One is the loneliest number

Um. Hi. I'm Amy. This is my blog. I've been missing for a while. Sorry. You probably forgot about us here.

I have excuses. Most of them are lame, so I'll spare you.

I do have one pretty good one...

While I've been away I've been gestating our second baby!!!! I'm just a few days shy of 14 weeks and feeling pretty healthy. We should be welcoming our little bundle around April 23. (Or not. Little Man was three weeks early, so I'm not marking my calendar or anything. This one will come when he or she comes.)

With Little Man, I was tired and sick. The nausea was pretty constant for about 12 weeks and there was some (but thankfully not much) puking going on. I was also really tired. This time the first twelve weeks were pretty much the same--except I never did puke (praise be!)-- but chasing a toddler around definitely made it seem much, much harder. Some days I didn't know if I was coming or going.

I'm not complaining. I know as far as pregnancies go, I've been blessed. I'm so, so, so lucky. Thus far (and hopefully throughout) I haven't have debilitating sickness or chronic pain. I can stay active and live my nine months virtually unencumbered. (Or as unencumbered as one can be while growing a human being--its all relative, right?)

In the photo above I'm obviously unencumbered on our recent 25 mile bike ride in West Virginia. Not every preggo would be able to do that, I suppose. It was, however, a completely flat 25 miles, so don't get too impressed with my feat.

But enough about my pregnancy symptoms and bike riding prowess. Lets talk about the title of this little post. See, I'm an only child. (Technically, I do have step siblings who I love very much, but because of age differences and living situations, our time together was limited.)  While I don't feel like being an only child made me lonely per-se, I did often see my friends with siblings and feel a twinge of jealousy. Beau, on the other hand, has three sisters. I'm sure that posed its own set of challenges when they were younger, but family get-togethers now are so incredibly fun. Beau and I both wanted to be able to give Little Man a sibling (or two, who knows what the future holds...) to share life with.

Part of me thinks we might be absolutely insane for having two under two years old. Sometimes our house is absolute chaos with just one energetic toddler. What could it possibly be like with two? I push those thoughts away and think about what it will be like to have two kids who are close enough in age to be buddies. Yes, basically I ignore the initial years when my twenty-three month old won't understand why mom isn't his and his alone. I'm ignoring the thought of my three year-old trying to play with my one year-old and being too rough or getting frustrated with not being able to play the way he wants. I know all of these are teachable moments; they are life lessons that need to be learned. So, perhaps that's why I ignore my inner anxiety and I focus on our sheer joy. Yeah, we'll go with that.

When I was pregnant with Little Man, Beau kept talking about going for Irish twins. Since he didn't go through pregnancy or labor, I felt I had the authority to veto that idea quickly. When Little man was about a year old I got more comfortable with the idea of going through the whole ordeal again. (And baby fever started to hit hard...)

And, well, to spare you the details here we are. We're happy. We're nervous. We're perhaps a little crazy. Most of all, though, we know we are blessed.

So, dear readers, thank you for your patience while I've been "away." Thank you for spending your time reading about and caring about my family. Hopefully I'm back and I'll be able to share our chaos with you far more regularly!

Any advice for a soon-to-be mom of two?

Peace Out 2012, You Were Good to Us

What a year.

I'll try to be brief, but really, so, so, so much happened this year that it'll be tough.

1) Life changed drastically

The best things in the world happened. I married one of the loves of my life, and I met the other:

 

2) Travel was abundant

We went to the Dominican Republic for our babymoon.

I went to California to see my dearest friend Cyndi, her beautiful family, and some wonderful friends I don't get to see nearly enough.

 

 

We visited family in Massachusetts. (Twice!!)

 

Somehow though, I have no photographic evidence of our first trip when Little Man was just three weeks old. I was a sleep deprived new mom. We drove there. Crazy? Perhaps. Worth it so that Beau's entire family could meet the little guy? Absolutely!



 

This fall we visited the Outer Banks with my family.

 





Little Man and Grandma waited patiently at the bottom of the Currituck lighthouse as mom, dad and PopPop climbed to the top for some amazing views of the Sound.

 Not all of our travel was to a beach. While in Massachusetts the second time, we snuck away to check out the foliage in New Hampshire. It was stunning.

 

We also fell in love with the mountains of West Virginia. We traveled there three times. This view, as well as the kind people we've met keep drawing us back.

 

 

And, since Grandma and Pop Pop live near Williamsburg, we decided to get a little Colonial up in here.

 

 (Blurry, but you get it, right?)

 

3) Milestones came and went

 

It is hard to believe that Little Man turned seven months just two days ago. In those seven months we've watched him grow and change from a sleepy cuddle bug

 

 

 

 to an alert, smiling, chattering extrovert.

 





 On Thanksgiving he got to taste (and wear) solid food for the first time.

He looks good in sweet potato.

 

We use mooshy Cheerios to work on fine motor skills.

 

 

It's a work in progress.

 

 

At this point (seven months and two days), he's rolling, scootching and saying "momomommomoomoomm", "baaaa", and "daaaaa" lots. He loves to laugh and be social. And he loves bath time.

 



 

(And not just because of the stylish post-bath garb.)

 



4) Superstorm Sandy hit

Sandy could have been much worse to us. She was devastating to much of the country. We just got a little wet, but being our first big storm with a baby at home and living in a flood prone neighborhood, we were on high alert.

5) We love to learn

Little Man's mom is an English teacher, Grammy is a librarian, and all three aunts on dad's side were English majors, so the poor kid is going to be forced to read. He seems to love it so far.

 

Since he seems to have an early love for learning, when we were in New Hampshire we subliminally planted the seeds of an Ivy League dream into his little head. (Though Beau refused to let me buy the "Dartmouth Medical" romper. Spoilsport.)

 

 

As a true product of the 21st century, he seems to love technology. Especially to discuss stock trends with dad.

 

 

 

6) Sophie

 

When you've got a Great Dane in your life, you know life is good. Carter loves his Sophie.

 

Uncle Andy ain't so bad himself. Shoot, he's pretty cool. He's got an awesome wife, a cool boat, and a dog that can work as a horse in a bind. Carter thinks spending time here is the bee's knees, so we try to do it as often as they'll let us.

 





7) Love was everywhere

More than anything, 2012 showed us what pure, sweet love looks and feels like. Sometimes it is a reassuring hand on your shoulder when you need a pep talk.

 

 

Sometimes, a fierce (?) lion and tamer.

 

 

Or, friends and students going out of their way to throw a amazing showers to show how loved Little Man, Beau and I really are.

 

 

 

I know I've left out so, so much of this year. There are so many moments where we just lived and neglected the photographs. There's something to be said for that.

 

It doesn't make for good blogging, but it does make for a good life.

 

All in all, this year was by far the best year of my life. I'm not sure what 2013 has in store, but I imagine it'll be interesting. These guys have my back,

 

 

so I'm pretty confident that it'll be a good year.

 

 

Even if Beau and Little Man are stuck with a crazy person.

 

Are you guys sad to see 2012 go, or excited to usher in 2013? Or maybe a little of both?

How to Eat a Cupcake

In the chaos of giving birth (and here and here), I completely forgot that I wanted to share the revelations of the cupcake geniuses (my adorable yearbook girls) who threw me a shower the week before-- until I saw this article on Bon Appetit's website.

You know you've always wondered how to eat a cupcake without getting a nose full of frosting, or to ensure a proper cake to frosting ratio?

Here is the genius: tear off the bottom half of the cupcake and squash it into the frosting.

Absolutely life changing.

You think I'm hyperbolizing. Or worse, kidding entirely.

Not at all. Try it. Your life will change. For the better.

And did you know hyperbolizing is a real word?? I didn't have a clue. I thought I was bastardizing the English language again.

I digress. I love the picture up there. If you ignore the cuteness of my yearbook girls loving on Baby "Pedro" and look at the cupcake in the photo, you'll notice the brilliant tactic described above being employed.

Now go back to the cuteness.

I love those girls.

Not only do they know how to eat a cupcake, throw a shower, and make some darn great yearbooks, but they are also fantastic, beautiful, and incredibly intelligent ladies.

What's not to love?

What do you think of the cupcake strategy? Perfection perfected? Go ahead, go get some cakes and give it a whirl.

Gratuitous Baby Shot

Hello friends.

Sorry I've been MIA for almost a week. Beau, Little Man and I took a little vacation north. I've got fun things to say about our adventures, but I thought I'd pop in to say hello and show you what the Cutest Baby on Earth wears in New England in October.

Can you even handle all that cuteness? I can't.

Grammy got him a Black Dog fleece for my baby shower and I thought it was cute. Then we put it on him. Cute doesn't even begin to describe it. Ridiculous, really.

I've had two awesome black dogs who look a little like the sweet, protective dog on the fleece in my life and, frankly, there is nothing better than a loving Black Lab in a person's life. (I keep telling Beau we need a dog, but he's wise enough to tell me I'm crazy...) Instead, Little Man gets to cozy up with a graying, docile Black Lab and I don't have to walk him or clean up doggy doo.

Aside from the cuteness factor and warmth, I also love that he's wearing a little piece of Cape Cod. Beau's roots are there (shhh, don't tell anyone) and Little Man has got family that loves him very much in that neck of the woods. It's like he's getting a hug from them every time he wears it. Plus, he's the only baby on the block rockin' the original, regional brand.

See, he's loving this "hug". (He's giggling!!!)

What do you think of gratuitous baby shots? Want more? How about those items/products that you can only get in certain places (ignore online ordering capabilities, obvs.)? What rocks your socks?

Happy Birthday, Beau

Today my Beau turns 34. I thought to celebrate, I'd talk about some of the things that make me get all weak in the knees over him. My friend and neighbor, Mary, who has a sweet blog (tulips & flight suits) recently wished her husband a happy 27th by discussing 27 reasons she loves him here. I thought I'd modify her thoughtful gesture in my own little roundup of love. (Thanks, Mary!)

Well, I'm wordy, and no one has time to read 34 reasons I love Beau. (See here, here and here for examples of why a simple list of ten can be way too much for this verbose gal). I could easily think of 340 reasons he's the bees knees, but here are 17 instead. One for every two years? Sure. Why not.

1) The dad you are. Seeing you with our Little Man melts my heart. You beat me to the diaper change on our guy's first day of life, and you continue, every day, to be the very best father you can be.

2) You make me laugh. You just get me and my strange sense of humor. I think I laugh with you more than I have with any other person. You're dang witty, mister, and I appreciate that trait so very much. I think laughter is so very healthy and it means so much to me that we can look at serious things like parenting, responsibilities, work, etc. and laugh or fool heads off. (Like in this picture where even during our vows, you made me laugh...)

3) Your brain. Smart is sexy. You are smart. You know what basic logic says about you, then. The conversations we have astound me. I recall I once mentioned I didn't get the difference between a regular engine and a diesel engine. After a lengthy lesson, I can say I now do. You're not just limited to engines. Politics, finance, current events, space exploration, history-- it doesn't matter-- you know what's going on and you never make me feel less for asking.

4) Your red shirt. Yeah, yeah, you know I actually kind of hate that red shirt. But, I love that you don't care what people think about you or that hole filled red shirt. (I typed holy, but I didn't want to give you any ideas on why you should continue to wear the thing.) You are you and you don't really want to be anyone else. I love that. In today's world, that's hard to do. I love that Little Man will get to see that, and hopefully he'll emulate it. He will, though, probably hate the shirt too.

I'm not going to glorify the shirt by including a photo. That, and I don't think I have any...

5) Your job. OK, there are aspects of your job that I really dislike, but I love that you do it without complaint and you provide so willingly for our family. I know that you work hard and you make personal sacrifices for us. They do not go unnoticed, nor are then unappreciated.

6) Your priorities. Little man had a college fund before he was born, we married only after knowing that marriage wouldn't change the "us" we cherish so much, and we live within certain means so that we have the (almost..come on stock market, be good to us...) certainty of a long comfortable life together. Really, I guess what I'm saying is that Little Man and I are your obvious priorities and that's pretty cool.

7) Our adventures. We do some pretty fun things together and it's because you think of the most exciting things to do. Balloon rides in the mountains? (Almost) check. A trip to NYC to see a brand new show? Uh-huh. A babymoon planned three days before departure? Done that. An afternoon at the beach with an infant on a whim? Sure. A hike in flip-flops? Why not? you are fearless and spontaneous and I am neither of those. You're kind of my hero that way. (When I'm not complaining about hiking in flops or how I need more time to pack, plan, etc.)

8) You let me be right...even when I'm not. I'm hard-headed and a little headstrong. You let me be that and don't argue or fight with me when I know I'm right. (In most cases, there is no right.) A lesser man would want to one-up me or prove me wrong. You know that I'm usually mortified when I figure it out on my own. I think you're kind enough to not make it worse. (Thank you.)

9) Your ability to jump in with both feet. Remember when you bought two liters (!!!) of vanilla from Mexico to go with the ice cream maker you thought would be fun to have? (It is!) There was no small step there--we were going to have vanilla enough to make ice cream whenever we wanted (for the rest of our lives, it seems!). Both feet for the plunge. I love that. There's no timidity with you when you want something. That was true when we started dating. You called the next day (no three day rule for you!) and didn't beat around the bush and play dumb dating games. You were upfront, real, and all in.

10) Our conversations. I look forward to our road trips and other extended times together because we always have something to say to each other. Sometimes they are silly conversations, sometimes they are deep, sometimes they are memorable and sometimes not, but they always make me feel engaged in us. Here's hoping we can easily withstand twelve hour car rides to the Cape for the next 50 years without an uncomfortable lull.

11) You read. Lots of people couldn't care an iota about this. I, however, think it is downright sexy. It also contributes handsomely to # 3 and #10. On our first date we talked about books. I read the two you recommended and was impressed that you had read them and enjoyed them. It is so important to me that we bring Little Man up in a house with books so he can foster a love of reading and learning. I'm so glad you're on board with that. It's also way cool that you have good taste in books so we can enjoy #10 about some of the less finance-y ones. (Because no matter how good you say they are, I have zero interest in them.)

12) You nested. Not when we were about to have a baby, but when you realized I was a keeper. All of a sudden you needed to have things to make your house comfortable, a home. I don't think you even realized what you were doing, but I could see it. It's sweet and charming that you wanted to make your home comfortable for me. And when it became our home, you never, ever made me feel like it wasn't mine. In your vocabulary it just stopped being "my" house and became "our" house.

13) You let me be me. I know I'm not perfect. I know I make mistakes. I know I can be difficult. You have never, ever made me feel any of these things. You've never tried to change me or make me feel bad about who I am. When you fell in love with me, you fell in love with my flaws too. More so, you support my big ideas: Hey, Amy, you want to put our lives on the Internet for complete strangers to read? Sure, go for it. You'll do a great job...

I hope that I have been as gracious and loving and let you be you.   I think because of #4 I maybe have. Though, I might not have been as quiet about it as I should have been.

14) The nook where I sleep. When I curl up next to you and nestle my head in that nook between your shoulder and chest, I am home. That is my all time favorite place in the world. I feel safe and loved right there. It is my happy place.

15) Your handsome mug. OK, OK, I had to get a little shallow on you. I think you are one fine man. You're too humble to know how attractive you are, and I won't embarrass you by going on and on about it. With that said, I will spend the rest of this sentence letting you know that if you never want to wear a shirt again, you don't have to. (And that's not a ploy to get rid of the red one, I promise!)

 

 

16) You're a chocoholic, too! Aside from your father, I've never met a man who has a bigger sweet tooth than me. If I eat ice cream, you have a bigger scoop. Cake? Yep, you'll have seconds. Not only do I often know dessert will be ordered (yippie!!), I also know that I'll never feel like a fatty for eating it. (Maybe this should have been #1. It's pretty important.)

16) You appreciate me and tell me so. When you are out of town for work and we FaceTime, you always ask me how I'm doing and tell me that what I'm doing--staying at home with our Little Man-- is hard work and is important. You understand. Very few men do. I know that, and I count myself lucky every single time you voice your understanding.

So, Beau. On your birthday that's full of bill paying, dentist appointments, and a screaming reflux-y baby, I want you to know, from the very bottom of my heart, you mean the world to me. I'm pretty dang lucky to have you as my other half.

Happy Birthday, my love.

p.s. I know you probably hate this as much as you love it (and maybe more...). Sorry, but the world deserves to know how awesome you are.

Birth story part three...the saga ends

OK, so we got through the long, boring part and now, friends, it is time to have a baby!

After my epidural took hold, I kind of freaked out a little. My legs got really, really numb. They felt heavy and pain free. I was convinced that they were so heavy I'd accidentally move them in my sleep and the weight of them would pull me off the bed. My mom told me that it absolutely could not happen, but I demanded that they lessen the intensity of the epidural. I wanted the pain to be dulled enough to snooze, but really wanted to know what my body was experiencing in this whole labor thing.

Everyone kind of looked at me like I was cray-cray, but it was important to me. This will become significant later. You know, when I am regretting that decision and feeling some serious pain.

At around 2:00 a.m. (after some really nice epidural induced sleep) the nurse came in to ask me if I was feeling any pressure and felt like I had to push. I think my response was something to the effect of, "Well, I could push. I feel some pressure." Apparently that wasn't quite convincing enough, so she checked me, assigned a new number to a new measurement and went to talk to Jen. She came back a few minutes later and told me we were going to wait a little longer to see if the baby scooched down a little further. (Yes, that is a medical term.) I went back to sleep for about an hour.

I woke up to a much stronger desire to push. Everyone (you know, the 47 people needed to participate in the birthing event) got situated. Jen told my mom to hold my left leg and Beau's mom to hold my right. It was apparent that she wasn't sure what her role was in this event and she started to back out toward the door. Like I said, there were about 47 people in the room already--all of whom were going to get to know me VERY personally--so I thought she should be there for her grandson to be born. I was not going to be shy if she wasn't. So, she stayed.

Oh, I forgot to mention during the long boring part that the AC was out on the floor. Throughout the night it was moderately uncomfortable, but as more and more people poured into the room, and the baby warmer got turned on it got downright hot. Grody, sweaty hot. On top of the grody, sweaty hot one gets when working really hard to push a baby out of her. It was not pretty. (Nor was I as you shall see.)

I started pushing. It was slow going. I totally thought that since my pregnancy had been so easy and so uneventful I was going to have the easiest delivery. About an hour into the pushing, I realized that every hope I had of the last part being smooth was dunzo. Out the window with my birth plan. Probably having donuts or something yummy.

If you've ever been at the hospital for any reason you know that they ask you to identify your level of pain using this handy chart:

Up to this point--through allll that time-- I'd hit an eight or so once or twice. When I started pushing I was still at an eight, just a consistent eight. (The closest I'd ever come to this was when I broke my rib--that was a six. And it hurt like hell.)

 

 Perhaps an hour in to the pushing after varying positions and such, I was feeling really sick. I looked at my mom and, with the little bit of strength I had left, I asked for the puke bag. I expected her to know that when I turned my head toward her and mumbled "puke" she'd know what I needed. She didn't and I managed to puke on myself, my pillow and my bed. That was my break between contractions. Awesome.

 

And to really gross you out, I'll let you know that when you have had nothing but water and orange popsicles for over twenty-four hours, you puke up green watery bile. You're welcome for that visual.

 

Between two contractions, about two hours in to the pushing I asked Jen what the record was. She told me she wasn't going to let me go beyond four hours. I thought she was kidding. I really thought this pushing part was supposed to be relatively fast. Turns out I would keep pushing for three and a half hours total.

 

When Jen let me know that she could see out Little Man's hair, I asked her what color it was. I'd always half joked that I had to have blond babies. When she said she thought it looked dark, I told her I didn't want it. I was trying to be funny, but, well, my delivery was off. (Oh, how about totally unintentional pun.)

 

Now, I was at a nine on the pain scale, and I was getting frustrated. I was working so hard, she could see his hair, where was he? Was he stuck? I was starting to panic and fear that something was going to happen to my baby and I was going to be rushed in for an emergency c-section. I was terrified of that, but honestly, at this point I was more terrified for my baby. I didn't think I had enough strength to get him out and that is a really scary feeling.

 

Jen suggested a little game of tug-of-war with my mom to help me really bear down and push. She took a sheet, tied it in the middle and gave me the knot and gave my mom the two ends. She stood at my feet while another nurse took her position holding my legs. It is possible that Beau's mom took my other leg. I really think she did, but I'm not certain. When it was contraction time I'd pull and mom would brace herself and give me resistance. I was able to push much harder doing this, and it kind of got my mind off of what was going on. I had to concentrate so hard on pulling that I wasn't thinking about what was happening *down there*.

 

I'm not really sure how long I did that. I know at one point I calmly mentioned moaned that I was at a ten (hoping that there was a prize when I reached the max, perhaps.) That, I guess was the "ring of fire." "Pedro's" head was pushing through. Jen told me his head was out and I'd have to deliver the shoulders. I wanted to cry. The thought of pushing again was overwhelming. The contraction started and the next thing I knew there was a baby on my chest. My body contracted enough that I barely had to push again.

All of a sudden, at 7:23 in the morning, this squirmy, slimy baby was in my arms on my chest. I kept chanting, "Oh my God." It was, I suppose, as much an exclamation of my mind being completely blown as a prayer of thanks.

 

I finally got to meet Carter James. I'm not going to try to describe it, because I honestly don't have the words. At that moment something inside of me changed. I felt the most overpowering, breathtaking love. I thought I had loved the baby that grew inside of me for 37 weeks. I had no idea what love really was until that moment he was squalling in my arms.

 

He was absolutely perfect. (And his hair wasn't dark...)

With all of that tug-of-war going on, I'm not sure how my mom didn't have two dislocated shoulders, but when she was asked if she wanted to cut the cord, she stepped up and did it. (Honestly, I think that is almost as brave as pushing a baby out. Gross.)

Jen told me that Carter came out with his fist pressed to his temple, holding on to his umbilical cord. No wonder I hit a ten; he added another inch to the width of his head!

Almost before the pain had subsided, the acute memory of it subsided. Today, I can tell you it hurt and that it was the most pain I'd ever felt, but I can't really remember the pain. It is an abstract concept. Words, really. I'm not as scared of having another as I should be...

I'd never say these are the finest pictures of me, but they are so, so beautiful. OK, so my head is in puke, I'm sweaty, swollen (look at those chins--yes, plural. aak.) and haven't showered in twenty-seven hours, but damn, I'm a mom and that's pretty beautiful.)

 

Fortunately, before my Little Man was born, it was explained to me that because I had been running a fever and had been put on antibiotics, he'd have to be put on antibiotics and be monitored in the nursery to make sure that he didn't have an infection. I'm so, so glad that they told me that beforehand. I'm also really glad that my midwife understands the importance of that bonding time right after birth. I was absolutely the first person to hold him. His skin touched my skin. When he was cleaned off, it was done right there on me. Eventually he was taken for his Apgar and to be examined. (Because he was on the cusp of being a preemie they wanted to make sure he was healthy and sound.) That was quick and he was brought right back to me and I was encouraged to feed him.

 

 

 

For about forty-five minutes I got to hold my baby before he was taken away. I talked to him and told him how loved he was, and I really have no idea if anything else was going on around me.

 

I snapped out of it when the moms mentioned Panera for breakfast. Yummy. The nurses took Carter to be examined and such in the nursery and I waited for breakfast. I'm not sure if I wanted food or a shower more, but because of the epidural, I wasn't allowed out of bed quite yet. I waited patiently for my food and after breakfast got up to take a shower. It was glorious. And a little gross.

 

The nurses brought Carter back to me after my shower for this picture.

 

 

 

I hadn't brushed my hair after the shower and look funny, but look at that sweet baby peeking out from his blanket.

 

It hadn't occurred to me that in order to give a baby antibiotics they would have to jab a needle into his poor little body, but they would have to do that. I don't have many photos of him from the first few days because of that. The IV line just made me sad.

 

Before leaving so I could rest (heck, so she could rest, too) my mom went to the nursery and took this photo of my brave little boy (pre IV, but still pretty wired).

 

 

And at some point he was wheeled to my room. I have no idea when this was, but I know it was in my room on the first day of his life. They let me hold him one last time before he was encumbered by all those wires.

 



 

 

You'd think since the whole birth thing is over, my birth story would be done, but that's not true. He hasn't met dad yet, and that is so, so important.

 

When Little Man was born, Beau was on a flight to New York. In New York he got to see pictures of his son. It was 1:41 p.m. when he got the texts that confirmed he was a dad and pictures were sent. It was not long after that that he was informed all flights coming in our direction were cancelled because of a tropical storm off the coast. After taking a two hour helicopter ride,  and two eight-plus hour flights, he would have to drive the eight hours to the hospital. He did it with no rest and in record time (and got out of a ticket, too!).

 

At just after 11:00 p.m., I was in the nursery feeding Carter and the nurses in the nursery asked me if the man standing at the door was dad. Indeed it was. He finally got to hold his sixteen hour old son.

 

 

He looks absolutely exhausted, but like a darn proud papa. Right after I took this, he changed his diaper. Before I even changed our son, dad did. He's awesome that way. I'm easily the most blessed woman.

 

After some complications and some worry about his eating, Little man was released from the nursery on Thursday night and got to spend his first night with mom and dad. He was free of IVs and monitors and sensors. We finally got to hold him without fear of moving his line or setting off a sensor. Holding him in my arms knowing he'd be heading home with us the next morning was the an incredible feeling.

 

One last picture from the nursery for you and then I'm done. Three generations:

 

 





So there you have it my friends. My birth story. In its three-post entirety. I never, ever thought I would post photos of me without make-up, lying in puke, half naked, etc. on the Internet for the entire world to see--for all of eternity-- but it is my story and I'm so incredibly proud of it.Thank you for letting me share it. Thank you for reading it.

 

And especially, thank you for not judging my appearance (or my fuzzy slippers in that last photo...). You guys rock.

 

 

 What's the scariest, most rewarding thing you've ever done?