Words Fall Short At Times Like These

These past few months have been difficult to say the least. It’s a story that doesn’t bear repeating for the sake of the hearts involved. And even if I could share details, words would fall short.

(No, it’s not my marriage. No, it’s not my kids. No need to try to “figure it out.” Just let these words be enough. And I pray you glean something encouraging for your own heart.)

What do you do when the “right thing” isn’t the “right thing” for everyone? What do you do when your heart is heavy with a burden, a burden that shouldn’t be held alone, but one that can so easily pierce the hearts of others when they bear it too? To share the burden is to burden others with the load you once carried on your own. It weighs down their shoulders, but more, it weighs down their hearts. They carry it, they stumble with it. It is so devastatingly difficult for someone to carry another’s burdens when they still have their own to carry. And there’s no taking it back once it’s shared, leaving another heavy load upon your own shoulders– the guilt of having weighed someone else down.

Words fall short at times like these. They aren’t enough to say “I’m sorry”; they aren’t sufficient to heal the broken heart of the burdened one. There isn’t a single word in any language that would ever be enough.

I’ve been told I’m not enough, but I know it to be true, too. To strive to be something that I’m not (the “enough” that I wish I could be) is unfair and unrealistic. It’s another burden to add to the load. It’s a pair of shoes I was never meant to fill.

I am not a healer of hearts. I am not the one who is strong enough to carry burdens. I am not the repairer of broken things. Though my heart aches to be enough, to be able to take away the burden, to be able to repair what is broken and reconcile what seems so far gone, so lost, I can’t. I won’t ever be enough.

The only thing to do is to lighten the load again– to give that burden (the new one and the old) to the One who desires to take them, who is strong enough to carry them, who is big enough to not grow weary, who is enough to be all that you need.

I am not enough. But I know Him. I know the One who is enough. I know the healer, the strong one, the repairer. I’ve seen his work. I’ve been his work. He has healed and repaired my heart when I thought it was broken beyond repair. He has been all my strength when I had none. He has been the carrier of my burdens, and he carries them still.

I pray you find the One who can carry your burden. The ones you carry for yourself and the one I’ve left you with. I pray that you come to realize that you don’t have to carry them anymore. They’re heavy. They’re debilitating. They’re destructive– to yourself and to everyone who cares about you (that list is long; you are not alone).

Anger. Bitterness. Sadness. Hurt. Defeat. Grief. Confusion. Anxiety. Depression.

You weren’t meant to carry any of them. But oh how they weigh you down when you do carry them. Your heart aches with an aching that no one can heal. If only time could rewind. I get it. I’ve wished for the same thing so many times in my life. If only time could bring him back. If only time could put the words back in her mouth. If only time could erase the thoughts, take the burden away. If only time wasn’t such a thief.

There is no easy answer and for that I’m left with so few words. Not even one– not a single word– if you’re looking for words that can mend the broken heart. I don’t have words like that.

I’m not the healer. I’m not the repairer. I’m not the one who will carry your burden. I’m not enough, and I never will be.

But I know the One who is.


Tell Your Heart To Beat Again — Danny Gokey


Labor of Love

Because everyone loves a good labor story… Here is mine.

I was due with our second baby girl on January 14th. A few days prior I started to have irregular contractions and on my due date the contractions started becoming regular enough that I could time them.

It was around 5:30pm on the 14th and without saying a word to Rafael, I began rushing around the house, completing tasks that I wanted to have done before the baby came. I made tacos for dinner, but hardly ate. I wrote a list of things to do for our babysitter (Camille). I asked Rafael to give Sofie a bath. “Right now?” he asked. Yes, right now. He didn’t understand why, but I didn’t want to tell him I was in labor because I didn’t want him to start freaking out. Not yet anyway. It wasn’t quite time to freak out.

I started timing my contractions sometime in the 8 o’clock hour. They were 12 minutes apart to start. By 9:30 (ish) they were down to 8 minutes, but there was one contraction that just seemed to stick around. I decided to call the doctor because of the tightness that didn’t go away even though my contractions still weren’t very close together. She suggested I go to the hospital to get checked. Rafael and I finished packing our bags and waited for Camille to arrive so we could go.

When we got to the hospital (about 10:30pm) I was sent to triage where they set me up to the monitor to check on the baby. My contractions were about 6 minutes apart by this time. They checked my cervix (which had not been checked until this night) and I let the nurse know how painful it always was for me. I was in tears from the pain and from her sour attitude. “You’re getting an epidural, right?” She mocked me because I was crying from the pain. I was planning on it, but her attitude made me angry. Who has the right to tell a woman in labor that her pain tolerance is weak?

I was at 4cm. The nurse told me I needed to walk around for an hour and they would recheck me. I walked around with Rafael and my mom came to join us for the last few minutes. Though my contractions were getting closer together and stronger, they were still somewhat irregular. Sometimes as close as 3 minutes and up to 5 minutes apart.

Around midnight I was rechecked. The rude nurse told me my cervix hadn’t changed and neither had my contractions. Contrary to what she said and what she noted on the monitor, my contractions had become much stronger. It was hard for me to talk through them and they were notably closer together. She and the doctor didn’t listen. They listened only to the monitor. According to them, contractions are always stronger when you’re walking and will calm down once you’re sitting again. The monitor wasn’t showing them as being very strong.

They gave me two options: I could walk around for another hour to see how I progressed, or (their favored option) I could go home with a shot of morphine, get some sleep, and come back when I was really in labor. I told them I couldn’t physically walk around for an hour because I was in too much pain and that during Sofie’s labor the pain meds had no affect on me so I wasn’t too excited to try them again. These were different meds, the doctor tried to assure me. I didn’t believe it, but because I couldn’t walk around, I took the only other option they gave me. Around 12:45am on the 15th I reluctantly went home with a shot of morphine in my hip.

We got home around 1:00am. I tried to lie down and rest, but because my contractions were so strong and regular, I tried to no avail. Just as I had told them, the morphine had no affect. By 2:45-3:00 (ish) my contractions were growing increasingly painful and I decided to time them again. The first one I timed was 5 minutes from the next. By the third contraction I timed, they were 2 minutes apart. I woke Rafael and told him that we needed to go back to the hospital. If they still didn’t think I had progressed enough, I didn’t care. I wanted an epidural for this pain. In the amount of time it took him to get ready (get dressed, use the bathroom, put on shoes), I woke my mom up and told her we were going back. By this time it was around 3:30am and my contractions were so painful I couldn’t sit or stand properly and most definitely couldn’t talk through them.

We went to get in the car and I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit down. I tried a couple times before telling Rafael that I had to go in my mom’s car because it had more room so I could stretch out and not have to fully sit down. I got in my mom’s car and the whole way to the hospital I had to push. I told her I had to push, so she drove faster. I screamed at her not to drive too fast because every bump made my contractions more painful.

We arrived at the hospital around 3:45am (ish). The security guards recognized me. “Weren’t you just here?” they asked. Yes, I was and they sent me home, I told them. I refused a wheel chair because, again, I couldn’t sit down, and I walked myself to the elevator and up to the 7th floor, accompanied by Rafael and the security guard. The whole time I still had the urge to push the baby out.

When we got to the maternity floor I told them I was in active labor and they took me to my room. I told them I had to push and they wanted to check my cervix. Let me say that again. I told them I had to push and they wanted to check my cervix. Ok, so they started to check and the nurse pulled her hand out quickly and said, “Nope! We need to go.” …Or something close to that. I was in labor, so I don’t remember her exact words. I was crowning. Baby girl’s head was right there. She was ready to meet the world.

But of course they made me wait longer. The doctor wasn’t there. She went home at approximately 3:20am after waiting a couple hours for me because she thought I wouldn’t go into active labor. They called another doctor in. He’d been asleep so they had to wake him up. While he was waking up they were running around frantically getting the room set up to deliver a baby. They put in my IV, set up the light, got the doctor’s tool kit. I was screaming the whole time: I have to push! But they made me wait.

Finally the doctor arrived and I was allowed to push, but before my first push the doctor broke my water. It was such a relief from the pain. Pushing was so painful. Because, you know, they sent me home so I couldn’t get an epidural. I’d had one for this part with Sofie, so this pain was new to me. My contractions were still steady, probably 1-2 minutes apart, so I got breaks between pushes.

By the second push the delivering doctor who had gone home was back. I screamed, “I can’t do this!” The doctor told me, “One more push and she’ll be out!” Seriously? One push. I could do that. On the third push, her head was out. On the fourth, my baby girl was born and brought to my arms.

At 4:17am on January 15th, Nellie Jo was born into the world.

They had to take off my shirt still in order to have her skin on mine because there wasn’t time to fully undress when I arrived at the hospital. I delivered the placenta without a hitch and asked to see it. Amazing. There was that life-giving organ that sustained my baby girl inside me for so many months. No stitches. No new hemorrhoids.

Everything was great with our little Nellie Jo: 7lb, 12oz. 21in. 13in head. Tons of hair. Beautiful in every way.

We had trouble keeping her temperature up for a while, but lots of swaddling and cuddles cured that.

My delivering nurses were incredible and so kind. I never did talk with the rude nurse again, but if I’d seen her I might have let her know that this one I did without an epidural. And it was painful. But I did it. It was empowering. Next time I’ll make sure they listen. I know when I’m in labor and I really don’t want to have my next baby at home. (Because a few more minutes of waiting and I can assure you, this little girl would have been born in the car. Thank God that didn’t happen.)

Welcome to the world, Nellie Jo. It’s rough at times, but there’s beauty here too, and it’s a little more beautiful now that you’re here.


My ugly, grace-covered heart.

I’ve had a long period of silence on this dear blog, and I’ve decided it’s been long enough. I haven’t written partly for the lack of words, but mostly because if I wrote something from my heart, I feared it might be too ugly. And that’s because it is — it is ugly.

But in the past year I’ve realized that it’s the ugly parts of our hearts that we should share. When other people see the ugly parts in our own hearts, they realize that they’re not so alone and that if there’s ugliness in them and ugliness in me too, it’s probably just a regular part of being human.

And then there’s grace. Because I recognize that my heart isn’t always pretty, only then was I able to also recognize that I need grace. And grace — it’s far too beautiful for this old heart of mine, but Christ knew that when he gave it to me. That’s what grace is for. It’s for the ugly hearts, the angry hearts, the hurting hearts. If grace was meant for the beautiful ones, there wouldn’t be a need for grace.

So here I am, standing before you with an ugly heart that’s being painted beautiful by grace. And I want to share my heart with you again — the ugly parts, the grace-filled parts, the parts I want to hide in a closet and never let anyone see. Because when we’re all human it’s easier to share grace, easier to accept grace, and easier to know that we’re not alone. You’re not alone. I’m not perfect either. So let’s do this life thing, together, hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart, the truth and ugliness out in the open, so grace can come in and paint us beautiful again.

I understand why some women get abortions.

When I was living in Texas, Rafael and I accidentally got pregnant. It was so accidental he laughed when we walked down the pregnancy-test-aisle at Walmart. And it was so accidental that he didn’t believe me when I said it was positive.

It was so accidental because we didn’t technically have sex. We did stuff we shouldn’t have, and because of that I nervously scoured the internet for people that accidentally got pregnant like we had. Yes, it was possible. No, Rafael still didn’t believe me. So we went to urgent care and they did a test again. “Why did you come,” they asked. “Because I wanted to be sure,” I said. They told me if a pregnancy test is positive, it’s definitely positive. If it’s negative, you could still be pregnant, but if it’s positive there’s no doubt.

So I was pregnant. For a brief moment I thought, No one has to know. If I just get an abortion, it could all go away. No one would ever know what we did.

If you know me at all, you know that I’ve always been pro-life. Always. But I also never imagined myself getting pregnant before getting married. I never imagined the shame that I would feel of being the Christian girl who got pregnant before her wedding. But now I was. I got knocked up. So the thought did cross my mind.

The shame of abortion quickly overpowered the shame of having a baby, so I dismissed it, but it was there. That fleeting thought once occupied my mind and I felt dirty. I felt more shame because I had thought that at the expense of this little life inside of me, I could hide my sin.

I thought of how my life would change. My whole future flashed before my eyes, and it was hard to see. No more Costa Rica. No more spontaneous adventures. No more freedom or late night taco runs or midnight movies. For a moment, hiding the ugliness, stopping this “mistake” before it grew, that seemed better than the death of my freedom.

I understood, right then, why some women get abortions.

But I didn’t get an abortion that day. While abortion did cross my mind, it was drowned out by the thought of this is my baby girl. We didn’t know it was a girl at that time, but somehow I knew that baby was my little girl. I would take on the shame if I had to. I would lock up my freedom and throw away the key if that’s what it took. This little girl was my little girl and nothing, not even my own selfishness, could take her away from me.

Some months later, while I still felt ugly and ashamed, while I was hurting and depressed, God began to paint my heart with grace.

It’s ok, baby girl, he told me. It’s ok. This is why I died for you. For this. Don’t you remember? While you were still a sinner, I died for you.

It all made sense. That’s what grace was. It was for the sinner, for the imperfect, for the ugliness in our hearts. I didn’t feel worthy of the grace, but that’s exactly why it was given to me.

In his grace, I found beauty. Her name is Sofie Grace. And I’m so glad God chose me to be her mama.

** If you have had an abortion or are thinking about having one, know that you’re not alone. If you think there’s no other option, there are women who will be there for you and would love to help you. Love and grace are for you too. http://www.healinghearts.org


Twenty goals for twenty-fourteen.

1. Go to Honduras with Rafael and Sofie.

2. Pay off all non-student loan debt.

3. Pay off (at least) one student loan.

4. Lose 40 pounds.

5. Get in the habit of reading the Bible and doing devotions every day.

6. Get life insurance.

7. Join Women’s Ministries.

8. Be involved at church.

9. Hike on Mt. Rainier with Rafael, Sofie, mom, Seth, and Nate.

10. Buy a house.

11. Have a tea party with friends.

12. Go to these parks with Rafael and Sofie: Discovery Park, Golden Gardens, Deception Pass, Carkeek Park, and Alki beach

13. Be a better wife and mother.

14. Go swimming with Sofie.

15. Go to a Sounders game with Rafael.

16. Go kayaking with my mom.

17. Spend more time with my brothers.

18. Volunteer (possibly tutoring in Spanish/English or at a radio station).

19. Legally change my name.

20. Be in control of my depression.

(21. Blog more often)

What are your goals for this year?

To prepare a place for you.

Since moving to Washington, we’ve been living at my mom’s house. It’s nice to be with my family, but I am desperate to move out with my new little family and have a house of our own. Since Rafael will be starting his new job soon, we’ve decided to stay with my mom for a bit longer to save up for a house instead of moving into an apartment.

Owning a house seems so far away, and yet it’s so close! In just a few months we could be looking at buying a house. So of course that means my daydreaming has begun. I dream of what the living room will look like, of putting books on a shelf and having hardwood floors and a pretty rug. I dream of the light coming in through the living room window in the morning and how that will look with the window open and the white curtains blowing in the breeze. I think of the colors I want to use in my kitchen and which Kitchen-Aid appliances I need to choose in order to match the walls.

I think of sitting at the kitchen table that we have yet to purchase, sipping a cup of coffee that I made in my own coffee maker, and reading my Bible while Sofie plays happily next to me. (It’s a dream.) She’s already crawling by then, or dear Lord, maybe walking. The house is quiet except for the hum of the washing machine and of the dish washer. In my daydream I look more like a mom, I’m a little bit older (not sure why I had to dream that up), and I anxiously wait for friends to come over for a cup of tea.

So, it’s a dream. Not all of it will come true, but in my head it’s perfect and I am so anxious to be able to prepare our future house. I’m ready to finally be able to nest in my own place, to create a room for Sofie and decorate the living room, to choose colors for our bathroom, and to find the perfect sofa for cuddles and sick days.

All I want is a place for my family to come home to. I want a place to call our own, where friends and family can come to lay their heads and laugh and share together. It’s what occupies my mind most days, and I wonder about what God thinks as he is preparing a place for me.

In John 14, Jesus says, “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

God created men and women in his likeness. I imagine that we each got a piece of him and that’s why men and women are so different. The desire to work and to provide for the family, that is a gift that God gave men. And the desire to prepare a place, to make a home for the family, that is a gift that God gave women.

Just as I am anxious to prepare a place for my family, I wonder if God is thinking of us as he prepares a place for us in heaven with him. “I can’t wait til Hannah gets here!” he thinks. “It will be so wonderful to have her home with me!” I wonder what Jesus is doing to prepare a room for us. What kinds of things will he put in the room? Will it be a room that is filled with God’s glory? I imagine it will be. But will their be beds and rugs and kitchen tables?

There are so many mysteries that we won’t know until we get there, but I imagine God is just as ready to have us home as I am to have a place to call home.

Dear Sofie

Dear Sofie,BbehC1OCIAAXaN3

Every day I want to tell you how much I love you, but it seems that there are too many ways to tell you and not enough hours in the day. But I’ll try to tell you as best I can.

I love the way you cross your legs when you’re cuddling or sitting in my lap. You are a little lady, and you seem more like a little girl than a little baby. (But don’t rush it, you’re still my little baby.) I love the way you talk to me so seriously, as though you never had something more important to say. I could listen to you for hours and I will. Whatever you have to say, my ears are listening and so is my heart. I love how your whole face lights up and your face dimples when you see me, especially after waking up from a nap. You are gorgeous, and your smile is infectious. I love the way you flap your arms when you get excited. You look a little like a windmill, but you’re my windmill, and I love you.

I love the faces that you make, with your raised eyebrows and your pouty looks, your big smiles. I love how you bury your face in my shoulder when you’re happy or when you’re tired, or when you just want to cuddle.

I love the way you look at the world. You are so interested in everything and you watch the world quietly, taking in every piece of it. You are such a talkative little girl, full of joy and baby squeals, yet you are calm and full of peace when you are with me.

I love to think about your future and who you will be. Even two months from now when you’re sitting up on your own, or four months when you are learning to crawl. I’m excited to see that little baby girl, excited to see her excitement for the world grow.

You bring me so much joy, and I know you bring your daddy joy too. We love you more than we could ever say. You are our little love and I am overwhelmed with joy that I get to be your mama.


In a nutshell.

Top ten moments of 2013

1. Married my love.

2. Interned at KLTY 94.9 in Dallas.

3. Rented our first apartment.

4. Moved back to Seattle.

5. Sofie was born.

6. I officially graduated from SPU and received my diploma.

7. Rafael became a resident of the U.S.

8. We went on Sofie’s first train ride to Oregon.

9. Rafael and I both had the opportunity to meet very special family members.

10. We spent our first Christmas together with my family — Sofie’s first and our first as a married couple.


From my family to yours, happy new year.


The other day I picked up my baby girl and noticed that she was a little bigger than the day before. Not fatter or chubbier, just bigger, and a little heavier to carry. Some days I look at her and I see a change in her face. It’s not a big change that I can see, or even something I can put my finger on, but it’s there and it’s different. She’s growing up, little by little, right before my eyes.

She doesn’t have the same newborn look that she had when we buckled her into her car seat for the first time to go home from the hospital. She doesn’t struggle to hold her head up. In fact, she’s becoming an expert at that and at strengthening her abs by trying to sit up by herself. She loves practicing standing as she pushes her feet into my lap. Her eyes get big and wide, and she flaps her arms up and down as she revels in what she’s doing. She grunts and babbles as if to say, “Look at me, mommy! I’m doing it!”

She’s reaching all sorts of milestones lately. Her first walk in a stroller — she slept for the whole walk. Her first train ride to visit my aunt and uncle in Oregon. Her first story time — she sat through four stories without fussing. Her first tear-free bath, and now we’re on to bathing with smiles. The first time she had a bath, you couldn’t convince me that she would enjoy them one day. Now it’s hard to believe she ever didn’t.

She’s long passed her first smile and is now a professional smiler, flashing all sorts of cute baby smiles to mom and dad and grandma. Maybe she’s learned that her smile makes us give her a big smile too. And I almost cried when she looked at me in the mirror and smiled when she recognized that it was me. She’s “talking” every waking hour (she gets that from both her mom and her dad). She’s outgrowing her three months clothes and size one diapers, though she’s not even two months old!

I’m happy that she’s growing. She’s happy and healthy, and growing like a weed — a very beautiful weed at that. But if it slowed down just a little bit, I wouldn’t protest.


A letter to Sofia.

I didn’t know I could fall in love so fast, but baby girl, you stole my heart the moment I felt you free from inside me. The moment I saw you, that was the end. It was the end of ever thinking I could live without you.IMG_1209

And even before that I loved you. I loved you when the pregnancy test was positive. I loved you when I heard your heartbeat for the first time. (I laughed because I was so full of joy.) I loved you when I felt you kick. I loved you when my body hurt so bad that I could hardly move. I loved you when I felt fat because you were growing so big inside me. I loved you when I felt pain in my side and in my back from carrying you. I loved you with every contraction. With every bit of agony, I loved you. I loved you when I couldn’t see the end of the pain. And when it finally did end, it was so easy to forget. All I knew was how much I loved you.

I loved you then, and I love you even more now. My love for you grows with every day I know you. My love for you is more than you can fathom.

You’ve only been here for four days, but from the moment you were conceived, you were with me. Your heart beat with my blood, your bones grew with the strength I gave you. Now it’s your turn to face the world, but don’t think you’ll ever be alone. Your heart still beats with the blood I gave you and your bones will grow with the love of your daddy and I.

You will never walk alone. We’ll be here to hold you. We’ll be here to comfort you, support you, and cheer you on.

Baby girl, I wish I could tell you how much I love you, but with all the words in every language I could never find the right ones to tell you how big this love is. I hope you catch glimpses when I kiss you. I hope you can see it when I hold you close to me, when I look at you, and hope you can feel it when I tell you that I love you.

I hope you always know you’re beautiful. When you were born I couldn’t stop saying how pretty you were. “She’s so pretty,” I said to the nurse. “She’s so pretty,” I said to my mom. “She’s so pretty,” I said to your daddy. Everyone in the room knew you were beautiful, but I couldn’t stop saying it out loud. “You are beautiful,” I said to your sweet dimpled face.

I hope your heart is never broken. I hope you never get older. I hope you don’t grow too big to fit in my arms when I carry you. But a day will come when life is not easy for you. A day will come when I forget that you used to be so small. But sweet girl, you’ll always be my baby. You’ll always be my girl. You are the blood of my blood, the bones of my bones, the flesh of my flesh. You are the heart of my heart. And sweet baby girl, I will always love you.

Preparing for Sofia.

Rafael and I have been overwhelmed with love and support from our family and friends. A few months ago before we moved back to Seattle, I wrote a blog letting you know about a few things we needed in order to move. God worked through a few very generous people to provide everything we needed on the list! — A U-Haul and all the finances for our move, 2 new tires to get our dying car here, the complete cost of Rafael’s green card application which has now been submitted, and although Rafael hasn’t found a permanent job yet due to his status, we have been offered enough odd jobs to keep paying the bills. We are so thankful for all of the ways you guys have blessed us in the past couple months. Keep praying for the process of Rafael’s residency and for a job to come quickly.

On top of all of that, we have been swimming in gifts for our sweet Sofia who will be here in less than 3 weeks! (I reached 37 weeks – full term – last Saturday, so now it’s just a matter of waiting for her to be ready.) Really, we have been so blessed by our family and friends who have provided almost everything we need to welcome our baby girl into the world. “Need” is relative, so I hesitate to say it, but a few people have asked me to tell them what we still need and I’ve forgotten who has asked because there have been quite a few, so here is another list I have compiled of “needs” and “wishes.” Aside from diapers, most of the “needs” are things we could live without as well, but they would certainly make life a little easier.


– Diapers: Lots and lots of diapers! We want to do disposable for the first 1-2 months and cloth diapers after that, but if we can only get our hands on disposable diapers we will gladly use those for now. Cloth diapers are a big upfront cost for us, but will be so much less in the end ($3,000+ less!). We like Softbums. You can find them at softbums.com.

– Bath tub (Target — Fisher-Price Precious Planet Whale of a Tub )

– Adapter for stroller/carrier (Target — BOB Infant Car Seat Adapter – for Graco Seats )

– Burp cloths (Target — JUST ONE YOU® Made by Carters Newborn Girls’ 4 Pack Burpclothes – Pink )

– White newborn, 3 mo, and 6 mo onsies, short sleeve and long sleeve

– Newborn – 6 mo socks (I love plain white or these ones at Target, but any socks would be great! Trumpette Infant Girls’ 6 Pack Pastel Dot Socks – Assorted 0-12M )

– Nursing pads (Target: I like these ones, but really any that aren’t disposable would be great — Itzy Ritzy Glitzy Gals – Cream )

Wish list:

– Baby “sleeping bag” or wearable blanket (Target — HALO SleepSack Pink Wearable Blanket – Cotton Eyelet Print )

– Diaper bag (Target — timi & leslie Emerald Lagoon 2-in-1 Backpack Diaper Bag with Changing Pad )

– Crib/mattress: We have a bassinet and a very small crib that was given to us for free, but this is the one we would like, or one very similar. (Target —Delta Children’s Products – Canton 4-in-1 Convertible Crib in Cherry Espresso )

– Changing pad and cover (Babies R Us — Serta Contour Pad , any cute/pink cover would be great. I’m not too picky.)

– High chair: We won’t need this for a while, but it would be nice to have. (Babies R Us — Chicco Caddy Hook On Chair – Red)

– Nursing cover (Target — BeBe Au Lait Nursing Cover – Nest)

– Boppy/Nursing support pillow (Target — Boppy Bare Naked Pillow with Slipcover – Pink Owls )

– Clothes for 9mo+ (We have quite a bit, at least a great start, for 3-6 mo and a good amount of newborn too)

– 3-6 mo warm clothes for winter — thick/heavy body suits, coats, mittens, fuzzy hats, boots, etc.

– Ergobaby performance carrier

– Hiking carrier (Kelty Kids FC 2.0 or Kelty Journey 2.0)