DOG HAIR DOG HAIR EVERYWHERE!

I'm going crazy here, people.

We got our darling beagle Chandler in September of 2008. I knew then he had a major shedding problem. I was OK with it.

Then I had a baby and my OCD kicked in BIG TIME.

For some reason during the first couple of months of Joe's life the dog hair wasn't so bad. Sure I'd find an occasional dog hair on his outfit, but nothing major.

For the last couple of weeks I've been finding dog hair EVERYWHERE. On his changing table, in his bath tub, on his bouncer, on his bassinet sheets. It's maddening, I tell you!

I think the fact that my house is in ruins right now is adding to the stress. Not only do I have dog hair, but both Joe and Ryan are sick, so I have snot AND dog hair to deal with. Plus 4,398 piles of laundry, pacifiers and used Kleenex strewn on the floor (covered in dog hair, of course), Christmas presents to put away and organize and dishes to be put in the dishwasher. (Plus legs to be shaved and teeth to be brushed... but I digress...) UGH, looking down at my computer keyboard I count 4 pieces of dog hair. AAACKKK!!!!!!

I swear I vacuum but 2 hours later the place is covered again. We give Chandler baths, but not too many, because his skin dries out, then he itches, then it rains dog hair (which is I think how the dog hair ends up on high surfaces.) He doesn't sleep on our bed, but he does sleep on the couch.

I need advice- how do I quell the dog hair fiasco? Shave him? Cover him in duct tape? Or should I come to terms that I will never have a completely organized and clean house EVER again?!

*shudder*

Be Not Afraid

I have found my best form of prayer is studying the face of my sleeping son.

Last Sunday I started a novena to St. Michael the Archangel. I wanted protection from fear and an increased faith in God. The novena isn't over yet, but I can feel its graces working already.

I hesitated publishing my last post, because I didn't want it to seem like I was throwing a pity party for myself. However, I am so thankful I hit the publish button because I got so many wonderful and inspirational comments. They were little blessings and helped me tremendously. I am forever thankful for those that commented and offered your prayers. I knew motherhood would be a huge adjustment, but I guess I didn't realize just how big. Your comments reminded me that just the simple things, like nursing my son, can be a form of prayer.

So instead of worrying and fretting while I nursed Joe, I just stared at him. Instead of searching for words to say to God, I just marveled at his masterful artwork in creating every perfect detail of my son. When I came to terms with that being an acceptable form of prayer, I knew things were starting to get better.

It was today that the chains of my spiritual dry spell were finally broken.

Ryan decided to go to the super-duper early Mass and I chose to stay home and go to the 11:00 Mass. When the alarm chimed for me to get up I was immediately put in a bad mood. Ryan would be home soon and he would take care of Joe while I went to Mass. I have no problems going to Mass alone, but I just didn't feel like going today. I was nice and toasty warm all snuggled with Joe beside me. I nursed him and with a soft little sigh he drifted off to sleep in my arms. I was still so tired and watching my Joe sleep made me even sleepier. I didn't want to get out of bed and walk through a drafty cold house, get ready and then drive the 25 miles to church.

I did eventually get up, because missing Mass isn't an option for me. But I wasn't happy about it.

God knew I needed to go to Mass by myself today. He knew I needed to be distraction-free to hear the message he was about to give me. (My darling husband and son are my favorite distractions!)

During the opening blessing, Fr. Kevin mentioned that today's reading would focus on St. Joseph's "yes" to God's will in deciding to take Mary as his wife. I immediately perked up because of my great devotion to St. Joseph. I'm glad I started paying attention because Fr. Kevin's words in his homily seemed like they were meant just for me.

He talked about how Joseph had an idea on how his life would go, but then God threw a wrench in that plan. That got me thinking- Joseph learning his betrothed was pregnant with a child who wasn't his and eventually becoming the adopted father of the Savior of the world must have been quite a shock to him. He was probably very content before he got the news- he was betrothed to a woman he loved and cared for deeply. She was beautiful and kind. He couldn't wait to start their life together. He probably had plans on what their new home would look like. He imagined celebrating feasts and celebrations with his darling wife. He imagined growing old with her in their normal, simple and humble life. He probably assumed that when he and Mary had lived their lives and passed away that in a hundred years they wouldn't be remembered.

Well, we all know that isn't quite how Joseph's plans turned out. That reminds me of the saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." God probably got quite the chuckle out of Joseph's plan. "Oh, my dear Joseph, my plans are so much better than yours" is what the Lord Almighty probably thought... and I know he thinks that about me too. Maybe it's not in God's plan for Ryan and I to live near family or to have a bunch of kids. Whenever I think of my plan not lining up with God's I focus on the "BUT I WANT IT MY WAY!" and I forget to remember that Father really does know best. I forget that he only wants what is best for us and his will is ultimately good, even if it doesn't match up perfectly with how we want our life to go.

Fr. Kevin also mentioned how fearful Joseph must have been. He had a huge decision to make regarding what should happen to Mary since she got pregnant outside of marriage. Then when he realized the magnitude of the truth of the situation, he had to face his fears and completely trust in God's guidance. He had to face the fear of being the guardian of the Messiah. He had to face the fear of being looked down upon by society since he chose to stay married to Mary. He had to face the fear of journeying into an unknown life in Egypt to escape the evils of King Herod.

I finally realized what is really responsible for my spiritual despair. It is fear. I am fearful of many things. I'm afraid that God doesn't love me as much as his other children. I am afraid of what other people think of me if I proclaim my love of my faith. I'm afraid I will offend someone. I'm afraid people will think I am a fool for not using birth control and wanting a large family and rejecting some aspects of our popular culture. I'm afraid that we will never have enough money to be at peace. I'm afraid I will be a horrible mother and fail to raise my children to get to heaven. I'm afraid some tragedy will strike my loved ones. I'm afraid that we look like failures to other people. I'm afraid God doesn't trust me in doing great things with my life. I'm afraid God doesn't trust me to be a mother to many children and that's why his will was for me to have a c-section. (Can you tell that I still have some hang-ups on having a c-section? I need to realize that not everyone has the "perfect birth." Look at Mary- I'm sure she didn't plan on having her Savior son born nearly a hundred miles from her home in a cave with livestock. It's not like the archangel Gabriel added at the end of the Annunciation- "Oh yeah, and your son, the King of the World, will be born in a barn. After you travel, like, for forever.")

I need to stop being so afraid. I need to learn to trust God (that's hard for me- a stubborn, sinful control-freak.) HE WILL TAKE CARE OF US. HIS WILL IS THE BEST FOR US. I am hiding behind my fear. I am letting my fears and worries control my life and get in the way of my joy.

Earlier this week I read a post written by the lovely Betty Duffy. She writes about how she refuses to let other people and situations steal her joy. Instead of succumbing to anger, she refuses to let the good stuff of life be stamped out. I need to adopt this mentality. Instead of being all glum that I had to have a c-section and possibly future c-sections, I can't let that take away my joy of having a healthy beautiful child. If some day I announce my 5th pregnancy or a pregnancy soon after a birth and we get judged and criticised, I won't let that take away my joy of being able to participate in the miracle of life. The next time I get bummed out that my husband has to work late or miss a family get together, I won't let that steal my joy of being thankful that he has a job and that I do get to spend a lot of time with him. He could be in the military and be gone for many months at a time. Instead of worrying so much about being secure financially I need to remember my joy in knowing we have wonderful family members that have been generous to us and that there are more important things in life. There might be people out there that have no debt and own their own home and have matching furniture, but can't get pregnant or find a spouse. If someone makes a comment that drives me crazy at a special function, I won't let that take away the joy of having a good time.

I know I can achieve not having my joy stolen. I have done it once before. I was a little late getting to the church for my wedding (and I HATE HATE HATE being late for ANYTHING... it makes me super anxious) and our cake was a little lopsided because of the platter it was on. That might have freaked out some brides, but I refused to let it take away the joy of this special day. My wedding day was one of the best days of my life, and even though there were minor mishaps, the sacrament was perfect.

Yes, I did think of all this after his homily was over. During the offertory the song director decided to change the song selection. We sang "Be Not Afraid." It was like God whispered into the ears of the director, "Someone in the congregation needs to hear this." As we were singing, "Be not afraid... I go before you always. Come, follow me, and I will give you rest" tears started filling my eyes. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but I could physically feel the spiritual dry spell lifting from my soul. It was like my heart was made of stone, and God finally touched it, and the stone shattered and I could feel the grace just infuse through my body. It was like I had been tense for months, and I could finally breathe and take a sigh of relief. I choked on the words of the hymn and tried so hard not to bawl like a little baby. Like the words of the song said I could finally be at rest because God is always there.

For the first time in months I walked up to receive communion with a happy heart. Again, tears filled my eyes as Fr. Kevin said, "The Body of Christ." My "Amen" was stronger than it has been in a very long time. I could feel the grace from the Eucharist solidify feelings of peace.

As I left church the sun was shining after a long gloomy morning. I knew for a fact that my spiritual dry spell was over because a man dressed up as Santa Claus came in church and "Ho, Ho, Ho'd" right before the final song. No, I am not anti-Santa, but that gimmicky stuff at Mass usually makes me want to tear my hair out. Instead I smiled and found joy in seeing all the little kids' faces light up.

In some ways I wish that I could have gotten over my dry spell at the beginning of Advent so I could have had a more meaningful beginning of the liturgical new year. But Advent is a time of waiting. I have been waiting for Jesus to come to my heart and fill it with grace and he has finally come on this last Sunday of Advent.

I now have a week to really enjoy and appreciate the Christmas season. So this will be my last blog post for awhile. I am going to find joy in wrapping gifts for my loved ones. I will find joy in sewing my husband's Christmas stocking. I will find joy in sitting in the living room with nothing on but the Christmas lights and hold and snuggle my son. I will find joy in giving my husband a kiss when he comes home from work and holding his hand. I will find joy in making cookies and a gingerbread house with my nieces and nephew. I will find joy in singing at Midnight Mass and being with my hometown parish family. I will find joy in sitting around and talking with my family and eating good food. I will find joy in knowing that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior and he loves me and will take care of me.

The last song we sang in Mass today was "O Come, Divine Messiah." The refrain verse is, "O Come, Divine Messiah, The world in silence waits the day, when hope shall sing its triumph, and sadness flee away.

Finally, my sadness has fled away.

Many blessings to you and your family! Have a very joyful and merry Christmas!

Little Girl Telling the Story of Jonah

Oh my goodness... this is so adorable! At first I thought she was reading from a script, but she is reciting this all from memory!

My Hopes and Fears As a Catholic Woman

A couple nights ago I hit rock bottom. Well, maybe not quite rock bottom, but it was pretty darn close.

I wouldn't call what I am going through a spiritual dry spell. It feels much worse than that. In my experiences of dry spells I am usually just very lazy and have no motivation to strengthen my relationship with God. This one feels different. I try to pray. I try to pay attention at Mass and make use of the graces I receive. But when I pray, no words come out. When I am at Mass it just sounds like a bunch of meaningless words.

The other night I was bound and determined to have a nice long talk with God. I even set the mood for contemplative prayer. I had my sleeping son in my arms, nothing but Christmas lights on and classical Christmas music playing softly in the background. The scene was beautiful- the lights creating a calming ambiance, the relaxing music, and being all snuggled up, nice and warm, smelling that wonderful baby smell radiating from my sweet boy.

It was the perfect atmosphere for prayer. My son, husband and dog were fast asleep so I didn't have to worry about any distractions. Yet, here I was, searching for the words to use to speak to God. My mind was blank. I have a million and one things I need to pray about, yet nothing came out. It was like God and I were sitting at a table across from each other just staring at each other. We have so much to say, but no one is talking.

After awhile I gave up and went to bed. An hour or so later, Joe woke up to nurse. Usually he falls right back to sleep after he's done but this night he was starting to fuss. I was worried that he would wake up Ryan. Normally Ryan would get up to help, but he had to work the next morning at 6:00 a.m. Thankfully Joe calmed down before he got too loud and I put him in his bassinet.

It was about 30 minutes later, just when I had gotten back to sleep, when Joe started crying again. I picked him up and sat with him in our bed and tried to rock and soothe him. That didn't work. I tried burping him. Nothing. I tried offering my breast again. Maybe he wasn't finished eating after that first feeding. That one really didn't work and he got louder and louder. I was getting so frustrated that I couldn't comfort my child.

Ryan woke up before I had a chance to get out of there. I was so tired and I didn't want to get out of bed. But finally I realized that Joe wasn't going to be comforted in this room so I reached over on my night stand to get my glasses.

I accidentally bumped my glasses and I could hear them fall and skid across the floor. I don't have a lamp next to my bed so I'd have to go searching for them in the dark.

I laid Joe next to Ryan and I tried to move his bassinet so I could get to my glasses. The darn thing wouldn't move. Usually it rolls but one of the wheels was stuck and I couldn't move it. I tried lifting it but it got caught on the carpet. In my frustration I kicked it out of the way. I finally found my glasses. I picked up Joe and started walking out of the room. I nearly tripped over the footstool to the rocking chair and I muttered a curse word into my innocent son's ear. Talk about feeling even crappier about yourself...

I finally made it into the living room. I sat in the recliner where I had sat just hours before. Joe started drifting off to sleep on my shoulder and I held him close. I buried my face into him and let the tears fall. I didn't want to be like this in front of my son. So full of anger and frustration. No happiness or joy on my face. It seems like that is how I've been for quite some time.

I sat in the dark. No pretty Christmas lights or music to lift my spirits. You'd think that here, in one of my darkest hours I would finally get over those stumbling blocks of prayer and be able to reach out to God.

No such luck.

I've had a couple of days to reflect on my actions and attitude. Nothing has really changed. Sometimes the only prayer I can get out is, "Lord give me faith" over and over again. I guess that is better than nothing.

I want to be the best Catholic woman I can possibly be. I feel like I am failing miserably at that goal. I compare myself to others way too much. I observe on facebook and other blogs of these awesome holy women. They pray rosaries, they go to Bible studies, they have nightly prayer devotions with their husbands. They seem so incredibly happy. I remember a conversation I had with a friend when we were discussing those people who just seem to be bursting with happiness all the time. "There's no way they can be that happy," she said. I agreed... to a point. I've seen these people. And most of the time they are devout Christian. I know their life isn't perfect. Maybe they aren't happy 100% of the time, but they are at peace. I know this to be true, because I was like that at one point- when it was easy to talk to God and not be ashamed to be called his daughter.

I know many people have the same troubles of feeling like God doesn't hear their prayer. I have felt like that for months. I feel like a little kid tugging on my Daddy's shirt, desperate for any kind of attention. "Father! God!" I yell, but he's too busy showering graces and blessings on his other children to really notice me. He pats me on the head and says, "Just a minute" but like a toddler I have no patience.

I once read a post about women who prayed to St. Gerard, patron of expectant mothers, and they shared their good news of being able to avoid a c-section or having a wonderful natural childbirth. I got jealous. I had prayed to St. Gerard not to get pre-eclampsia and begged not to have a c-section and look what I ended up with. Sure, during my long process of induction I told God that he had control of my body and that I trusted him, but deep down I was begging that a miracle would happen and my cervix would open up and I could have the birth I wanted. I thought I had enough faith in that miracle, so when things didn't go as planned I was upset. Did God not have enough faith in me that I could handle a natural childbirth? Does he not think I will be a good mother to 4 or 5 kids so he made it so that achieving that number will be more difficult since more than likely I will have to have repeat c-sections?

I get mad when I don't get my way. Then I get pissed off at myself because I realize how damn selfish I am being. MY SON IS HEALTHY. Sure, I had some blood pressure complications after his birth, but they went away and I am healthy too. Why must I insist on focusing on the negative and forget about the blessings? I have tons of good things in my life to be thankful for and has answered my prayers before.

Why can't I be like those perpetually joyful people instead of a Negative Nancy? Last December, a college classmate of mine lost her baby son when he was only 24 weeks gestation. Her facebook status was always positive and showed her up most faith in the Lord. "Praising God in the storm!" was one of her statuses, and I couldn't believe her unshakable faith. Here I am complaining about having a c-section when there are women out there who would kill for a c-section if it meant that they could have a living and breathing baby in their arms. I want to be like her- I want people to say "Wow, she has such great faith." I want to be an inspiration.

Maybe I don't pray enough. Maybe my side of the relationship between God and me is so screwed up. But I've prayed and prayed for certain things to happen and they haven't yet. I know that God doesn't answer yes to all prayers and in our suggested time frame. However, we haven't received ANY direction from him. My husband and I feel like we are at a dead end and waiting for God to tell us what to do next, and he hasn't. It is taking a toll on me. I feel utterly depressed and in despair sometimes. This isn't a depression that can be fixed with the Zoloft I am already taking for postpartum... it's a depression only felt when it seems like your Father in Heaven has forgotten about you.

What really upsets me is that I'm afraid that if I don't live up to be a good Catholic woman, then I will fail as a good Catholic mother. A couple weeks ago I received my magazine issue of Family Foundations from Couple to Couple League. I flipped though it and there was an article about Advent family activities. I got excited about the possibilities of doing faith-filled activities with Joe someday.

I look at my friends' pictures on facebook and some of them are so beautiful they bring tears to my eyes. One woman has pictures of her young sons playing with rosaries. She's also baked a rosary out of cupcakes and made saint cookies. Another friend of mine has pictures of her little boys playing Mass. I've read blogs of women whose daughters are very interested in learning the faith.

I know Joe is a little too young to start his interest in Catholicism. So far in his 14 weeks of life he's only missed Mass twice- one of the Sundays he was still in the hospital after he was born and the other was when he was really sick. He used to always snooze during Mass, but now he is usually awake in a quiet alert state. We've had a lot of comments on how well-behaved he is. I'm sure that won't last forever! I also read to him a children's rhyming Bible he got for his baptism, but that's pretty much it when it comes to exposing him to the faith.

But when he is old enough to understand, what kind of role model will I be for him? How can I teach him to love the faith when right now I feel so troubled by it? How can we have family rosary time if I don't ever pray the rosary now? How can I teach him to love Scripture when I rarely crack open a Bible? How can I teach him to pray when my prayer life stinks? How can I teach him to be a happy person, when I feel depressed all the time?

I don't want to half-way parent in any area: in my child's health, education, emotions and especially in their faith formation. But since I can't take care of myself in these areas all the time, how can I take care of a child's? I want to have a lot of kids. I want to glorify God. I want to make a difference. But how can I when I feel so far away from Him?

In the end, I know things will work out. I am definitely learning the meaning of waiting during this Advent season. If I don't have faith in God, then I have nothing.

Sewing My Fingers Together

It was about a month ago when I made my first glorious venture into the Christmas section at Wal-Mart. I saw the Christmas stockings and realized that Joe would need one. Then I got the crazy idea of making it myself. Wouldn't it mean more to him to have a one of a kind stocking his mama made with TLC rather than a mass-produced stocking that was probably made by some bleeding-fingered child in China? I could use my childhood stocking that my Aunt Betty made me as a pattern. How hard could it be?

Then I imagined the possibilities of having a sewing machine. We can't afford to buy curtains for our whole house, but if I knew how to sew I could make my own! I imagined my future daughter all decked out in pretty little dresses I make for her. I could hem my slacks and jeans! (As a short person, hemmed pant lines are a must, but since I can't afford to have all my pants hemmed they drag on the ground. I probably look like a hoodlum.) I could fix my husband's clothes!

I could also learn how to make home-made gifts. I know some people cringe when they hear they are getting something home-made, but I love these types of gifts! They can become treasured family heirlooms. Think about it- most baby blankets or quilts that are passed down from generation to generation aren't from Target or Babies R Us. They are usually handmade. This is probably my Pollyanna view of the world peeking out, but wouldn't you rather snuggle up in an afghan made with love by your aunt or grandma?

The problem with making Joe's Christmas stocking was that I have never touched a sewing machine in my life. However, I was determined to teach myself how to sew with one. Long ago I taught myself how to crudely hand-sew when I figured out how pillows were put together.

I love doing crafty things, but due to frustrations and procrastination a hobby never develops. I tried to teach myself how to knit with one of those "Teach Yourself" books and that turned out to be a horrible yarn-y mess. I tried to teach myself how to crochet with yet another do-it-yourself-guide. That went a little better. Thanks to YouTube I finally figured out the weird diagrams in the book and got off to a somewhat good start. I can make a nice little square, but then I lose tracking of counting stitches and it ends up lopsided. I've gotten those tiny little cross-stitching kits and can usually finish one of those... unless the thread gets tangled or I screw up a row and end up throwing the darn thing across the room.

I have dreams. I want to be crafty. I want to make beautiful things and sell them on Etsy and make money from home. I want to be that woman that everyone wants to invite to their baby shower because they know they will get a beautiful handmade quilt from me. I want to be able to make super awesome Halloween costumes for my kids that are much cooler than the store bought ones. I want to make rosaries for my family to use in their devotions. I want to make purses to give out to cancer patients. Am I sounding a bit over-ambitious yet?

My mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I said, "Well I kind of want a sewing machine." Why "kind of"? Well I figured if I actually got one it would just sit there gathering dust next to my exercise ball. I have dreams, but I figured they would never come to fruition. Besides, I had looked up how much sewing machines were, and I couldn't justify someone or myself spending $150 on a machine that would become a place to dry noodles on or something.

Black Friday rolled around and my mom pointed out that there was a sewing machine on sale for a reasonable amount at Wal-Mart. We drove 33 miles to Wal-Mart and I was worried that since it was in the middle of the afternoon that all the sewing machines would have been bought out or that they weren't on sale anymore. Well I guess not everyone wants to be as ambitious as me- there was a whole crap-load of them on shelf, still on sale. We bought one and picked up some fabric.

I took the sewing machine to my house and opened it up. I opened the instruction manual and right away was overwhelmed. What do I do when I am confused and overwhelmed? Call my mom. "What the hell is a bobbin for and why do you have to put thread in the bottom compartment thingy?" She explained as best she could over the phone and I hung up a little less confused.

I sat there examining the different parts. There was tape and cardboard underneath the presser foot (yeah I didn't know it was called that until later... at this point I called it the metal thingy.) I needed to lift this up to take out the cardboard packaging. I looked at the manual and couldn't figure out which one was the lever to lift it up. 15 minutes later (I'm not kidding) I finally figured out that I knew where it was, I was just using it wrong. This was going to be a looooooooooong process.

The sewing machine sat there for a few days. It was on a desk right next to the doorway to the kitchen and every time I walked past it I could sense it was mocking me. "Haha, why don't you give me a try? You won't sew your fingers together...or will you? MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Thank the Lord in Heaven the sewing machine came with an instructional DVD. I popped it in and saw how they threaded the machine and all that good stuff. It looked so easy. I could make a bobbin! Setting the thread underneath? Didn't look hard at all!

Psshh.... yeah, right.

I made a bobbin with no problems. I threaded the upper and lower threads with relatively no problems. But bringing up the lower thread was a hassle. As I tried over and over again and kept running to my TV that was paused on the section on how to raise the lower thread I was beginning to wonder if this was going to be an epic fail. Was sewing going to be like training to be a ballerina or Olympic gymnast- you have to start young, you can't start when you're 26 years old to be successful. Was it too late for me to get a handle on this?

FINALLY I got the lower thread up. What I did differently this time, I had no idea. So the machine was all threaded and ready to go. I got an old pillow case to practice on. I started sewing and realized I didn't have the presser foot down. D'OH!

I practiced for awhile. I was nervous to start on Joe's stocking. Then my dear sweet trusting husband decided to let me fix one of his shirts. As you can see in the picture, it didn't go very well. But I say it adds character, and half of the shirts you find in stores have funky stitching. It's the style!

Finally I went for it. I put my mental soundtrack on of the theme song from Rocky to pump myself up. It was time to sew Joe's stocking.

Long story short (and I do mean long!): I did it!

It's not perfect, but that's OK! It resembles a stocking plus I didn't sew my fingers together! That's a success in my book!

Below is my stocking that I used as a pattern.

Next up is sewing a stocking for Ryan. After that- the possibilities are endless! (Right? Just humor me, people!)

New Traditions: Little Star

I absolutely love traditions! (Perhaps that is a reason I dearly love the Catholic Church? Me thinks it's a possibility!) I love taking a part in them and even hearing of other people's traditions. Maybe I enjoy traditions so much because they have a sense of familiarity and for those old generational traditions it's kind of neat to take part in the same thing that someone long ago participated in.

One of the reasons I get so excited for Christmas is because there are a lot of fun traditions that take place during this time. If a certain tradition isn't upheld I get a little upset (for example, I pouted last year when Midnight Mass was cancelled due to a massive blizzard and this year I expressed my shock and disbelief when my mom informed me that my hometown had cancelled its annual Christmas parade, even though it has been years since I've gone.)

I spent a couple weeks at my mom's house to help her out after her heart procedure. While I was there I helped her decorate for Christmas. We put up the tree and the next step was to get out all my old holiday stuffed animals that I have collected since I was probably about four years old. However, my mom came up from the basement with a "bad news" look on her face. The sack of stuff animals had somehow gotten wet and a lot of them had a thick coat of mold and mildew. Some of them we were able to save, but one cherished item- my Christmas Muppet Baby Miss Piggy from McDonald's had perished. I thought that I would have been devastated and run to the computer to find another one on Ebay, but to my surprise I wasn't all that upset.

Rest in peace, dear Miss Piggy.

I think part of the reason I wasn't as disappointed as I thought I would be was because I had plenty of other stuffed animals and traditions to enjoy, plus I felt it was time to move on from some of the traditions of my childhood and focus on traditions for my own little growing family.

Last year was Ryan's and my very first Christmas as man and wife. I thought we'd start a whole plethera of brand new traditions, but we've mostly borrowed/compromised from our own families. I haven't been able to think of anything fun and new. I figured Joe is still too young to start traditions with him. That was my thinking until I got the wonderful opportunity to review the new children's book by Anthony DeStefano called Little Star.

I was thrilled to receive this copy since I am a huge fan of DeStefano's writing. You may have read his A Travel Guide to Heaven and Ten Prayers God Always Says Yes To.

Little Star starts off by a little boy asking his father about the Christmas star. The father proceeds to tell him the story of Little Star. All the stars in the heavens were excited because they hear a new king was to be born. Each star was hoping they would be the one to shine the brightest when this baby was finally born. Little Star was the smallest star in the sky and often ignored. He figured he didn't stand a chance to be able to shine for the new king.

When Jesus is born, the stars are confused because this mighty king was born in a lowly stable. Only Little Star is able to humble himself and understand the true meaning of Jesus' message. He burns bright to keep baby Jesus warm and in doing so, burns himself out. Even though Little Star is gone from the sky, we still honor him by putting up stars on our Christmas tree.

I absolutely loved this book. It's a unique take on the story of the Nativity of Christ. DeStefano brilliantly portrays the Gospel message of Jesus coming to save all of mankind- even the poorest of the poor and that even the littlest being can make a huge difference. He writes this story in a way that children can understand the message of our Savior and in a way that adults can reflect on.

Mark Elliott illustrates this book and the pictures are absolutely beautiful! They aren't too "cartoon-y" so adults can appreciate their beauty, but at the same time children can enjoy them as well.

If you'd like to hear the story and see some of the illustrations, here is a YouTube video of Pat Boone reading Little Star.



I think I've found a new Christmas tradition for our family. I hope Joe and our future children will look forward to reading this story year after year. I highly recommend this wonderful children's book for your own family. Maybe it can be a new tradition for you too!

Poor Baby...

My poor little man is sick. The past week he's been somewhat congested, fussy and not eating as much as he usually does. But these past two days has been horrible- last night being the worst. He couldn't breathe through his nose because it was full of snot. No amount of snot sucking or saline and water solution was clearning him up.

He was up most of the night because he couldn't breathe and was extremely fussy. I took him to the bathroom and sat him in the bouncer while I turned the shower on super hot to steam the bathroom. That helped a little bit but after awhile he became miserable once again.

We took him to the doctor this morning and they ordered a chest x-ray to see if he had pneumonia. Thankfully he doesn't have that but does have to be on antibiotics for a few days.

We take the ability to blow our noses for granted! He'd feel so much better if he could just blow that snot out or hock a loogie!

I hate seeing him so miserable. My heart breaks for him and I wish I could take his pain away. This is his first time being really sick. I never knew just how hard it would be to see my child so helpless. I know he will get better and be a little tougher because of this, but it still is hard on both of us!

Even though he's sick doesn't he look absolutely adorable in the picture above? Note the scarcely decorated Christmas tree in the background. We haven't had time to finish decorating, but that's alright- I'm loving the extra cuddle time!

Update

Thank you for all the prayers offered up for my mom! She ended up needing a stent to correct a 75% blockage in her heart. She has been healing up wonderfully! (I think having some extra cuddle time with Baby Joe has helped in her recovery!) Hopefully this will be a start in getting her back into shape so we can have many many more years together!

Oh my goodness, people, I have SO much to write about! I have a gajillion ideas bumbling around in my head. But I haven't been home in basically 2 weeks (I've been at my mom's house and my in-laws') so hopefully I'll be able to write soon!

I hope y'all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and a very blessed first Sunday of Advent!

Prayers, please!

I'm asking for some prayers for my mother. Tomorrow morning she is going in to have a heart catheterization. A couple weeks ago she had a stress test done and an abnormality was found. They are doing a catheterization to see what the abnormality is. If there is any blockage they will put in a stent.

This is an in-and-out procedure and is fairly routine. Mom's doctor assured her that one of the best doctors in the facility will be performing the catheterization.

Please, if you have a moment or two, offer up a prayer. Many thanks!

Wondering Wednesdays Vol. 17 (a day late!): Siblings

I've been thinking about a lot this Veteran's Day. I have a lot of family and friends who have proudly served this great country. My big brother is one of those who has worn the Marine uniform and defended our country in Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm. I was six years old when he went overseas and I remember being scared to death. I remember Mom watching CNN every night to get news about what was going on over there. I also remember how happy I was when he finally came back home. The picture above was taken during his homecoming. I look pretty darn happy, don't I?

Looking at that picture I think about my relationship with my brother. He is 13 years older than me. We've had quite a unique evolution of our sibling relationship. We are both children of a single mother, so he helped quite a bit in taking care of me. He was the father figure in my life since my own father was absent in my childhood.



I practically idolized my brother while growing up. I recently read in my diaries that I kept in grade school how excited I was when he would come visit. He would take me to really neat places like Worlds of Fun, Royals games, Renaissance festivals and even Chuck E. Cheese! He would buy me movies and help me beat the hard levels in Super Nintendo games.

In high school our relationship changed to a typical brother/sister bond- lots of teasing and fighting. He would make me mad by siding with mom when she and I would have arguments. He'd anger me by making fun of my boyfriends (which actually he was right in doing so.) But for the most part we got along.

Now that we are adults, I would like to think of us as good, close friends. We still drive each other crazy, but that will always be the nature of a brother/sister relationship! My love for my only real sibling is very great. One of the greatest parts of my wedding was my brother walking me down the aisle. The picture above is one of my favorites from that day.

Thinking on my relationship with my brother makes me wonder what life would have been like if I would have grown up with a lot of siblings. I sometimes felt like an only child since my brother was so much older and left the home when I was very young. This isn't a way to poo-poo my relationship with my brother, because I am very grateful for it. I'm also not trying to guilt my mother for not having more children. Lord knows she would have probably went off the deep end if she had to raise duplicates of my brother and I.

I wonder if my siblings and I would have been close. Maybe we would have such radically different interests that we wouldn't be close at all.

If I had grown up with sisters would I be more into fashion and being a girly-girl? (Because I definitely am not one!) Would we have shared a room and stayed up late talking about boys, friends and childhood memories? Would we have fought for time in the bathroom? Would we borrow each other's clothes and makeup? Do each other's hair? Would we be best friends and bridesmaids and/or maids of honor at each other's weddings? Would we go shopping? Would we put each other's boyfriends through a rigorous acceptance test because we don't want her to date a complete loser? Would we have wanted to tear each other's hair out?

If I had grown up with a lot of brothers would I be more athletically inclined? Would I have grown up to be a huge tom-boy or still grow up to be a girly girl and roll my eyes at their testosterone-heavy antics? Would I have not dated some of the losers I have dated in the past because my brothers would have been around to kick their butt if they broke my heart?

If I had more siblings would I be a little less selfish than I am today? Would I be a little less anal about doing everything my self and allowing others to help out? Would I still be as competitive as I am now?

If I was the oldest sibling would I have been jealous at the arrival of a new brother or sister? Would I feel pressure to be a good role model to my younger siblings? Would I feel like a guinea pig to my mom and dad's parenting techniques? Would I be good at looking after my siblings and teaching them new things? Would I be sad to leave my brothers and sisters behind while I went off to college? Or would I be happy to go to get away from the chaos?

If I was the middle sibling would I feel invisible? Would it be a relief that not all the pressure of being a positive role model was on me? Would I have to fight for attention? Would I be annoyed at the hand me downs? Would I feel less stressed that I would have an older sibling to go through stuff first (going to high school, driving test, first date, going to college) and give me advice on how to handle it?

If I was the youngest sibling would I feel pressure to live up to my older brothers and sisters? Would I be even more annoyed than my middle siblings at hand me downs because they are in even crappier shape than when they got them? Would I be sad that I didn't have any younger siblings to impart my wisdom? Would I feel sad when all my older siblings left the home for college because it would feel strange being the only one in the house? Or would I think it's awesome that I finally have all my parents' attention and the whole house to myself?

These are just some things that I am wondering about. As I look at my son I wonder if God will bless us with many brothers and sisters for him. We believe the greatest gift we can give him is a sibling, whenever that will be, we don't know. However, I do cherish these moments of just Mommy, Daddy and Joe.

Would I have a different attitude and outlook on life if I would have had more siblings? Perhaps, but I thank God he has given me my older brother and I think things worked out perfectly the way they have!

Header Design

I've had a couple people ask me how I did my blog header. The lovely Colleen at Martin Family Moments pointed me to another blog's post on how to do it! It's really easy and free!

Here is the link at the blog Clover Lane!

7 Quick Takes Friday Vol. 18

1. While buying Halloween candy at Wal-Mart the other day I wondered aloud to my husband if they already had Christmas stuff out. He told me they did. As I began to make a bee-line towards that section my husband stopped me. "Let's wait until after Halloween before we look at Christmas stuff." Yes, I'm one of those people who love Christmas so much that I don't mind all the merriment and cheer starting the day after Halloween!

2. Speaking of the holiday season, one of my favorite traditions is bringing out my Winter Candy Apple lotion from Bath and Body Works. I usually don't whip it out until December but I thought, "What the heck" and started putting it on this week. Maybe that's why I'm in such a Christmas-y mood!

3. My dog, Chandler, has such bad allergies that his skin is starting to get infected. We've taken him to the vet and got some antibiotics. Ryan always gives him his pill in a peanut butter sandwich. Today was the first time that I have given him his pill. I gave him his sandwich then went to switch over the laundry. As I was walking toward the living room I saw Chandler standing on the couch in a strange manner. He was burying his sandwich in the blankets on the couch! Needless to say, I'm glad I caught him doing it because I have more important things to do rather than clean peanut butter of my rear end!

4. I got my chair chopped off a couple weeks ago. It's amazing what a new hairstyle can do as a pick-me-up! Plus, I'm back to my natural hair color! It's been 13 years since I first used Sun-In to color my hair!

5. Big game for Mizzou tomorrow against Nebraska! I'm more nervous for this game than I was last week against #1 Oklahoma!

6. My mom got a new laptop with a webcam so she and I have been using Skype. Mom loves it so she can see Joe. I love it so I don't get a crook in my neck holding the phone to my shoulder with my chin while I'm holding Joe! Well, that, and a chance to see my beautiful mother!

7. My adventures as a first time mother are going great! I have a post in the works about breastfeeding. I'm hoping this won't turn into a blog JUST about Joe and his bowel movements and such. But this blog is about my life and Joe is a humungo ginormous part of my life, so I am going to subject you to posts from time to time about his first smiles, my difficulties using a baby sling and how I think it's hilarious how he farts in his sleep.

Here is a video of my sweet precious Joe. I know he's too young to laugh, but I swear he's chuckling at me! Just ignore the silly sounds I'm making.

Adventures in Breastfeeding

Look at my little milk monster!

*I've been working on this post for quite some time. In re-reading it I'm hoping that it doesn't come across that I'm bragging about breastfeeding or looking down on those mothers who formula feed, because that is certainly not my intention in writing this post. I would never ever judge a woman on how she nourishes her child. I also understand that some women desperately want to breastfeed, but can't. The purpose of this post is basically to chronicle my first time breastfeeding and to possibly help other women in their challenges and uncertainties.*

The number one thing I prayed for during my pregnancy was a healthy baby. Praised be to Jesus that prayer was answered! The second thing I prayed for was a healthy and happy vaginal delivery and success in breastfeeding.

Well, you win some and you lose some, right?

Oh, by the way, if you're squeamish of terms like nipples, leakage and boobies/breasts then I suggest you cease reading!

Second Thoughts

I had decided that I was definitely going to breastfeed long before I ever got pregnant. It wasn't a hard decision for me to make. However, I had read in multiple pregnancy magazines and books that breastfeeding can be difficult. My doctor even stressed that it would be difficult and not to give up easily.

I believed that all these people were telling me the truth, but part of me was kind of skeptical. I mean, how hard could breastfeeding be? Breastfeeding is completely natural. Women have been breastfeeding since the beginning of mankind. Eve didn't have Enfamil formula to rely on if her children didn't get a proper latch on to her breast.

All those nonchalant feelings quickly disappeared as soon as we had our second childbirth class that covered breastfeeding. I was completely overwhelmed by the whole process: Make sure the baby's mouth gets most of the nipple. Line the baby's nose with the nipple. Don't touch the areola with your hand. Put your hand in the c-position or u-position. Nurse on both sides and the next time you nurse start with the breast you finished with. Make sure the baby is latched on or you'll get sore nipples. If you get engorged use cabbage leaves. Do such and such for clogged milk ducts. Use the football hold for situation A, the cradle hold for situation B. Here are tips for dealing with inverted nipples, small nipples and big nipples. Don't go more than 4 hours between feedings. Feed on demand. Feed every 2 hours. Don't introduce a pacifier until about one month.... ARRGGHH!

We were even given a list of a kind of "step-by-step" process of breastfeeding. I walked away from the class completely overwhelmed. There were just so many little details to remember. No wonder some women don't even try to breastfeed- it seemed so confusing! Would I be able to handle this as a first-time mother? Suddenly fears of somehow screwing up breastfeeding and starving my baby crept into my head.

So how did I deal with this onslaught of information? I researched the crap out of breastfeeding! I realized that I couldn't learn in very good detail all the in's and out's of breastfeeding in a 2 hour class. I bought The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding by the Le Leche League International. (I highly recommend this book!) I read magazine and Internet articles about breastfeeding. I asked my some of my family and friends about their experiences with breastfeeding. Out of all the oodles of information I was getting there was one common theme- breast is best, it can be difficult to breastfeed, and don't give up too easily.

During the last weeks of pregnancy when my boobs were growing to Dolly Parton-esque size I was dreaming of the day that my son would latch on and we could begin that amazing breastfeeing relationship. I was so nervous that it wouldn't work out...

Success!

That day finally came on September 2nd. As I was recovering from my c-section they brought my son to me. I held him in my arms and was in amazement at how beautiful and precious he was. The nurse was there to help me breastfeed right away. I was nervous because I had read that one way to encourage breastfeeding was to have the baby placed on the mother's stomach right after being delivered vaginally and to attempt to feed almost right away, and since I had a c-section I thought that not having those precious moments of bonding would create an obstacle in breastfeeding success. Thankfully my nurse was awesome in helping me get started.

My little man was snoozing away peacefully and at first didn't want to latch on. So we stripped him down to his diaper and put him next to me. He was so warm and perfect. He started rooting around for my breast and as I tried to latch him on he kept putting his hands up to his face so I couldn't tell if he was getting a good latch-on. Thankfully the nurse and Ryan were there to help me. Joe kept putting his hands up and blocking my view the next few times, but he quickly got out of that habit. Also, for some reason he didn't like to take my left breast for the first couple of days, but he got out of that habit as well!

Nursing him for the first time was amazing. It was an experience I will never forget. His warm little body was nestled against me and he seemed to be doing really good. Even the nurses were impressed with how fast he was getting the hang of it, especially since he was still doped up from the magnesium they pumped in me and since he was a c-section baby. As he was suckling at my breast it felt like we had been doing this forever, even though we had just met.

Some of that stuff I had read and researched kind of went out the window for me during those first few days. I thanked God everyday that breastfeeding was coming very naturally for Joe and me. I'm not saying that doing all the research was a waste of time because I think the number one thing it taught me was CONFIDENCE. The first couple of times putting Joe to breast was awkward, but I just took a deep breath, took my time and kept saying to Joe, "We can do this, we're going to do really good." And we did. All that step by step instructions were good to follow, but thinking about them too much just made me nervous. I let Joe take over and did what was comfortable for both of us and once he was latched on the awkwardness went away.

One of the most wonderful feelings of breastfeeding is the sense of awesome relaxation while nourishing your child. I could just feel the feel-good hormones wash over my body like a refreshing shower and I would even sigh these deep sighs of intimate relaxation.

Challenges

I did/do have some challenges when it comes to breastfeeding. The first week my nipples did get super sore and crack. But I rubbed LOTS of Medela's Tender Care lanolin cream on them after every single feeding and they cleared up fairly quickly (about a week.) I was worried that he wasn't latching on correctly even though I had the nurses check nearly every time he fed and they said he was doing great. I learned later that even if baby is latched on properly sore and cracked nipples are bound to happen.

One problem I have is actually somewhat of "good" problem. I am a MAJOR milk producer. My milk came in after 2 days and the nurses were astonished at how much I could pump out. A few days after I was discharged from the hospital I had a breastfeeding consultation and she confirmed with a bug-eyed look that I indeed made a lot of milk. And it's pretty obvious- Joe gets full after about 10 minutes of feeding on just one breast.

All this milk plus some reflux is making him spit up- A LOT. Most of the time it's just a small amount, but other times he's like Old Faithful. It makes for many loads of laundry!

Since I make so much milk I get on the verge of engorgement pretty quickly. I have to pump every once in awhile to relieve some of the hardness. I haven't had full-on engorgement because Joe is an eager feeder- he feeds about every 2-2 1/2 hours every day and every night.

Breastfeeding is one of the most rewarding things in motherhood for me. However, sometimes in the middle of the night when I'm up for the umpteenth time to feed Joe, formula feeding seems awfully tempting. Since Joe feeds so often at night I suffer from bone-crushing exhaustion. Sometimes it feels IMPOSSIBLE to get out of bed to breastfeed. As I sit there in a half-unconscious state I think, "Man, if I formula fed Ryan could get up and feed him and I could be warm and snug in our bed in a deep peaceful slumber." I sit there and jealously look over at my husband all curled up like a toasty burrito in our blankets. I haven't had a full night's sleep since August 31st. But then I look down at our son and his big blue eyes look sleepily up to me and I think, "These moments won't last forever. I can sleep later." Love means giving your whole self and I am more than happy to do that for my son.

Since I make so much milk he spits up a lot- and sometimes that involves projectile vomiting. He's never cried while projectiling, but the look of surprise on his face and the fact that I think that since his whole meal is now on my shirt (and the floor, and the walls...) he's not getting enough nourishment I break down in tears. I keep thinking I should change my diet or go to formula so he doesn't get an onslaught of my milk. Joe is a "happy spitter" and I know that lots of babies spit up but it still kills me to think that sometime I am doing could possibly bring him pain and discomfort. Thankfully judging by his adorable fat rolls and the fact that he's nearly 15 lbs, I know he is thriving!

Ecological Breastfeeding

I've read about ecological breastfeeding (EBF) in my natural family planning material and from other bloggers. Basically EBF entails nursing on cue, keeping baby close, providing all nourishment and liquids at the breast for the first five to eight months, and nursing to comfort the baby. There are some strict standards in some EBF philosophies such as not using a pacifier, taking naps with baby and co-sleeping.

I semi-EBF. I do use a paci every once in awhile (Joe usually won't take it) and I don't co-sleep (I haven't felt comfortable doing that yet.) But I do breastfeed on demand and for comfort even if he just fed 30 minutes prior. I do keep him close by me at all times and I plan on breastfeeding for at least a year.

I was hesitant to use EBF since Joe spits up all the time. If I keep pumping his tiny tummy with milk no wonder he's a spitter. But his doctor has assured me that it's a laundry problem, not a health problem. I'll feed to comfort, sooth and nourish if it makes him happy, even if it means I have to wash my hair and clothes of spit up every day!

Breastfeeding in Public

One thing I was always somewhat dreading was the possibility of breastfeeding in public. I figured it would be awkward trying to get Joe to breast under a nursing cover since I'm still a newbie. I knew I wouldn't feel comfortable lifting up my shirt like some women do. I mean, what if my boob popped out for the whole world to see?!

Well, I'm still not a pro at getting Joe ready to breastfeed, but my fears of breastfeeding went out the window when Joe decided to get hungry while I was at a shopping mall with my mom. We asked one of the store clerks if there was a bathroom that would be good for breastfeeding and she said no. I was debating on making the long treck to the van when his fussiness got louder and louder. I was starting to panic. When Baby Joe ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy!

Finally, I said "The heck with it" and settled into a couch in an empty section of the food court. Thankfully my mom was there to help shield me a little bit. People walked by but didn't even glance my way. That was when I decided that I really didn't care what other people thought of me breastfeeding in public- my son's needs are MUCH more important than their judgement!

I even felt comfortable breastfeeding in front of my family one time. Thankfully I had a nursing tank on underneath so it was barely noticeable that I was breastfeeding. In fact no one noticed until my mom asked if I was feeding him!

Products I Like

When I registered for baby stuff I put practically every breastfeeding product on my list because I didn't know what I would need. I didn't get a lot of the items I picked out, which is a good thing, because I didn't really need that much! Here is a list of products I do like and no, I am not getting paid to endorse any certain product or brand!

1. Nursing tanks

Since I stay at home I usually don't wear a nursing bra. I probably should since every once in awhile I'll leak like crazy! (TMI? Probably. My bad!) I feel more comfortable bra-less, plus it's easier to get started to nurse. However, when I go out in public I will wear a bra or nursing tank (I'm not a complete barbarian!) But I almost always choose a nursing tank over a nursing bra. The reason I do is because if I have to breastfeed in public and I lift up my shirt, people won't see my jello-belly. I feel more comfortable in a tank. I know there are fancy shirts and sweaters and allow a woman to breastfeed without lifting her shirt, but frankly- I can't afford that stuff.

2. Lansinoh Soothies

Oh. my. goodness. I LOVED these!!! They are a cooling gel pad for sore nipples. The hospital provided me with them and holy moly they felt good! I had my mom buy some more when I got home. They are kind of pricey- about $10 for a pair, but they are reusable for up to 72 hours and they are flippin' amazing! (I think there are other brands that are cheaper but I don't know how good they are.) My chapped and sore nipples didn't last for long, so I didn't have to stock up, but I would have!

3. Lansinoh Lanolin and Medela Tender Care Lanolin

These are also for sore and cracked nipples. I received a small tube of the Lansinoh at the hospital and used the Tender Care at home. I really didn't notice a difference in these products. Neither of them really soothed the pain, but I used them both religiously and my cracked and sore nipples cleared up fairly fast.

4. Medela Singe Deluxe breast pump

I didn't really worry about breast pumps until I realized I had such a surplus of milk that a breast pump was a necessity. It was stressful finding the right one because I didn't want to spend oodles of money on a pump that I would only use occasionally. I did some research and decided to purchase the Medela Single Deluxe. It's pretty awesome. It can be battery operated, which is convenient. The motor is kind of loud, but it gets the job done and I haven't ever felt any discomfort using it. It was about $60.

There are my adventures in breastfeeding- so far! I encourage any woman who is thinking about breastfeeding to really research to gain confidence but ultimately follow your baby's lead and your mothering instinct. I understand breastfeeding can be very difficult, but give it a try and be patient and calm. And if breastfeeding doesn't work, never ever ever feel guilty about formula feeding. I'm not one of those breastfeeding Nazis that think formula is the Devil. The main goal is a happy healthy baby and a happy mother!

Breastfeeding Joe has made me happy, and I'm pretty sure it makes him happy too!

Are Y'all Still With Me?!

I'm still here!

I have a million and one things that I would love to blog about, mostly consisting of my handsome son, baby poop, breastfeeding adventures and motherhood.

Buuuuuuuut, things have been a little hectic around here! I'm reading your blogs and loving them, but just don't have time to comment as much as I would like.

I'm trying to re-format my blog appearance as well... and having no luck- how do some of you make such great photo headings with multiple pictures?

Anywho, I hope this blog post finds you all doing wonderfully! Someday I'll get back to the blogosphere, because I truly love to write and read what you all have to say!

Will you still be with me? :-)

7 Quick Takes Friday Vol. 17: First Time Mommy Edition

I've been a mother for 5 weeks. Wowie have I learned a lot! I've experienced a lot too- some stuff I've never dealt with until the birth of my beautiful son! I'd like to share with you some things I've never done until I became a mommy.



1. I've never sang "I'm Henry the Eighth, I Am" in the shower. I sang it a couple days ago to entertain Joe while he was chilling in his bouncer. And yes, I did sing it in the Cockney accent- "I'm 'Enery the eighth I am, 'Enery the eighth, I am, I am!"



I bet you'll have this song in your head the rest of the day!


2. I've never stripped down to my bra and underwear in the dining room before. I read about after childbirth of the major peeing and sweating a woman's body does to get rid of all the fluid accumulated during pregnancy. Well, I had a looooooooooot of fluid so I would break out in hot flashes and sweat like a fool. This happened once while I was changing Joe's diaper on the changing table. I could NOT wait to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom or bathroom to strip down- I was sweating like crazy and I felt like I was going to faint. I wasn't going to leave him alone on the changing table, so what did I do? Stripped down and prayed to the Lord that no one would come to the door or walk close by our open windows!



3. When my mom calls me she always asks, "So, what are you doing?" I always say, "Nothing really." Well, once I changed my answer to an response I've never said before. When she asked what I was doing I answered, "Leaking all over the place!" She said, "Well I've never heard that one before!" Ah, the joys of breastfeeding!



4. I've never lost 60 lbs. in 5 weeks. I'm 10 lbs. away from my pre-pregnancy weight (although I want to lose more than that since I was a little overweight before I got pregnant.) Yes, I did gain a crap-load of weight and I have pre-eclampsia to thank for that massive weight gain and breast feeding and peeing and sweating profusely to thank for the weight loss! Yeah, I have a jello-belly, but the rest of me looks pretty darn good after looking like a puffy giant!



5. I've never had to clean poop out of a sink.



6. I've never been freaked out by eye boogers before. Joe got some eye goop and it came from no where! I picked him up to feed him in the middle of the night and his left eye was fused shut! He opened his other eye and thankfully my little winky baby wasn't bothered by this crustified eye.



7. I've never really cared about taking care of myself. Before Joe was born I didn't care about what I ate or even exercising. I always thought, "Oh, I'll get in shape later." I want to be healthy so I can better take care of my husband, son and future children. I've also been more attentive to my appearance. I'm not overly high maintenance, but I want to feel good about myself and look good for the men in my life!

Yesterday's Appointment

Sigh... God must laugh at me a lot. Especially when I worry!

You might be wondering how my doctor's appointment went regarding the birth control question.

Well first of all, the Holy Spirit must have given me a Chuck Norris dose of courage because I wasn't nervous or dreading the question at all. When he asked, "What were you thinking for birth control?" and I said "Ryan and I use NFP" he said in a very supportive voice, "Alright, that's perfect!"

End of discussion.

All that worrying for nothing!

My blood pressure is back to normal- 112/62- HAPPY DANCE! I get to go off my meds!

On another note- I took Joe to the pediatrician because he's been having some painful gas. They weighed him and my little chunker is 12 lbs 10 oz! I make 'em big! :-)

The Question I Am Dreading Tomorrow

Tomorrow I go in to see my OB/GYN. He is going to see how my blood pressure is and determine if I need to continue taking my blood pressure medication or if I am finally free and clear of this pregnancy-induced hypertension. I took my blood pressure at one of those machines located at the pharmacy at Wal-Mart and it appears my blood pressure is finally back in normal range, but I question the accuracy of those machines.

I have a feeling that my blood pressure will be elevated somewhat tomorrow because I am anxious and dreading the one question that I know he is going to ask:

"What form of birth control would you like to be put on?"

Now, this is me being the glass-is-half-empty kind of gal, but I just have a feeling I will get a "look" when I say that I won't be needing any birth control, thanks- we use NFP. (Or will using the term "fertility awareness" make me sound less of a religious nut and more science-y?)

I have heard stories of women who tell their doctors they don't use birth control and the doctor rudely says to them, "OK, well, I will see you in a couple months when you get pregnant again." I doubt my doctor would have that kind of bed-side manner, but I just do not want to deal with the ridiculing look he may possibly give me.

The reason I dread this so much is because everywhere I read it stresses that breastfeeding alone is not a reliable way to space children. The authors stress the importance of using a back-up method of birth control. One of the nurses at the hospital made it quite clear that I need to think about birth control options because she had a cousin who nursed triplets and still got pregnant 6 months after they were born.

Now, I know that it isn't completely reliable to fully depend on breastfeeding to space children. I am aware that fertility can return even while breastfeeding. I understand that reading these fertility signs can be confusing while breastfeeding. Maybe perhaps part of why I dread "The Question" is because I am afraid that I will somehow screw up NFP and get pregnant without really planning on it and all the criticisers will think, "I told you NFP wasn't reliable." They'll shake their head and think, "Why doesn't she just get on the pill or have Ryan slap on a condom? It's so much easier."

For the first time NFP has become a huge challenge. Yes, it would be easier to go on the pill and not worry about trying to determine when I am fertile and when I am not. (Although going on the pill doesn't guarantee not getting pregnant. I am living proof of that!) Sometimes being a good Catholic is hard. Sometimes using NFP is difficult. But will I ever go on the pill just make my life easier? No. I cannot bring myself to do that. I know there will be people that think I definitely should go on the pill or some other form of birth control since I had such a rough go of pre-eclampsia. "What if you get pregnant again right away? That can't be good for your body" is what I can see them saying. Well, I'm going to pull an Albus Dumbledore quote out right here and say, "Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy." Well this is my time to choose.

I choose NFP.

I choose God's will over my own.

I choose to give myself completely to my husband and not hold anything back- especially my fertility.

Am I scared of misreading my fertility signs and getting pregnant in 3 months? Yes. Motherhood is the most rewarding job, but at this point it is sometimes the most terrifying job as well. (Especially for a perpetual worrier like me.) Ryan and I don't know when we'll feel called to have another child. But we both take comfort in knowing that if we do get pregnant sooner than we plan that it's all apart of God's will. There really are no "unplanned pregnancies" because all children are willed by God.

Ryan and I use the sympto-thermal method of NFP taught by Couple to Couple League. Part of this method is taking your basal body temperature every day around the same time when you wake up, preferably after about 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Well I haven't had 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep in a month, and I doubt I will be getting that many Z's any time soon. So I am worried that STM won't be very effective for me. But do we really want to learn a whole new method? How can we when we live out in the sticks and no one around here teaches any form of NFP?

I wrote a post in July about NFP and trust. This postpartum time is really going to teach me to trust God- for real. I'm praying for him to give Ryan and I wisdom and guidance. I'm going to really have to accept God's will. But I'm not going to only sit back and say, "God, take care of it." I'm going to research the crap out of postpartum NFP and breastfeeding, especially ecological breastfeeding. If any of you NFP moms out there want to give me some advice, I will GLADLY take that as well!

I'm probably overreacting about the dread I have concerning tomorrow. I mentioned to the doc at the very beginning of my pregnancy that we use NFP, so saying no to birth control shouldn't be a big shock to him. But I'm a product of fallen human nature so I worry about what others think of me. I'm sure there are friends and family who think my husband and I are nuts for using NFP, but very few have voiced their concerns. I don't know if I will be able to handle a doctor who, since he has oodles of education, thinks he knows everything and will try to sway me to use birth control.

This journey will be difficult, but I know with all my heart that it will all be worth it! Sometimes the best things in life don't come easy!

Baby Joe's Birth Story Part Four

I have finally finished Joe's birth story! It is really detailed, but that is because I wrote it that way so I can remember those details to put in Joe's baby book that I will someday hopefully get to! There are probably a ton of misspellings and I'm sure my grammar is atrocious, so I hope it's not too painful to read!

Here is Part One, Part Two and Part Three

The evening that Joe was born we relaxed and watched the Chiefs v. Packers game. (They won! First win of the season!) The rest of the night did not go so well. First of all I did NOT sleep at all. I got maybe 15 minutes of sleep the whole night. For one thing, they had put the little heart beat monitor thingy on my toe instead of my finger since I was sleeping and so it wouldn’t get in the way of breast feeding. Well the darn thing kept falling of my toe and setting off an alarm. Ryan would get up and put it back on but the alarm still kept going off. Unfortunately the nurses that night would let the alarm sound for about 10-15 minutes before they’d come in and shut it off. It was very annoying!

The night nurses I had the previous nights were awesome but this particular shift was not good. One nurse took Joe to get weighed in the middle of the night and when she came back she expressed her concern that she thought he had lost too much weight. Uh, thanks lady- now I can’t sleep because I’m afraid my kid is starving to death.
When I asked one of the other nurses to make sure I was awake every two hours to breastfeed she said she would, but if I didn’t feel like nursing I could always have them give him formula. The breastfeeding consultant warned me this could happen- most of the nurses were very supportive about breastfeeding, but some nurses would push the formula because they didn’t want to take the time to help first time mothers. I was annoyed beyond belief and made it quite clear that no formula would be used unless it was medically necessary. My Christian charity was running low with these nurses.

Another nurse came in while I was breastfeeding and I asked her to make sure Joe was latched on well because my nipples were really starting to hurt. She didn’t bother to look and said, “Oh everyone gets cracked nipples.” Again I was super annoyed because everywhere I had read stated that if the baby was latched on correctly the nipple shouldn’t hurt. I figured out later that my nipples were going to be somewhat sore since I had never breastfed before, but the fact she didn’t even help angered me.

Between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. I felt really uneasy. Joe was in his bassinet across the room and I was still on bed rest so I couldn’t get up to bring him closer to me. I could have had Ryan wheel him closer but he was asleep and I knew he needed his rest. I sat there for an hour looking across the room at my son and I was just completely overwhelmed. I almost felt like there was a spiritual battle going on in the room. It frightened me in some ways, so I spent the hour praying.

I started to notice that I was wheezing. It wasn’t anything too serious, but it was annoying. I called for a nurse to come in. Of course it took forever for someone to come in and they said they’d send someone from respiratory in to check me. After what seemed like forever a man from respiratory came in and brought this little plastic thing with a tube. I was to breathe into the tube and keep a little ball floating between two lines. It was to help me deep breathe to take care of the wheezing. I’ve always had problems with deep breathing, so this exercise was very difficult for me. They wanted me to practice 10 times in an hour.

Finally it was around 6:00 a.m. and my mom came to visit. Later that morning Ryan’s parents and my dad came by to say good bye. I tried to take a nap but I just couldn’t get to sleep. The doctor had come by while all our parents were there and let me know I would be taken off the magnesium and I was officially off bed rest. I was beyond relieved to hear this news!

I had to have the nurses and Ryan help me out of bed. I hated feeling so helpless. I felt really weak getting out of bed, but it wasn’t too bad. I made it to the rocking chair a few feet from my hospital bed with no problems. I was so grateful to get out of bed. The best part of getting out of bed: taking a shower!!! Ryan had to help me, but it was so refreshing to bathe- it was Friday and the last shower I had taken was Tuesday morning. I still had to carry around my catheter which by that time I had dubbed my “pot of gold.”

It was a great feeling getting unhooked from the things on my calves and from the mag IV. I was being freed from my shackles!

I spent the rest of the day in the rocking chair. I chatted with mom, cuddled with Joe and watched TV. The nurses kept taking my blood pressure every hour and it was still sky high. The doctor told me that it could take up to 6 weeks before my blood pressure to go down. The nurses kept asking me if I had a headache or nausea and I didn’t. I felt fine and the high blood pressure was starting to discourage me. People from the lab had to come every 2 hours to draw my blood to check the mag levels in my system. This was annoying since I have crappy veins and it would take forever for them to find a good vein.

Later that afternoon my brother came to visit. We had a nice visit. When he left to go back home my mom left as well. About 20 minutes later I had a hormonal breakdown. I could tell it was hormones because I just started bawling for no reason. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion and emotions just came flooding over me. I knew exactly what was happening so I actually started laughing.

I spent the rest of the evening relaxing with my new little family. The night nurses that came in were awesome. I found out one of them went to our church. Ryan and I spent the evening watching TV and enjoying alone time.

Later that night the lab people came to draw my blood and it took an hour for them to find a good vein and draw blood. The guy had to call in someone else to get the blood drawn and she actually got in on her first try! I wasn’t too terribly annoyed because the nurse came in and kept us company.

I got more sleep than I did the night before, however I started wheezing really bad again. It got so bad I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I am absolutely terrified of the feeling of not being able to breathe so I started to panic. The nurses responded quickly and helped me to calm down while someone from respiratory came in (the same guy as the night before) to give me a breathing treatment which really helped. They also put me on a little bit of oxygen which also helped. It turns out I had the beginning signs of pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs.) They told me to keep practicing on the breathing tube thingy they had given me the night before to fight off the wheezing.

On Saturday morning Ryan’s parents came back to the hospital. They had been by our house to drop off our new bed. They stayed for awhile. After they left an x-ray tech came up to my room to take a chest x-ray. The doctor looked at it soon afterwards and said the pulmonary edema was going away. I also got my catheter taken out. By then all the fluids I had accumulated during pregnancy and through the IV were being flushed out of my system so I was constantly peeing. Suddenly the catheter seemed kind of convenient, but of course I was glad to get rid of it. I was completely shackle free- no more IV’s, calf thingies, or a catheter!

Soon after Ryan’s parents left one of the deacons from our church came by to visit us. His daughter had been one of our night nurses. We were really happy that we were starting to get to know the people from our church.

I had another breakdown early that afternoon. I could see the worry and concern every time the nurses came in to check my blood pressure. They would voice their frustration that none of the blood pressure medicine they were giving me seemed to be working. I started getting scared. I had never in my life had any sort of health problem and here I was with dangerously high blood pressure. Usually with pre-eclampsia the blood pressure stabilizes when the baby is born, but not with me. They informed me that I could have high blood pressure for up to 6 weeks after Joe was born. I didn’t know if I would have any long-term effects from this. I was so frustrated because I felt fine but my blood pressure kept remaining sky high. I hate it when things are out of my control. I tried to relax, go to my happy place, and pray, but nothing seemed to work.

On top of being scared about my high blood pressure, I was getting stir-crazy. I had been confined to my room since Tuesday night with the exception of being wheeled to surgery. Yes, I was off bed rest, but I wanted to rest as much as I could and every time I did have the energy to get up and walk the halls I had a visitor or had to be assessed by the nurses.

All this was wearing on me and so when my mom called to ask how I was doing I broke down. I wanted more than anything to go home, be healthy and bond with my son. I felt like I couldn’t properly take care of Joe since I was so sick with hypertension. I felt worthless as a mother. I felt like I couldn’t bond with him since I was so concerned I would die or something from this high blood pressure. (Overly dramatic, I know, but that is how I was starting to feel at the time.) Of course talking with my mom made me feel much better.

Later that afternoon my best friend Ashlee came to visit again. We watched TV and she got some cuddle time with Joe. She left to go eat supper and Ryan and I got our special dinner that the hospital provided. It was steak, green beans, baked potato, salad, a roll and cheesecake. It was delicious, but the mag was still messing with my digestive system so I didn’t get to fully enjoy it.

Ashlee came back later and was a welcome distraction to the nurses getting very concerned about my high blood pressure. I had been on two different kinds of blood pressure medicines and nothing was working. At one point they had to administer a gel cap sublingually- they poked the gel cap and poured the liquid under my tongue. I had to keep the liquid under my tongue without swallowing. The gel cap liquid tasted nasty and it was so hard to not swallow since my mouth filled up with spit very quickly! I had to do that twice and guess what- it didn’t work!

At one point when I breastfed Joe I noticed an area on my breast that was super hard. When I expressed- out came milk! My milk had come in in just two days! As much as I was freaking out about my blood pressure I was so thankful that breastfeeding was going well.

The nurses came in and suggested that perhaps one reason my blood pressure was so sky high was because I was so tired. I wasn’t sleeping well at night because of nursing Joe and every time I tried to nap during the day I was interrupted by a nurse coming in to give me meds or to take my blood pressure, or the staff from dietary would come in to give me my meal. My doctor suggested I take a sleeping pill and have the nurses take care of Joe and finger feed him from my milk that I would pump. I did not want to send Joe away for the night- it just didn’t feel right. But I decided to go ahead and follow his suggestion. I figured the faster I got better the sooner we could get out of there and I could better take care of Joe.

The nurse came in with the pump and warned me that since I had a c-section and since it had only been 2 days since Joe was born I would probably only pump a tiny bit of colostrums. She was quite surprised when my lovely white milk came pouring into the container.

Ashlee and I watched the movie Frequency on TV as I pumped. I didn’t get a lot out, but enough to last a couple of feedings so I could get some rest. While we were hanging out and chatting we could hear a lady in the next room screaming in labor and the nurses coaching her.

Ashlee left to go to her hotel room and I stood by Joe’s bassinet to kiss him goodnight before Ryan would wheel him to the nurses’ station. As I was waiting for the nurses to take him I could hear one of them on the phone asking, “How far apart are your contractions?” and a few seconds later, “OK, go ahead and come to labor and delivery.” After the nurse came and got Joe I broke down once again. First I felt horrible for leaving my son. I felt like I was abandoning him. It broke my heart to think that he would be without me and his daddy. And I wasn’t handling having had a c-section very well. I was jealous of that lady who we could hear screaming through the walls and for the woman who had just called in to the nurses station. I was being so selfish because I was resentful that I didn’t get those experiences. I was getting mad at myself for being so selfish and unreasonable. Thankfully Ryan made me feel better and before I knew it, the sleeping pill the nurses had given me had taken effect and I drifted off to a good night’s sleep.

The next morning Ryan got up to go to Mass and Ashlee came to visit. We had a good chat and she left before Ryan got back. This was one of the first times that I had alone time with Joe. For the first time I could just sit and stare and talk to him. I examined his little toes and hands and ears. This whole thing had happened so fast that I didn’t get a chance to really feel like a mother until that moment.

Ryan came back from church and told me that one of the parishioners who we didn’t know had come up to him asking if I had had the baby since I wasn’t with him at church. He also told me that he asked Fr. Kevin if someone could bring me communion later.

My doctor came in and said I would either be going home later that day or the next morning. That was some great news- the end was in sight! After he left Ryan and I took a nap. When we woke up a lady from our church brought me communion. Before she left Fr. Kevin came to visit. I felt 110% better after I received the Precious Body of Jesus. The nurse came in and said that if my blood pressure had lowered that I would more than likely be released since the last few blood pressure readings she had taken were lower than they had been, thanks to my new medicine Procardia. Well the prospect of maybe going home that day must have excited me because my blood pressure shot up again.

Instead of breaking down and freaking out like I usually did, I felt at peace. I knew more than likely there would be only one more day of being in the hospital. I focused on the positive aspects of my birthing experience. I knew I had tried as long as possible to make the induction work. I was lucky to have gotten to hold my son minutes after I was wheeled back into my room after surgery. I was lucky that breastfeeding was going very well for Joe and me. I was lucky to be blessed with such wonderful nurses and a doctor that was very caring and supportive. I was lucky that I was recovering well from the c-section. Most of all, I was so blessed to have a healthy baby. He was two weeks early and in the womb when Lord only knows how long I was plagued with high blood pressure and it didn’t affect him at all. He wasn’t losing a lot of weight, he had passed his hearing test, and even though he was a little jaundice it wasn’t anything that required treatment.

I finally had the energy to get up and get dressed. It was such a great feeling to get out of that hospital gown- I was feeling more like a human. Ryan and I walked the halls and even though my legs felt like jello, it was nice to get moving. We went outside and sat on some benches that were right next to a waterfall/pond garden. The sun was setting, there was a slight breeze and the temperature was about 75 degrees- simply perfect. Just getting outside did wonders for my soul.

Later that evening my mom came back to visit. She was going to help us get home and stay with us a couple days to help in our adjustment to being new parents. When she got there she asked the nurse if I would be going home later that night and she said that it depended on what the doctor said. I told the nurse that I would be OK staying another night. As much as I wanted to get out of there I knew it was important for me to be a little healthier.

The night nurse that night was also a parishioner of our church. We were really getting to know more and more people from St. Peter’s!

I pumped again that night to have the nurses finger feed him and to get another full night’s rest. I pumped A LOT more than the night before- plenty to keep him fed throughout the night. However, around 4:00 a.m. the nurse came in and said he wouldn’t take the finger feeds. He wanted me. He eagerly took my breast and my heart flooded with emotion- he really needed and loved me.

Monday morning finally came. It was Labor Day. The doctor came in while I was brushing my teeth. “It looks like someone is ready to get out of here!” he said. He gave me the go ahead to be released that day. PRAISE GOD!

The nurses helped us give Joe a bath. That was nerve wracking! We dressed him in his going home outfit (a Chiefs outfit, of course!) And the nurse came in to give me discharge instructions. I was a little nervous about going home. What if my blood pressure got super high and I didn’t realize it because I wasn’t having any symptoms? Thankfully the Procardia they put me on seemed to be helping.

Before I knew it we were walking down the halls out to our van. The nurse checked our car seat and off we went. It was a beautiful day and I was so happy to be going home.

After 6 days in the hospital I wanted to kiss the ground when we got to our house. Instead, I kissed my husband and my son and I started in my adventure of being a new mother!