a lovely love story (continued).

After the fateful meeting at Joe's, I'd see Daveo around occasionally. He'd always mention something about how we should hang out, which everyone said to be nice but no one ever really meant. Honestly though, he said it so many times that I started to think Wow, this guy really actually does want to hang out. That's kind of weird. Why?

I'm clearly the easiest person in the world to romance. Not.

Our next real conversation happened at dinner one night, while I was getting ready to head to my night class.
I was sitting in the dining room with a friend, when he came over and joined us. He and the girl I was eating with were already friends (Of course, I thought with an inner eye-roll) so they were busy chatting while I was finished up my food and dreading the idea of spending four hours in a classroom for the rest of the evening.

Abruptly he looked at me and said, "You should come up and see me tonight on your break."
I paused and looked at him, then said, "Okay. I guess."
He continued on, "I'll give you my free shift drink. I get one per shift and I usually give it to a friend, but I'll save it for you tonight if you come up and see me."
Being the poor, tired college student that I was, I knew there was no way I could pass up a free coffee, so I told him that I would see him later that night while my friend and I quickly gathered up our stuff and hurried off to our class.

Apparently I needed the caffeine more than I knew, because I forgot all about Daveo and his free coffee and inadvertently stood him up. Oops.

------------------------

The next day at lunch, he had this stern look on his face while walking over to my table and I was slightly amused when he opened his mouth and started scolding me for not coming to see him on my break. "I saved my free drink for you!" he said. "I had people coming in and asking me for it and I said, 'No, I can't, Cami's coming up and I told her she could have it' and then you didn't come!"
I laughed and told him that I was sorry, and that he should have just given it to someone else.

"Yeah, but I said I'd give it to you, that's the whole point!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Are you working tonight? I'll come up then, okay?"

So, at 7 pm, I promptly packed up my laptop and books and headed up to Joe's to claim my free drink from this strange AsianBrit that was oddly offended when I didn't show the night before. He was much nicer when I tried to make conversation this time and somehow he ended up speaking to my sister on the phone when she called me and I said something like, 'Listen to my new British friend speak!'

Somehow I ended up staying for his whole two-hour shift, at which point he started to get nervous and mumbled something like, "So...do you want to hang out...or something?"

(He told me later that he felt like he "owed me", since I'd been standing up there with him for two hours. Good to know that it wasn't because I was so charming and he just couldn't get enough of me.)

We ended up walking to a nearby Dunkin' Donuts, where he bought a bagel and asked me if I had a boyfriend. I thought he was pretty forward, but at the same time it was kind of nice to talk to someone who just said what they thought and not what you wanted to hear. After that we walked back to campus and exchanged pleasantries about how 'we should do this again or something'.

According to Facebook, we officially became friends on January 27, 2007 at 8:36 am.

It didn't stay that way for long. *wink*

"Live it, love it, hang out with Daveo."

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a lovely love story.

Oh, Josh Harris. If you only knew.

On Dec. 31, 2006, I loaded up six boxes of my most important belongings and got on board a train headed to Chicago.

After spending forty hours clacking our way across the country, my family and I arrived in Union Station at 2:30 in the morning and caught a taxi cab to our hotel. I was about to start classes at Moody Bible Institute and had prepared myself for this new phase in my life by messaging a few people guys on MySpace that were already there, and also reading 'I Kissed Dating Goodbye'.

The first week was a whirlwind of figuring out where classes were, how to get the elevator in my dorm to work, and trying to conquer the fear of being mugged on the corner when I went out in search of a cup of coffee. I met one of the guys I had stalked messaged before I got there, and even took a picture of him sitting in the student dining room to send home to my mom (he was cute and I kind of had a "crush from afar"). Interestingly enough, I think that this was the first glance of my future husband (it's the first photographic evidence I had of him, at least) that I had.

*Spoiler alert: he was not the guy from MySpace. Haha.

One of the best parts of going to Moody was the ability to meet someone from around the world, and to also meet someone from Wisconsin. Everywhere I looked, there was someone different and something new to experience. I remember noticing this one Asian guy with cool hair (this was kind of a novelty at a Bible college with a dress code), and then realizing that he had a British accent which was weird at first but also kind of cool. He seemed to be pretty popular with the girls, since I always saw him in the company of one or two, and so I left it at that. I've never been one to voluntarily compete for attention, and Asians weren't really my thing, anyway.

----------------------

A time-honored tradition at Moody comes in the form of naming a building or landmark on campus after a former president. Joe Stowell got the coffee cart upstairs, which also happened to be that AsianBrit guy's place of employment. I remember ordering an iced mocha one evening during a study break, and he happened to be the only barista working that night. 

I smiled and placed my order.

He smiled back and said, "So, what's your name? I don't think I've met you yet."

"I'm Cami," I said, thinking it was odd that he had said yet. Did he think he knew everyone? "What's yours?"

"Daveo," he replied, pouring espresso into a cup.

"So, where are you from?" I asked, trying to get to the bottom of the accent confusion.

"England," he said, handing me my coffee.

And that was it. He seemed abrupt and snobbish, reinforcing the mental picture I had of stodgy old Brits looking down their noses at lowly Americans, and I rapidly decided that I would probably never talk to him again.

(to be continued.)

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four.

It's even better now than it was then.

I could write a million words about this man and our life together, but they still wouldn't do it justice.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Let's have at least fifty more.

I love you.

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my view this morning.

The sunlight streaming through the blinds this morning was so amazing, and I couldn't help myself.

I grabbed my camera and easily took over a hundred pictures.

I know some of these are a little soft, but I don't care.

To me, they're full of the most beautiful things in my life,

and in these moments,

we were happy.

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five years, six days.

That title is probably misleading.

Maybe it should be "five years. six days".

Because what I am talking about is the fact that five years ago, my husband asked me out on our first date, and as a result, I am spending my sixth Valentine's day with him.

Not only that, but I get two Valentines now, because I have a son. (Score another one in the "having a boy" category. Sometimes being the only girl has it's perks.)

I woke up to these:

According to Hubs, Jameson picked these out for me.

A dozen red roses from my love.

And these:

Because he knows how much I love Valentine's Day, even though it's "commercial".

Apparently, this took a million years to make, and included an incredible mess.
All while I was spinning my butt off at the gym.
I love my guys.

Then Hubs took me to this restaurant, followed by this:

Then I got to hang out with these guys:

He's like, "Come on, Mom. That's enough now."

I love this. I know Jameson and I are out of focus, but it's my family.
We are happy.

And now I'm here.

Such a blessed woman, am I.
And a happy one, at that.

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one week (and a birth story)

(This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got sidetracked, so it's going up a day late. Oh well.)

My baby is one week old today.
I cannot believe it.
I've already got "bittersweet momma" moments going on as I realize that he looks different than he did a week ago--his cheeks are filling out, and he actually put weight on after being born instead of losing it, like most babies.

Words cannot describe all of my feelings about being a momma.
There are so many emotions wrapped up in this small, 7lb, 14 oz baby boy that I'm not sure I could even begin to dissect them if I wanted too.

Suffice it to say that I did not know it was possible to love another person so completely, simply because they exist. Not only that, but all of those fears I had about meeting my son and wondering who he was going to be have faded into the background as I look at him and realize, "I know you." There are moments when I feel like my heart is going to explode because I am so overwhelmed by him and everything he means. He is the most tangible answer to prayer I have ever gotten, and I feel so blessed and so unworthy all at once.

*Disclaimer: birth story to follow. If you don't want the details, it's probably a good idea to stop reading. I won't be offended, I promise. :)

On June 28th, when I was six days overdue, my midwife came over to do another check and see if I had made any progress. I had been examined four days earlier and was pretty much closed tight, with the outcome looking kind of grim. She let me know that an induction would be scheduled, but only until I was fourteen days overdue (unless there was a medical reason that we needed to get that baby out).

So, when she came on that Tuesday, I was preparing myself for more bad news, and had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it was looking like I had an induction (and two extra weeks of pregnancy) ahead of me. However, when she performed the check, she found that I was 2cm dilated, 50% effaced, and Jameson had moved his head all the way down (even though he was still back-to-back). She performed a membrane sweep, and said that she would hold off on scheduling the induction because she felt like, "This ought to get things going."

A few hours after she left, I began having some irregular contractions that lasted throughout the rest of the day, all that night, and into Wednesday. Although I was getting excited, I also knew that this was called the "latent phase" of labor and could last anywhere from 24 hours to a week. By Wednesday night, however, my contractions were becoming a bit more painful, and a bit more regular. Hubs and I went to bed around midnight, and at 12:30 am, I started to feel this little trickle of liquid coming out, but being the people-pleaser that I am, I didn't want to let anyone know that my water had broken until I was sure...I think I ran into the bathroom about four times before I was convinced that I wasn't just accidentally peeing myself. When I decided that, yes, my water had broken, I got in the shower while Hubs went and woke up my parents to let them know that we were going to head to the hospital.

By the time we got into the labor ward, my contractions were getting stronger and much more regular than they had been. However, the midwife on-call decided not to do a check because she didn't want to introduce an infection, so she told us to go home and come back when my contractions were 2 minutes apart for at least an hour. But by the time we made it home, my contractions were a minute and a half apart, and coming on strong. Hubs put the TENS machine on my back, which helped for a bit, but about fifteen minutes after we got home, we decided that it was time to head back.

This time around, we went straight to the delivery suite, where the midwife on-call checked and found that I was 3-4 cm, which equaled active labor. I asked to labor in the birthing pool, and somehow managed to crawl in about 45 minutes later. Half an hour after getting into the water, the contractions were so strong that it literally felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I threw up from the pain, and began to panic--I had only been in active labor for an hour and a half, and there was no way that I was going to be able to make it through another few hours with contractions like these (or worse). The gas and air that I had planned on using to help me cope was doing nothing except to make me more nauseous than I already was. I started saying, "I can't do this. I cannot keep going like this. I need drugs. I want BIG drugs." The midwife tried to calm me down, saying that I couldn't have an epidural until my dilation was checked again, but they had a policy of not checking before four hours had passed from the previous check. She offered me some codeine, which I took, but knew that it wouldn't kick in for at least a half hour.

By now the panic was overwhelming and I was getting desperate. I could feel a lot of pressure, and (what I figured) was the sensation that I needed to start pushing. Hubs suggested that I have the midwife check how far along I was, even though it had only been an hour and a half since my last check, just so I could get my own bearings. So, although she didn't think that I had made much progress, she agreed to take a look. I managed to get out of the pool and back into my room, even though it seemed almost impossible to move. The midwife checked my progress and, come to find out, I was 9 centimeters. Yeah. 9. (No wonder I was panicking...I was going through transition and didn't know it.) Clearly surprised, she tried to reassure me with the fact that I was going to have a baby soon, and (unfortunately for me) drugs were not an option any more. With every contraction, the need to push got stronger, but I was told to breathe through it and fight that urge as much as possible. I needed to dilate to a 10 before pushing Jameson out, otherwise swelling could occur and that would make pushing him out that much longer (and more difficult). I asked when I would know that I could start pushing and she said, "When your body won't let you hold back anymore. Your body will take over and you won't be able to stop."

The back of the bed had been raised, and I crawled on top of it with my arms thrown over the back, in a kneeling position. Eventually, I started to push and couldn't stop. This was the stage that felt like forever, as I could feel his head moving down sloooowly with each push, but after I physically couldn't keep pushing, he would move back up. It felt like I was making absolutely no progress, and even though I knew that it was important for him to move down slowly in order to stretch everything out, it was frustrating. I finally felt him move down and stay there even after the contraction had finished. I knew his head was going to come out soon, and I geared myself up to push harder than I ever had. The next contraction hit, and the amount of energy it took to push his head out was unreal. It's almost hard to explain--it was a superhuman moment where I am sure that the Lord helped, because there was no way that I did that on my own.

After I felt his head come out, I tried to wait for the next contraction, but the delusional thought in my head was "I can't just leave him hanging there!" and so I decided to just push the rest of him out. It was almost like he slipped out on his own, and the midwife kind of jumped up to catch him. I had only been pushing for a half hour, but it felt like eternity.

After he was out, I started saying, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." I picked him up off the bed, slippery and crying, and thought to myself, "Who is this little person that just came out of my body? I don't know who you are!" I stared at his face and couldn't believe that this was my son. My son, that had just been inside my body five minutes earlier. He looked just like his dad, and the first thing I said to Hubs was, "He has your nose!" Jameson only cried for a few minutes, and (after pooping all over me) we just stared at each other. The midwife left, and it was just the three of us in that little room. My two guys. My family.

--------------------------------

Although I spent most of my pregnancy trying to prepare myself for a natural birth, I don't think that there is anyway that I could have known how I was going to react until labor began. I truly did not want an epidural going into this whole thing, but by the time I hit transition (the puking and panicking stage) I was ready to try anything. 

To be honest, I felt like a bit of a failure asking for one, since I had just spent the last nine months gearing up to do this without pain relief, but I knew that (had I not actually been 9 centimeters) there was no way that I could have made it through another few hours with contractions as strong as they were--I was physically and mentally exhausted, and it was more important to me to get Jameson out safely than to save face. 

All of this to say, I think I'm grateful that everything went as quickly as it did, even though it meant that the pain became so intense so fast. It was only seven hours from my water breaking to actually pushing Jameson out, which is pretty unheard of for a first-time mother. Giving birth naturally is an experience I would not have wanted to miss, and I think my recovery has been quicker because of it. However, I understand completely (and have no judgment against in any way) why women opt for pain relief. Childbirth is something that words literally cannot describe and no one can prepare you for until you're actually going through it.

So there you go. 

If you made it all the way, thanks for hanging in there. 

This past week has been the biggest journey of my life, and we are simply getting through it day by day. 

I am a happy woman, a blessed woman, and every time I look at my son, I am overwhelmed with the fact that God chose to let Hubs and I take care of this beautiful boy.

The end.

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Jameson Jia Sheung Ho

On June 30th, at 7:14 in the morning, Jameson baby made his grand entrance into the outside world.

We're on day 4 of life today, and although I don't quite have the energy to do a full post about his arrival just yet, I figured I'd do a little update to try and keep things current around here.

My recovery is going okay, and he is doing beautifully for such a new baby. Hubs and I are getting some decent amounts of sleep and are so thankful for my parents presence over the past few weeks--they have been lifesavers with all the cooking, cleaning, and crying-baby-comforting that they have been doing.

Jameson is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I cannot even begin to describe how much I love him. He is my answer to prayer, and the absolute best thing I have ever made.

We are happy.

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short and sweet

I don't have a ton of time to post a major update, but for those of you that were wondering, Jordan and Brandi's visit was just as amazing (in fact, maybe even more so) than we expected.

We asked them to be Jameson's godparents and they enthusiastically said yes. 

Hubs and I are so, so blessed to have these two in our lives. 

There's not really a better way to put it than that, so there you go.

My parents are here with us now, which is another amazing and slightly surreal thing, and we are all anxiously awaiting the moment I go in to labor.

Which will hopefully not be very long, considering that I'm due in four days, and I would just really like him to come out sooner rather than later, so that he can spend a good amount of time with his grandparents as an outside baby.

So, if you don't mind, can we all just pray that Jameson baby gets the show on the road today? Or even tomorrow? Cause that would be excellent.

I know that it's short, but I'll post a more thorough update as soon as my head stops spinning from the amount of amazing people that have come through my house in such a short time.

For now, we are happy, and content with waiting for our baby, and that is enough.

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a letter.

May 29, 2011

Dear Jameson,
Although there are still 24 days left until your due date, I can't help but wonder if I'm going to meet you a little sooner. At the moment, you've got your bum stuck way out on my right side while you kindly jab your heels into my left kidney--clearly you are running out of room. Not only that, but we're nearing you're favorite time of day--1 am, which means you're about to get a dance party started in my belly.

It's a strange thing, being pregnant with you--knowing that you're in there growing, thinking your own thoughts with your own personality already. To be honest, even though I know that I made you, you feel like a stranger in so many ways. You are already your own person, who does exactly what he wants to. This scares me in some ways, since it makes it difficult for me to picture your life--who will you be at five? Fifteen? Twenty-five? Will you still love me, or will you look at me with eyes that only see a failing human being? Your dad says that worrying about these things is pointless, but I can't help it. You are my son, my firstborn, the child I dreamt about while I was still a child--and I love you so much that it scares me. I think I am afraid you will break my heart.

Whatever you do and whoever you become, I hope you know that I'll love you forever. You are my greatest accomplishment, my best work. I could go on to write a hundred books and sing a thousand songs, but you will always be my most beautiful creation.

My hopes for you are small, but important. I hope you love the Lord with all your heart and follow Him always, even when you don't think you can. I hope you find a woman who loves you, and takes care of you, but also puts you in your place. I hope you love her more than yourself and cherish her more than anything on this earth. I hope the regrets you will have in life are not so big that they become insurmountable, but not so small that you fail to learn from them. I hope you are like your dad, with a bit of me mixed in, and that you embrace exactly who you are with abandon.

My baby, my son, my answer to prayer--
I love you more than any words can say.

Mom

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marriage.

Tomorrow marks three years since I put on a pretty white dress, picked up a bouquet of red roses, and walked down the aisle to marry the man who had become my best friend.

Three years has seen us go through so, so much--more than I could have ever imagined. 

There have been moments where I wondered if we'd ever make it, 

moments that I wanted to scream, "This is not what I signed up for!", 

and moments where I was convinced that there was no way on earth I could ever feel happier.

I could write a million sappy words, but they would never cover it.

So, here are pictures of our moments instead.

Engaged in Paris

August 6, 2007

 The Beginning

May 31, 2008

 Honeymoon in Cancun

2008

Our first apartment!

June 2008

Late nights spent studying.

2008

Fall 2009

Graduation!

December 2009

Two year anniversary

(Evanston, Illinois)

May 31, 2010

Summer 2010

 Uptown Ribfest

August 2010
 

The Glass House

September 2010

Last nights in Chicago

October 2010

We're having a baby!

October 2010

Moving to England

November 1, 2010

Today.

May 30, 2011
-------------------------------

Husband,
You are the best thing that's ever happened to me.
You push me to be better, and even though sometimes I feel like I might hate you for it, I'm glad you don't let me settle. The longer we're together, the better we fit each other, and there is no one else in the world I could imagine even attempting to live this life with.
I can't wait for this jump into being parents, and even though it scares me sometimes, I know that we're going to do it (and do it well) because we've already decided to be together forever.

Quite simply, I love you.
Your wife.

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