Not Inconveniences

Source: etsy.com via Amy on Pinterest 

I watched the 48 Hours Mystery about Casey Anthony Tuesday night. I knew the basics of the case, but didn’t really follow much of the trial coverage so I didn’t know many of the details.

Heartbreaking, in every sense of the word. I’m not going to pass judgment on the jury here. I don’t envy the position they were in, and it’s much easier for me to sit here and say, “I think she’s guilty” {which I do…} because I don’t have the weight of responsibility for sentencing a woman to death the way they did.

I do think, whether intentional or not, that Casey is guilty, and it’s frustrating that justice seems to have slipped through the cracks.

But mostly, I just feel sad. So, so, sad

.

For a family that appears to have been struggling before and has now been ripped apart.

For a little girl, whose life was cut so tragically short due to the selfishness of another.

And for a mother, who failed to realize what a treasure she had been given in the form of a 2 year old girl, full of life and beauty. Who let her love of self triumph over her love for her daughter.

After the show I slipped into each of our girl’s rooms and just stared at them while they slept, wanting to pick them up and hug them and never let go.

And I felt the weight of guilt press on me for all the times I had been irritated at having to wake up in the middle of the night, change another poopy diaper, clean up another mess…these are my CHILDREN! Shame on me for not always cherishing them as the precious, beautiful, gifts of life that they are, regardless of the messes they make and the intrusions they can be on “my” time.

I know…it’s not exactly the same. Even in my most frustrated and weary moments, NEVER have I EVER wished my child was dead. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about.

But…isn’t that a seed of the same lie that Casey Anthony believed? That children are “inconveniences to be managed”? She is an extreme example, yes…but what did Jesus say? That lust is as bad as adultery, hate is as bad as murder, that thoughts are as evil as actions…because if allowed to grow they lead to sin and eventually death?

But each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death. 

James 1:14-15

I think…far too often we do not take our sin as seriously as we need to when it is in it’s infant stage. We view it more like a pesky fly that we can swat away when we want to, not the raging monster that threatens to grow and consume us if we let it. I think if we truly realized the depravity of our hearts we would be far more vigilant about squashing those little lies before they have a chance to fester inside of us.

We can always point fingers at others who have committed acts that seem to us to be unthinkable, but we forget that many a righteous person has fallen. Remember David, the man after God’s own heart? Guilty of adultery and murder.

Do you think there are many people out there who intend to let their sinful thoughts get so out of hand that it eventually leads them into action? How many people just do a 180 and decide that they are going to commit a crime, kill a person, have an affair? It is not usually one giant step but rather a series of small ones.

The Casey Anthony trial was a gut check for me. A reminder to embrace even the challenges of raising children, to not give in to the lie that says that I shouldn’t let my children get in the way of what I want to do.

Isn’t that what our society says? Don’t want to be inconvenienced with a baby? Kill it before it’s born. Yet we are surprised and disgusted when we see the unintended consequences of that little white lie come to fruition in the life of a young mother “saddled” with a child that she evidently was happy to be free from.

So this week…I have smiled at the globs of Play Doh stuck underneath the dining room table. Happily washed 2 loads worth of tiny pink and purple clothes. Prepared bottles and cut up grapes and swept sand off my freshly mopped floor. Grinned at the fingerprints on the sliding glass door.

Praise God for my two little “inconveniences”. May He give me many more.

Octo-Baby

Seriously.

How many arms do you see in this picture?

Because I could swear she’s got eight of them.

It doesn’t matter what it is, if it’s within grabbing distance, she’ll lunge for it. Car keys, your hair, church bulletin, sharp utensils…move ‘em or lose ‘em.

What’s funny is…she can be perfectly content playing with her toy or her rattle or whatever, but the second she sees something new, she has to have it and she’ll do crazy gymnastics, even face plants, in her attempts to grab hold of it.

Sorta reminds me of someone else I know…

How often do I “face plant” in my attempt to grab hold of what I *think* I need, instead of just being content with what I’ve been given?

Hmmm…

I Think Mr. Murphy Must Have Had Children…

You know, Murphy’s Law?

“Anything that can go wrong, will?”

It never fails.

The one time you forget to grab a clean diaper before you remove the dirty one from your infant’s backside, they will poop all over themselves…and the changing table…and you…and just for good measure they’ll spit up all over themselves while you’re cleaning up the poo.

When you think you’re {finally} all caught up on your housework and you might have extra time in your week to work on a project, or read a book, or rest a little, both of your children will get sick for consecutive weeks in a row causing the cleanliness of your home to plunge to depths you had yet to encounter.

When you pat yourself on the back for having a toddler who understands that naptime is naptime and not playtime, said toddler will suddenly decide that naptime is, indeed, a good time to sneak out of bed and dump all her toys out in the middle of the room before Mommy can come in and ruin all her fun. And, hey, while she’s at it, why not take off all her clothes?

And just when you are thinking about how nice it is to be consistently getting eight hours of sleep at night again, your infant will get sick with such a horrible stuffy nose that you spend half of your night holding her upright in the rocking chair so that she can get some sleep.

My friend Mindy made this comment on Facebook the other day:

It's one of those days where my to-do list is: feed kids, keep them alive. If I get anything else accomplished today, it will be a miracle.

And I laughed, because that, my friends, is the past two weeks of my life in a nutshell.

Feed kids. Keep them alive. Check and check.

And now…taking advantage of a rare moment where both of them are napping simultaneously, I am going to get some sleep.

Mr. Murphy, don’t you dare interfere with this one

Here With Us

December, 2008.

I gaze down at the soft pink bundle asleep in my arms. Tiny eyelashes feathered against smooth skin. Fists curled tightly, breaths even, the rise and fall of her chest so slight you can barely tell if she’s breathing.

But she is. Sleeping peacefully. My newborn baby girl.

To my left, white lights twinkle on the branches of a pine tree, their soft glow illuminating the ornaments hung with care. It is almost Christmas. The twenty-fourth Christmas I will have been alive to celebrate, and yet, in so many ways it feels like the very first.

How many times have I heard the story? Joseph and a very pregnant Mary. A donkey ride to Bethlehem. No room. A stable. And Jesus, born as a baby.

A baby.

Like the one in my arms. How could I have known the story all these years and yet not grasp the significance of that? God as man, but not just man.

God as a baby.

For just a moment, I close my eyes and imagine that I am Mary. That the baby in my arms is not my firstborn daughter, but instead Jesus. It’s almost more than I can fathom.

Jesus, needing someone to feed him?

Jesus, needing someone to change his diaper?

Jesus, the one who created the world so utterly dependent on the very beings He created?

What kind of love could motivate Someone with such infinite power to lower Himself to such a humble position? Of course, I know the answer. The same kind of love that would motivate Him to die for the very ones who killed Him.

I’ve known it for years and yet, somehow, this Christmas it resonates with me more deeply. God, as a baby, like my baby.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

This, That, and The Other

Well, hello there!

I sort of took an extended Thanksgiving break from blogging. No particular reason, really.

Our Thanksgiving included a trip to Michigan to visit family. We played games and laughed and shopped and ate like kings but I’ve got no pictures to show for it because our camera is broken.

Speaking of broken cameras, ours is damaged beyond repair so we’re in the market for a new one. It doesn’t need to be fancy, just a good quality point and shoot that takes clear pictures. I don’t know much about cameras. Any suggestions from those that do?

While we were in Michigan we went to the adorable little town of Frankenmuth. It’s a super touristy but very picturesque German “village”. If it had been warmer, I would have loved to stroll along all the little shops but it was FAH-REEZING so we just went to this place:

Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland -- I have never in my life seen so much Christmas stuff. Seriously. Insanity.

They offer free personalization on all their ornaments, so we picked up a special one just for Lily. It looks just like this one and says, “Lily 2010”

She loves it. So much so that she has a hard time not walking by the Christmas tree without yanking on it. If that tree doesn’t fall over before Christmas, it will be a miracle. A Christmas miracle!

Anyway.

Dave’s mom traveled back with us and is staying for 2 weeks. It’s like having a built in babysitter. I keep forgetting that I can actually leave the house! By myself! In the middle of the day! It’s awesome :)

I’ve been doing lots of Christmas decorating. I love pulling out all the stuff I got on clearance last year. It’s like a little early Christmas present to myself :) Like these giant candy ornaments I got 90% off at Target last year:

Fun, no?

For some reason it’s taking me forever to decorate this year, and by the time I’ve got it just right, it will probably be time to take it all down again. Oh well!

I’m also in the middle of like, a bajillion different projects. Three wreaths, some Christmas pillows, and hair bows. Hopefully I’ll be able to show you pictures.

If they turn out good.

And we buy a camera.

So in other words, don’t get your hopes up.

That’s all!

He Answers Prayers

Several of the blogs I read have chosen this month to take time to share a few things they are thankful for and with it being Thanksgiving this week, I thought it appropriate to share one of mine:

I’m thankful for a God who answers prayer.

Last night at our church’s annual Harvest Dinner, I listened with tears in my eyes as some friends of ours got up to share about their struggle with infertility these past several years. After countless surgeries, different medications, and multiple opinions from several doctors they had been told, more or less, “You are never going to have a baby.”

She is now nearly three months pregnant.

As I recalled all the hours we spent praying, all the tears that had been shed, I couldn’t help but think, “What a good God we serve!”

But would He still be good, even if He hadn’t given us the answer we wanted? It’s a fair question.

The answer is yes. His goodness doesn’t depend on our satisfaction with our circumstances. In fact, at times He brings difficult circumstances into our lives because He is good and He knows what’s best for us – even though it doesn’t always mesh with what we think is best for us.

Yet other times He does choose to answer our prayers with a “Yes” instead of a “No” giving us tangible evidence that He cares and wants to hear about the details of our lives – the big things and the small things.

And speaking of small things…

Last week was a long one. Dave had to work all day on Saturday, we were going non-stop all day Sunday, and by the time we collapsed into bed, I was beat. Sophia hadn’t slept well the night before and I turned to Dave and said, “I just don’t feel like I can do this tonight. All I want to do is go to bed and sleep till morning.”

He said, “Why don’t we pray about it?”

And I said fine even though in the back of my head I was thinking how silly and selfish God must think my request must be. I wouldn’t have verbalized this, but realistically, I didn’t think praying would make any difference.

Do you know what?

For the first time ever in her five and half weeks of life, Sophia slept through the night. Like, EIGHT HOURS.

Do you know what eight hours of sleep feels like after several weeks of being up for middle of the night feedings? It feels amazing.

Some may call it coincidence but I know better.

So I’m thankful. Thankful for a God who graciously reminded me this week that He cares about the big things, like pregnancy, and the small things, like a good night’s sleep.

A Plethora of Pictures

I think I’ve hit the wall, figuratively speaking when it comes to sleep deprivation. The first couple of weeks I didn’t really feel that tired. But I can only take so many nights of interrupted sleep before it starts to affect me.

Case in point, I went to the grocery store this weekend to buy diapers, juice, and bread. I came back with a birthday present for my niece, batteries, and four packages of thank you notes. All things we needed, but unfortunately, I did not remember the diapers, the juice, or the bread.

On Sunday after I asked him to repeat the same question for like, the seventeenth time in a row, Dave said, “Man, you are really out of it, aren’t you?” Yes. Yes, I am. So if you’ve had a conversation with me in the past week or so and I’ve seemed a little off, now you know why.

Anyway, so I’m not going to type any more for fear that it won’t make sense and just post a few pictures instead.

The day we took Sophia home from the hospital – that outfit barely fits her now. Is it just me or does the second baby grow faster than the first one? Or maybe I’m just so much busier this time that I don’t notice all the little changes…

 

Lily doesn’t quite understand that Sophia doesn’t like playing with Legos and reading books as much as she does :) 

But she loves “reading” to “Baby So-PEE-uh” anyway

I love that face.And that cute little tushie.

 

Such a good big sis – always making sure Sophia has some form of entertainment…

…and a pacifier. Poor Sophia gets that pacifier shoved in her face whether she wants it or not.  

That’s all, ya’ll.

(Did I just say ya’ll? Sorry. It’s the sleep deprivation talking again.)

Have a good Wednesday!

Before and After

A few days ago Dave’s mom asked me how everything was going {i.e. having two kids, being at home all day without Dave, etc., etc.} and I said something like, “It’s going great! I almost feel like it’s too easy…”

I have got to learn to stop saying things like that.

These first few weeks have been really easy…but now Sophia has come down with some sort of cold. Just a stuffy nose and a lot of drainage right now, but newborns and stuffy noses are a yucky combination. It makes it hard for her to eat and sleep – which just happen to be her two favorite activities.

We’ve spent a fair amount of time the past couple of days wielding the bulb syringe to suction her nose, giving her steam baths, and holding her upright so she can breathe while she sleeps. Poor thing…I feel so bad for her! I’m just praying it doesn’t develop into some sort of fever/cough type of thing.

Anyway. So I’ve got a sick baby curled up on my chest right now, a napping toddler in the other room, and I’m trying to find things I can do while sitting in bed holding a baby. Blogging happens to be one of them :) So would you like to see another before and after project I did?

Too bad, I’m showing you anyway :)

(And sorry. That was a really long introduction.)

I actually did this little project right before Sophia was born.  I’ve had these three woven seagrass baskets for about a year now. They were a a lucky clearance find at Wal-Mart of all places! I think they cost me $3.00 each.

They’ve been taking up residence holding books and magazines underneath our coffee table in the family room for awhile now. And I was perfectly happy with them just the way they were.

Then I saw these baskets at Target:

Kinda like mine, but bigger, and these had a little chalkboard label on the front. Mine did not have chalkboard labels. But I really wanted them to.

So I started thinking about how to replicate this at home and here’s what I came up with.

First up, a paint sample…thing…not sure what the official name would be, feel free to correct me if you know:

I’ve seen a lot of people incorporate these into various crafts and I have to say, it’s such a good idea. I mean, they’re FREE! It doesn’t get any better than that.

Next, we needed some of this:

Chalkboard spray paint

I covered the paint samples with two thin coats of chalkboard paint, then used a hole punch to punch holes (duh) in the four corners. Then I took some twine that I had laying around, poked holes in the seagrass baskets, and tied my new “chalkboard labels” onto the front of the baskets.

So before we had this:

And now we have this:

I think this basket looks right at home holding Lily’s books next to the fireplace:

I have yet to find a home for the other two – I’m thinking I’ll use one for blankets next to the couch and maybe keep the other one as a “magazine rack” underneath one of our end tables?

And yes…I need to buy some chalk so I can actually write on the labels :)

So Target, thanks for the inspiration but I will keep my $40.00 and just enjoy my Wal-Mart clearance baskets with paint sample thingys on the front. I think mine look *almost* as good – even if they aren’t as big and probably not as sturdy.

What do you think?

****************

I’m linking up to this fabulous lady for this fabulous party today.

The Obligatory Halloween Post

I know everyone is probably tired of seeing pictures of other people’s kids dressed up for Halloween, but…I’m a mom. I can’t resist sharing some of my own.

Remember how I wasn’t sure if we would be able to get Lily to wear her costume?

Well, as it turns out the promise of candy in return for dressing up provided the perfect incentive.

And yes. She was already missing one hair bow before we had even left the house. The pigtails only lasted all of 10 minutes before she pulled them out completely. Ah, well! Cute while it lasted!

(Please try to avert your eyes from that basket full of laundry sitting by the door. I have a newborn, remember? At least it was clean :) I think she looked even cuter in person than she does in the pictures. But I’m her mom. I guess I’m biased :)

Sophia got in on the fun too.

She wasn’t too crazy about it at first.

But I think she got over it.   

We had coached Lily on the basics of trick or treating beforehand.

Dave: “Ok Lily, we’re going to go to the door and when they open it you say ‘Trick or Treat’ and then they’ll give you some candy! Ok? So tell us what you say when they open the door!

Lily: “CANDY!!!”

Well, ok. I guess that will work too.

So now that Halloween is over, I’m giving myself permission to start getting excited about Christmas! And loosening my belt in anticipation of Thanksgiving. On second thought, maybe I’ll just wear my maternity pants. Or a pair of these?

A {Baby} Story

Before I went into labor with Sophia, I heard two recurring things from other mommies of more than one about labor and delivery the second time around:

1. Every labor is different.

and

2. The second labor is much easier than the first.

And I’d have to say that I completely agree with the first statement. My second labor was definitely different. But easier? I’m not sure I’d go that far.  The second labor (for me) proved to be slightly more…complicated.

But I’m getting ahead of myself – let’s start at the beginning.

October 8, my due date, came and went uneventfully. Truthfully, that was the last day I expected to have the baby. I mean, how many women actually deliver on the day they are due? And given the fact that I was a week overdue with Lily, I really wasn’t surprised that I was continuing the trend with this pregnancy. Part of me was hoping I would go into labor on Sunday so the baby would have a really cool birthday – 10/10/10 – but, no such luck.

Monday morning came and I hadn’t even had a hint of a contraction since my appointment a week ago. I headed to the doctor for yet another round of ultrasounds and non stress tests. When I walked in the room, the ultrasound tech {who by now knew me by name} said, “I was really hoping I wouldn’t see you in here today.”

Ditto.

She went to work measuring the baby and checking the amount of fluid and then she said, “Well, I think you’ll be having that baby soon. Your fluid levels have dropped.” They had gone from being at around 7 {considered low-normal} to a 5.3. Evidently, when levels are at a 5 or below, it is considered low and they start to become concerned for the baby’s well being.

Not only that, but the baby’s baseline heart rate was registering low on the non-stress test. Not alarmingly so, but combined with my low fluid levels and the fact that I was several days past my due date, the doctor suggested that we induce labor the following day.

I wasn’t crazy about being induced, but I also didn’t want to risk anything happening to the baby, so I agreed and we set the appointment – 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday, October 12.

The nice thing about being induced, of course, was that I had time to go home and double-check to make sure I had everything ready to go. Bags were packed, the house was freshly cleaned, my mom was all lined up to take care of Lily, and we headed out the door at 5:30 the next morning feeling well prepared.

My plan was to ask the doctor if they could break my water before they started the Pitocin, just to see if maybe things would progress on their own. That didn’t happen.

When we got to the hospital, our {super awesome} nurse told us that the doctor was in a surgery at another hospital and she had instructions to start me on the Pitocin until the doctor arrived to break my water – she expected it would just be a couple of hours. So she got me all I.V.-ed up and at around 7, started pumping the Pitocin in.

I had heard all kinds of horror stories about how much worse contractions are with Pitocin, but to be honest, they didn’t feel any worse to me. Every once in awhile, the nurse would come back in and bump up the amount of Pitocin and they’d get a little stronger, but nothing unbearable.

So we waited. And waited. And waited.

A couple of hours passed…still no sign of the doctor.

9:00.

10:00.

11:00.

At this point, the contractions were strong enough that I needed to breathe through them, but not bad enough that I felt like I needed an epidural, but I had a feeling that once they broke my water…if the doctor ever came to do that!…things were going to get ugly. So I asked the nurse if she could go ahead and order one for me. She agreed, and said it would give her a good excuse to call my doctor and find out where she was.

Not two minutes later, in strolled one of the other doctors in the practice – she wasn’t on call but she was the one who had ordered the induction for me and had come in on her day off to see how I was – and she broke my water for me while she was there.

And I was right. Things started to get ugly.

My pain levels went from like a low 5 to a 10 almost instantly. Luckily, I only had to wait another 30 minutes or so before the anesthesiologist arrived to give me the epidural.

At about the same time, there was a change in shifts and we got a new nurse. They checked my cervix and said I had gone from a 3 to about a 4. I couldn’t believe that was all the further I had progressed after all that time. At this rate, I’d be in labor FOREVER! At least, it felt that way :)

The nurses told me to let them know if I started feeling any pain with contractions again, or got the urge to push and said they’d be back to check on me again in about an hour.

Not 5 minutes after they left, I started feeling pain on my left side. I told Dave I was feeling contractions again and we debated whether or not to get the nurse, but I decided to wait. I mean…I had just been at a 4 – I couldn’t possibly already be completely dilated, could I?

But the pain just kept getting worse and on top of that, I was feeling extremely nauseous so finally we buzzed the nurse and she came in to check me again.

Surprise, surprise – I had gone from being dilated to a 4 to a 10 in the space of about 15 minutes. It was pushing time. Except…

“Don’t push yet,” the nurse told me, “because this is your second baby and her head is right there, it’s not going to take long and we need to call your doctor.”

So they called. No answer.

Tried again.

No answer. Left a voicemail.

Called the office. They said, “We don’t know where she is and we can’t get ahold of her either.”

FAN-TASTIC.

The nurses were super nice but I could tell they were annoyed with the doctor, and since we had no way of knowing how long it would be before she could get there, they offered to give me a boost in my epidural to help me hold off a little longer. I readily agreed.

A couple of minutes later yet another doctor from my practice walked in – the office had sent him as a replacement for the doctor on call since nobody seemed to know where she was. Finally! This baby was gonna be delivered. Except…

That little “boost” in my epidural had worked – a little too well. I couldn’t feel to push – like at all. I was trying but nothing was happening. So the doctor instructed them to turn off my epidural and call him when I started to feel pain again.

At this point, I was exhausted and on the verge of tears. I felt like I could have had this baby hours ago were it not for all the waiting on the doctors that we had been doing.

It took about 20 more minutes, but I finally started to feel the urge to push and just about that time, who should walk in but THE DOCTOR? The one who was on call that we had been waiting for ALL DAY? She said something was wrong with her phone and she hadn’t been getting any calls until about 15 minutes ago.

I was like “Yada, yada, yada, just let me deliver this baby already!”

And so I did.

Just a few pushes and about 10 minutes later, the doctor handed me our beautiful, screaming, pink baby girl.

Sophia Grace.

Suddenly, all the pain and the waiting and the frustration seemed…worth it.

Totally worth it.

Stuff

I know some of you are just itching to hear all the details of my labor and delivery and I promise I’ll get around to writing it out one of these days. But for now, here’s what’s been going on around here the past few days, in bullet points :)

• I hate to even say this because I’m afraid to jinx it but…so far Sophia is an awesome baby. Great eater. Great sleeper. I don’t mind the middle of the night feedings as much when they aren’t also accompanied by Random Bouts of Crying For No Apparent Reason. I’m just praying it continues – she is, after all, only 5 days old :)
  
  
• Lily is adjusting to her role as big sister unbelievably well. She’s always been a huge little bit of a mama’s girl and would have serious meltdowns when I held other babies, so I expected things to be a little bit rough for the first few weeks. But honestly, so far she’s seem to accept “Baby Soh-PEE-uh” coming home as just a completely normal thing. We’ve had a few jealous moments and I’m sure there will be more to come, especially once Daddy goes back to work and isn’t there to give her attention when Mommy can’t, but on the whole, it’s been so much better than I expected!
   
• We’ve been having fun comparing Lily and Sophia’s baby pictures :) There are definite similarities and definite differences. I think they have the same eyes, mouth, and face shape but different noses.
  
  
  Lily on the left, Sophia on the right
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I love the faces they are both making in these ones – plus Lily’s hat looks hilarious, makes me laugh every time :)   
  
  
• Tomorrow Dave goes back to work…really wishing we could delay that a little longer but I knew it was coming sometime :) Thankfully my mom is just a phone call away and is ready to come help when I need her!
  

That’s all for now!

Meet Sophia…

Birth Announcements by WiddlyTinks.com

Goin’ to the hospital and we’re gonna have a bay-ay-ay-bee…

Well, not right this second we’re not.

But we’ve set a date.

October 12 {yes, that would be tomorrow}, 6:00 {yes that would be A.M. -- ugh} I will be induced.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of details to share with you once it’s all said and done, but just for fun, while you’re waiting, anyone want to take a guess at the name we have picked out?

Next time you see me, Lord willing I’ll be holding a baby in my arms and not in my belly :)

And, oh yeah – your prayers are appreciated :)

Happy Monday!

A Birthday Story, Part Two

To read Part 1, click here.

******************

After the epidural, both Dave and I were able to lay down and get some rest. I don’t remember exactly how long we slept but it had probably been a couple of hours when the shifts changed and a new nurse came in.

This one was all business. She checked me, clapped her hands, and said, “Ok. Let’s get things moving here.”

After a quick call to my doctor, she broke my water, and told me that she was able to tell from the color of the liquid that Lily had passed the meconium (the first stool) in the womb. This wasn’t unusual for a past due baby, but it meant that they were going to need to suction her lungs out after delivery, to make sure she hadn’t swallowed any of it.

The rest of the day mostly just involved a lot of resting and waiting. I mostly slept while Dave ate lunch, watched TV, and read a book.

The exact time is fuzzy, but probably somewhere around 3 p.m. our nurse came in with another nurse. She explained that Brinda (the new nurse) would be taking care of me while she went to assist the lady in the room next to me, who was apparently having twins. Brinda was a little less experienced with multiple births so she would stick with me.

More resting. More waiting.

And then, finally – I was at a 10. It was a little after 4:00 p.m. and it was time to push. Brinda walked me through the steps and off we went.

After about 15 minutes, I started to notice something. I was feeling things again. Like, pain. Major pain.

In between pushes I said, “I think my epidural stopped working.”

Sure enough, the little bag pumping the drug through my system was pretty much empty.

“It’s too late to give you any more…sorry.”

It wasn’t long before I was feeling the full force of the contractions, and my body was clearly not happy about it. I could feel myself shaking but it was like I couldn’t stop it and then I knew I was going to throw up…and I did, several times.

(I’m sorry. I probably should have warned you not to read this while you are eating.)

I think it was at this point that I looked at Dave in desperation and whispered, “I don’t think I can do this!”

After about 30 minutes of pushing total the nurse told me to stop. Lily was coming faster than she thought and the doctor wasn’t there yet. In fact, he was at another hospital and we had to wait for him to come.

The next 20 minutes felt like hours. They kept telling me to breath through my contractions when everything in me was practically screaming at me to PUSH! I was this close to saying, “Forget the doctor, you catch the baby!” when in strolled my doctor.

Two quick pushes and, at 5:06 p.m. on September 22, 2008, Lily was born. I can’t even begin to describe the feelings that washed over me in the moment, but if you’ve ever had a baby, you understand.

Relief and joy and amazement. Laughter and tears all mixed up as one.

Today she is two, and she’s every bit as precious to me now as she was then.

Would somebody pass me a tissue, please?

A Birthday Story

With Lily’s birthday being this week and the impending birth of our second child, I’ve been thinking a lot about my first labor and delivery and how it all went down. And it occurred to me that since I didn’t have a blog when Lily was first born, many of you don’t know how it happened.

And since everybody loves a good labor and delivery story (or wait…is that just me?) I thought it would be fun to revisit that special day. So travel back in time with me…

*******

It was 2 years ago today, September 21st – a Sunday. I was nearly a week past my due date and after a somewhat discouraging doctor’s appointment the previous Friday where they told me there was “no change”, they had scheduled me to be induced.

I didn’t want to be induced, but at this point, I was sooo ready. Ready to be done with the pregnancy and move into this new phase of life.

Ready to not have people asking me, “Haven’t you had that baby yet?”

(Look at me. Does it look like I’ve had the baby yet? No. But thanks for the reminder)

I would go to the hospital the next evening (Monday) where they would give me some Cervidil to prepare my cervix for induction. I was…nervously excited.

I can remember the most mundane details about that Sunday.

• We ate Mexican for lunch with my little brother (you know, spicy food).
• Dave got his haircut at Great Clips (just in time for taking pictures at the hospital).
• I wore my favorite maternity dress to church that night (for the last time).
• Dave played basketball with some guys after church and I reminded him to keep his phone close by (just in case).
• I made a list of things to do the next day to keep my mind occupied and help the time pass until we went to the hospital the next evening.

I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions off and on all day – nothing regular, but I did notice before I went to bed that it seemed like they were occurring a little more frequently. Like, maybe every 30 minutes or so. Nothing too concerning. We went to bed.

And then I had the strangest dream. I don’t remember any other details other than that in the dream, I had a horrible stomachache. Like, the worst stomach pain in the world.

Then I woke up.

And I realized, “Hey this isn’t a dream, my stomach really does hurt.”

Wait a second…

I was having contractions – painful contractions – and they seemed fairly close together. I didn’t want to wake Dave up until I was certain this was the real thing so I headed downstairs and started timing.

Seven minutes apart.

Then five minutes.

Deep breaths.

“Um, Dave? I think we might need to go the hospital.”

He jolted out of bed, and stood groggily looking around, still a little sleep confused.

“Really? You’re in labor?”

“Yeah…at least…I think I am.”

We called the doctor, grabbed our bags, and headed towards the hospital. The drive took only 20 minutes but it felt like hours. Confined to the space of the car the contractions felt 10 times worse. By the time we got to the hospital, I was convinced I was going to drop the baby out on the pavement before we even made it to the maternity ward. I had to be dilated to at least an 8 or 9, I was sure of it.

But we made it to the maternity ward (after a few stops to huff and puff) and they started getting me checked in. I don’t remember much of what they did, but I do remember the nurse asking me to rate my pain on a scale of 1-10.

“Ummm…an eight? At least.”

She kind of grinned (What are you smiling about lady? I see nothing funny about this) and then said, “Well, you’re dilated to a 2 1/2, almost a 3.”

Two and a half?

TWO. AND. A. HALF????

AND WE’RE GOING ALL THE WAY TO TEN??????????

“Are you going to want an epidural?” she asked…I think already knowing what my answer would be.

“Yes. Please.”

I have heard stories of women who don’t even realize they are in labor until they are dilated to an 8 or a 9. I have had friends who walk around for weeks dilated to a 3 with no contractions and it never ceases to amaze me. I know every woman is different, and all I can say is I must have gotten the short end of the labor stick because my contractions? They were intense.

Either that, or I’m just a huge wimp.

Probably a little of both :)

After another hour of huffing and puffing I had progressed to a 3 and the anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural. I had heard horror stories about the size of the needle and how painful it would be but to be honest with you, it didn’t bother me at all, and oh the relief I felt when he got it in and I could relax.

By this time it was close to 5 a.m. and the nurse urged us to get some sleep so we could rest up for what was ahead…

To be continued…

It’s Almost Time…

Just a quick update – I went for my scheduled OB appointment this morning and they did another ultrasound to recheck my fluid levels.

Turns out, my levels have decreased so they are going to induce labor. Here comes baby!

JUST KIDDING!!!!!!!!!

I know, I know. That’s how rumors get started. But I couldn’t resist :) Did you believe me, even for a second? :)

I did have my appointment, they did do an ultrasound, and my fluid levels did decrease – but only a tiny bit, not enough for them to be seriously concerned. The doctor said they will continue to monitor the fluid with each appointment (meaning more ultrasounds and non-stress tests) but she was confident that I was not leaking fluid and there was no need to be concerned as long as things continue to progress normally: i.e. the baby keeps moving and I don’t notice any leakage.

She also told me that this was probably going to be a “small baby”. I believe I remember hearing them say the exact same thing about Lily – in fact, one of my doctors confidently proclaimed that there was no way she was going to weigh more than 7 pounds. She was 8 lbs. 3 oz. So we will see.

I’m dilated to a 1.5 and 50% effaced – really, I’m hoping the baby holds off coming until after Lily’s birthday (on Wednesday!) and her party (on Saturday!). I’d hate for her special day to be upstaged by the new baby’s birth. But, all in God’s timing!

My mom reminded me that she was a week early with her second baby, but I’m mentally preparing myself to go past my due date. It’s just easier not to get my hopes up :)

Anyway. That’s enough unnecessary details about my pregnancy for today. I’m sure you’re all ready for me to have this baby so I can talk about something else for Pete’s sake!

Happy Monday!

Perspective

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down and tried to write this post and failed. I think in part because it involves some things I’m thinking that are deeply personal and I’m a little bit leery of putting that out there for all to see – afraid of being misunderstood.

And maybe partly because I’m not entirely certain anyone will really care all that much about what I have to say here, but – here goes.

The other day my mother-in-law asked me, “So, are you just getting so excited to have a new little baby at your house again?”

And I hesitated.

Because in all honesty, the answer to that question right now is…no. Not completely.

Now, hear me out.

This baby is something we both prayed and planned for. We want to have more than one child – in fact we’d like a whole houseful of them, if the Lord allows. This pregnancy did not come as a surprise. We felt {and still feel} like we are ready to add to our family, and we are thrilled at the way the Lord has blessed us.

But if I’m being real – and I want to be real here – I was not a big fan of the newborn phase.

Lily was a…difficult baby. She cried. A lot. In fact, the first couple of months it seemed like if she wasn’t eating or sleeping, she was crying. Wouldn’t take a pacifier. Overall, I think she just didn’t really adapt to change all that well. And let’s face it, being born? Is kind of a big change.

She wanted to sleep during the day and be awake at night, and really what kind of people were we trying to change up her schedule like that?

To make matters worse, it seemed like anytime we talked to anyone about it, we got the same standard advice, “Just enjoy it. They’ll be going to college/getting married/having their own babies/etc, etc. before you know it.”

I know their intentions were good, but in all honesty, I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes whenever someone told me that. Enjoy it? Really?

Let’s face it. When you are running on little to no sleep, holding a baby who has been screaming for hours on end, tried all the tricks in your book to get them to stop, sore in places you’ve never been sore before, and bombarded with some crazy hormones, it’s not enjoyable.

It’s not.

And I wish, so, so badly that someone would have said this to me instead:

“It’s ok.”

It’s ok that you don’t just love being a mom right now.

It’s ok that you kind of like your baby the most when she’s sleeping.

It’s ok to not just be googly eyed over your child when they are screaming their head off at you.

It’s ok that you feel like you need a break.

It’s ok to not be enjoying this particular aspect of parenthood.

I mean, let’s try giving that same “Just enjoy it,” advice to someone in a different circumstance.

What do you think would happen if you went up to a woman, say, in the midst of an extremely painful labor and said to her, “You know, these contractions are working together to bring your precious little baby into the world…so just enjoy it.”

Do we say that? I mean, if we value our lives, do we say that? No! We say, “Keep pushing! The baby’s coming! It will be worth it! You’re almost there!”

But we don’t tell them to enjoy it, because it’s not fun.

I think what people mean when they say that is this:

“This is a time in your life like no other. Your baby will never be this small again. So enjoy those happy, cuddly moments. Drink in your baby when she’s snuggled up asleep on your chest. And when your baby is screaming it’s lungs off? Keep it in perspective. It won’t be like this forever. Before you know it, your baby will be all grown up, so take heart.”

I’m not really sure why I’m telling you all this, except that maybe I know I’m going to need to hear that these next couple of months. There’s a good possibility that this next baby might not be as touchy as Lily. Maybe it will be one of those laid back, go with the flow babies, who knows?

Even so, I’m mentally preparing myself for some bad days. Because there will be bad days.

Days where the baby is crying and Lily is being ornery and I won’t get to take a shower and I’ll maybe even say rash things like, “I’m not ever having any more children ever again,” and poor Dave will just smile and nod and let me cry on his shoulder and offer to take the night shift so I can get some sleep.

So.

Am I looking forward to having a new little baby?

The answer is yes.

And no.

Yes to the snuggles and the little butt curling up on my chest and the first smiles and the sweet smell of baby lotion.

No to the crying and the sleepless nights and the pain and the hormones and did I mention the crying because I’m really not looking forward to that?

But this time…this time I hope to keep things a little more in perspective. And it might just be easier this time around because I have a living, breathing, walking, talking, adorable bundle of proof that this won’t last forever.

So mental note to my future self: Enjoy the good days. Endure the bad. It may not always be fun, and that’s ok but it’s worth it. It really is.

The End.

(Is anyone still reading?)

An {Almost} No Sew Halloween Costume

When I told my Dad a couple of weeks ago that I was working on Lily’s Halloween costume he asked, “Why on earth are you thinking about Halloween in August?”

Good question.

The thing is, I’m going to be doing these little things called Giving Birth and Caring For a Newborn come October and I don’t really think I’ll have the time or energy to come up with a costume for Lily to wear then.

And besides, I’ve known what she was going to be this year since I happened upon this post at Trey and Lucy LAST year.

A ladybug. More specifically, a ladybug in a tutu with fairy wings.

I was pretty sure that it was going to be an easy project and you know what? For once, I was right!

I’m not going to do a whole tutorial here because you can just visit this link here to see how it’s done. But here’s the finished product:

The only sewing you have to do is when you put the ends of the elastic together. Then it’s just a matter of cutting and tying the tulle.

SERIOUSLY. So easy. It would’ve probably only taken me an hour but I ran out of tulle.

The fairy wings I got from a friend, who I believe had found them at the Dollar Store. They were orange so I just spray painted them red. Then I cut out some black felt circles, got some ribbon, and hot glued them on there. We’ve got a black shirt and some black tights that she’ll wear and voila! A little ladybug.

I could’ve spent as much as $50.00 to buy something similar online, but instead this whole project cost somewhere between $10-$15.

And it was so easy, I decided to make one for the baby too. We had this pumpkin onesie from Lily’s first Halloween

So I’m making a little tutu to match:

Now the trick will be to actually get Lily to wear the costume. I thought she would be super excited but I think she’s a little afraid of it.  I guess she hasn’t really gotten to the “dress up” stage yet.

Anyway. So now you know where to go if you want to make your own tutu! And I’m telling you – if I can do it, so can you!

Photo Booth Friday #30 : 32 Weeks

Happy thirty two weeks pregnant to me!

Part of me can hardly believe we’ve hit this milestone already. Eight {or at the most nine} weeks from now, we will have another baby in the house. Wowsa! That seems fast.

According to BabyCenter, the baby is roughly 16.7 inches long, which is really just a nice way of saying that it’s now big enough to step on my bladder and elbow me in the ribs simultaneously.

And seriously, I think the baby is literally standing on my bladder. It’s not unusual for me to get up to go to the bathroom three, sometimes even four times a night. I don’t really remember how often I had to go with Lily, but I’m positive it wasn’t nearly this much.

I’ve also been having Braxton Hicks contractions – usually after I’ve been exercising or moving around a lot although I woke up in the middle of the night with some last night. I’m not gonna lie, it made me a little nervous at first, but they went away.

But I can’t complain – both this and my last pregnancy have been blissfully uncomplicated and I’m thankful that minor aches and pains are really all I have to talk about.

Here’s a current belly shot…I think I’m getting progressively worse at taking pictures, if that’s even possible…

Lily wanted in on the picture and it was actually a pretty good one, but I forgot to turn the flash off…

…so we had to take another one, which as you can see, did not make Lily very happy. And it’s blurry. Oh well. Maybe I should start making Dave take these for me instead of trying to do it myself :)

 

Happy Friday!