Category: Pregnancy

John Wicks Rice

Short and simple and classic, like we like ’em.

He’ll go by the double name “John Wicks.”

“Wicks” because it was Adam’s mom’s maiden name, and I have a self-made rule that at least one of the names (first or middle) must be of family origen or have some sort of sentimental significance. Plus, I like that Wicks is kind of original.

“John” because . . . well, it’s strong and masculine and biblical. It goes well with Luke and makes for a nice double name with Wicks.

It’s really hard to name a child. I’ve gone back and forth thinking of all these different scenarios like “people will call him John Rice,” which is the plainest name ever, and then he’ll have to tell them he goes by the double name or “the baseball team is going to nickname him something like ‘J-Dub’,” which . . . GAG ME NOW.

Eventually, I just had to move past all that and make a decision based on what we like  and what we want to call him. And I like it. I think it suits him already. Since we’ve actually been calling the baby by this name for some time now, we decided it was time to commit.

I haven’t blogged much about this second pregnancy. It’s honestly been such a whirlwind. With my first pregnancy I was thinking about the baby constantly and reading every bit of pregnancy literature I could get my hands on. I was so excited for my belly to finally pop out so that I could see the evidence of that precious miracle.

With my second pregnancy, I’ve been like “Oh wow, I’m seriously almost 23 weeks along? How did that happen?” or “Another day still wearing my regular jeans?!? Score!” 

Of course this doesn’t mean I love little John Wicks one tiny bit less. I’m just a little more distracted {and busy} this go-round.

During this second pregnancy, I’ve exercised less yet still gained less weight than with my first. Although this worries my dear, sweet mother a bit, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. His name is Mr. Boy. And he wears me slap out.

Mom has no need to worry, though, because I’ve grown a small cantaloupe over the last  few days. It may be because I single-handedly ate an entire carton of Nutella (or the Kroger brand equivalent) in two short days. And I’m sad to report this is not the first time this has happened in the last month.

Or it could be those fudge brownies from Great American Cookie Company at the mall. Sometimes I go to the mall to exercise walk because I consider 26 degrees to be too cold for exercising outside and we refer to the track at the seminary gym as “the blue bowl of torture” since you have to do 12 laps to make a mile, and there is absolutely NOTHING to look at in the process. It’s such a temptation for a preggo with a sweet tooth to try to exercise at the mall, though. I mean, you pass Cinnabon, Auntie Anne’s, Godiva Chocolate store, and more. All I really want to do is buy a diet coke and some cinnamon pretzels, park myself on a bench, and enjoy. No wonder this babe is movin’ and shakin’ a lot. He’s swimming in sugar.

I joke. Well, a little bit. I usually get some exercise without succumbing to temptation, although I do indulge in the occasional fudge brownie. But hey, at least it isn’t hotdogs. The good news is that we’ve moved on from that eating phase.

Here are few bump pics for documentation. . .

John Wicks at 19 weeks

Luke at 17 months and John Wicks at 22 wks.

And here’s a fun picture that I haven’t shared yet. This was taken in early October. We had just found out dos was on the way, and all of Adam’s family happened to be together for his ordination weekend. Nonnie wanted to attempt a Christmas card picture of all the grands, and this is the absolute VERY BEST we could do between three cameras. In the middle of the COMPLETE PANDEMONIUM that is a Rice family photo shoot, Adam runs in and says…“WAIT! Someone is missing” and hands Hannah the little sign announcing our news..

All their expressions make me laugh every. single. time. So excited that our little John Wicks is well on his way!

Y’all!

Yesterday I found out that I’m officially a “boy mom.”

That’s right. Dos is a little BOY. And while there’s always the possibility of a girl {or girls} in the future, at least for the time-being, I am a for-real BOY mom. And I’m outnumbered three to one in my house!

This doesn’t altogether surprise me. Adam and I were both sort of expecting another little bambino. It does tickle me, though. If you knew me as a little girl, it would probably tickle you too. I was as prissy and girly as they come.

If you knew me as a child, you probably would have expected that I would one day be a mama. I loved to play house and often even pretended that I was a preacher’s wife {laugh}. I constantly had a baby doll on my hip. I even asked for a mini-van just like my mom’s {but my size} for Christmas one year. Mom informed me that she didn’t think the elves could make a child-sized mini-van. To which I knowingly retorted, the elves can make anything. Bless. The point is, I’ve always been sort of maternal.

But the majority of my dolls and imaginary children were girls. Girly girls, at that. They all had overly feminine names like Samantha, Felicity, Victoria, and Megan-Rose. And I pampered them and doted on them and treated them like delicate little angels. There wasn’t much rough-and-tumble play or little-boy shenanigans in my imaginary world.

There were, however, a few in my real world. Shrieks resonated through the condo our family had rented at the beach one summer week when I came into the upstairs bedroom to find my porcelain princess Megan-Rose strung by her neck from the blind strings. Little brother shenanigans!

Will is the one who scaled the side of the house in the middle of the night, roller-bladed down hills backward, rode on surf-boards attached by rope to moving vehicles, and amazingly, lived to tell about it. Jenny was the one who could tell you anything you wanted to know about any sport at age 10 and, better yet, could tear almost anyone up at any sport. I was scared to even play tee ball.

But they’ll probably both end up with girls. And here I am with a soon-to-be house full of boys. God seems to have a sense of humor like that.

I’m glad he knows what we need better than we do. I probably would have given myself two girls first, just like my mom had. But He knows I need two wild little Rice boys. And he gave me just the man’s-man of a husband I need to help raise them!

I never in a million years imagined just how much I would love and adore my first little Mr. Boy. It makes me so excited to fall in the love with my second.

Little Boy #2, we’re so glad we now know that it’s YOU. Your Doc-Doc says Mama is destined to live in world of men :). At least for now, that’s surely the truth! And I couldn’t be more excited. What a wild adventure it will be! We love you so much already!

Well, the word is out that nugget #2 is on the way!

In one way, pregnancy has been been different this go ’round. Twice the exhaustion. Or maybe I just don’t remember it with the first.

I’ve been neglecting blog-writing and reading more than I would like. I need to record Halloween, first hair-cut, etc. But nap time has overtaken blog time. And everything else time. There are days when I put Mr. Boy in his crib and literally collapse into bed until he wakes up. My house is in a constant state of CHAOS {can’t-have-anyone-over-syndrome} because my cleaning-up just can’t compete with Mr. Boy’s messing-up.

Other than that, the pregnancy has been EXACTLY the same. Same constant {but manageable}nausea. Same cravings.

There were tell-tale signs that I was preggo long before I found out.

Like the intense cheese cravings. One night, I got out of bed and ventured down for a midnight snack, which is unusual in itself. I returned to bed with a bowl of pasta covered in feta cheese. Adam was like, “What is that?!? It reeks!” My sister aptly reminded me that in my early weeks of pregnancy with Mr. Boy, I ate feta cheese right out of the carton.

You’re thinking, “no wonder you’re nauseous,” right? It gets worse.

Hot dogs. I never eat them. But during the first trimester, I CRAVE them. It’s weird, but the things that seem good to me {foods I think I can actually stomach} right now are things I care nothing about when I’m not preggo. Basically, UNHEALTHY JUNK. I recently sent my dad a text asking if I could give myself gestational diabetes from eating so unhealthy. Thankfully, he said I was a long way from that. He just encouraged fruits and veggies in addition to the hot dogs and Eggo waffles and gallons of Sprite. And I’m still doing that for the most part. Here’s the end of our text convo. If you know my dad, you’ll get a laugh. . .

Then there was that day that I got teary-eyed in the Kroger parking lot while listening to the country song If I Could have a Beer with Jesus.

Have. mercy.

At this point, I was hoping it was whacko pregnancy hormones because that is just not my normal. I don’t cry easily in songs or movies, especially ones about drinking beer with Jesus. But when he got to that line where he asks, “How’d you turn the other cheek to save a sorry soul like me? tears literally fell from my eyes. And maybe it’s not all that crazy to cry about after all. Because I often ask Jesus the same question. Amazing, unconditional, undeserved love like that is hard to understand. And it should probably draw out emotion more easily than it normally does. 

So, pregnancy. It’s funny sometimes. It’s exhausting sometimes. It’s hard. There will be pain in childbearing from the day my babies are conceived until the day I leave this earth. That’s the curse of sin. But in spite of judgment, there’s so much grace and goodness.

It seems that we picked the craziest season of our lives and said, “let’s make it even crazier and throw in another baby!” But the truth is, we didn’t pick this season or this baby {although it wasn’t a total surprise}. God did. And we know that this is God’s best for us. And it’s God’s gift to us.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward….     Psalm 127:3

Thank you, Lord, for a precious gift. Again.