more blurry. I got SICK. really sick. Like taking medicine to keep sickness at bay. We made a lot of convenience store runs that resembled this: 

Minus the mascara. 

I mean seriously. I put away some major saltines. Anything with starch, really. I didn't discriminate. Crackers, macaroni, mashed potatoes. I also, of course, dropped coffee and diet soda the minute I took the pregnancy test. If you know me, you understand that this was hard. Exceptionally hard. 

But then, it wasn't hard anymore. My body started rejecting it. Just the thought of espresso made me physically ill. FUNNY how God designed pregnancy, right? Everything is a literal miracle. Your body rejects what the baby doesn't need. Or at least this was my experience. 

Other early side effects: I was TIRED. Sleeping from 5 pm-9 pm, getting up to eat chicken noodle soup and take a shower, then more sleep from 10 pm -7 am. This was my routine every single day. Drew was a champ. He let me be lazy. He still does when I'm having my off days. 

Whenever I had the energy, Drew took me to do something. Anything, but mostly just to anywhere that sold mashed potatoes. My favorite places to eat—Chick Fil A, Mama Fus and Panera—I would GAG just thinking about. So I would walk into Bush's (ew) and order mashed potatoes. That's all I could do. That and iced water. OMG SO much iced water. 

Here's the announcement we made to share with our far-away friends and family! 

Here's the announcement you saw on Facebook/Insta! 

And a few alternative options for funzies: 

At 10 weeks we had ultrasound number 2! All was good. Emma was told she was going to be a big sis. She was not enthused. 

Aaaaand I kept getting sick. 

Honestly, I'm still sick. It's going away, but it still happens regularly. It's no fun. 

So what's next? 

Well, we announced! That's big time! Drew was ready to tell the world at around week 8. Haha. I was more wanting to wait until we knew the gender (about week 20). So, alas, a compromise. We spilled the beans at week 14. 

Next week we have appointment 3! Your prayers are FULLY welcomed and so, so appreciated.

We are thrilled. We are nervous! We are apprehensive in some ways. 

Are we ready? Are we too young? Do we even like kids? Oh no, do we even like babies? What if we can't afford daycare? Am I a bad mom if I want to work instead of stay home? Am I a bad mom if I want an epidural? What if baby Clark isn't healthy? What if baby Clark doesn't make it? What do you even do with a crying baby, I don't know? Is breast feeding weird? Are gender reveal parties cool? Will I gag every time I change a diaper? Will I think my baby is cute?? Shoot, can I even take 8 weeks off of work?? NO, definitely no. I'm so fired. (Update, I'm not fired.)

Do you get the picture? 

I don't want any of you thinking life is just SO perfect and we are SO perfect and this was 900% planned and we are going to be PERFECT parents. Because it's not. We're not. It wasn't. And perfect parents do not exist. 

I keep going back to this song by Amanda Cook. Highest Praise. 

It's my favorite. I've probably listened to it 600 times, no kidding. 

It has nothing to do with pregnancy or anything, but I just resonate with it EVERY time I hear it.

Every ear will hear the story of Your furious love. 

Every eye will see the glory of the coming King.

Every knee will bow, every tongue confess Your name.

And with the crowd I will lift my voice, I will lift my voice to sing- 

To the One who was,

The One who is, and is to come - 

HIGHEST PRAISES. 

We are excited. We are nervous. We are apprehensive in some ways. Sure. But God, He is READY. He KNOWS what's next. He has blessed us so big. And we're ready to raise this little blessing up knowing Him. 

Stay tuned. There will, inevitably, be lots more to come. 

A worthwhile read: Redeeming Love

So I recognize that I have a few other things to update you on. And I've been completely absent from this blog for quiiiite a long time. Don't worry - home ownership blog coming as soon as we get new texture blown, paint and the new trim up - but today I couldn't pass up the opportunity to talk about a book.

I know, I know. Not the most riveting of topics.
But bear with me.

I go through seasons of loving reading and then having nowhere near enough hours in the day to find the time to read. But I went ahead and bought this gem on a whim from Amazon the other day when I was actually looking for another book. Redeeming Love just popped right up as a suggestion.

I've probably gotten more than ten recommendations to read Redeeming Love over the past eight years. And you probably already read it at one point around your senior year of high school. But trust me on this one, pick it up again.

I read this thing over a 36-hour span. All 462 pages. And when I read the very last page and set the book down, I spent about ten full minutes actually mad at myself for waiting so long to pick it up.
But around the eleventh minute, I realized it was exactly what I needed to read right now.

I would've loved this book at age 16. Or 18. Or even 21. But it was 24-year-old Kaylee that needed to read this. Married Kaylee.

This book is a Christian fiction. Which isn't my typical go-to. I usually like reading the life stories of real people, but by page 44, I was annoyed any time I had to put this thing down.

Ok here goes me trying to put the plot in like three paragraphs or less....

The storyline is based on the book of Hosea. Which is why you'll notice their likeness throughout the book.

In Redeeming Love, Francine Rivers details the life story of Angel. Angel is sold into prostitution at age 8, and by age 18 she's still living in a brothel. 10 years of being used by men has emptied her soul and she spends her days contemplating suicide, hating the very idea of God and dreaming of a day she can be free.

Then comes Michael. Good old Michael Hosea. A Christ-loving man who's prayed and prayed for a good woman to make his wife. The first time he sees Angel walking down the street, God whispers to him that she is the one. His beloved.

To summarize a very long story, Michael spends years trying to convince Angel she is worthy of not only his love, but the love of God. 

Okay how'd I do? For those who have read the book, I realize I left the best stuff out. But I don't want to spoil it!

The whole dang thing is a beautiful metaphor for the way Christ loves the church. I mean this book really puts things into a fresh perspective. Michael loves Angel despite how much she hates and is ashamed of herself. Despite her past. Despite her disloyalty to him. Despite the way she forsakes him over and over and over. She breaks his heart time and time again, but he never stops praying for her. Or loving her. Or pointing her right back to Jesus—not only with his words, but with his actions. It. Is. Beautiful.

It also paints a sweet picture of a Christ-centered marriage. There were so many words I needed reminding of as a new wife. Its all good. Every last page.

This is a love story that transcends time. A true gem. It doesn't matter that it's set in the 1850's or was written in the 1990's—you will relate to Angel. And Michael. And their love.

So order it on Amazon now. Or you can borrow my copy. But trust me, you need to read this one.
I'll be back for a home reno update soon. So stick around.

Do Hard Things.

About four years ago, you could've asked me what I was good at, and I would've stared at you blankly while I thought long and hard about my skill-set and silently panicked. You could've asked me what I was passionate about, and I probably would've told you Gossip Girl. It wasn't that I had a serious lack of passion or sense of self... I simply- wasn't quite there yet. I was still figuring it all out.

At the time, I was a psychology major drowning in my science classes, barely passing neuroscience. I didn't know how I would ever pass my collegiate-level chemistry and biology classes. I thought I wanted to be a nurse or work with children somehow, but nothing really made perfect sense. When I finished my first semester at Baylor with a 2.2 GPA, it didn't take me (or my mother) very long to figure out I was headed in the wrong direction. Sorry mom.

When I was in 7th grade, I watched this MTV reality show (Miss Seventeen) for like three months straight. It was about these teenaged girls who were competing for a chance at an internship with Seventeen Magazine under Seventeen's editor-in-chief, Atoosa Rubenstein. I loved it. I wanted to be Atoosa; she was fabulous. And from then on, I just knew I wanted to move to NYC to study at NYU and become a writer. After all, I'd been writing stories in notebooks and in diaries since I was old enough to hold a pencil. And before I could spell, I wrote picture books with crayons and map pencils. I knew it was the perfect career for me.

Somewhere down the road, that became a distant thought that my 13-year-old mind had only made up. More of a highly-unlikely fantasy than anything. When I was 16, I decided I would become a doctor or a nurse, because 'those sort of careers have job security' and that's what everyone else seemed to want to do.

So that brings us full circle- back to a confused, clueless and unfocused sophomore in college who didn't believe she was much good at anything; simply because she wasn't stellar in neuroscience. Drama.

As a super-senior in college heading into my victory lap semester, having finally found my way into public relations and marketing, I sent an email to an email address I wasn't even positive existed - to a company I was pretty sure would write me off. I blindly sent a cover letter and my resume to someone I'd never met, and hoped they'd somehow give me an internship. I didn't have anything else lined up, and graduation was sneaking up fast.

Spoiler alert: they hired me. I'll never be sure why or how exactly I managed to swing that, but they did. And I worked four days a week for a total of about 20 hours weekly - on top of my part-time gig at a food bank, and taking 17 hours of classes.

One of the most important things I learned during my time as an intern was the value in hard work. I learned pretty quickly just how much managers appreciate employees who are simply willing to do the job they're hired to do, and do it excellently. I learned how growing companies will freely hand you more responsibility if you'll just take initiative and try.

My manager, Alissa, hired me to work full time as a sales associate in the retail side of our business after graduation. I didn't have anything else lined up, and I wasn't really sure where Drew and I would land, so I took it. The pay was low and the work probably seemed menial to anyone else, but I took it and I was so thankful and appreciative for it.

I remember acquaintances from my classes at my graduation ceremony asking what my post-grad plan was, and getting an "Oh, selling home decor? Well that's interesting!" response after explaining my new position. It seemed like everyone was moving off to big cities to become accountants and law school students and teachers and even future lobbyists. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't sad. Like I said, I was grateful, and even proud of my new job; I was just confused about what God was doing and how he was working in my life.

Though I was content, I was at a loss when trying to figure out what my long term plan would be. So I put my nose to the grindstone and I swept floors. I stocked shelves. I smiled and chit-chatted with visitors from out of town. I worked every Saturday - open to close. I stamped bags and tied tags and swiped credit cards and pretended to have a clue about home decor. And I freaking loved it.

Long story short, I worked my tail end off, and was able to learn the store's product inside and out. I learned the business from the bottom. I learned how to interact with customers, and I learned the kind of questions they tend to ask. I learned everyone's names and I soaked up as much as I could about the store's style and aesthetic.

After a few months, I was transferred into the customer service department. I looked at this like a huge promotion, though I guess, technically, it was more of a lateral move. I was so stinkin' excited to answer those phones and emails. I learned how to communicate clearly. I learned responsibility, and how heavily customers leaned on me to have follow-through. I learned just how right the customer always is. I learned about myself; and that I'm actually pretty good with people.

I was trained and managed at the time by one of the very best teachers in our whole company, and he entrusted me with even more responsibility. And so I was able to take on social media and newsletter writing. And then some e-commerce. And finally marketing; where I am able to write content, assist with photo shoots, sit in on brainstorming and strategy meetings, and soak up every last bit of information anyone wants to teach me.

Listen; if ever it was unclear to me what God was doing in my life before, it only took about four months until it became perfectly clear how much He had to teach me. How much opportunity He had in store. I might roll my eyes and pretend to be mad about it- but I'm typically the first one to volunteer to do "the grunt work" -  because, heck, I learned most everything I know by volunteering to do what no one else wanted to.

When it comes right down to it,  people in the real world don't care about your talent and your impressive resume, friends. They care about your willingness to stay an extra hour, if needed. They care about the fact you swerved out of "your lane" without complaint to get the job done. They care that you're willing to start as an intern and work your way up the old fashioned way.

Being where I am now, I could argue that I am sitting in my dream job, learning from a bunch of creative geniuses. Good people, willing to work and willing to fail.

Being just one year out of graduation, I couldn't ask for anything more.

If I could hop back to seventh grade, I'd tell myself to keep dreaming. It's okay to not want to be a doctor or a lawyer. It's okay to dream a little bit differently than everyone else. But if you want to get there, you have to be willing to put in the hours and work for it. So how bad do you really want it tiny, overzealous, 13-year-old Kaylee?

Life Lately

I usually have a series of pictures on my phone that are mostly just saved from Snapchat or taken and then forgotten about. They go mostly unseen, but they're fun and give you a little peek into what's going these-a-days.

Carole's feelin' 22!

Apparently Anna is very bothersome at work. 

Car selfie #1

Drew's parents got the silliest looking chicks!

*or sneezing.*

LOLLLL

Car selfie #2

Shiplap is my life. #magnolia

Maybe one day I'l post pics of our cutie little home.

Drew got sent to the principal's office at work. 

Haley Rynn sent us our photos in this cute package!

#toomuchspaghetti

Tina Turner + Amy = BFFE

Bring Emmie to work days are our favorite days at work. 

The day we got off work early for a carbon monoxide scare. Spoiler: We all survived.

We went to CStat on a school night to see our favorite Breakaway volunteer do her thing one last time!

MOMMA WE MADE IT... on the Magnolia Market Instagram account. #everyonelookprofessional #wedohappy #happyhustlers #popcornsnacksarethebest

Ps- everyone follow @magnoliamarket in Insta to watch me pretend like I know things about chandeliers and design and stuff. It's fun. And comical.

That's it, friends! Just wanted to check in and say hey. This weekend Drew and I will likely hide out and relax. Maybe try to find a dog park around here somewhere and take Emma to play. Maybe go see Avengers or binge watch Once Upon a Time on Netflix. We just finished White Collar (LOVE) and now we're trying to find our next show to love. Hope you are are all well and HAPPY MAY.