Bakri: Party of Three

            My due date came and went with no baby. I was exhausted and uncomfortable by this point. I had done my forty weeks and was ready to meet the little guy who had been hosting non-stop parties in my belly for months. Dr. Kindel told us that she preferred to wait two weeks past our due date before inducing; however, she made an exception per our request. Adam’s dad was scheduled to leave for Africa on June 17^th, eight days past our due date. If I didn’t go into labor on my own or if she didn’t induce before then, Jamil wouldn’t be able to meet his first born grandbaby until months later. We set up an induction date for Monday, June 15^th. Finally, an end in sight.

            Even though my back ached and my feet felt like someone was crushing my soles with a hammer every time I took a step, I knew that the last thing I wanted was Pitocin. I was bound and determined to convince our little to join us in this crazy world without an induction. I ate more eggplant parmesan, spicy food, and fresh pineapple that week than most people do in a lifetime. I apologize to the cities of Wichita and Andover because I think I may have purchased every bit of fresh pineapple that the stores had to offer.

            I had my forty-week appointment, an appointment I was hoping to cancel, scheduled for Thursday, June 11^th. Contractions woke me from my deep slumber at 3:30am on that Thursday. They were mild and about twenty minutes apart. Of course I was too excited to sleep even though I knew that the day was shaping up to be a long day, and I would need all of the rest I could get. I eventually dozed back off and was in and out of sleep until a few hours later. My contractions were fairly consistent and started to get closer together as the day progressed; however, they weren’t close enough together to cancel my appointment with Dr. Kindel.

            We showed up to the appointment anxious to tell her about our progress and hoped that her checks would indicate that we were going to have a baby sooner rather than later. I was 100% effaced, but only 1cm dilated. Based on those results, we would most likely be entering the wonderful world of parenthood sometime Friday or over the weekend. The weekend? Nooooo. As much as I wanted to meet this little guy already, this weekend wouldn't work for us. The doctors all rotate weekends and unfortunately for us, Dr. Kindel was on call last weekend and not this weekend. Baby Boy Bakri had approximately twenty-four hours to show his little face.

            We headed home knowing that there was still more of the waiting game left to play. It was the same torture you feel as a kid on Christmas when you wake up extremely early and know that Santa has already squeezed his big belly down your chimney, but your parents make you wait to open your presents because they want to sleep in. The hands on the clock move so slowly that they are practically going backwards.

            I called my mom and told her that I had been having contractions. My parents planned on driving to Wichita first thing Friday morning so they could be there for the birth. After hanging up with my mom, it wasn’t but a few moments later that she called and said they were headed to Wichita just to play it safe. Adam and I weren’t the only ones eager for our little guy’s arrival.

            Adam’s parents came over to our house that afternoon to help pass the time and get our minds off of things. We played the friendliest game of cards I have ever played in my life. I am normally an extremely competitive person, but the fact that I felt like someone was sucker punching me in between card lays made it a little hard to concentrate. I can’t even remember who won the game, but according to Adam, he took home the “W” that day. Sometimes you just have to throw a dog a bone, I guess.

            My parents finally made it to town. We all hung out and watched the Cavaliers game on TV. It was the NBA finals and if you know my husband, you know he is a die-hard LeBron James fan, even suggesting that our first-born son be named LeBron. Don’t get me wrong, I love LeBron. Besides being a phenomenal athlete, he is an exceptional human being giving back more than his fair share and putting over a thousand kids through college. He is a rare gem in today’s flashy society. But all of his greatness aside, there was no way I was going to name my sweet baby boy after him.

            My contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I had been keeping track of the times of each contraction to monitor the number of minutes between them. Dr. Kindel told us to head to the hospital when the contractions were three to five minutes apart. After what seemed like forever, our contractions were finally five minutes apart. It was still the first half of the basketball game, though, and there was a lot of time left. Adam was ready to drop the remote and speed down Kellogg, but I insisted that we stay so he could watch more of the game. I figured I could make it until at least halftime before we would leave our house for the last time as a party of two.

            With just a few minutes left in the half, I realized there was no way I was going to make it. My contractions were now three minutes apart and we still had a fifteen to twenty minute drive to the hospital. Our bags were already packed and loaded into the car. We called Adam’s parents and headed out the door.

            Once at the hospital, I filled out all of the necessary paperwork with a little help from Adam considering my contractions were making it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than not crippling over in pain. A nurse took us back to a room and told us that she wanted to get us hooked up to a monitor and checked out to see if I was in labor and would be staying or if it was a false alarm and would be sent back home. She helped us get settled in and asked us a series of routine questions including whether we were considering an epidural or not, which was something we were still up in the air about. Adam and I had decided to forgo a birth plan for fear that a set plan might interfere with our ability to adjust and accept the unpredictability of labor and childbirth. I had been in labor all day and the contractions weren’t that bad, so I considered a natural childbirth. The nurse then checked me to see how dilated I was at this point in the labor process. I felt a huge gush of water. I looked at Adam and then back at the nurse before saying, “Um, I think my water just broke.”

            The nurse tested the fluid to see if it was amniotic fluid. Sure enough, my water breaking was the culprit behind my now soaked hospital bed. We wouldn’t be going home, not without a baby at least. Once my water broke, my contractions picked up almost immediately. The pain was the worst pain I had experienced in my life. They were so intense that a wave of nausea quickly overcame me. The last thing I wanted at this point in time was to taste my lunch for a second time. Bring on the drugs.

            As I waited impatiently for the epidural, a medical student came in to do a health history. Normally I am always one for students. Having earned a Bachelor of Science in Nursing, I have been that student hiding out in the corner of a patient’s room trying to learn as much as possible without upsetting the patient or family. I tried my hardest to be tolerant with the student while answering what seemed like more questions than Siri does on an average day. 

            The CRNA came in to start my epidural. The nurse checked me again, even though she had checked me less than one-hour prior. I was 1.5cm upon arrival at the hospital. I was now at a 7, which meant that in less than an hour I went from being dilated 1.5cm to 7cm. At least those hard contractions weren’t for nothing. Adam’s eyes got really big when he saw the size of the needle, which of course didn’t faze me because I knew the pain of the epidural stick would pale in comparison to my contractions. After the CRNA started the epidural, the nurse checked me again. This time, though, I was dilated to 10cm. The nurse couldn’t believe it and asked the resident covering the nightshift to come in and verify. Sure enough, I was already dilated to a 10.

            The nurse gave Dr. Kindel a call to update her on my status. She decided that she wanted to wait and let our little guy take his time and gradually move down on his own before I pushed. Both my parents and Adam’s parents, who had all been out in the waiting room, came in to see us while we played the waiting game, again. The Cavaliers were getting smoked, so I wasn’t the only one who needed a nice distraction. After about two hours, I started feeling a lot of pressure and also intense pain on my right side. The CRNA checked me and discovered that I had developed a “hot spot" on the right side of my body, meaning the epidural was only working on my left side. The nurse called Dr. Kindel who arrived a little after 1:30am. It was time to push.

            After about twenty minutes of hard pushing, the baby seemed to be stuck. He was face up making the delivery a little more difficult. Dr. Kindel explained to Adam and I that she may need to use the VAC on him. Even though Adam didn’t quite understand, the more medical staff making themselves present in our room and the bustling of bodies made him nervous. I was bound and determined to deliver our little guy without the VAC. The nurse put an oxygen mask on me, and I used every ounce of strength left in my body. We were doing four long pushes each contraction for the next ten minutes and at 2:33am, our beautiful baby made his entrance into the world: Monroe Mohamed Bakri weighed in at 7lbs, 15oz and was 20.5in long. Even with his little cone-head, he was still the most beautiful and perfect baby I had ever laid eyes on. Adam cut the umbilical cord, and the nurse immediately laid him on my chest for a little kangaroo care. After about one hour, the nurse took him to the other side of the room and finished up his measurements, APGAR scoring, and so forth. I remember looking over and watching as he held up his own head, something very uncharacteristic for a newborn. The nurse, wearing the same shocked expression on her face as me, told us that our little guy had some strong neck muscles. Must have been all of those parties and dancing.

            She wrapped our little guy up and handed him to his proud daddy. I love Adam. But seeing him hold our sweet baby Roe made me fall even more in love with him. Be still my heart. Adam held him for a little bit before heading out to the waiting room to get four anxious grandparents. They had been sitting in the waiting room for hours just waiting, waiting, and waiting. We told them they could go home and that we would call them when we had some exciting news to share, but no one wanted to miss the birth of their beautiful grandbaby. And just like that, we were now Bakri, party of three.

My Big Fat Lonely 3rd Trimester

            During Adam’s terrifying health ordeal, we tried to shift our focus to our little boy and the exciting things to come. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out the perfect name for him, a name that we would all love for a lifetime. No pressure or anything. We knew that we wanted something unique but didn’t even know where to start. We both read through a baby name book that had about ten thousand different names in it. Talk about overwhelming. We each made a list of names that caught our interest and then shared them with each other. Surprisingly we had several names in common, one being the name that we would ultimately choose. We narrowed down the names, weeding out the ones that the other had a strong dislike for. Being a former pediatric nurse made choosing a name even more difficult for me because Adam had names on his list that I loved at one point in time but then had that one patient who ruined the name for me. All nurses and school teachers know exactly what I am talking about. We made one final list composed of five names. Monroe was at the top of each of our lists making it the number one choice on our final list. It was a unique name, one not heard everyday. In fact, when I did a search on the name I found that it hadn’t been a popular name since the 1880s. We were sold.

            The middle name had been decided long before we even found out we were expecting. Both Adam and his dad Jamil share the middle name Mohamed. Adam had expressed to me early on that he wanted his first-born son to carry on his middle name. How could I argue with that? Besides, Monroe Mohamed Bakri just kind of rolled nicely off of the tongue.

            We kept the name quiet, only telling Adam’s parents and my parents. My brother’s girlfriend at the time, now his wife, told us that if we weren’t going to tell her the name that she was just going to call him Baby Mohamed. I looked at her shocked. Sheer disappointment fell over me because I thought my mom had let our little secret slip. When I asked Becky why she chose that name, she responded that Mohamed was the most popular male name in the world so that would be the baby's name until she knew differently. Whew! Close call.

            We had officially named our little guy and things seemed to be looking up for us. Adam had been cleared by all of his doctors to leave for Africa, which he was extremely anxious about. He missed work and was ready to get back in the grind of things. As Adam prepared for his trip back to Angola, I prepared for what would be a very lonely third trimester. I was nearing the seventh month of my pregnancy and had no choice but to stay behind. The long flight, possible malaria exposure, and lack of health care there made it too big of a risk for me to travel with him. We didn’t have a nursery set up or a single baby item in Luanda considering the last time I left I wasn’t pregnant, or at least we didn’t think I was pregnant. My type A personality made me a little stressed out knowing that we were completely unprepared to bring a baby back to Luanda, but at the same time, we had no other option at this point and needed to just roll with the punches, again.

            I kissed Adam goodbye at the airport and settled into my new routine, one with a few less doctor appointments and a lot more Skype dates. While Adam was hard at work in Africa, I spent my days making sure our little guy and I stayed nice and healthy. I was very careful about my diet during my pregnancy even giving up a few of my favorite things such as soft cheeses, medium rare steaks, sushi, and the occasional beer. It was almost painful to look across the table at everyone around me indulging in a nice pink and juicy steak or a pint of ice cold beer and then glance down at my overcooked piece of meat and boring glass of water. But I did it for nine long months. I exercised almost daily throughout my pregnancy. I ran every pre-pregnancy day, so I tried to keep up that routine for as long as possible. I stopped after my first trimester, though, and decided that nice long three-mile walks daily with my mother-in-law were better suited for my constantly changing body.

            I also spent my time reading books to our little guy as well as carrying on little conversations with him throughout the day. It sounds silly but with Adam gone, Monroe was the only company I had at home. I looked forward to our daily Skype dates with Adam. I had Belly Buds that I would stick on my stomach so Roe could Skype with us. Even though Adam was halfway around the world, I wanted our little guy to still know the sound of Adam’s soothing voice.

            I was missing Adam like crazy, but the days went fast and were filled with fun and exciting things including paintings, baby showers, and dance parties in my stomach. Of course, Roe was the solo attendee to those parties, but I enjoyed watching and feeling the little guy bust a move. He obviously got his dance moves from his daddy.

            Dr. Harrington, a pediatrician in Wichita, was in the process of redesigning the examine rooms in her office. Her nurse JaLayna, one of my former co-workers, had mentioned to her that I painted a few canvases for Roe’s nursery. They asked if I would be willing to do a painting for each of her three examine rooms. My three-mile walks and Skype dates with Adam only occupied a few hours during my day, so I was more than happy to take on the project to help pass the time. The exam rooms were named after animals: a polar bear, an elephant, and a hippopotamus. The animal of the particular exam room it would adorn inspired each 24"x36" canvas painting.

            With the paintings completed, it was now time to relax and shower Monroe with lots of love and gifts. My cousin’s wife Amber and my brother’s now wife Becky hosted a fabulous safari themed baby shower for me in Atchison. My family and closest friends were all in attendance. We sipped on water from the watering hole and blue rhino juice whilst indulging in turkey and cheese sandwiches cut out in the shape of elephants. Everyone spoiled Monroe with more gifts than I could have imagined. Becky’s mom even made the cutest animal props I have ever seen for shower pictures. The props have now found a new home on Roe’s bookshelf in his nursery and are just anxiously awaiting the day that Roe will no longer want to eat them but instead play with them.

            The following weekend my mother-in-law Carolyn, her sisters Shannon and Lynn, and her sister-in-law Candi all hosted a boy bash themed baby shower in Wichita. Eating delicious food that satisfied all of my pregnancy cravings and sipping grapefruit juice (my favorite) out of champagne flutes adorned with little mustaches made for a perfect and relaxing morning. Talk about feeling blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.

            The eight weeks were coming to an end, and I was anxiously awaiting Adam’s arrival back in the States. I had one last solo doctor’s appointment before he made it back. Dr. Kindel had started my weekly checks and informed me that I wasn’t dilated at all. I remember a sense of relief falling over me as I let out a “thank goodness.” She gave me a confused look considering most people want to be dilated signaling that a delivery may be just around the corner. I explained to her that wasn’t the case for us because Adam hadn’t touched down on U.S. soil yet, and I had no plans to deliver a baby without him.

           Adam finally made it home. He hadn’t seen me in eight weeks so he was a little surprised at my changing shape. It is one thing to see me on video or in a picture, but it is another to see me in person. Adam told me I looked great and had gotten quite a bit bigger since he saw me last, but lets be honest, I was HUGE! With Adam home and Monroe officially considered full term at thirty-seven weeks, we were ready for baby.

Another Day, Another Doctor

            Adam and I were still on cloud nine after finding out that we had a little baby boy on the way. We started work on his circus themed nursery. It may have been earlier than most soon-to-be parents start on their nursery, but we wanted to make sure that we got as much of it done as we could before we left to go back to Luanda. I would be returning to the States alone at the start of my third trimester and didn’t want the stress of putting a nursery together by myself. We had the nursery and a few other small loose ends to tie up before we hopped back across the ocean to our second home.

            One of those loose ends, Adam's post-op follow-up appointment. Adam had his gallbladder taken out right before Christmas. Everything went exactly as planned, and Adam was feeling much better within a week of the surgery. The gastroenterologist and surgeon had both decided prior to the surgery that they wanted to biopsy his liver because he had been sick with malaria so many times in the past. Dr. Waswick, the surgeon, told me in his post surgery report that Adam’s liver looked great and probably didn’t need to be biopsied but because he was already in there he decided to go ahead and do it. A sense of relief fell over me hearing that everything looked great. We just needed to wait on the biopsy results to support Dr. Waswick's visual findings. Looks can be deceiving, though. The biopsy results painted a very different picture for us.

            We met with Dr. Lievens, the gastroenterologist, for a follow-up to discuss the biopsy results of both Adam's gallbladder and liver. The condition of Adam's gallbladder was much worse than we had originally thought, so it was a good thing that Adam had it removed. Dr. Lievens then explained to us that the liver biopsy results showed non-necrotizing granulomatous which could be caused by one of two things in Adam’s case: medication or a condition known as sarcoidosis. Because Adam doesn’t take any medications and it had been several months since his last bout of malaria treatment, Dr. Lievens ruled out medication and told us that it was most likely sarcoidosis. It was still a surprising find considering Adam has no known family history of it, is male, and is of the Caucasian race. He explained to us that sarcoidosis is an autoimmune disorder that can affect multiple organs. It cannot be cured but can go into remission with little to no treatment. He went on to tell us not to worry because people don’t die from sarcoidsosis of the liver and that all of Adam’s tests indicated that his liver was functioning just fine. He told us that the organ most doctors worry about when monitoring sarcoidosis is the lung. But since Adam had zero respiratory symptoms, it wasn’t a concern at this time.

            My mind was racing as I tried to digest all of this new information. Adam had several scans done during the process of trying to pinpoint his gallbladder issues, but one test result in particular stuck out in my mind because it showed a hardened lymph node in the lung. I brought it up to the doctor, who had completely forgotten about that small detail considering his main focus had been on Adam’s liver and gallbladder. Dr. Lievens decided it was better to error on the side of caution, so he ordered a CT scan and referred Adam to Dr. Son Truong, a pulmonologist.

            Adam had the CT scan done, and we anxiously waited for the results. The radiologist report stated that Adam had bilateral pneumonia. Even though the diagnosis wasn’t good, especially since we were scheduled to leave for Luanda the next week, we were relieved to know that it was just pneumonia and not something more severe. We headed in to see Dr. Truong to find out what his plan was to tackle this unwanted infection inhabiting Adam’s lungs.

            Dr. Truong introduced himself to us and then did a thorough review of Adam’s health history and current symptoms, which of course were none. Dr. Truong then proceeded to explain to us that he disagreed with the original radiology report. Instead, he thought that the results were more indicative of stage two sarcoidosis rather than bilateral pneumonia. Dr. Truong told us that he would need to do a lung biopsy to be sure that what he was seeing on the scan was indeed sarcoidosis. He also wanted to have Adam do a pulmonary function test to get a baseline to help him better monitor Adam’s lung function.

            A million questions flooded my mind. I began asking Dr. Truong question after question, sometimes not even giving him time to answer the first before I asked the second. He explained to us that he may not treat Adam since he was only stage two. Adam had a sixty percent chance of going into remission without treatment over the next three years. But if it did advance to stage three then he would treat it with an intense steroid regimen. It wasn’t until stage four that we would need to consider a lung transplant. Of course this was way down the line considering we hadn’t even received a positive sarcoidosis diagnosis yet and were still hopeful for complete remission, but the talk of it opened our eyes to the seriousness of Adam's condition.

            I had been trying to stay calm throughout the entire process, but as Dr. Truong began to go into detail about the lung biopsy, my calmness quickly disappeared. I could feel the pregnancy hormones creeping up on me, and the tears welling in my eyes. Adam tried to reassure me that everything would be just fine, but deep down I knew he was just trying to stay strong for me. Neither of us were expecting any of this, making it even harder to swallow. Obviously we weren’t getting on a plane to Africa anytime soon, so we pushed our flights back a couple of weeks to try to get everything sorted out.

            Adam and I decided that it was best for me to not be at the hospital during his biopsy. It was winter and the flu was running rampant. The last thing we needed was for me to pick up something lurking in the waiting room. Adam’s mom and cousin went to the hospital to be with Adam during his biopsy, and my mom came to Wichita to try to help keep my mind off of things. The biopsy went great, and Dr. Truong was able to collect eight to ten samples from various places on Adam’s lungs. Now we just had to wait for the biopsy results to come back. Easy, right? Hardly.

            It wasn’t but a few days before Dr. Truong met with us again in his office to go over the results which ruled out tuberculosis and supported Dr. Truong's sarcoidosis diagnosis. There were two spots on Adam’s lungs that concerned him and if left untreated were at risk for turning into scar tissue. He started Adam on steroids and then scheduled repeat scans for a later date when the steroid treatment had been completed. Dr. Truong also told us that he wanted to contact a pathologist at the Mayo Clinic who specialized in lung biopsies. He wanted a second opinion just to be sure that he was treating the right disorder. Of course we were on board with that decision because a second opinion certainly couldn’t hurt.

            Adam’s mom needed to go check on their place out in Las Vegas, so she invited us to join her 

as a way of getting our minds off of things. Adam had just started his steroid therapy and our trip to Luanda had been postponed, so a week in Sin City didn't seem like such a bad idea.

            We were finally feeling relaxed and enjoying the beautiful weather in Vegas with Adam's family when we received a call from Dr. Truong. The pathologist from the Mayo Clinic had reviewed the lung biopsies. Apparently the tissue samples had all of the characteristics of sarcoidosis except for one major characteristic, so he couldn’t say with absolute certainty that Adam had sarcoidosis. Because of this, Dr. Truong wanted Adam to stop taking the steroids in case it was something else. He then referred Adam on to Dr. Moore, a doctor who specialized in infectious diseases.

            Once back in Wichita, Adam met with Dr. Moore who again took down a thorough health history as well as information about where Adam has lived, what kinds of things he could have been exposed to and so forth. Before leaving that day, Adam had seven vials of blood drawn and sent off for testing. The doctor was casting a large net to try to get to the bottom of Adam’s mysterious lung disease. Again, we sat and played the waiting game. All of his test results came back negative which meant he didn’t pick something up while swimming in the Congo River when he was younger or from any of the pesky mosquitoes that swarm Luanda. Finally a little bit of sunshine on our constantly cloudy and rainy day, or so we thought. The labs may have all been negative, but they did reveal some concerning blood counts. Dr. Moore contacted Dr. Truong with the lab results and recommended that Adam meet with a hematologist. Another day, another doctor.

            We were in luck, though, because Dr. Truong had a younger brother who just happened to be a hematologist and agreed to meet with us. We sat in Dr. Quac Truong’s office completely exhausted and unsure of what to expect or what to think at this point. We had already seen four doctors in the past two to three months and were waiting on our fifth doctor. We had more questions now than answers. It all started out as a simple laparoscopic surgery to remove an underperforming gallbladder but turned into something far bigger than we could have even imagined.

        Dr. Quac Truong was concerned about Adam’s low white blood cell count as well as his low platelets. He didn’t want to clear him to head back to Africa until his white blood cell count was up to at least a 3.4, which is still considered low but acceptable in our situation. We pushed our flights back again and waited in hopes that Adam’s immune system would bounce back. A repeat lab test two weeks later showed that Adam's WBC count was sitting at a 3.4, just what he needed to head back to Africa.

            Based on all of the tests performed and the results found, the group of doctors ultimately came to the conclusion that Adam had sarcoidosis. The only way to be certain would be to do an open lung biopsy, something we weren’t ready to do just yet. Adam continues to see Dr. Son Truong, the pulmonologist, so he can monitor Adam’s lung function. There was no change in lung status at his six-month check-up. Adam will have a one-year check-up this summer. We are hoping to see some improvement on the CT scan.

            Health is something many people take for granted. Adam and I are both young, lead a fairly active lifestyle, and eat healthy. Well, we eat healthy for the most part. I would be lying if I said the occasional Chipotle burrito or cheeseburger pizza didn’t pop up in our diet. I knew that our life was about to change in a drastic way because we were about to enter the wonderful world of parenthood. But I never could have imagined the curveball life threw us and that Adam’s health would be an issue, especially not at the age of twenty-seven. Never take anything for granted and always enjoy every moment.

Bow Ties and Chuck Taylors

            The cat was finally out of the bag and thanks to social media, the world finally knew our big secret. We were expecting. Just before Christmas, Adam and I went in for our sixteen-week appointment. Adam and I had already discussed whether or not we wanted to find out the gender of our little human and thought that if we could do it before the holidays, it would be the perfect little gift to share with our families. Our obstetrician was out of town and had another doctor covering for her, though, so we weren’t sure if she would be willing to take a peek. After the nurse took my vitals and the doctor did her measurements to make sure everything still looked great, I anxiously shot Adam a ‘should I ask?’ look. His smile told me exactly what I needed to know before I found myself stuttering out a sentence that neither of us even remember due to the emotions of that moment. She said she would be willing to look but couldn’t guarantee anything since most babies have a mind of their own and don’t always cooperate. My heart raced as we made small talk with the doctor whilst we waited for the nurse to bring in the ultrasound machine. The doctor asked us if we wanted a boy or a girl. We both said that we didn’t care as long as he or she was healthy. She then said, “So as long as the baby doesn’t come out a Jayhawk, you will be good with it?” If the MD behind her name didn’t already signify her intelligence, that statement surely did.

            Of course our little human didn’t want to cooperate at first, but the doctor was able to get a pretty good look once the baby woke up a bit. It’s a BOY! That's right, there would be no pigtails or tutus in our near future but instead bow ties and Chuck Taylors. We were both ecstatic and couldn’t wait to share the news with our families. Before we left town to spend Christmas Eve with my family, we stopped by Adam’s parents' house to share the exciting news with them. When my best friend Chelsea found out I was pregnant, she gave me two pairs of Converse baby socks: a blue pair and a pink pair. I wrapped up the blue pair along with the sonogram picture and gave it to Adam’s parents. I will never forget their reaction. Jamil was so excited that his first grandbaby would be carrying on the family name that he was practically jumping up and down in the kitchen.

            After telling Adam’s family, we headed to Atchison to share the same exciting news with my family. My mom had been begging me to tell her as soon as we found out and claimed that she NEEDED to know in order to buy a certain gift for the baby, so I let her in on the secret a little early. But of course she was sworn to secrecy. I rewrapped the blue socks and sonogram picture up for my dad to open. My parents were just as excited to be helping welcome a little boy into this world, but there was a little less jumping around involved.

            My mom hosted Christmas Eve dinner, which gave us the perfect opportunity to share the news with the rest of my family. Adam and I had purchased bottles of blue silly string and had covered the outside label to conceal the color. Almost everyone in my family arrived at my parents house meaning it was go time. My aunt Facetimed my cousins in Tennessee so they could join in on the fun. Gwynn and Grant, my cousin Bart’s children, waited until the count of three before showering everyone in blue silly string. Lots of cheers, hugs, and congratulations followed. My Grandpa started laughing and informed us that the gender reveal process was a lot different back in his day. He said that you just sat in the waiting room during the delivery and waited for the doctor to come down the hall and tell you whether you had a son or daughter. How boring is that?

            We did the exact same thing with Adam’s family on Christmas day. His mom hosted Christmas dinner at her house in which almost all of his family attended. We went around and had everyone guess what they thought we were having before we revealed the gender. It was definitely a very mixed group. I know that some were secretly hoping for a little girl since the last three little ones in the family were boys. One, two, three! Carter, Maddox, and Hudson sprayed the blue silly string for everyone. 

            Finding out the gender of our little one right before the holidays was a nice little gift, but it paled in comparison to the amazing gift we had already received back in October when we found out we were pregnant. Instead of just Baby Bakri, we had Baby BOY Bakri. Now to find the perfect name for our perfect little boy.