Family Updates

My last post about my family was to tell you how Lily was born and how much I liked labor tubs. Since then, I've become a mom of a five month old and a two and a half year old, both in the same week (And actually, oops, Aaron's birthday is on the 16th of the month and Lily's is the 13th, but I always think hers is the 16th, too.  Second child stereotypes…). I've also become wife to a PhD doctoral candidate, which is the title Andrew gets after PASSING COMPS, YO. I'm unspeakably proud of him. Here's what else has been going on.

Andrew: Like I said, passed the biggest exams of his life and never has to take another test. Read a book for pleasure for the first time in months, recommended it to me, and we both loved it.  I just finished this one, after months of wanting to see the movie. Have you read or seen it?

Aaron: As adorably, hilariously obsessed with trucks as ever. Proof: asked what the palms were on Palm Sunday, and while I tried to explain, interrupted me to say it was the pump from a concrete pumping truck (You didn't know what that was before you were a boy mom?  Me neither!). Asks to walk by the construction site across the street from us every day, which we do while walking to pick up Andrew from the metro. Graduated from Pack 'n Play to hand-me-down race car bed, killed his nap, and killed it good. We're working on enforced rest time, if enforced means sort of encouraged on my part--some days it's more tiring to chase him back into his room to play quietly than to keep him with me all day! Hugs and kisses his sister all day long, with gusto; caught stroking her head when she woke up from a nap, saying, "It's okay, Lily" and repeatedly shoving her pacifier at her. Verrry gradually potty training. Asks us questions all day long, loves drawing clouds and cars (lots of circles, mostly), learned how to play this game, and despite typically trying toddler willfulness that's sometimes made worse by lack of naps, is just so affectionate and wonderfully himself and makes his mama so happy to talk to and watch him.







Lily: Learned to roll from back to belly and tries at every opportunity. Giggles like crazy whenever her brother jumps off of something, leans over to kiss her, or shakes a toy in front of her face. Only wants to stand, never sit, on our laps.  Grabs at things with increasing accuracy, whether toy or teething ring or her mommy's hair. Constantly vocalizes during the day, usually sounds that can be best described as "ga-ROO!" It's unclear who is more amused by this. Wakes up four times a night.  Hopefully this will change when she gets kicked out of our room this week.  Hopefully.

In many ways, the last few weeks have been a transitional sort of time for our family, as we adjust to Andrew having slightly more free time than he did at the height of his studying, and me having slightly less between my book release and the death of naptime. Sacrifice is a funny thing; we are far from perfect at it, but the more habitual it becomes, the harder it is to let someone sacrifice for you--joy is a fruit of putting another person before yourself, and as much as I complained some days during the comps madness, I sometimes wish there was more I could do for Andrew now, when it's not an absolute necessity that I do most of the chores or baby caring. It's not that I want to be in control of everything or be praised for things that I do; I just want to be able to help my husband, and now that our roles have been temporarily reversed (I.e. I have more deadlines and pressing priorities than he does right now, whereas it's been vice versa for the past few months), I struggle to let him help me without feeling guilty. Please pray for us as we discern how to balance each of our responsibilities in the best way for our family.

But honestly; look at those brown-eyed babies. Life is sweet, friends.

Lily's Birth Story, Part 2

When last we left off (read Part 1 here), I was on my way to the hospital after about 14 hours of denying I was in real labor or that it was time to get out the door. Around 4:45 p.m. on November 13th, my contractions, which had been about the same in their overall mildness the whole time so far, yet closer and closer together, started to have more of an edge, and I decided we should get going.  When Aaron was born, I definitely cut the whole "labor at home as long as you can" thing way too close, and was so not eager to repeat that hellacious car ride.

We live only about 10 minutes from the hospital, but dude, nothing like a contracting uterus to make 10 minutes feel eternal.  Like I said, my contractions were getting sharper, and the difference between moving around through them and being strapped into my seatbelt through them was noticeably awful.  I braced my arm against the car door during the two contractions that hit during our ride, while Andrew rubbed my shoulders with his non-driving hand.

Walking into the hospital, much like leaving our apartment, was weird--in both of those cases, I knew that next time I walked through the doors I'd have my baby in my arms.  We made our way pretty non-eventfully up to Labor and Delivery, where we did all the paperworky things.  I only had to drop to the floor once, which I consider an improvement on the last time I was there for Aaron's birth, unknowingly fully dilated, in serious pain and crying in frustration because I thought pre-registering meant I'd get to skip the reception desk. Then we headed into triage.

Try-age.  Tree-age?  Tree-ahj? Anyway, triage was entirely new to me, since the last time I'd come to the hospital in labor I got whisked right out of there into a delivery room.  I got gowned up (side effect of getting there in earlier labor than before: still having enough self-awareness to care about gown buttlessness, at least for a awhile) and checked, and was deemed 6 cm dilated and mostly effaced--I can't remember the number.  Even though so much time had passed, at that point, since I'd felt those first twinges in the middle of the night before, and even though I was standing there in a buttless gown with contractions 3 minutes apart, something about the midwife saying "you're in good and active labor, then," was what made the whole thing finally feel real.

The midwives at my practice, like most, I expect, use intermittent fetal monitoring to allow women to move around during labor, but their rule required 20 straight minutes of continual monitoring to get a read on the baby's heart rate.  I could do 20 minutes, I thought, after coming back from the bathroom, but after the wrestling match that was Tara, the midwife, trying to attach the monitor around my belly in a position that gave a steady reading (Lily's heartbeat kept dropping off the radar, and even though I swear I was trying not to move around so much, that sucker just did not want to stay put), I ended up being on the monitor for about an hour.  I fully admit it might've been my fault--every time a contraction came, all I wanted to do was stand up, lean my elbows on the bed, and sway.  But I tried to cooperate while Tara left us to our own devices; we prayed for a safe and easy delivery, and I snuck some trail mix and drank some coconut water.

Oh coconut water.  Forever are you conditioned, for me, as the taste of childbirth.  I bought some to bring to the hospital with Aaron, too, but as my labor picked up, the thought of even a sip of water, anything besides just getting through the contractions, was unbearable.  I arrived in Labor and Delivery extremely dehydrated and needed an IV, and didn't have any of the water until after he was born and I guzzled a whole bottle.  Since that was another experience I didn't want a second round of, I'd  been trying to stay hydrated all day, and once we were in triage Andrew kept encouraging me to drink up.  I didn't feel terribly thirsty, but I knew I should, and I'm thankful he kept passing me the coco.

After we finally got the monitor situation out of the way, I was free, and we moved to a delivery room.  Slowly.  I had to stop and grip the wall twice on the short trip down the hall, and when we got there, I just kept doing the ol' lean and sway, which more and more I'm imagining as looking like a pale, laughable impression of twerking but...let's just not.  "Do you want to try the tub?" Tara asked.  There was a tub!  I'd been so eager to try laboring in the water last time, but hadn't gotten to the hospital early enough, and if things were to be believed, labor tubs are theee best.  "Sure," I said, but told her that at the time, I still wanted to be moving around.  She pointed out to me how big the tub was, though, and that it took a while to fill, so she'd start it for if I wanted to get in later.  For now, she said, keep my legs and hips far apart  and make wide movements to help Lily descend.  Sure enough, a few contractions later I got hit by a wave of fatigue.  My body was shaking (who knew labor shakes were a thing?), and my elbows were raw from all the weight and movement I'd been bracing against them every few minutes.  The nurse attendant wrapped a warm blanket (like, warm from a warmer--that thing was clutch) around me and asked if I wanted to try leaning on a birthing ball.  I agreed, thinking the cushiness of the ball would help offset some of the weight I'd been leaning on, but ended up hating it.  With all the shaking going on, I couldn't stay balanced on the ball!  I got back on my feet until the tub was full and prayed I could keep going.

The tub, you guys.  For me, the rumors were true!  I feel like "game-changer" is so overused, but if anything changed my labor game, it was that glorious tub.  I wasn't expecting to feel the amount of relief I did when I got in!  The warmth and the weightlessness were just what the doctor--well, midwife--ordered.  And there were jets.  It's so funny; I'd read in my Bradley birth book about the mother's emotional map during labor. The typical pattern is that she is relaxed and chatty early on, grows more serious, silent, and focused as labor picks up, and nearly always experiences a moment of doubt and inability right as she's about to transition.  Up until getting in the water, I'd been well into the serious phase, but amazingly, though my contractions were getting fiercer and fiercer, I found myself laughing with giddiness in between them and having a conversation with Andrew about tattoos.  Tara said I could stay in the tub as long as I wanted, until I felt like I wanted to push, and left us alone in the bathroom.  Even though things were getting pretty rough, this was my favorite time.  All afternoon, Andrew had been stroking my hair, holding my hands, or rubbing my back every time I moved through a contraction, with the most radiant smile on his face.  "I'm not smiling because you're in pain," he said, but because I'm so proud of you, I love you, and because you're doing this for our family."  I've heard people say they fell more in love in the delivery room, something that didn't happen to me last time (with Aaron's birth, my presence of mind was too far gone, I think), but darn if we aren't shameless cheeseballs and we both did feel it this time around.  During the times I was able to relax in the water, I was so happy enjoying those moments alone with him, ready to meet our daughter.

I'm not sure how long I hung out in the tub--and literally, I started hanging on the faucet, using it to support my weight, for each contraction---but I do know the water was cooling off by the time I got the urge to bear down.  I yelled to Tara that I wanted to push, and she helped me out of the water with another warmed blanket in hand, which probably would've been cozy except for the fact that I'd stubbornly worn my sports bra into the tub and it took forever to dry.  I climbed up on the bed and did my hanging move on the headboard (the bed was at a right angle), vaguely wondering how long this would take and what was going on in the amniotic fluid department.  I was confused by having the urge to push, because as far as I knew, my water hadn't broken yet; I didn't even know if pushing was a possibility in that state.

After a one or two pushes that mostly consisted of me shrieking, Tara told me in a loving-but-no-BS way to stop screaming and make lower sounds to channel my energy into getting the baby out.  She was awesome, I could tell she meant business, and I didn't want her frustrated with me, so I tried to keep a lid on it…I chalk it up to my authority-pleasing oldest child ways.  And then, I felt a huge amount of pressure, along with a massive gush.  Oh, that's what was going on with the fluids.  I steeled myself for what I thought would be a marathon to come--with Aaron, I pushed for four hours and was so exhausted and in pain.  Up until then, this hadn't been, you know, the most pleasant experience of my life, but it certainly wasn't awful.  So imagine my surprise when Tara said, "she's got so much hair!"

The fact that Lils was already crowning came as a complete shock to me; I'd had no idea she had been stationed so far down.  It was enough encouragement to push again, with the fleeting thought that this might not have to take four hours after all, and then Tara and Andrew and the nurses were all yelling that she was almost there and just one more, and at 6:58 p.m, Lily took her first breath of air.  I was so surprised that she was already here, having still been inside me, water bag and all, about 7 minutes earlier, that I stayed there, still clinging to the back of the bed, and just looked down at her.  "Get her!  Say hi!" the nurse said, breaking my daze, and I picked up my baby girl and snuggled her for the first time.  She seemed incredibly tiny, and I wasn't expecting to hear she weighed 8 pounds and 1 ounce!  I guess that's perspective for you, since I'd spent the last 38 weeks hanging out with a 25-pound two-year-old.

Lily cried for a few minutes and cleared out her little lungs, and she nursed while we waited on the placenta.  The nurses wrapped another blanket around both of us, and Andrew and I stared at her in amazement while she busied herself getting her colostrum and pooping on my arm.  Andrew cut the cord, I pushed out the placenta and got the dreaded uterine smashing, and Tara checked for tears.  I didn't have one, but she was concerned with how much I was bleeding.  I got hooked up to a pitocin drip to encourage the contractions that should've stemmed the bloodflow, but when it didn't slow my bleeding down, Tara wanted to try suppositories.  Four of them!  I told her I'd rather go through labor again.  "The alternative is that if this keeps up you could bleed to death," she said.  Um, okay.  In they went, Tara applied some pressure, and eventually everything calmed down.  When it was all over, she said I'd lost around 40 CCs of blood, which is approaching, but not a full-on, hemorrhage.  God bless the suppositories.

Because of the blood loss, we hung out in the delivery room for about two and a half hours, which I hear is longer than normal, but which also gave Andrew the opportunity to run across the street from the hospital and bring back Chipotle.  He ordered double steak for mine, he said, because I looked so pale from the bleeding!  I don't know how much iron it restored but being able to eat dinner around a normal time of day, after a day spent delivering a baby, was awesome, and so was going to sleep (at least for the few hours that a new baby and constant nurse visits allow) around 11 p.m.  The normalcy of ending the day in a semi-normal way--as normal as it can be on the first day of your baby's life!-- combined with the quick pushing and no tears, made a huge difference in how I felt, recovery-wise.

It's things like that, the timing and the recovery, that amazed me so much about Lily's birth and arrival into our lives.  For now I'm content in Camp Hospital Birth, but even having had a natural, intervention-free birth with Aaron (save the IV for hydration), that experience had been physically and emotionally miserable, and even without interventions I felt so bewildered and exhausted by the whole thing that I felt things were just sort of happening to me and struggled to bond with him right away.  The difficulty of his birth, combined with a lot of nursing complications and rookie parent lack of sleep, took a huge toll on Andrew's and my ability to treat each other with love or, you know, basic good manners.  I'm thankful we emerged on the other side purified, determined to be nicer and more forgiving (gradually getting more sleep helped), but I prayed for most of Lils' pregnancy that even if our lives were shaken up again to that degree, that our will to love and to forgive would be stronger this time.

I'd prayed, too, for a couple other things.  First, I asked the Lord not for an easier or less painful birth necessarily, but for more presence of mind during my labor.  Second, I'd been anxious about getting to the hospital on time, since I knew most babies come faster after the first, and because it had been so difficult last time when we got there so far into things.  And amazingly, thanks entirely to grace, every single one of those prayers for a more peaceful birth and gentler transition for our relationship was answered.  I felt so humbled to realize it, not just in the sense that any grace comes to me completely unmerited, but because I sincerely questioned whether I was worthy of them--motherhood has broken and restored me over and over again, and so many days end with me thinking I could've done more for my kids, been a little more present, a little more patient.  Never have I been more vulnerable, but never have I been more humbled by the little souls God has entrusted to us, in all of their adorably hilarious, sometimes frustrating, always loving fullness.

Lily's Birth Story, Part 1

Eight weeks into my little girl's life, I can safely say that going from one kid to two has been far easier, at least in our experience, than zero kids to one.  When Aaron was born, I felt like the sleeplessness combined with the total pouring out demanded of us shook up my life big time--for at least the first few weeks, I felt so suspended from time and honestly didn't notice or care much about the difference between night and day.

Don't get me wrong!  Aaron shaped me in so many ways by making me a mother, and has brought such hilariously beautiful joy to our lives.  His entry into the world, like his entry into our lives, was much rougher on his parents than his sister's, though!  After two months tomorrow (say what) of having two babies, I'm more aware than ever that Andrew and I are still such beginners and such beggars, reliant entirely on grace, when it comes to parenthood.  I'm thankful that we feel at least slightly more confident this time in being responsible for a newborn, and that every difficulty isn't a huge drama.  When Aaron would cry as a tiny baby, we'd both freak out trying to pinpoint the exact cause and the perfect solution (spoiler to our past selves: nothing is a perfect solution!), but this time around, we're much more able to not let crying get to us and to be at peace as long as we feel like we're putting in our best efforts, whatever that looks like on a given day, to take care of our kids.

I've been amazed by Aaron's sweetness and general good behavior since bringing Lily home!  Aside from a few incidents here and there (intentionally peeing on his booster seat much?), he's been remarkably non-jealous and consistent with his usual laid-back temperament.  For the first two weeks or so after we brought Lily home, I think I had a way harder time than him!  My heart felt so divided; here I was, falling in love with my new baby, yet I almost wanted my other, first baby to want and need me more than he seemed to!  The day we came home from the hospital, Aaron spent a good 10 minutes leaping around, adorably yelling, "It's Lily!  It's Lily!" and putting his toys in her car seat to show her.  I just sat there and cried!  Then he ran off laughing to play by himself.  His growing independence is fascinating to me (I love hearing him talk and sing to himself as he pushes all his trucks around and pages through his books, some of which he's memorized), but also bittersweet as I realize how big he's getting.  Honestly, I was expecting him to be a little needier and cuddlier when he became a big brother, and though I definitely appreciate him taking it easy on mama, it makes me a little sad to see how generally okay he is being on his own more at times where the baby requires more of me.  The hormones, y'all.  But truly, I praise God for my son's easygoing personality and for all the ways he adores his new sister.  I hope so much that they'll always be close and will be good pals growing up!  Now on to the gory birth deets.

If our children's births have a theme so far, it might be, "Yup, it really is labor.  Get that belly to the hospital already."  On Thursday, November 12, I was 38 weeks and 5 days along.  I'd been having Braxton-Hicks contractions throughout the day for about a month, and though I was getting the feeling my baby girl would arrive early, I thought it'd be somewhere more along the 39ish mark.  Anyway, I noticed what I thought might be some bloody show before bed on the night of the 12th, but didn't want to get too excited.  Around 3:30 in the morning, I woke up to contractions that felt stronger and a little crampier than normal, but not painful.  Being awake and bored at that point (during those last insomniatic months, I tried to spend my sleepless times in prayer and resisting the lure of my phone or Kindle, which made me feel too alert to go back to sleep), I tried to figure out if they were coming regularly, then pulled out my phone and determined the contractions were about 12 minutes apart.  I mentioned this to Andrew, who neutrally said something like "Mmmph" and rolled over.  Deep sleeper, that man.  Belief I was in labor: 17%.

I dozed off again at some point, then woke again around dawn on the 13th.  Since I figured I had about an hour before Aaron woke up for the day, I decided to get up for some coffee and reading; while I was at it, I dialed the midwife-on-call line for my practice and described what I thought were the non-events of the night.  It was a little too early to tell, said the midwife, who said that even Braxton-Hicks contractions can have a rhythm in late pregnancy, but she said to keep an eye on things and call again if they got closer together.  "Maybe I'll see you later today," she said before we hung up.  Belief that I was in labor: 30%.

By about 8:00 that morning, my contractions were down to 6 or 7 minutes apart.  I was a little concerned at how close together they were, but since they felt pretty tame, we decided Andrew should go in to school.  He teaches two hour-long classes in the morning and spends the rest of the day in meetings or studying, and was determined to hack away at his dissertation some more before the baby.  I told him to keep his phone out and on, and probably reminded him of this, oh, a dozen times before he left.  "But it's probably nothing, and I'm only an hour away," he reminded me.  I pondered this, mostly reassured but nervous about the unpredictability of the Metro around here and its ability to actually get my husband home in an hour.  Belief I was in labor: 55%, mostly fostered by my worry about being alone, in labor, and responsible for a toddler.

After Andrew left, the contractions kept picking up, not horribly painful, but to the point that I had to crouch down on my hands and knees, swaying through them, every 5 minutes or so while I made Aaron's breakfast and played with him.  I had been really anxious about worrying him if he saw me in pain, and tried to explain to him that Mommy's tummy was hurting a little because the baby was ready to be born.  I tried to offer each contraction for a safe, uncomplicated birth, for Lily to have a long, fulfilling, holy life, and for both of my babies' easy adjustment to our new life as a family of four.   I was finally convinced this was legit labor by now.  I texted Andrew to come home after class.  He told me later that when he looked at the message, his students kept telling him to cut class short and leave right away!

This was around the time the waterworks started.  I had tears in my eyes all morning long as I watched my sweet Aaron bringing books over to read, coloring with me, pushing his trucks around and talking to himself, and, sweetest of all, patting me on the back, saying "Mommy's okay," every time I dropped to the floor.  The thought of being away from him for 2 days and coming back to a completely different dynamic felt like too much to take.  I have such an abiding love for him and for all our little rituals and routines, and even in my happy anticipation to meet Lily, I felt a sort of mourning for my time with Aaron, who made me a mother, as my only baby.  By some miracle, he didn't seem to notice my tears or the catch in my voice.  It was such a privilege, soaking up the morning with him, and I'll always remember it.

Our taking-care-of-Aaron plan was for my friend Jenn to pick him up and take him to her house when I left for the hospital.  I was certain now that I'd be having a baby sometime that day (please God, a short labor--not the next day!), but wasn't sure when I should ask her to come get him.  It was close to his naptime, so I figured I'd put him down, keep going through what felt like fairly light labor for a while, and then ask Jenn to come stay until he woke up.  I called her and she pointed out that it'd probably be easier for him, and more relaxing for me, if she came to get him right then, before his nap, so he could sleep at her house.

Hold the phone.  What she was saying did make sense, but mentally I hadn't been prepared to say goodbye to Aaron just then; I thought I'd have at least a few hours and time to put him to sleep for his nap, at least, and suddenly I only had 20 minutes.  I burst into tears and called my sister in law, Natalie, who has three babies.  I told her that I was sure I was in labor, but was so unsure of whether it was the right decision to send Aaron packing, since it seemed so early in the game.  I was nervous that since this labor felt like such a slow burn, I was adding unnecessary time to the hours we'd spend apart, or that things would slow back down and he'd have to come home, and then do everything all over again in a few days.  I could barely handle one separation, let alone two.   Natalie tried to talk me down through all the hysterics; she kept saying what good hands Aaron was in and how he'd be fine without us.  She also said how much she wished she'd left for the hospital earlier with her third baby (the only one who hadn't been induced); her labor had felt similar to mine, with a manageable level of pain, she said, but suddenly, on a dime, it became unbearable and she was still at home, 45 minutes from the hospital!  I remembered how rough the mere 10-minute car ride to the hospital had been for me last time, and not being eager to relive it, I felt more at peace with having Aaron leave early, but was still struggling to accept it.  I'd packed clothes and his overnight stuff and sent it over to Jenn's a few weeks prior, so I had time to just hang out with him a little longer while she was on her way over.  When she arrived, I was surprised how easily and quickly Aaron let himself be whisked out the door.  I gave him a last hug, told him I loved him so, so much, and tried not to completely lose it.

I puttered around contracting and tidying our apartment while I waited for Andrew to get home.  I tried reading, tried working on a few blog things, and tried playing my uke, but I felt so restless.  I finally settled on putting on The Office and eating the leftover chicken piccatta we'd made the night before.  It made me laugh when I realized that without planning on it beforehand, deciding to eat all that pasta was a carbo-load for the labor ahead of me.

Andrew arrived home around 1:30, and around then was when I remembered my weekly prenatal appointment was scheduled for that afternoon.  Since, at that point in the game, I knew all they'd be checking was Lily's heart rate and making sure she was head down, and since I was pretty sure those two things were fine, it didn't make sense to me to drive in the opposite direction from the hospital to the office and possibly have a long wait time during which things might pick up.  I called to say I wasn't coming, and that I'd probably go to the hospital by the evening.  A nurse I knew picked up the phone.  "How far apart are your contractions?" she asked.  "Four or five minutes, but they don't hurt much," I  said.  "Honey, go to the hospital," she told me.

Because this labor was less painful, to that point, than I remembered it being with Aaron, I still didn't think we needed to leave right away!  I wasn't sure whether pain or frequency of contractions should be the bigger marker of how far along I was, and since my contractions still felt manageable, I decided I wanted us to stay at home a little longer.  With each contraction, dropping down on all fours still helped, and so did bracing my elbows on a table or the sofa arm and swaying my hips.  The four to five minute interval had been the same for about 8 hours at that point, and I started feeling stronger and stronger twinges.  Around 4:45, we decided to head out the door.  I remember looking around the room with the thought that it would look the same next time I saw it, yet everything would be completely different.

This novel has gotten long enough for one post.  Read Part 2 here!

Comfort Food and Finding Our Family Recipes: Guesting at Raising Barnes

While Emily at Raising Barnes is taking a few weeks off from blogging to cuddle her sweet new baby George, she's compiled a smorgasbord of recipes, and the stories behind them, in a Blogger Family Cookbook!  I'm honored to help her out and share with you my favorite chicken noodle soup, featuring a surprise ingredient.  Plus, links to a couple of our other true blues.

I was so excited when Emily described this series to me as a combination of food and stories.  Now that I am a wife and mom, I love coming across a recipe we enjoy enough to add to our permanent rotation--in other words, one where we feel like we don't have to keep chasing the perfect recipe for a certain dish…Read the rest of the post, and get the recipe, here!

Thanks so much, Emily!   While you're at it, be sure to check out the rest of the contributions, and join me in praying for Emily, her hubs Alex, and their boys as they adjust to being a family of four!

What about you?  Any tried and true favorites that have become a part of your life together?

Introducing...

Mary said, "I am the Lily of the Valley and the Lady of the Fields."  Meet Lily Grace Calis, born on Friday evening, November 13!  She took her first breath of air at 6:58 p.m; about 3 hours after we  arrived at the hospital and, by some miracle of mercy, less than 10 minutes after my water broke.  I'm thankful for what feels like a much, much easier delivery and recovery compared to Aaron's birth, and it's helped me enjoy our first days at home fairly peacefully.  Fairly!  But wonderfully.

I know you can't even see the baby in this one but I just find it hilarious.

Aaron's welcome home offerings to his little sis

Blurry because I couldn't stop crying enough to hold the camera still!

I'm taking some time off from my own writing to embrace all this newness, beauty, and exhaustion, but happily, I've asked some friends to contribute their own stories and ideas over the weeks to come and am so excited to share them with you!  Check back Friday for a guest post of my own, next week for the kickoff of a new blog series, and stay tuned for some upcoming guest pieces and all things holiday.

Meantime, you can follow our adjustment as a family of 4 on Instagram.  Please say a prayer for us during this transition!  The joy of all this, you guys.  Truly, it overflows.   

xoxoxo

Fall Family Shoot and Life Lately

I met Claire and her now-husband Kevin during their engagement a few years ago, when Andrew and I taught them NFP.  The friend crush was mutual, but we didn't really get in touch again until about 2 months ago, when we did a postpartum NFP class with them after the birth of their sweet little girl.  In exchange for the teaching, Claire, who just started her beautiful photography business, offered to meet up for some family photos, and I'm so grateful to her and excited to share them with you!

  

In other news…

...I am 38 weeks and feeling every second of it!  Braxton-Hicks all day long, and though this is more of an emotional intuition than a physical one, I've gotten a strong feeling lately that this little girl isn't going to stay put for a full 40 weeks.  We are getting more excited than ever to meet her, and now that she has clothes and dipes and a cosleeper ready to go, I am more than ready for her arrival!  For now I'm just enjoying one-on-one time with Aaron, filling our freezer with meals for later, and trying to enjoy the surprising amount of sleep I've been able to manage!

…I just read this article revealing letters exchanged between St. Gianna and her husband, Pietro, from before they started dating.  She actually said 'I love you' first, and his response is beautiful.  Call me untraditional, but I think in the right circumstances, there is a holy boldness to that sort of spirit of truth and directness.  If you missed it a while back, here's my take on when and how a woman can pursue a man while still honoring each person's femininity and masculinity.

…I'm pretty sure Christmas shopping isn't going to happen unless I get it all done in the next few weeks, which is fine by my giving-happy self.  I love picking out presents for people!  For me, we've been saving up for this all year, and despite the permanent trauma inflicted on me by my Southern-born 8th grade Social Studies teacher, who thought bringing in her collection of furs--with animal faces and feet still attached--was a good way to teach us about the French and Indian War and the fur trade, I've recently gotten over my aversion and have really been wanting one of these.  What's at the top of your wish list?  

…Did you catch the cover reveal for Invited two weeks ago?  Check it out here, and be on the lookout for more news about the release soon.

…I've been trying to venture beyond the baked goods realm as pumpkin goes--having to go back to the blood lab for the 3-hour gestational diabetes test was enough to scare me, at least temporarily, into cutting down on all the muffins we'd been making.  I made this mac and cheese for Aarons's birthday and it's definitely getting added to our rotation.  Tell me your favorite not-sweet pumpkiny recipe!

I'm out for now.  Oh sweet anticipation.

Aaron Tobias Turns Two

Andrew and I spent Sunday afternoon watching football and sorting through all our baby clothes, trying to pick out the ones girly enough for our daughter to wear and still have people know she's an actual girl.  Basically, anything without too many sports balls or trucks got the pass.  We kept cracking up, saying how much Aaron would love to see all the stuff (he was napping) as we found PJs after shirts after onesies all covered in diggers, loaders, and dump trucks, which I now know the difference between thanks to my son's obsession and to our having checked out, at some point, practically every library book involving them.

My adorably weird, hilarious boy is two, and aside from trucks, his interests can be summed up by peanut butter, dirt, books, and jumping off of things.  I think what made me laugh so much about the newborn outfits was that when he was first born, it was so hard to see through the fog of just staying afloat to wonder much about what our son would be like, but having survived that and gotten to what I consider kind of a sweet spot in his development (I mean, there are the typical toddler tantrums, but the fact that he can do so much more for himself and communicate so much more than when he was tiny makes things feel much simpler), I just can't get the smile off my face as I think about how much joy he's brought to our lives.

And there ends the sappy; on to the more factual.  Here's what Aaron's been up to…

I realized after uploading this that that's a knife he's eating off of.  Oops.  He
cut it himself, okay? Exemplary  table manners, that boy.  

Playing: I feel like his imagination has gotten insane over the last few months.  He'll narrate what he's doing while he plays and ask his stuffed animals questions, and so many of his sentences start with "Maybe…" ("Maybe this trash truck is going to go pick up the trash!" Maybe the dinosaurs want some pizza!").  His favorite toys lately are a set of mini construction trucks that he wheels around with Play Doh and any kind of pretend food--the pizza for the dinos is from this set, and he likes cutting up velcro food with the little girl I nanny for and they feed her princess Barbies and zoo animal figures.  He started to enjoy drawing over the summer and is still into it.  For such an active kid, I love watching how still he is when he's scribbling away, and I also love when he kind of art directs me and we draw pictures together of people we know; usually he asks for drawings of him and his three cousins riding on various trucks.

We live within walking distance of a great library and walk there a few times a week.  There are puzzles and, well, more trucks, that he loves playing with in the kids' section and he hasn't gotten into any all-out wars with other kids yet.  They also have kid-height furniture that's still wide and deep enough for adults, if that makes sense, and he loves running around picking out books and reading them together "on the tiny sofas!"

Sleeping: After 13 months of anywhere from two to six nighttime wakeups, during which Andrew and I were about as nice to each other as a pair of vipers, Aaron finally slept through the night for the first time.  Honestly, I think we created the monster in a lot of ways, with me running in to nurse him every time he made a peep and feeling too lazy in my sleep deprivation to put much effort into changing tactics, but I think making the admittedly really hard decision to let him cry a little and settle himself back down, combined with the fact that maybe he was just developmentally more capable with sleep by that point, ended up being good.  I know sleep is such a sensitive subject and would never tell another mom to do exactly what I did out of pride that it's the best, most surefire plan ever, or to expect the exact same results, but for Aaron's personality and for the desperate need to have a kind and non-zombie relationship with my husband again, it worked.

In the middle of all that cray cray during Aaron's first year, I never would've imagined looking forward to bedtime, since I was just doing the same "bedtime" routine with him every 2 hours all night, but I cherish the end of each day as a family so much now.  He takes a bath while one of us watches him and the other does the dishes (welllll, full disclosure, I hate dishes and usually opt for bath duty while Andrew cleans up), and then we all go in Aaron's room together while he runs around in the penguin bathrobe my mom got for him.  Then it's PJ's, stories, tooth brushing, more running (he and Andrew like to play a game we named Interception, where pretends to run toward me but is actually waiting for Daddy to grab him and pick him up), more stories, prayers, and lights out.  Sometimes we hear him really loudly talking to himself after we leave the room and try to keep our laughter quiet while we listen outside the door!  He usually sleeps around 10 or 11 hours at night and takes about a 2 1/2 hour nap in the afternoons.  No complaints from me.

Demonstrating helicopter sounds.

Talking: He talks and I love it, not just for the ease of communicating what he needs and wants but because the kid is so darn funny to me.  I feel like examples are better than vague descriptions so I'll tell you (and tried and failed 439458405968 times to upload video of this) about the cranky-induced little medley he came up with on a recent car ride home, involving repeated, semi-melodic yells of "Aaron TobIAAAAASSSS! …looking for (a truck, a loader, a tree…)"

Also, meet Potato Ron, a pterodactyl of Andrew's invention whom we make up stories about, and whom Aaron has taken to talking about all the time, too.  He like blueberries, flying high in the Jurassic sky (that's the opening line for all our stories!), dancing, and kicking soccer balls.  We found a pterodactyl on Amazon and gave it to Aaron when he woke up on his birthday morning, and the first thing he did was flap the little wings and have him do a dance.  I won't deny our family is weird but there you have it.

I wanted to do a super small, low-key birthday with both of our immediate families this year, but the scheduling didn't work out, so we had two small parties, one with each family, over the weekend.  On Friday we had Andrew's siblings over for lasagna and pumpkin bread, which was very fun aside from the fact that Aaron helped me cook ahead of time all day and kept getting mad that he couldn't eat anything as it was coming out of the oven--fine, I cracked and gave him a muffin early--he loves watching my mixer spin around (we drag a chair over so he can peek in) and helping dump dry ingredients into the bowl!  And Saturday we visited my parents' house and had barbecue, mac and cheese, and this amazing blueberry cake my sister made.  I didn't want gifts to be too much of a focus, so I hadn't really mentioned to him that he'd be getting any, but plenty of jumping around ensued when he opened his presents, especially the ones involving vehicles (aka three out of four)!

I'm sure only a mother could love this level of detail, but it's tiny details like snacks and storytelling that I want to remember one day!  I am beyond thankful for my son's sweet temperament, sense of goofiness, and the excitement about everything that he has at this age.  Happy Birthday, my baby!

P.S.  Did you catch my announcement on Friday?  I'm so excited to reveal the cover design for my book, INVITED, this Thursday, October 22, in honor of JPII's feast day.  You'll find it on Facebook and Instagram first, a week earlier than on the blog!  Follow along here and here.

INVITED, Uncovered: A Book Announcement

I'm thrilled to tell you that my book, INVITED: The Ultimate Catholic Wedding Planner, now has an official cover!  Next week on October 22, the feast of my ultimate homes, Pope St. John Paul II, I'll be sharing it on Facebook and Instagram first!  Follow along here and here, and stay tuned for the blog reveal the following week.

Meantime, my sweet not-such-a-baby Aaron is two today.  How (you can read his birth story here)?  With that, off I go to spend the morning with him and bake lasagna and pumpkin muffins, my attempt to mildly deprive my child of sugar and, hopefully, of birthday meltdowns.  Enjoy the weekend!