Travis Lee Callahan Jr.

It's only taken me 11 weeks to post this, BUT...our baby BOY is here! Yes, we have a boy! A sweet baby boy.

We woke up bright and early on the morning of Monday, April 27th and headed to the hospital for my scheduled c-section. This picture was taken just minutes before we left our house. 

My parents met us at the hospital and MK went with them while we headed back to prepare for surgery. Morgan Kate was beyond excited, but also a little nervous about mommy having surgery.

I had a c-section with Morgan Kate, but I was completely asleep and obviously don't remember anything about it. This time I was awake and much more aware and I was a nervous wreck. It didn't help that my BP was off the charts and my head felt like it might explode. 

They also had a very hard time getting to Lee because of lots and lots of scar tissue from MK's emergency birth. At one point during the section, there were nurses on either side of me pulling every which way,  my doctor pulling and tugging, and the anesthesiologist basically standing on Travis' head to push down on my stomach. It was a lot. But, I was so thankful for awesome nurses and doctors, and of course my main squeeze who helped keep me calm.

Travis Lee Callahan Jr. was born at 9:28am. He weighed 7 pounds, 6 ounces and was 21 inches long. Hearing his first cry was the best sound ever. I think I finally exhaled after 38 weeks. I just lost it the minute I saw his precious face. He was perfect and healthy and full term!

We found out at 20 weeks that Morgan Kate was going to be a girl, but we decided to let this time be a surprise. We've now done it both ways now, and both ways are exciting, just in different ways. I'm glad that we got to experience both.

Lee had a little trauma to his head at birth. The doctor had to use a vacuum to get him out because of all the scar tissue and that resulted in a hematoma on the top of his head that didn't go away until he was about a month old, but other than that, he was as healthy as could be. So, so thankful! The hematoma didn't pop up until our third day in the hospital. I was taking Lee's hat off to "examine" him and noticed this huge bump on his head - it looked a lot like a giant goose egg. Of course I freaked out because I had no idea what it was and for a brief minute I assumed it must be a brain tumor. Crazy momma!

I love looking at this picture and seeing all of the different expressions of our family and friends.

MK got to "skip" school that day and wear her BIG SISTER outfit. She was THE cutest thing!

My mom had these BIG SISTER cookies made and MK got to pass them out at the hospital.

This picture of my mom and Travis is one of my favorites.

The birth of any baby is emotional, but for my family this birth was SO emotional. It's been a LONG road getting here and just knowing that he was here and healthy and that we were both okay was almost more than we could take.

These pictures of Travis with my brothers are also favorites of mine.

And this picture just brings tears to my eyes. I'll save our transition from three to four for another post, but Morgan Kate has just made having another baby SO easy and has been THE best big sister. She has such a heart of gold and she just blows me away.

One of our dear, dear friends was working the day Lee was born and she was able to take care of him that first day. Knowing that he was with her made this momma's heart so happy!

Our NICU family was SO good to us during my pregnancy and on the day Lee was born. Several of them stopped by to see me before my c-section, they checked on Travis and of course they stopped by to see Miss Morgan Kate. She felt like a star! 

They continued to check on us during our hospital stay and showered us with goodies. They are the best!

Both of my "sisters" were there that day and it meant so much to have them there.

It was so special seeing my parents with their newest grandbaby. I couldn't wait for my momma to be able to hold one of my babies on their actual birthday. It was weeks before my mom had the chance to hold Morgan Kate. 

My daddy didn't hold MK until she was 6 months old. He didn't want to break any "rules" about keeping her healthy and she was so, so tiny for so long. It made me so happy to see him holding Lee just hours after his birth.

Our first picture as a family of four. 

This is a pretty special picture, too.

This one just makes me melt. She is still just as smitten with him. 

We were able to go home Thursday morning. I was completely fine with staying that long. Several people mentioned that they had asked to go home earlier that the normal c-section stay. I was hurting, a lot, and was in no rush to go anywhere.

I can't even begin to describe the feelings I felt on the day we got to take Lee home. I remember the day I was discharged after Morgan Kate. It was hard. Gut wrenching. Leaving the hospital without your baby does not feel good. At all.

Knowing that we were taking him home was THE best feeling! His birth has healed my heart in so many ways.

We are completely and totally head over heels in love with him. He is just the sweetest thing and has made our family feel complete.

I can't wait to share more about him and his big sister!

Pinch Me.

I'm now 32 weeks pregnant. 32 weeks, y'all!!!! And I still wake up every single morning and have to pinch myself. Every morning when I wake up and feel those little kicks, it takes my breath away. Every time I walk by the mirror and catch a glance of this growing belly, it's like it hits me all over again. This is happening. I am pregnant. We are expecting our second sweet baby. And I'm 32 weeks. Eight months. In my third trimester. It continues to blow me away each and every day.  

For so long we weren't sure we'd ever have a number two. And if we were so fortunate to be blessed with a second, we surely didn't know if we'd make it past 25 weeks and 4 days. But, here we are. Pregnant and thirty-two weeks. Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment and we are supposed to schedule my c-section. How crazy and awesome is that?!?

It's been a while since I've updated this little space, so I thought I would post a few pictures and a few updates.

I took this picture the day I hit 26 weeks. This was a HUGE milestone for me. It was huge physically, mentally, and emotionally. At this point, I was the most pregnant I had ever been. Don't mind the my froggy PJ pants or the towel or towel rack or sink or MK's bathroom organizer hanging on the wall! Goodness.

28 weeks. The day I hit the third trimester. Huge milestone!

31 weeks. My family came to our house to celebrate the March birthdays since I'm not able to go anywhere. It was so nice to have everyone here and a reason to actually get dressed and put on make-up. The day before I took this picture, I spent the morning at the hospital being monitored because of contractions and some pressure. Everything checked out okay - thank goodness!! I think I'm actually feeling "normal" pregnancy symptoms - if there is such a thing. It's all brand new to me and with my history, it is all a little scary. 

Two days before I hit 32 weeks - month 8! Morgan Kate is on dance team this year and had her first competition Saturday. I wasn't able to go, but I did represent at home with my Dance Department Mom shirt! 

Of course there are days my back hurts and my stomach feels like it might burst. Yes, the shots I get each Monday are uncomfortable and I feel like a hormonal train wreck for about 24 hours afterward. Yes, it's hard to sleep and I have heartburn. And yes, there are days that sitting in this chair or being confined to this couch feels like torture. BUT, I'm pregnant. And that's all I've wanted for so long. This is a child I already love so much and will continue to love for the rest of my life. All of those other things - they're just temporary. So, I try not to complain and grumble. Sometimes I actually laugh about the heartburn and sleepless nights. It just another reminder that I'm pregnant and that I'm experiencing normal pregnancy symptoms. Not only did I have Morgan Kate early, but I missed a lot of the pregnancy symptoms. And while many people would say, "Awesome. Good for you. You are so lucky." I didn't feel that way. I wanted to get big. I wanted to be uncomfortable. I wanted anything that resembled a normal pregnancy. And this go round, I'm getting it. Such a blessing!

We have had such great support and encouragement during this time from my brothers and sisters-in-love, my extended family, our friends, and our coworkers. Prayers, calls, texts, emails, dinners, gift cards, goody baskets, transportation for MK. You name it, people have done it. It has helped more than people will ever know! And we are so, so grateful! 

This is not just something I'm experiencing or going through. It takes all of us. Every single day. Our days are quite different with mommy sitting in this chair. Bed rest with this pregnancy has been a big change and adjustment for all of us. 

MK is my constant reminder that this chair is nothing. Everyday in this chair means less time this baby may have to spend in the NICU. MK is already SO in love with this baby and already such a good big sister. She's been such a great helper. She loves to help me or do for me. She loves to kiss my belly and talk to "her baby". She writes stories and draws pictures about the baby every chance she gets.

Travis is my constant encourager and cheerleader. He reminds me daily that we can do this. He tells me all of the time that he's so proud of me. He celebrates every day that we are still pregnant. On the hard days, he listens to me and reassures me. And he does everything here at home. He's daddy and mommy. Yes, he gets tired, but he never complains. 

He's also my prison guard. Ha! Any time I try to get up or do something, even the smallest of things, he is there to enforce the law. And I'm thankful for that, too. Even if I give him those eyes sometimes. 

My parents have been a tremendous help. They come every Friday. Knowing that that will come on Friday really helps get me through the week. It's something I look forward to every day. They have painted, rearranged furniture, cooked my favorite meals, cleaned out closets, decorated the nursery, helped with MK and so much more. They have listened to me on my excited days and encouraged me on my days filled with fear. 

I honestly can't believe that we are down to single digit weeks left! SO, SO exciting! 

Mama Jean.

The past two weeks I've been consumed by sadness and heartache. I've replayed events over and over. I've spent countless hours just sitting and thinking. 

Two weeks ago we lost my precious grandmother, Mama Jean - my mom's mom. To say my heart is broken would be an understatement. 

Mama Jean was a true jewel. Very rare. And my family had such a special relationship with her. Anyone who knew her adored her. She wasn't just a grandmother that we heard stories about or visited on special occasions. Mama Jean was a part of our every day lives. Almost everything we did. My parents have always fostered such a meaningful relationship for us with both sets of my grandparents and I'm beyond thankful for that.

My mom and Mama Jean had just come for a visit the Monday before she passed. It was President's Day and my mom had the day off. Due to bed rest I had not seen Mama Jean since Christmas. I was excited to see her and show her my growing belly. I was also thrilled because Morgan Kate had the day off and I knew she would enjoy some time with Mama Jean. We spent a few hours catching up and having lunch. Mama Jean told me she was feeling pretty good. (She had just had her pacemaker battery replaced a few weeks before.) We talked about our beach trip this summer and she told me how she was hoping to get a perm really soon because she needed one and it had been a while. Mama Jean got to feel the baby kick and because my home health nurse comes on Mondays, she even got to hear the baby's heartbeat. I can still see the smile on her face when she heard that sound. She and MK played Go Fish, Old Maid, and MK even convinced Mama Jean to play a few rounds of Hide and Go Seek. Yes, at 84 years old, she still enjoyed a game of Hide and Go Seek. I had a doctor's appointment that day, so Mama Jean and my mom stayed with MK. After the appointment I was able to come home and tell them first hand how things had gone. It was such a good day. 

I can still see her sitting on the edge of my couch. I still remember what she was wearing. I still remember holding her soft hand while we said the blessing. I loved her soft hands. I can still remember hugging her goodbye. I had no idea it would be my last day with her. 

The very next night my brother called to let me know that Mama Jean had fallen and hit her head. She was unconscious and critical and was being taken by helicopter to Richland. No one wanted to call me because no one wanted to upset me, but they knew I'd be even more upset if no one told me at all. My heart sank. My hands began to tremble. Tears filled my eyes. I spent the next few hours talking with my brothers and my mom through text. I couldn't sit still. I couldn't stop thinking. And I definitely couldn't sleep. 

Around 1:30 in the morning, after a lot of begging and crying, Owens came to pick me up so that I could go to the hospital. At this point we knew things didn't look good at all and I needed to be there. I had to be there. No worries, I sat most of the night and even allowed my brothers to push me around in a wheelchair. We spent the night at the hospital sitting at Mama Jean's bedside. For a while it was just the five of us with her - my mom, my dad, Owens, Kyle and myself. It's a time I will treasure forever. Most of the time we sat in silence. I'm sure each of us were recalling our own favorite times with her and our most recent times with her. We cried. We asked "Why?". We watched the monitors. We took turns holding her hand. 

My aunt and cousins arrived a few hours later and they also got to spend some time with her. Shortly before the sun began to rise, we all gathered together around her bed to say our goodbyes. 

I was only nine years old when my grandfather (my mom's dad) passed away. Even at that young age, I still remember how painful it was. I still remember watching my mom's heart break and knowing there was nothing I could do. I had that same helpless feeling that morning as I watched my mom say goodbye to her mom. I wanted so badly to be able to comfort her in some way. 

We all left the hospital Wednesday morning feeling numb. Heart broken. Empty. 

As hard as all of this was for me, it was even harder explaining to my six year old. My sweet girl who adored her Mama Jean. My sweet girl who had just seen Mama Jean and played games with her. Travis and I talked to her together. We are always very open with MK, but also very sensitive. At first she seemed to be okay, but definitely still processing things. About thirty minutes or so after our talk, she burst into tears and just sobbed for what seemed like forever. All I could do was hold her and say, "I know. I know." She wanted to know who would play with her? What would we do without Mama Jean at the beach? Who would call us and leave us songs and messages? When would we see her again? Was Mama Jean with Cash? Was Mama Jean with Papa? Was Kaka okay? My heart was already in pieces, and now those tiny little pieces were crumbling even more. 

I'm so grateful that my sweet girl knew Mama Jean and could recall specific memories, and at the same time I'm overcome with sadness that this baby growing inside of my belly will never meet her face to face. But, I know that Mama Jean knew this baby. And she loved this baby. Prayed for this baby. Every. Single. Day. She heard it's heart beat and felt it's kicks and rolls. She knew.

Mama Jean's funeral was the Saturday after she passed. Despite the overwhelming sadness, it was a beautiful service and such a celebration of her life. I knew that I wanted to share something about her. I wanted to tell others just how much she meant to me and my family. I knew I wouldn't be able to speak. I'm way too emotional. But, I could write. And so I did. These are the words I wrote and asked the preacher to share. He did a wonderful job sharing my thoughts and feelings.

Everyone knew her as Mama Jean. You may have called her Mrs. Jean or Mrs. Sowell the first time you met her, but after that – it was always Mama Jean. And I never minded sharing “my Mama Jean”, because she had an abundance of love to give. And she shared that love with everyone she encountered.

Next to my parents, Mama Jean was one of my biggest teachers and in my thirty-four years she taught me so much.

By watching her example, she taught me how to love others. Mama Jean didn’t just love a little, she loved with her whole heart. Her whole being. Unconditionally. She didn’t just love us, she loved everyone. All of her friends.  All of our friends. Everyone. One prime example was her love for my Papa. She loved him fierce. As a little girl I loved watching them laugh and smile and hold hands. I loved seeing them do things that they enjoyed together – taking trips in the RV, eating boiled peanuts, attending Clemson football games, enjoying their grandchildren. She missed him every single day for the past 25 years and she talked about him every chance she got. Seeing his picture, even 25 years later, brought tears to her eyes. And Wednesday morning while my heart was breaking, I rejoiced because I knew she had been reunited with my Papa and her heart was whole again.

Not only did she teach me how to love, but she taught me how to say it in a different language. She and I had our own secret word for I love you. And because she and I had one, my brother, Owens, thought that he needed one as well. Before we left each other or hung up the phone, we would always say “Nacapenda”- which is Swahili for I love you. After Travis and I were married, she would say “Nacapenda 1 and 2”. She adored Travis and treated him like her very own grandson. She even referred to him as “Good Lookin”. Although I’ve learned in the past two days that she called most of  the guys in our family that. As my family grew, that word grew. During our most recent conversations she would say “Nacapenda 1, 2, 3, and ½. “ Oh, how I will miss hearing those words.

Mama Jean also taught me that it’s okay to love others even when they take the path less traveled. Most of you know that Mama Jean and Papa were die-hard Clemson fans. Clemson paws painted on their driveway. Orange church attire the Sunday after a game. IPTAY members for life. And while I grew up in a sea of orange, I chose the other path – the garnet and black one. My Mama Jean never gave it a second thought. She embraced it. And just a few weeks after starting my freshman year, she bought a garnet sweater and earrings to wear while she tailgated at a USC football game. That’s love.

Along with teaching me how to love, Mama Jean taught me the importance of family. Family was everything to her. Everything. Nothing made her happier than time with her family. Family time brought THE biggest smile to her face.

My cousin, Kelly, and I would spend weeks during the summer with Mama Jean. We loved being there, but I think Mama Jean loved having us even more. We would stay up late with Mama Jean playing Skip-Bo or Mario Brothers on the Nintendo. We would sleep in and awake to the smell of her cooking breakfast. Those were some of the best summers.

The past 25 years, with the exception of the year Morgan Kate was born, Mama Jean spent Christmas Eve night with my family. Before I was married, she slept in my room with me and we would whisper until the wee hours of the morning.  She was there when Santa made his arrival. She was there Christmas morning for all the love and laugher and cheer. It’s something I will always treasure. And I know she did too because things like that were important to her. Things like that mattered.

For as long as I can remember Mama Jean went with us each summer to Folly Beach. Despite her age or her limitations, she still wanted to do all she could do while we were there. She wanted to sit on the beach and watch her children, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She wanted to take boat rides and on occasion, she would even drive the boats. She wanted to soak it all in. Two years ago, we were all enjoying a nice boat ride in the Folly River and a storm came up rather quickly. There was lots of rain and instead of driving in the opposite direction of the rain, my daddy drove through it. Not only were Mama Jean’s clothes soaked, but her hair was too. Her fresh perm was ruined. Now if you know Mama Jean, you know that’s kind of a big deal. You do not mess with Mama Jean’s hair. After the initial shock wore off, she was able to laugh about it with the rest of us.  And to this day we still remind my daddy that he owed Mama Jean a new perm.

Mama Jean was a woman of incredible strength and faith and she taught me to always rely on my faith. She had trials and tribulations in her life, but she always remained so faithful and she always turned to God. I think about how painful it must have been to live for so many years without my Papa. And while I know there were days she was so, so sad, I also know that she got through those days because of her relationship with God. I, too, have faced difficult days and during those days I have tried to remember her and what she might have done.  I see that same faith and strength in my own mom and I hope that one day mine will be like theirs.

Just this Monday my mom and Mama Jean came to visit me for the day. She and I talked about my pregnancy and how I was feeling. She got to hear the baby’s heartbeat and feel a few kicks. We talked about how she was feeling and she told me about her plans for the week. She and Morgan Kate played Go Fish and Hide and Go Seek. We shared lunch and lots of laughter. She even got to love on my precious, curly headed nephew, Loitton. I got to hug her tight and kiss her sweet cheeks. I got to hold her soft hands. To say I am thankful for that day would be an understatement. I had no idea it would be our last time together.

I will miss my Mama Jean more than words can express. I know we all will. I will miss hearing her voice and watching her laugh until she cried. I will miss her smile and the way she winked at me.  I will miss her buttery eggs and homemade Mac and cheese. I will miss our trips to the farm and our vacations to Folly Beach.  I will miss our summer lunch dates and our holidays spent together. I will miss hearing her voice and feeling her comforting hugs.

I love you so much, Mama Jean. I’m so thankful for our time together and all of the memories we shared. Thank you for all of the things you taught me. And thank you for loving us so well.

There is SO much more I could say about my Mama Jean. I could talk about all the stories she shared with me. I could talk about her relationship with my Mammie and my dad's entire side of the family. She loved my aunts and uncles and cousins on that side as if they were her very own. I could talk about our trips to the farm and summer lunches at her house. I could talk about how every year on my birthday she would call and sing to me. 

The bottom line is, she was a treasure and my heart will never be the same. I will forever miss my sweet Mama Jean. 

Cash.

Travis and I both grew up with pets. I may have had a few more, but only because my brothers and I thought we should bring home a new puppy or kitten or bunny from anywhere we went. We had Copper and Runt and Duke and Trouble and Skippy and Katie and Katie 2 and Petey and Muffin and Sunshine and Dusty and - you get the point. Each of those pets provided love and comfort and a piece of family for us. And when we lost each of our pets, it was hard. There were tears and sad faces and broken hearts. 

And while Travis and I both grew up with pets, our first pets as a family of our own were Lola and Cash. We got Lola, our maltese, just a few weeks before we got married. She quickly became our everything. We've only left her twice and that was for an anniversary get away and a work trip to Ireland. She's gone everywhere else with us. 

We got Cash, our black lab, right before our second anniversary. We had had a little dog and we were ready for a big one. And Cash was big. Not just in size, but in sweetness and love and energy and companionship. From the moment we got him, he loved both of us, but Travis was his favorite. Always. He would follow Travis foot for foot. He would lay in the kitchen while Travis was cooking. He would sit at the edge of the couch while Travis sat down. He would even wait at the bathroom door for Travis. It was sweet and I admit a little aggravating all at the same time. 

Lola was, and still is, our "lap" dog. All we ever really expected from her was love and attention and kisses. We were very content for her to just sit in our laps and live the high life. Cash was different. Of course we wanted his love and attention and kisses, but we expected more. We expected him to listen and follow rules and obey. Travis began training him at only seven weeks and train him, he did. Cash could sit and heel and come and stay and retrieve. You could say "kennel" and he would get in his kennel or his pen and not fuss one bit. You could say "go hurry" and he immediately went outside to do his business. He was one smart doggie.

We never worried about Cash being outside without a leash. Obviously we used a leash when walking him or taking him somewhere, but like I said, he never strayed too far from Travis. And even when Travis would come into the house, Cash would sit at the back door and wait. Slobbering on the door window the entire time. So we never thought twice about having him in our yard or my parent's yard or even a friend's yard without a leash. He never, in eight years, ever attempted to run in the road or chase a car or anything like that. 

Almost five weeks ago, on Christmas night, we lost our sweet boy, Cash. To make a long, heart breaking story short, we were at my parent's house for the holidays and something got Cash's attention. Travis had been outside, came inside, and in those few seconds, Cash went to the road and was hit by a car. The young guy that hit Cash stopped and knocked on my parent's front door to let us know that he had hit a black lab. We immediately rushed outside, only to have our hearts broken in half. 

It was gut wrenching to say the least. A moment that I will never forget. We were stunned, shocked, and devastated. And while we had both lost pets before, this was the first time we had lost "our" pet. Our pet that was more than just a pet. Cash was family. One of our babies. You can ask pretty much anyone, and they will tell you that if they came back as a dog, they would want to be Travis' dog. 

The next days brought many, many tears and questions and anger and just being broken hearted. Neither of us knew what to do or what to say. We were crushed. And when we returned home just a few days later, it was like losing him all over again. Our house wasn't the same. It felt empty. There was a void. It just felt wrong. There was no Cash bumping at our legs or feet as we walked through the house. There was no Cash sitting at the back door waiting patiently. There was no Cash running around the backyard. No Cash waiting at Travis' feet or at the bathroom door. I missed his snoring at night and his slobber on the back door window. I missed seeing his black hair everywhere. Even Lola was out of sorts and she wasn't his biggest fan by any means. 

We spent the week just moping around our house. Tears and tears and more tears. Just five short days after losing our sweet boy, we both decided that we needed another dog. We weren't trying to replace Cash. We weren't trying to find a quick fix, but we knew that we needed something to help heal our hearts. And whether it's right or wrong or whatever, on New Year's Day we went to visit a new puppy. A nine week old bloodhound. He was big. He was clumsy. He was slobbery and overly energetic at times. But, he was so sweet and so lovable. He gave big wet kisses. He had rolls of fur that went on for days and had long, long ears that felt like velvet. And for the first time in a week, he made us smile. Big. And we knew, he was the one. 

No, he wasn't Cash. And he wasn't ever going to replace him. Ever. But he was the one we needed. He was the one we were supposed to have. So he became ours. And we haven't stopped smiling. 

Meet Conway, our newest family member...

Yes, our hearts still hurt. Yes, we still miss Cash terribly. We talk about him all of the time. We share stories about him. We share our favorite moments about him. We look at pictures and watch old videos. We will always miss him, but our hearts are slowly healing and we have Conway to thank for that.