Little Mister: A letter for your Half Birthday

Dear Little Mister,

Two weeks ago, you turned six months old. Your first half birthday. I intended to write this letter to you then, but you and your sister were sick, something that's been too regular of an occurrence lately, and I wanted time. Time to make sure that I could properly focus on you, in that moment when you needed me, and in this moment as I write your letter.

When I think of you, I immediately think of your bright eyes, your smile, and your soft, bubbly giggle. Your eyes light up and you get quietly excited when someone you know walks in the room. Your breath quickens, you flap your arms, you flash your two bottom teeth.

Quietly excited. That describes you through and through. You are calm, yet enthusiastic. You watch everything and everyone, and you very gently and sweetly express your pleasure with the world. Your favorite person in the universe is Bean. When she walks into the room your whole face sparkles, and you can't stop grinning. The two of you already share a special bond and my heart warms when I see the two of you touch foreheads and giggle at each other. I can't wait to see what adventures you have together.

The last six months have been a whirlwind, but each and every moment has been full. Full of love, snuggles, drool, tickles, friends, and family. I've so enjoyed the way you nuzzle into my neck, giggling when my hair tickles your face. You did this from the moment you were born, and I hope that you never ever stop. One of our favorite things to do has been to steal a Sunday afternoon nap together on the couch, you resting your head on my chest, settling into the crook of my arm.

And since you've taken to waking at 5 in the morning, we lie together in bed with Daddy while you nurse. Sometimes you stay awhile and drift back to sleep. Other times you prefer to go back to your own bed, for as much as you like to snuggle, you also like and need to have your space to rest. You've always told us when it's time to put you down.

Lately, you've been more eager than ever to MOVE. You spend hours in your bouncer jumping up and down. And just today, you pushed up on all fours in your crib. You'll be tearing up the carpet in no time! No more playtime blankies for you! You'll be all over this house!

I know that during the next six months, you'll literally crawl your way away from life as a newborn and into life as a little boy. I am so excited for you, my little baby. And I pray that we can continue to take joy in each and every moment of your full and precious little life. Blessings to you, Little Mister.

The World According to Bean: Wildlife

The following conversation took place today on our way home for supper:

Bean: What's that sound in the car?
Me: Good question. I think it's Little Mister's stroller rattling around in the trunk.
Bean: ...No, it's not O's stroller. It's cheetahs.
Me: There are cheetahs in the car?
Bean: No, they're outside....

.....Bean (whispering): Mom! I see groundhogs!
Me: Oh yeah? Where? (it was dark. there were no groundhogs.)
Bean: In the forest.
Me: Is that where they live?
Bean: Yes. That's where they live...

....

Bean: Do groundhogs roar? You know, like bears?
Me: No. I'm not really sure what they do. They're not so scary like bears and lions and tigers and cheetahs.
Bean: Can you play with them?
Me: Well, no.
Bean: Why not?...

....

Bean: Do groundhogs poop in the grass or on cars?
Me: In the grass. Why would they poop on cars?
Bean: Well, birds only poop on cars.

Ah, She's a Witty One

Every day, Bean puts together ridiculous amounts of knowledge that add to her understanding of the world. And then she tells (or draws) us about them. These conversations reveal some one-liner gems and pictorial insights that leave us laughing, wondering, and, sometimes, purely in shock. Today gave us several of these moments. Here are the highlights:

Pre-dinner conversation:

Bean is gathering her art supplies. She's got a tablet and some colored pencils in her hand.

Bean: These are my portrait things, Mommy.
Me: Oh yeah?
Bean: Yeah, these are for drawing portraits.
Me: Do you know what a portrait is?
Bean: No.
(I explain.)
Me: Can you draw my portrait?
Bean: Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Let me see if I can find a page here....

Pre-dinner doodles:

Bean: This is your belly button...And Here's your mouth. I think you're smiling. Yeah, you have a smiley face......

Sorry no, that's a frog.

Me: Um.....Can I have eyes?
Bean: Oh, yeah sure.
      And here's a nose. (giggles to herself) It looks like a hot air balloon. It's a hot air balloon nose!
Me: I have a hot air balloon nose?
Bean: Yeah...

Dinner Conversation:

B has gravy left on his plate so he goes to get a piece of bread to mop it up. After peeking at the Bean through a hole in the bread, he offers her half. 

B: Would you like some?

Bean: No. Definitely not.

(B and I raise eyebrows at each other.)

B: OK.....

................

Bean: Can I have some bread?

(Laughter)

Bean: There's no need for laughing!

More Dinner Conversation:

Bean: Boy, you're really tanked up, Mommy!

Me: .......

Three!

Oh, my! You're three today! What an amazing thing! Three is a birthday you've looked forward to for quite awhile. It was the milestone you referenced for when you'd be able to go to school...

And here we are! You're doing it! You started school last week and you're learning so much already. I can tell that you really like it there. You're making friends and every day you share something about your day that was new and exciting.

This has been a big year for you in so many ways, but the biggest deal by far is that you became a big sister. We began waiting for your brother, who we all call Little Mister, to arrive soon after you turned two! It was a joy to wait for him along with you - you called me your "Big Momma" and you were very proud to help prepare our home for his arrival. Since he arrived in June, you have loved Little Mister. You take care of him and look out for him, making sure that someone comes to help when he cries. Every night you kiss and hug him goodnight, and you've started telling me what you think he's saying when he "squeaks."

You ARE a tremendous helper, for Momma and Dad, your grandparents, and to people you don't even know. I am so proud of how much you care for others. You greet people as we meet them and often stop to offer help to those who might be having trouble carrying something or setting off to do a chore like setting the table. Nearly every day you ask me, "Can I help?" with something.

doing laundry

Your favorite chores are the laundry, vacuuming, making your bed, and putting the soap in the dishwasher. Some day you'll probably read this and roll your eyes, but you even MADE ME scrub my bath tub one morning because it was getting "too dusty."

making the bed

My favorite thing about this past year - and hopefully your favorite too - is that we've had so many adventures together! You are keen on discovering your world, asking me every morning, "Where are we going today?" Since we've had a lot of time together after Little Mister was born, we've explored parks, made friends, danced in fountains, gone swimming in pools, creeks, and lakes, and met all sorts of animals at farms and fairs. Your eyes sparkle when we see new things, and you're always noticing the little stuff of life. Like the day we took a walk and you noted the yellow butterfly that was flying alongside us the entire way, and the Queen Anne's Lace that grows in the vacant lots in our neighborhood - it's one of your favorite flowers.

Every Saturday is "family day," and you hold that sacred. I live for the moments when you sit between me and Dad, put your arms around us, and say,"I love my family." In these moments, you effervesce with an infectious joy. Your Dad and I love you so very much and our family would not be complete without you. 

Happy birthday, Little One. May your joy overflow. 

First Day

Last Wednesday was the Bean's first day of preschool. I've started and stopped this post several times because I get writer's block as soon as I type that first sentence. What do I say next? This milestone has me swirling in emotion - okay, more emotion. My thoughts jump from sadness at the passing of babyhood to gratitude for the crazy fabulous summer I've been able to share with both of my children, to disbelief at the swift movement of time, to the realization that this is just the first of many baby steps out of the nest, to intense pride that my little girl is ready for and excited about school. And all of these thoughts have the capability to pass within the span of three minutes' time and leave me crying and smiling all at once. Motherhood does indeed permanently open us up and leave us intensely vulnerable, as our hearts wander around outside ourselves through our children. It is a beautiful, frightening, wonderful thing.

The build-up to last Wednesday had been long. Not as long as the build-up to Little Mister's birth (thank goodness!), but long enough. The Bean has wanted to go to school for quite awhile. She's watched the kids there playing on the playground and confidently told us, "I want to go there some day!" She's also checked of many milestones in the getting there. Getting dressed? Check! Going to the potty? Check! Sharing? Mostly check! And as the actual start of school grew closer there were visits to the classroom, back-to-school shopping trips, and a whole host of play dates and field trips that let us squeeze out every last delicious bit of summer that we could.

Yet when the day came - it actually  came - I think we were all just a little bit in shock and definitely anxious. The night before, Bean could hardly stay in bed and on one of many trips  I took upstairs to help her get back to bed, we had this conversation: "Mommy, WHEN am I going to school?" "Tomorrow," I replied. "Oh...," her voice quiet. I realized that prior to that point, school was not yet real to her. The change coming was incomprehensible. It was an exciting idea the floated somewhere in the timeless world of the toddler mind. But the time had come, and it was real, and somehow we all still went to sleep that night.

In the morning, B and I put on our most enthusiastic faces and excitedly helped the Bean get ready. I had set out her clothes the night before and noticed that she had already made her own editorial adjustments to the outfit (note the socks). Bean was ready and excited. She left the house smiling and made a smooth transition into her classroom when B dropped her off.

Thus began one of the longer days of my life. I could not WAIT for my little girl to come home and tell me her stories. (I also prayed that it would all go OK and that she would want to go back again!) And I missed her....

And I made her dinner. And I waited for her to walk in the door. I felt like a kid at Christmas time, filled with anticipation about what she would tell. At 5:30 she and B walked in the door, both happy (phew!).

"How was your day?" I asked.
"I have decided that I'm not going to tell you and Little Mister about my day," she replied.

OH boy, I thought. So much for Christmas. During the course of the evening, I learned that lunch was "not too bad," and they sang "Wheels on the Bus," and that the Bean wanted to go back, even if only to rescue her precious buddy (a stuffed bunny named Paddy) who she no longer wanted to "live" at school. ("We need to talk about this as a family," she said.)

So there I had it. Right before my eyes, my little girl was defining her own world - making sense of and delineating an experience and place that belongs to her. From now on, she gets to choose how to spend her day and what her story will be. And when she gets over the fact that her world has been rocked (again) and school starts to feel normal, and her confidence grows, I cannot WAIT to hear all about it. Until then, I will have to be satisfied with the knowledge that school makes good lunch, the playground is "good," and the Bean seems to be excited to go back.

Sibling Moments

One of the most enjoyable things about having two children is the opportunity to catch them together in adorable tender moments. Bean absolutely adores her little brother, and loves to interact with him. 

What I also love about capturing these moments is all of the outtakes it leads to:

Uhh...Mom? Mom?! She's touching me.

Srsly Mom. I shake my fist a you. She's gonna rub my hair off.

MOOOOMMM!

uh, headbut?

And then there are moments like this. True tenderness. My heart swells.

Falling in Love

I have officially fallen in love with Little Mister. Specifically, it happened yesterday afternoon. For those of you without children, this statement probably raises some eyebrows. After all, it has been nearly 8 weeks since the little guy was born. Didn't I love him already? And the answer is, without a doubt, yes. I loved him before he was born. I knew his demeanor before he arrived - I had even correctly guessed at his preferred fetal position. And once he was here, I would have stopped a speeding train on his behalf if possible. But...

...there is a real biological reason that the body excretes a so-called "love hormone" upon the emergence of a child who has been born via unmedicated vaginal birth (and I'm going to refer to this experience not because I judge those who went any other route to bring about your child, but because that is the road I myself have traveled twice). For the first several hazy crazy weeks of an infant's life, he's a fragile, floppy, sleeping pooping being who wants and needs to be constantly attached to my breasts. My breasts which are sore and huge and leaky and even bleeding. The newborn's most secure place is with his exhausted mother - he just spent three seasons inside her, after all - and his mother will forego hours upon hours of sleep to ensure his security and wellbeing. When the mother wants to go places, it's with the knowledge that there is a ticking feeding timer alongside, and for me, this time, there's also a lovely but moody two-year-old in tow. As my last post indicated, it's safe to say that time has passed without my realizing it or knowing where it went. All I know is that this hamster wheel of a summer that I've been at times riding, at other times driving, has started to slow its pace a bit, and Little Mister and I have finally had the chance to start to know one another as people rather than as the hungry one and the food source.

I know nothing scientific about the ebb and flow of a postpartum woman's hormones, but I'd be willing to bet that something changes between 6 and 8 weeks out from the birth of her child. At least for me, and anecdotally for others I know, now is the time that the magic starts to happen and my baby becomes a person to me. He smiles at me. He stays awake for longer periods. He naps! He maintains a semi-respectable schedule of meals, within reason. Not only does Little Mister make sounds, but I know what they all mean, and they are all adorable! He even makes sounds in order to "converse" with the family. And he's not so floppy anymore. He's becoming his own little sturdy self, still incredibly snuggly and soft, and vulnerable, but he's a solid little guy too. He responds to my touch not just in an instinctual way, but in the way a person who likes me - a lot! - responds...

And I love him. Last evening, as I watched him roll around on the floor and respond to the Bean and my smiles and voices, I knew that the moment had arrived. My heart has leapt out of my body and I love him. Dearest Little Mister, thank you for being here, and thank you for letting me know you and help you as you grow into the one and only you.

Today

So for the  majority of my life, I'm a working mom. I get up in the morning, go to work, come home, have dinner, go to bed. My kids are with me for all but the go to work part, which represents the majority of my day, which means that the majority of their days are spent somewhere else in someone else's care. I'm OK with this most of the time because I've come to own this as who I am and I truly believe that I'm an excellent mother. And my kids will know their mother works...

except for right now. Mister O came along, and I decided I'd take an extra long leave to be a stay-at-home mom. (I also believe this to qualify for the title "working mom." Hopefully after reading this post you'll agree.) I did this when Bean was born too - stayed home for four months with her. By the end, I felt that I was in my element, a domestic queen ruling her domain...and then I went back to work. This time, I'm home for seven months with a work at home project thrown in the middle of it. Currently, I'm home with both kids at the very same time all day most days. And it's no wonder that the time has flown right by this summer. Here's a sample day. Today, actually, if I can remember it now.

So, this morning, after feeding Mister O., showering while B fed the Bean, and throwing on some clothes and half-drying my hair, I came downstairs to a kitchen that looked like this:

I wasn't exactly surprised - it had of course looked that way last night too - but it annoyed me. I sighed and headed for the coffee maker (not pictured) and navigated the maze of dirty bowls and recyclables to put my toast in the toaster.

As soon as I put my breakfast on the table, Bean abandoned her post there. She was anxious to get outside and help me spread the remainder of a straw bale on the garden. I was pretty excited about this being her idea. I hadn't counted on getting any more garden work done today, but here she was, proposing it. I asked her to wait, ate my breakfast, and we headed outside. Mister O remained just inside the screen door in his bucket seat on the kitchen table. I said a silent prayer that he'd remain content.

Upon reaching the garden, Bean noted that everything was still wet and we had a lesson about what dew is. I commenced to pull some weeds to clear ground on which to throw the straw. Bean went off on her own to play. Perfect, I thought. Even if she doesn't help, we're out here and I can get some stuff done! Fast forward about 5 minutes: Mister O. was fussy and Bean decided it was too cold to be outside. Another sigh from me, and we headed indoors. My eyes were now on the clock, as we had a 10 a.m. playdate at the local park, which involved getting the Bean into swim gear and packing a picnic.

By now it was about 8:30, and the Bean requested stories. Great idea! I praised and rewarded her request until 9, when it was time to prepare for the park. I needed some time to make our lunches, and then it takes at least a half hour to gather all troops, potty, and shove bodies and gear into the car. I also fed Mister O. at some point.

All loaded up, we headed to the park. I drove us all the way there, only to realize we had no diaper bag. I decided to take my chances. We wandered around the park, Bean in her swimsuit, and awaited our playmates. I feel that I should also mention it was 59 degrees outside this morning. OUr friends soon called - change of plans. I was proud of the Bean for receiving the information fairly well. She's not so good at flexibility these days, since her brother arrived and stole the Mommy show. But we both made it to the car, and then to Chik-fil-a in a happy mood. We even stopped for gas, where I helped the Bean out of her suit and into her clothes while the tank filled up. Mister O. slept - thank you, Mister O.!

After lunch and playing and some conversation among moms at Chik-fil-a we headed home where Bean actually did eat her lunch. Then stories and a Mister O. feed, and a nap, from which there were ZERO WALK-BACKS THANK YOU VERY MUCH. (this is a huge victory for me - it doesn't happen often and Bean has been more than trying at sleep time)

And then I proceeded to get ready for a trip to the pool, an opportunity that serendipitously arose as I G-chatted with another working mom friend this afternoon. By 4:10, I had woken the Bean, fed Mister O., gotten all of us dressed, packed our bags, and loaded into the car again to go to the pool...where I got to sit still for a few minutes while the Bean played happily in the water and O slept. I also noted that these days are numbered - my friend spent the time chasing after her youngest while keeping track of the oldest's behavior choices. She did not sit still.

Then it was home, supper, tele, stories, bath, be...no. not bed. There was an hourlong battle with the Bean, fraught with tears, over staying in bed. And then there was feeding Mister O., and putting him into his bed. I also did some laundry and the dishes at some point. A pile of clutter destined for the basement made it down there too. And now there's this rambling post telling you about all of it.

Why? Because this is life, and I want to capture it. And just as I can barely remember the details of today anymore, I know that very soon this entire season of life will be just a tiny drop in the bucket of my memory. It is a crazy, chaotic, happy, stressful time, and I know that it's cliche to say so, but I truly would not trade it. Motherhood in all of its messiness and dirty dishes and tantrum refereeing is beautiful.

Now excuse me, while I collapse into bed.

July 4 : One Month Old

Owen is one month old today. The time has flown - it's true that baby time runs at its own pace. It's long and fast all at once. Add to it toddler time and you're off to the races!

Owen is a sweet boy, mild mannered but alert and so very eager to move. He is STRONG, holding his head up high while on his tummy and kicking his legs with vigor. Every medical professional who's tried to examine him has commented on his strength. He wants to take in the world and explore, even at this fresh age. His eyes are often open, and he tunes into the voices of his Momma, Daddy, and Bean. And he's a snuggler. He'll take his little nose and nuzzle it into my neck, letting out this adorable little sigh. He's even beginning to coo, and we can tell that a genuine smile is just around the corner. In the middle of the chaos of adapting to life as a Momma of two, one of whom is rightly feeling a bit salty about all of this, Owen is a calm place to settle for a moment. It's safe to say we're in love. Happy one month, Little Mister.

And because we love comparisons...

Siblings

Ever since Owen was laid in my arms, I've been struck by how much he seems to resemble his big sister. Same little sweet mouth, button noses, dimples forming, and even similar preferences for body positioning when resting.

Recently, I received the proofs from a newborn photos shoot of Owen. I was floored by how very similar the two children are. So much so that one photo of Owen immediately brought to mind an almost identical one of the Bean (two different photographers, at that!).

Check it out! These two could be twins!

The Bean was a bit more bird-like and, well, feminine, while Owen is definitely a solid chunk of a boy (Bean was almost 2 months in the photo, while Owen was 2.5 weeks). But the resemblance is unmistakeable. I cannot wait to watch these two peas in a pod (beans on the vine?) grow up together. 

It happened on a Monday Night: Owen's Birth Story

Monday June 3 was my first day at home completely solo with the Bean. Following a weekend of fatigue, I had carefully planned some pretty low-key activities for us to fill our day together. The weather was perfect, and we spent our morning making a trip to the local greenhouse for some plants to put in our flower beds. Bean got to pick out a hanging planter, and - the highlight of the trip - she made friends with the greenhouse's resident rooster. We returned home, setting up the plants for Daddy to put in the ground later that day. We fed the birds, played with the sand table, and ate a simple lunch together. Bean, prone lately to testy toddler behavior, was perfect. It was a very sweet morning with simple conversations, and she went down for her afternoon nap without a fight. I also went down for an afternoon rest. I read awhile, then let myself drift off for an hour or so. When I woke, Bean was still asleep. I rolled onto my side, and for the first time ever felt a contraction while in a resting position. It was 4:30 p.m. I took note and moved on with my evening.

B came home from work a bit after 5:00. Bean was just waking from her nap. As we made create-your-own pizzas, I noted that I felt funny. A few times I said to B, "I'm having some contractions and they might be real this time. I'm just giving it time so I can figure it out." Between 5:30 and 6 we sat down to our dinner and then went outside for awhile. Contractions? Check! At this point, I timed a few and they were 4-6 minutes apart. Hmmm...could it really be active labor?! naaaaah. I'll just monitor them and see what happens. If it's for real, I'll go in and lie down for awhile..conserve my energy. The baby won't be here before tomorrow morning anyhow...

I continued to play with Bean at her sand table, and supervise B who was planting our greenhouse selections for me. Several more times I say to him, "I think this might be for real. We'll see." I periodically hit the button on the contraction timer app on my phone to check in on timing. Things are getting closer to 3-5 minutes apart. huh.

It was also an active night in our online world. What follows now is a mashup of our virtual correspondence and our real-life events, thanks to the breadcrumb trail we left through our texts, skype calls, and emails. It was a fast and furious night.

6 - 6:30 - outdoor play with the Bean and planting time
6:49 - I send an email response to a well-wisher regarding our upcoming baby. "Thanks! Won't be long!" I say. (heh)
7:00ish - Bean and I do a Google hangout with Aunt Em and Uncle Nick. (yep, still contracting. still 4-6 minutes apart, with some strength behind them. still mentally assessing.)
7:30 - B gives Bean a bath. I agree to do storytime.
7:34 - I talk to my Mom. I don't mention the contractions.
8:00 - I do storytime. I'm having a bit of trouble getting through but persevere. Timer is getting closer and closer to 3 minutes. Bean drags it out and asks for songs. I have to take a break to contract. Yeah. This is probably real. 
8:37 - I call my Mom again and let her know that I "might" need her tonight. Do I want her to come over now? I don't know. She suggests that I call the doctor. I tell B I'm going to call. In the meantime Bean sneaks downstairs and overhears. "Why are you calling Dr. S., Mommy?" (oh, crap. in my vision, this is all supposed to go down without her knowing. oops.) B walks her back to bed.
8:45 - I call the doctor and tell him things are 4-6 minutes apart. He says to go in to the hospital and get checked. I tell him I can be there in half hour to 45 minutes.
8:56 - To her credit, Mom texts that she's coming over right away (I would have told her to wait). I go to take a shower. Sometimes taking a shower can relax you and slow things down. After this, maybe I'll lie down awhile. 
9:24 - I hear Mom arrive. I'm out of the shower and making sure the bag is packed. Contracting at 3-5 minutes apart. Guess they're not slowing down.  As I leave my room I see Bean sitting at the top of the steps. She's worried. "Who's here?" she asks. "Grammy," I say. "Remember the big tummy ache?" I ask. "Yeah," she replies. "Well I think I have it. I think the baby is going to come tonight. I need to go to the hospital."
There were hugs and kisses and contractions. By the time B and I left the house, contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, and I was stopping to breathe and sway through them. The building intensity was surprising and impressive.
10ish - We arrive at the hospital. Nurse Amanda, the best nurse I've ever had ever ever, says she'll check my progress. I'm 3 cm (eh), but 80% effaced. This is for real. Still, given our prior experiences with false alarms at the hospital when Bean was born, we agree to wait until I've been checked into the hospital to let family know...

Absolutely no time is wasted beginning the checkin process. As contractions keep coming, I periodically look at B, smiling, and say, "I can't believe this is happening!" Then I return to my position, seated in a rocking chair next to the bed, and take my deep breaths. Amanda is patient and coaches me through the contractions. At some point during the medical forms and questioning, I can't sit anymore. A strong contraction comes and my body involuntarily stands up. I remain in that position, bending in and L shape over the tray table, breathing and swaying for the remainder of the laboring.

10:59 - Finally, the questioning is over. B's texts the family "Anne has been admitted to the hospital. Will send updates as able."

11ish and Dr. S. arrives, and I'm checked again - you have to be over 5 cm for them to be able to unstrap you from the monitors. In the last hour I've progressed to 6 cm with a paper-thin cervix. (woah. what?!) At 11:17, B texts: "6 cm. Should not be too long." "Wow. I take it she's staying," replies Mom. :)

I'm allowed to stand up again. I continue my breathing. Everything is about breathing now. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. Every now and then I give B instructions about what to do, but mostly I don't want anyone to touch me. I'm in this game and I'm going to do it.

Now it's time for an IV and blood draw. Seriously?! You wait until NOW to try to stick me? By the way, my legs are shaking at this point. I'm still standing, but realize that I'm in the thick of transition. "Do I really need the IV?" I ask Amanda. Unfortunately, they must insert the port "just in case." ugh. In she comes, trying to miss the height of my contractions, but it's becoming harder to do so. The moment she sticks my hand, I begin to cry. This pain from the needle is so different from what my body is programmed to handle at this moment that it registers with great intensity, sending the pain receptors over the top, and totally messes with my focus on the real mission that my body has right now - strengthening the contractions that are pushing my baby out. I continue to cry as the dude from the lab sticks me twice to get blood out of my arm. I think I'm probably wimpering now for it to stop - I mean the needles, not the contractions.

It's well after 11 now. I'm aware that the room is filling up with people. Even though I'm convinced this is going to take a lot longer, I notice in my peripheral vision the wheeling in of the warming table, the doctor getting into scrubs, an army of nurses standing at the ready and watching. (An unmedicated birth is quite the spectator event.) I hear someone say that they've brought in extra blankets in case the warming table isn't heated up in time. huh, really? I guess the think this baby is coming very very soon! I continue to focus on a spot on the floor - swaying, moaning, breathing. At some point I'm asked whether I feel that I need to push. "I don't think so," I say. Then a moment later, "I do feel like I need to go to the bathroom." THAT springs them into action: "Sweety we need to check you NOW because we don't do standing births here!" I don't want to lie down, but I do. Being flat on my back feels worse than anything else.  They check me, and I'm 8 cm. Go-time is just around the corner. Dr. S offers to break the waters so that I can push sooner. He is under the assumption that I'm in too much pain. I don't argue. It's 11:47, and B texts the family: "8 cm. It's baby time." Responses include, "Go Anne!" and "I hope the doc is in the neighborhood," to which B responds, "In the room. I think it is time." "OMG," writes Mom.

Waters break, and in 2 contractions I feel it. The head. "I need to push!!!!" Dr. S. gets into position and the nurses look ready. Everyone stands back, though, and lets me work. Amanda is at my side, B at the other. Unlike at Bean's birth, this time I hold my own legs, make my own calls about when and how to push, and for how long. Dr. S. uses his hands to hold my cervix back. I yell at him, "GET OUT! GET OUT!" I think he assumes I mean the baby. Then he realizes and explains..he's helping. (sigh, okay) I push, I poop, I feel the baby's head, my body lets out a primal guttural weight-lifter type yell. The ring of fire happens..."HELP ME!" I scream. But I'm calling out to my own body, and to my baby - not to anyone in the room. One. More. Push....and...

At 12:06 a.m. HE emerged. I was the first to see and announce that the baby is a boy. He was laid on my chest, and I held him there for several minutes while his cord stopped pulsing. "He's heavy!" I say. "He has ROLLS!"  He was briefly moved to have the cord cut and get a quick once-over, and then he was returned to me. I held him for over an hour. He nursed. He was eventually weighed - 8 lbs, 3 oz. By 12:09, the family all know that Owen Russell Behler has arrived. Replies include "OMG!" and "Great job, team!" and "That's a big boy!"At some point I told B he could go home and sleep.

Sometime after 2 (3?) I was taken to my hospital room. I tried to rest, but I couldn't sleep. The adrenaline rush was just too strong to allow it. Here I was, a Momma again, to a perfect little baby boy.

B is for...

...BABY!!! and BOY!!!

I am so pleased to share the news that exactly on his due date, one week ago, Owen Russell made a fast and determined appearance. Born at 12:06 a.m. on June 4, Owen weighed a whopping 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and is a very tall 22 inches long. He is perfect. He eats, sleeps, poops, and makes all of those lovely squeaky newborn sounds. Soon I plan to chronicle his epic arrival, but for now, please enjoy the lovely newborn squishiness:

Brand New

One Week Old

Pregnancy Log: 39 Weeks

We have reached the end of the road (it's watermelon week!). In honor of this, I'm going to forego the usual log and write a "real" post. 39 weeks. According to modern medicine, this means I've got roughly one week left until my body says, "no more room in the inn," to the little one I've got on board.

According to the signals my body is sending me, this could happen any day now, though I keep reminding myself that the Bean came 5 days after her "due date." Nevertheless I feel more done than I ever did last time, even up to the day I gave birth to Bean. My belly is huge and low, I've got tremendous pressure building, and my joints are so loose that I'm having regular muscle spasms. I'm also currently more dilated than I was when I was admitted to the hospital in labor with the Bean (!!)

This is a fact that I try not to let excite me too much. At the end of the day, there's only one way out of this condition for me, and it's going to be a challenging day or night whenever it happens.

Something that I'm extremely grateful for has been the time to be at home for about two weeks leading up to the baby's birth. Yesterday began my second working week at home. The time has been a lovely mix of mother/daughter time with the Bean, furious nesting, relaxing time for myself, and quality family time.

Now, as things progress and I'm becoming less comfortable (and this week's weather forecast threatens 90 degrees!), I find myself hoping for labor very soon. I want to finally meet this little roly poly person growing inside. I want to know whether this is a boy or a girl. And, most of all, I want to gather my family together in our nest and take joy in the love that we have for one another. I'm feeling so antsy, and so content, at the very same time...

...did I mention the turkey timer went off? (c'mon little one!)

Remembering

I'm watching an American Pickers marathon tonight. This is something that typically would have prompted a call to Mimi. She and I shared a love of antiques - especially dishes - and had great nostalgia for the accompanying stories. I can't call Mimi tonight. She's been gone from this world for just over two months. But the strength of her memory that I feel tonight has prompted me to write this post, a post that I've been putting off since before she died. Writing such things makes them real, right?

Last Fall, Mimi, who had been fighting liver disease for the better part of a year (and probably longer in hindsight), suffered a major setback. Treatments that had previously worked no longer did the trick. Her body was saying, "no more." When we received the call about this, questions immediately bombarded my brain.  Should we go visit? Should the Bean come? What should we tell her?

I struggled for a long moment with what to do. How would my toddler handle this? What was appropriate to say? Should I, could I, shield her innocent being from the emotional pain that I could see coming fast over the horizon?

...And then I remembered. I remembered the white hallway. I remembered my Mom holding me. Most importantly, I remembered the toes sticking out of the hole in the white cotton socks and the warm smiling eyes. My own great grandmother, Mamaw. Her warmth and happiness are real to me still today. I was two at the time we visited her, and this was the last time I saw her. I remember. Because my Mom took me to see her in her last days, I remember her...

That settled it. We would make a detour on our current roadtrip to visit Mimi in the hospital, and the Bean would join me. We'd tell her that Mimi was sick and in the hospital where they could take care of her and help her to feel better. After all, this could be the last time...

I carried my own little girl into the hospital. She pushed the elevator button herself. We entered the hospital room, Bean wary of the equipment at first. But soon, she and Mimi were comparing nail polish colors and blowing kisses. We told Mimi we loved her.

...I didn't know whether we'd see Mimi again. But perhaps the Bean would save away an image of nail polish and smiles. As it happened, we had a few more "last visits." We shared Thanksgiving with Mimi, and visited several times while she was on hospice care in her assisted living apartment. Each time, Mimi grew weaker, but each time, she and Bean shared a precious moment - turkey dinner, a Christmas gift, and more fancy nails. Every night the Bean prayed for Mimi. She even began requesting a tray table in bed because "Mimi eats in bed."

And when Mimi finally died, Bean understood. Bean understood that she couldn't get better. And that we would always love her and know her. I recently washed the Bean's jacket, and pulled a rose from Mimi's funeral out of the pocket. She's been carrying it around with her ever since. I can tell that she's been careful with it, but at the same time can see that she touches it often. For Bean, this is a comfort and a memory. The antique dog, named "Mimi Dog," that sits on our kitchen window sill is also a reminder of her once-owner. Objects and stories are helping us to keep the person alive. And maybe when Bean is my age, she'll still remember blowing kisses and pink nail polish. I know that I always will.

Bean and Mimi, Thanksgiving 2012

Pregnancy Log: 36 Weeks

How far along? 36 weeks 
How big is baby? ~6 pounds
Total weight gain/loss:  +26
Maternity clothes? Yes. 
Stretch marks? Nope.
Sleep: Can't get enough, but it's mostly been good.
Best moment this week: We had a wonderful time with family and friends at a baby shower this past Saturday. It was a gorgeous day, spent outside in the sun. I feel so blessed to have such a supportive network in my and my family's life!

Have you told family and friends: Yes.
Movement: Still a roly poly in there!
Food cravings: Ice cream and peanut butter
Anything making you queasy or sick:  I hate most strong smells. 

Other symptoms: Moving slowly, out of breath, more achy, starting to feel antsy and ready.
Have you started to show yet: Yes, yes, yes.
Gender prediction: I used to think boy; now I think girl. Who knows, really :)

Labor Signs: None.
Belly Button in or out? I think of it as a turkey timer...
Wedding rings on or off? Off. My fingers are fat.
Happy or Moody most of the time: Antsy
Weekly Wisdom: This week was a turning point for us with Bean. We'd been having lots of bedtime challenges and boundary testing, to the point of major tantrums and tears. We turned the tide by completely changing the routine. I only take care of 1-2 nights per week now, and B does the rest. Tension and testing have almost entirely subsided, and we're all sleeping through the night and waking feeling much happier.
Milestones: Happy 9th Anniversary to us! As of May 1, B and I have been together for a total of 15 years!

Pregnancy Log: 33 Weeks

Everyone loves a good comparison! 

How far along? 33 weeks 
How big is baby? 4+ pounds
Total weight gain/loss:  +23
Maternity clothes? Yes. 
Stretch marks? Nope.
Sleep: Can't get enough, but it's mostly been good.
Best moment this week: This conversation with the Bean: 

Me: OUCH!!!
Bean: What happened, Mama?
Me: I kicked Sammie's ball with my bear feet and he bit my toe. I shouldn't have done that.
Bean (sitting on the floor): Come down here Mama.
Me: What?
Bean: Come down here and sit on my lap. I will "snug" wif you and make it feel better. 
Have you told family and friends: Yes.
Movement: Yes, yes, yes...
Food cravings: Ice cream and peanut butter
Anything making you queasy or sick:  I hate most strong smells. 

Other symptoms: Starting to feel extreme muscle tightening while doing exercise, walking, etc. (Contractions?!)
Have you started to show yet: Um, just look at the photo. 
Gender prediction: I used to think boy; now I think girl. Who knows, really :)

Labor Signs: None.
Belly Button in or out? I think of it as a turkey timer...
Wedding rings on or off? Off more than on.
Happy or Moody most of the time: Antsy
Weekly Wisdom: For the working mom: Be kind to yourself in the work place and make sure that you give yourself time and space to prepare to be out for your leave. And remember...leave is LEAVE. You only get one opportunity to be with your baby - take it!
Milestones: Hmmm....even some maternity clothes don't fit. Is that a milestone?

Pregnancy Log: 32 Weeks

How far along? 32 weeks 
How big is baby? almost 4 pounds
Total weight gain/loss:  +22
Maternity clothes? Yes. 
Stretch marks? Nope.
Sleep: Sleeping much better lately, and so is the little one. Phew!
Best moment this week: I spent 2 hours alone in my kitchen this week, making springerles. It was heavenly.
Have you told family and friends: Yes.
Movement: Yes, yes, yes...
Food cravings: Ice Cream
Anything making you queasy or sick:  I hate most strong smells. 

Other symptoms: Starting to feel extreme muscle tightening while doing exercise, walking, etc. (Contractions?!)
Have you started to show yet: Um, just look at the photo. 
Gender prediction: I used to think boy; now I think girl. Who knows, really :)

Labor Signs: None.
Belly Button in or out? I think of it as a turkey timer...
Wedding rings on or off? On. 
Happy or Moody most of the time: Very emotional.
Weekly Wisdom: For the second-time parent - be ready to be very very patient with your first-born during pregnancy. The Bean is extremely hyped, anxious, and CLINGY. 
Milestones: In the last 4 weeks since I posted, I've completed an intense women's leadership program, celebrated Easter, and B and I have each lost a grandparent. This weekend we look forward to painting!!

32 Weeks