Another Baby Story

A new baby seems like a pretty good reason to blog after it's been over a year, right?

We welcomed our little Lorelai (yup, we named another child after a television character) into the world on May 26th. I thought it would be a good idea to document the story of how we got her here-mostly for myself. So, if you want to delve into my personal life, please feel free to continue reading.

The differences between this pregnancy and last one were quite different. With Juliet I got pregnant very quickly, evidenced by the fact that I had a baby only 13 months after I was married.  My pregnancy was relatively unscathed (yeah, I had morning sickness, but other than that, things were pretty peachy as far as pregnancy goes), but my labor was a bit of a nightmare. In case you don't remember this charming tale, I pushed for 2 1/2 hours without my child even entering the birth canal. It wasn't fun. I ended up with a c-section- during which I could feel a lot "tugging and pulling but not pain" that felt pretty painful.  This pregnancy was pretty much the opposite in every way.

 I had "planned" for my first two children to be 3 years apart. Juliet turned 4 in April, so that obviously didn't work out quite as I had planned. When I did find out that I was pregnant, I started bleeding  (bad) the next week. I hadn't even been to see my midwife yet, and I was in complete panic. Daniel came home early and we went to the ER. ERs are often not very friendly places. You would think that they should be...but they aren't. After several hours and ultrasounds a doctor comes in and says that there is still a viable fetus, but my placenta had detached in several places and I could miscarry at anytime. I was given a bunch of papers telling me that I had a 50/50 shot of having a viable pregnancy and they sent me (still bleeding) on my way. I was told not to lift more than 10 pounds until I followed up with my midwife the next week. Daniel still had to work, but he was worried about me, so I spent the next few days being "babysat" by either my sister or my mother at their respective houses. When I did follow up with my midwife, my placenta had started to reattach in most areas, and she was very encouraging (plus a little bit angry at the way the ER handled the situation).

A few days after my first appointment I was called and told my blood-work was abnormal...great. Luckily this time it was an easy fix-I had hypothyroidism, which can be treated fairly easily with medication. I was a medicated mama now and although not eating for 30 minutes after taking the medicine in the morning was not great for the morning sickness, I'm glad it was found and found early so that baby wouldn't have any negative side effects (though I do wonder if it contributed to me taking longer to get pregnant in the first place). Also at my first appointment we decided we would be doing a repeat c-section. I thought I might want to try for a VBAC (vaginally birth after cesarean), but neither Daniel or I felt good about it. My midwife did say it was up to us, but recommended the c-section. We signed the paper and turned it in (yup, you have to sign a waiver declaring whether you want a repeat c-section or VBAC and that you understand the risks of each), c-section it was.

The rest of my pregnancy progressed pretty normally. I was sick in the beginning (with Juliet I puked...a lot, this time was more just a nauseated feeling that never really went away, with only occasional puking). I was tired and emotional, all the regular pregnancy things. Though I didn't actually gain any weight until about half way through, though that would not be an indication of things to come-I ended up gaining 40 pounds. Pretty early on my feet/ankles started to get a bit puffy. Soon my entire calves followed suit, and my face, and my fingers. My feet definitely received the worst of it though. For months the only shoes I have been able to wear are flip flops and slippers. I got some nifty compression socks that helped the swelling a bit, but they could only do so much. I was obviously holding a lot of water. They usually worry about your blood pressure when you have symptoms like that, and while mine was slightly elevated, it was nothing to be concerned about yet. My pressures were slightly elevated with Juliet as well, and they were watching everything else.

My c-section was scheduled to go down June 4th, that was when I would be 39 weeks, and I wanted to no longer be pregnant on my birthday (June 5th). Blue cheese had been calling my name for months,and I for sure wanted some on my birthday, therefore getting the baby out before then was a must. (Daniel studies microbiology, so he knows all about the foods pregnant people can't eat and why, so he watched me pretty close-not that I was trying to cheat or anything). On Saturday, May 23rd we were at the grocery store and Daniel had to go to the bathroom. Bored while waiting I decided to take my blood pressure and it was pretty dang high. I had my next appointment on Tuesday and I said to Daniel "if it is really that high on Tuesday, they might take the baby then." I didn't think that it would actually happen, but I kept the thought in the back of my mind. At my appointment, the blood pressure cuff refused to work about 3 times because it thought my pressure was too high. They also found a significant amount protein in my urine, and I had gained 7 pounds in less than 2 weeks. I knew it was bad. As soon as my midwife walked in the room, she looked at my chart and said "you are only two days shy of 38 weeks, I think that we should call it." After she ran my numbers past the doctor doing my c-section (she got to assist), it was determined that I was having a baby that day in order to avoid any complications that might come from my preeclampsia (the blood pressure, weight gain, protein, and swollen feet together mean preeclampsia).

Juliet and I headed to the car and I said "okay we have to go pick up daddy from work and then take you to Cole's house." She asked why and I responded "because we are having a baby today!" She was very excited and we rushed away. I got Daniel from work, we stopped at home for our already packed bags (we were much more prepared than with Juliet) and took Juliet to my sister's house. On the way to the hospital I was a little bummed-since I realized I hadn't seen Pitch Perfect 2 yet and I now I would probably have to wait until it came to video. We arrived right after another c-section had just checked in, so we had to wait a little while. I was pretty calm as they got me prepped and had me wait until the surgery room was ready.  This delivery was seriously a dream compared to Juliet's delivery. I felt a lot during Juliet's c-section and expected to feel something again, nope. I literally did not even know that they had started cutting and then boom, they popped a baby over the curtain. I did get a little cold and shaky, but other than that, it was great. I did have to go on Magnesium Sulphate (to prevent things like seizures from the preeclampsia) for 24 hours after Lorelai was born, which makes you feel a bit sick and out of it, but it was still a really easy delivery overall.

Lorelai weighed 6 lbs 10 oz when she was born, and measured 17.5 inches long. A little bit different than my Juliet that weighed 7 lbs 7 oz and measured 21 inches long. Juliet was born at 38 weeks 2 days, and Lorelai was born at 37 weeks 5 days, so it's not like Lorelai was that much earlier either. We are all very grateful for a healthy baby (even though she had a few rough days on the bililights after her levels were high and her weight had majorly dropped). I am doing really well and feeling really great (I don't think I  quite realized how bad the pregnancy was making me feel), but I am still taking it easy, I don't want to overdo it. I am so thankful for my beautiful baby and that we were both able to be safe in the end. It was a lot rougher than Juliet's pregnancy, but I still realize that I didn't have it too bad compared to what some other mothers go through for their little ones. We are both here, we are both healthy and safe, and that is all that matters to me in the end.

And look, pictures!




 

I'm back, and I'm here to say something that might shock and appall you. I'm not about to tell you that I murder puppies, though it has been related to that in the past. We don't do Santa.

"Gasp!" "Why would you do that!?" "What is wrong with you!?" These are all very real responses I have received after uttering that simple sentence. This is not a decision that was made lightly. It has been discussed, a lot, on multiple occasions. Most people simply do not understand why we would make this choice, while others proceed to tell me, to my face, why I am a bad parent. I don't expect everyone to agree with me, but I'm here to help people understand.

I liked Christmas as a child, but even as a teenager, I started to hate the commercialism of it all. I often tell people that I don't like Christmas, but that isn't entirely true. I don't like Christmas for what it is. I love Christmas for what it should be. I don't think that many people would disagree with me when I say that children are entitled now a days. I started to think of ways in which I could keep my children grounded, and focused on Christ, family, and the spirit of giving during the Christmas season. There was one thing I could that seemed simple: eliminate Santa Claus. When children know that their parents have to buy their presents, and that they have a budget, I don't think their expectations will be as high. It isn't about denying my children things, but simply teaching them that they will not always get what they want. No Santa seemed like a good way to teach them, but did I really want to eliminate him? I started to really, deeply, think about it.

Santa was never essential to me as a child. It was fun, yes, but Christmas itself is fun. Most of my childhood Christmas memories involve my family, and the things we did together, not Santa. I found out Santa wasn't real when I was seven, and Christmas was just as fun without him in it. My husband likewise found out about at a young age. Christmas was still fun for him as a child too, so I started thinking, hmmm, maybe Santa isn't essential for a good Christmas. I didn't want to berid Santa for those reasons alone, so I kept thinking, pondering, and discussing.

I like that Santa represents giving, but there are some realities about Santa that started to bother me. The myth tells that bad children are punished when it comes to gifts, but in reality, that isn't true. Bad children get presents; poor children do not. When I thought about this, it made me indescribably sad. I wasn't necessarily worried that my children would feel that they were bad and therefore didn't get presents, I was worried about other kids. If my kids saw that the children down the street didn't get presents, would they think they were bad kids?

I realized, that to me, having Santa was lying to my kids. I made the decision a long time ago, that I was going to be totally honest with my children. When they are old enough to understand, they will know about my eating disorder. I will answer honestly about the scars on my arms. This totally honest approach may not be the best approach, but it is the one I have chosen.  I have pretended to be someone I'm not before, and I don't want to do it again. In my mind, pretending to be Santa for my kids, was not being honest.

I realize that Santa is not about me, but it is about my kids, so I started to think how this decision would affect them. I went over all of the usual arguments. "They will have no imagination." You will stifle their creativity." "You will eliminate the magic of Christmas" I do not believe that Santa is necessary for imagination and creativity.  If this were the case, Jewish kids, and other cultures who do not celebrate Christmas, would never be imaginative or creative. My sister has some of the most imaginative and creative children I know, and they have never had Santa. It's fun to pretend and create, but I think it is also okay to know that the things we are pretending aren't real. Elmo, Spiderman, and Daniel Tiger,  are not real, but we have plenty of fun playing games and pretending with them.

I do not think that the magic of Christmas comes from Santa. I believe that the magic of Christmas comes from Christ.  The joy that Jesus was born on earth so that he could sacrafice for our sins,  and allow us to live with God again, is enough joy for me. I think not having Santa allows us to really focus on Christ, family, and the spirit of giving.

Do I think you are a bad parent if you do have Santa? Absolutely Not! It is not at all my intention to make people who do have Santa feel guilty. We discussed it a lot, we almost did Santa, but we decided against it. That doesn't mean that I am right. It doesn't mean that you are right. It just means that we decided to parent differently, and that is okay. I respect your decision.  We will politely discuss with our children to not ruin it for your kids. I'm just a mom, trying to do the the best I can, and ask for your respect. Next time I say "We don't do Santa." I hope you will say something like: "Oh.", "That's different",  "Can you help me understand why you decided that?"

I like...

I've been getting very annoyed at things lately. I partially blame the election; it brings out the crazy in people. I've had to severely limit my Facebook and Pinterest time, because getting on them just makes me upset. I have thought about doing a rant-y blog post (I'm great at being rant-y), but figured that would probably just put me in a worse mood. I decided to instead take the high road and write a happy blog post. So instead of anger, you get a slightly incoherent jumble of things that I like.

I like tall girls that wear high heels, and short girls that wear flats. Not letting your height determine your shoe options is serious kudos in my book.

I like butternut squash. I'm obsessed. I think butternut squash should replace the whole pumpkin obsession everyone seems to have. (I am doing a butternut squash post on the food blog later. I know, I've been a little MIA, I'm trying to fix that).

I like my height. It always seems that tall people want to be short, and short people want to be tall, not me. I am happy at my 5 feet 2 inches. Yeah, I may need a foot stool to reach the top shelf, but I can still comfortably ride Puff at Lagoon.

I like eating with forks. Spoons are for soup, cereal, and ice cream, and sometimes I even attempt to eat those things with a fork.

I like hanging out with geeks. The more I interact with people, the more I realize how geeky I have become. Gaming tournament = Being with really nice, fun people. Story time at the library = Me questioning wanting to interact with people ever again.

I like spiders. I pick them up, let them crawl on me, and give them names. I don't pick up poisonous ones, so I'm not super crazy. I think spiders are awesome. They have such an elegance about them. They help kill all the stupid mosquitoes too; how could you not like that?

I like eating breakfast for dinner. French toast is probably one of my favorite dinners ever. Maybe I should make butternut squash french toast, that could be magnificent.

I like slobbery baby kisses, 6 am wake up calls, peanut butter hand prints, nap time tantrums, and crayon scribbles in my books. I like Juliet. But really, who doesn't?

Perceptions vs. Reality

Many of my readers should know that I cook, a lot. I like healthy and natural foods, which can be kind of expensive, so I make everything I can by scratch. I absolutely love doing it, and it helps us to eat better, while still sticking to a budget. At times, when people find out about all the different things I make, they are in awe. They put me on a pedestal and ask me how I accomplish so much (especially when it isn't summer and I have school). The way they talk makes me seem like an amazing, organized, and well put together person. When one of them pictures me in their mind, I feel like it would look a bit like this:

Sleek tied up hair. Clean, pretty clothes. Perfect batch of  (healthy) brownies.  Make up done and smiling. (Yes, Nicholle, that is your house).

Occasionally (very occasionally), that is what my life is like. I have everything together, and I seem utterly amazing. While it is nice to be thought of as this perfect entity, I'm here to tell you, that usually isn't the case. Yes, I do cook a lot, and I do make some things that are pretty difficult. I also consider myself to be a very good cook, and if those things make me amazing, then I guess I fit one of those earlier mentioned adjectives. I am not, however, very organized, well put together, or oft times, even sane. I cook like a tornado. Things are everywhere, utensils flying, sauces splashing, flour all over myself, and the baby. On big cooking days (days where I make a bunch of in advance things, such as bread, tortillas, pop tarts, bbq sauce, etc.), I often just stay in my pajamas, unless I need to go somewhere. Juliet likes to try to "help" me, which gets me frantic and makes things more difficult. More often than not, things look a bit like this:

Disheveled hair. Ruined brownies. No make up. Floury pajamas. Crazy baby and an "I'm going insane" face.

Usually, my food does turn out right (more often than I would like to admit though, it doesn't). Other than that, the picture above is bundles more accurate than the first one. I love all the cooking I do, but it is hard, and I do go crazy at times.

So, next time you hear me talking about the amazing things I have made, think of this picture of me going insane, and you will remember I'm not some sort of alien. If you don't care about this kind of thing, and just want to see pictures Juliet, scroll down. I did a cute picture post right before this one.

Juliet is Cute

I haven't updated for awhile, and just thought I would post a few pictures of my cutie, enjoy.

Ode to a Princess

My beautiful Juliet turned one year old last Sunday, April 22nd. I have been wanting to do a birthday post for her for the past week and a half, but I couldn't decide how I wanted to do it. Did I want to talk about how awesome she is; did I want to just post pictures? Then finally, it came to me. There are two ways in which I feel I express my feelings the best. The two ways are cooking, and poetry. Since I can't send everyone a fortune cookie with a saying about and picture of Juliet inside (well, I guess I COULD, but it would be a lot of work), I decided on the latter. There are cute pictures of her after the poem, so, if you aren't the sentimental type, you can  scroll down to look at her adorable-nes. Here is my ode my princess.

One year doesn't really seem like much,
It's such a short span of time,
Just one sand in the hourglass,
Since you came to earth as mine.

Less than five percent of my life,
Has been spent taking care of you,
But you have changed who I am,
And I want to say, thank you.

I know that you cannot read,
And when you can, you might not care,
About some silly poem your mom wrote,
Before you even had much hair.

But, I want you to know I love you,
That you teach me more each day,
That I believe you are an angel,
That God has sent my way.

You have so much personality,
You are sweet, and you are smart,
You can tell when someone else is down,
Because you have such a big heart.

You are loud, and you are messy,
Your antics can drive me up a wall,
But you wouldn't be who you are,
If you didn't do them all.

One year really isn't very long,
But it's enough for me to know,
That I have a huge responsibility,
In helping you to grow.

You may not actually be royalty,
But you are a princess in my mind,
You have mounds of potential,
You are clever, beautiful, and kind.

I don't know what I did to deserve
Such an amazing girl to love,
Being your mother is such a gift,
You're my angel from above.

Now for you viewing pleasure, A picture from every month of Juliet's life. (Nicholle-I couldn't find a November, so I stole one from your blog.)

Sometimes I wonder.

Many different things pass through my mind, and sometimes the things really get me thinking. I decided to compile a list of my wonderings as of late.

• Sometimes I wonder if people realize that the appropriateness of their statements depends on their audience.Things that could be perfectly fine in some situations, aren't really appropriate in other situations. Example: The myriad of people that tell me "We have to wait until we are done with school to have kids." That would be fine if you were talking to someone else, but to me, that translates into: "You and your husband aren't finished with school, and therefore should not have had your baby." I know they most likely don't mean that, but it's hard to not feel like they do.
  
• Sometimes I wonder if anyone paid attention in health class. I overhear people talking about their new "healthy" diet plans, and want slap people in the face. Eating only vegetables, or eating protein bars instead of meals are not healthy alternatives. I have overheard those and many other crazy ideas. Some of the conversations I have overheard happened on Weber State's campus; that is just sad.
  
• Sometimes I wonder why people think it is okay to post things online that they would never do/say in person. I don't mean things that are better translated to text; I post things of that caliber. Sometimes I am much better able to express my feelings through writing. That doesn't mean that it isn't something I wouldn't be perfectly comfortable talking about in person. Example: the bra color for breast cancer posts on Facebook a year or so ago. I honestly do not believe that most of the people who did these posts would be willing to discuss their bra color, in person, to everyone on their contact list.
  
• Sometimes I wonder if blogging is even worth it. Specifically the food blog. I had a poll that 6 people voted on...6 people, and one of them was me. Does anyone even make the recipes? Well, besides my sisters? If they are the only ones, I could just give them recipes. All the good food blog have awesome pictures. I forget to take pictures a lot of the time. Even when I do take pictures, I don't have a fancy camera like everyone else...blah. I'll probably keep it up, I just wonder why at times.
  
• Sometimes I wonder if I'm just blinded by mother love, or if Juliet is really the prettiest baby ever.(I thought I would end on a happy note) Considering I can't walk out the door without hearing "Her eyes are gorgeous!" or "She is so beautiful!", I'm going to say that it is at the very least a combination of the two. My friend Savanna was in town this past weekend (which was awesome!) and she even mentioned that the baby gets compliments everywhere we go. Maybe people compliment all babies...I don't know. Either way, I think she is pretty awesome.