June 18th

This time last year, I was patiently waiting for Zaney to make his appearance into the world. Bloated, scratchy, and very tired, I might add. But Zaney didn't come. I've never been so impatient in my life as I was on this day. PUPPS will do that to you, I think. I was waking up from one benadryl induced coma long enough to put myself into the next one, and just hoping that when I woke up I would feel something other than itchy. 

I can't believe it has been an entire year since I sat in a small little bedroom we were renting from an older couple, just anticipating the arrival of my little guy. I can remember Deanna, the woman we lived with coming to see me after work each day and praying over my stomach that Z would come. She was the sweetest, Deanna, the absolute sweetest. A year ago today, she sat and visited with me and read me scriptures from the Bible, made me cookies, pretty much anything she could think of to bring me some comfort. 

Then, when Mitch got home, we walked three miles and jumped on the trampoline until I almost peed myself (aka two whole seconds). And then we went to bed and Mitch was jumping up and down with joy that Zane would come on Father's Day (he didn't). So I went to bed that night uncomfortable and still itchy, but hopeful that Mitch would have a special first Father's Day, wishing that the 6,000 pound child in my rib cage would find it a good day to be born as well. 

He didn't.