I love my babies

As I sit here early(ish) on a Thursday morning, with one sleeping baby beside me on the couch and another one in my bed, I can't help but think, I love my babies.

I know I've said it before, but 5 years ago, I couldn't have even imagined this life. I couldn't have imagined holding a warm baby against my chest and breathing in the sweet scent of his soft, baby head. I couldn't have imagined having a natural birth--or a birth at all--or contemplating vaccination schedules or breastfeeding or potty training or any of the things that come along with having children.

But I'm so thankful. Thankful that I'm not the same person I was 5 years ago. Thankful for my two, sweet healthy boys. Thankful for my husband who works hard at his job so that I can stay home and do mine. Thankful for quiet mornings like this, when I can just sit for a few minutes and soak in the peace and quiet of our home before all the fun starts.

 

A baby must be one of the most tangible pieces of evidence on this earth of God's love. Every time I look at these two (and their daddy), I'm overwhelmed by His love for me.

Another blessing

I'm now mom to two boys! Luke turned a week old yesterday and I'm just now getting the chance to blog about it. I thought I'd share my birth story because I'm really proud of it and maybe it will help someone out someday.

Everything that happened surrounding and on the day of Luke's birth was God ordained. When I was 37 weeks pregnant with Kade, I was put in the hospital with high blood pressure and basically induced, even though I was having some contractions. It wasn't a terrible experience at all (especially when you get a sweet baby out of the deal), but this time I wanted to do things differently. Some people probably thought I was crazy, but I really wanted to experience a natural birth. No epidural, no pitocin, no IV's. To do this, I needed to have my doctors on board, to have a negative GBS test, so that I wouldn't need IV antibiotics during labor, to have a baby in the right position, and to have a nice, normal blood pressure. All of it worked out. Every single bit.

On February 24, at 40 weeks and 3 days pregnant, I woke up at 5 am with contractions that were anywhere from 2-5 minutes apart. They were pretty painful, but I was still kind of in that denial "this can't be it" stage of labor. I told Michael I thought he should stay home from work. After several hours, they went to 8-10 minutes apart and I was kind of disappointed, so we took Kade on a walk to see what would happen. When we got home, the contractions came back down to 5-6 minutes apart. We decided to go and eat Chinese for lunch. I had a contraction timer on my iPad, so during lunch, I kept hitting start, stop, start, stop. Finally, I looked at Michael and said, "I think we should go to the hospital after we eat." We dropped Kade off at his grandparents' and decided to stop at Wal-Mart and look at video cameras. We were getting Michael a toothbrush when I grabbed his hand and said, "I think we need to go. Now." On the way to the hospital, I had to really breathe and focus through contractions. The hospital was an hour away, and I called my parents as we got close to let them know I was going in. We arrived at 3:30 pm. We went to check in and they got me seated in a wheelchair while Michael was filling out some paperwork. This woman came in, very pregnant like me, and she was holding on to her mother and bawling. I started getting scared, because I thought, "Ok, I'm not in that much pain. Maybe I shouldn't be here."

I was wheeled to my room, where I put on my own nightgown--which the hospital was not thrilled about, by the way, because it might get dirty. *cue me rolling my eyes about ruining at $5 nightgown from Wal-Mart* I told them that didn't bother me. Then, the nurse came in and told me I would have to stay in the bed during my labor because it was hospital protocol. I told her that my doctors had promised me differently, so she went to get the head nurse. We compromised that I would stay in bed and be monitored for 15 minutes at a time and then I would be allowed to get up. When, they checked me, I was dilated to 4 cm. I had a few contractions while laying in the hospital bed, but they weren't terrible. I started to doubt I was in labor.

Then, they let me get up. I immediately started having contractions, one after the other. Michael followed me around the room, rubbing my back. I was able to breathe through them initially, but I got a little louder later on. The nurse kept trying to get me to get back in the bed so she could check me, but I kept jumping up. I couldn't lay down. No way, no how. Finally, less than an hour after being there, they checked me and I was dilated to 7. I thought, "This is happening way too fast!" Thirty minutes later, I was pretty much at the end of my rope, painwise, but I was ready to push. I looked over at the nurse and said, "Do you think I can do this?!" She said, "Are you kidding me? You're already there!" My doctor ran in the room right as I was getting in the bed. My water still hadn't broken (which, funny enough, was the sign we had been waiting for to know I was in labor), so she broke it. Pushing was scary. It was kind of painful, but it was just really intense. It didn't take long, though. Before I knew it, Luke was out and up on my chest, brand spanking fresh and new. Born at 6 pm--2.5 hours after we got to the hospital. What a gift. I don't think any mother can describe the emotions that come when you see your baby out in this world for the first time. Plus, there was the elation of knowing that I did what I had hoped to do, even though it was hard. I can honestly say, though, that I would do it again. And again. And again.

Luke William

8 lbs, 2.2 oz

21.5 inches 

 

Our family--minus big brother!

  

Me saying, "I did it! I can't believe I did it!" lol

Daddy and his two boys

We are so blessed! 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.--James 1:17 NIV

Family traditions

Sorry for the blogging break! We've been getting ready for a new baby at our house and enjoying celebrating the holidays. I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! We sure did!

Our family has so many traditions during Christmas and of course, they've changed and evolved over the years as things have changed and people have gotten older. One of my favorite family traditions has always been getting together with my dad's side of the family on Christmas Eve. We have an awesome, fun, goofy, crazy family who likes to eat and laugh and talk together. Last year, both of my grandparents passed away--my grandfather the week before Christmas--and we just couldn't get it together. My immediate family--my mom, dad, sister, husband, and son--did our own thing at mom and dad's house, but naturally, it wasn't the same. This year, my aunt and uncle decided we should get together at their house and celebrate. We had a great time, and  even though it's not the same without granny and grandad, we all had a wonderful time together.

You know, things change, people leave, but the most important things stay the same. Grandad always insisted that we read the Christmas story either before or after opening presents. When one of my cousins was older, grandad started having him read. We would all gather around in the living room, grandad with his arm around my cousin Matthew as he read the story of the first Christmas. This year, after we opened presents, there was a sudden hush as Matthew settled the Bible with his son Andrew on the couch and said, "Andrew is going to read the Christmas story." We all listened intently to the passage we've heard over and over. I'm sure grandad was proud--as he should be--that his tradition of sharing his faith with his family, will continue to be passed on.

Eating good in the neighborhood

What is it about children? Or is it just mine? When Kade was little, he would eat any kind of veggie you gave him. I made carrot purees, squash, and peas and he loved them. He would eat green beans, asparagus, chicken....almost anything. Then, he got picky. First, it was just meat. Then, it was a lot of vegetables. Now, it's almost all vegetables (Though he does love Olive Garden salads. Who doesn't?!) He loves bread, of course, and sweets, bananas, sometimes apples, peanut butter, pretzels, and milk. That's almost the extent of it. So, I decided to try this.

Green smoothies. Looks a little bit gross doesn't it? When I first heard of green smoothies, I thought, 'That sounds really healthy, but no way can you not taste the greens. Yuck.' Then, I got desperate to get some good food into the boy.

I bought some fruit and a bag of baby spinach. For this smoothie, I cut up a whole apple, stuck in half of a banana, a handful of spinach, and around 3/4 cup of water. I tasted it first and was surprised. I asked Kade if he wanted some juice (I didn't lie. That's what it is.) and he got all excited because we don't buy a lot of juice, but he loves juice.

 This was his first drink. He said, "Good duce."

After he finished the first cup, he asked me for "mo duce". I had poured myself the rest and was drinking it, so I gave him some of mine. He drank that, too, and got very upset when I told him it was all gone. Don't worry, he's not on a juice fast. He's currently eating a bagel with peanut butter.

He doesn't even know he's drinking SPINACH (or maybe he does and doesn't care because it tastes so good)! I did drink half a glass and it was good, but I'm not as good as Kade about posting my picture on the internet when I'm in my pajamas and my hair isn't fixed yet. Ha!

Rest

I'm a "get 'er done" type of person (I think that's the first time I've actually used that phrase, though). Even when I'm tired and whining and complaining about being tired, I get up and I get things done. Pregnancy is tough sometimes. You can't do a lot of big things you wish you could do and the things you can do, you're too exhausted to do.

For example, there's a lot to do around my house right now. My bedroom is in the process of being painted, my kitchen is almost finished, but still needs some trim work, baseboard is waiting to be cut and put in our bedroom, and the baby's room, a baby's room to clean up and decorate--plus all the normal things. Now, I'm not doing the baseboard (mostly because I don't know how to work the saw or the nail gun thingy) and Michael has painted our bedroom, but I feel like I should do everything else, since I'm home all day. Every day, when he leaves for work, my husband says, "Please rest today" and I say, "Yeah, yeah, I will." Then, when he's good and gone, I spend the day doing things like laundry and rearranging furniture. By afternoon, I am beyond tuckered out.

So, Kade has decided for the last couple of weeks that he doesn't want to go to bed easily anymore. He screams for daddy and mommy and we get him and let him lay in our bed. He won't lay still, so we put him back in his and repeat the cycle all over again until he's so tired, that he falls asleep somewhere. Last night, he happened to fall asleep in our bed and when I woke up this morning, Michael was getting ready to put him in his bed before he left for work. I told him to just leave him with me. It's now after 9 am and he's still snoozing away beside me, his feet propped up on my legs. I don't want to get up and disturb him, so I've just been laying here relaxing, reading the Bible, and surfing the web. I've been forced to rest.

Lying here, thinking about it, God told us to rest. He said if we were tired, we should come to Him and rest. He said He would take our burdens. Being lazy and resting are two different things (though sometimes it's hard for me to feel like there's a difference between the two). It's ok to rest--not only physically, but mentally. In fact, rest is a necessity. If we don't rest occasionally, we will eventually burn out from complete exhaustion. I need to realize that I don't have to shoulder everything--around my house or in my mind.

Remembering

Today would have been my Mamaw Bea's 86th birthday. Now, I'm not one of those people who remembers the birthday of everyone I've ever known who's ever passed away. I do have a few exceptions, though. Plus, I want to tell my children about their Mamaw Bea one day, and sometimes, over time, the little things leave your mind.

I'm pretty sure I got my love of food from my Mamaw (a blessing and a curse!).  A lot of my memories of her include food. When I was little, my favorite snack at her house was apple slices, sliced cheese, and Tang. She would take us for chicken little sandwiches at KFC (remember those?!). She baked amazing banana nut bread and made the best fudge ever! On Christmas Eve, we always had a huge breakfast spread at her house--biscuits, gravy, bacon, sausage, eggs, jellies, jams, and every kind of sweet you can imagine. She also made the best soup beans (with a hunk of fatback), cornbread, and fried taters. Mmmm!

Mamaw was a character. She loved to talk--about Southern Gospel music, angels (of which she had a HUGE collection), Jesus.....actually about anything. She also liked to argue and was fun to get riled up. My aunts used to compete to see who could get her the most hyped up. She never met a stranger and wanted everyone to call her Mom.

One of the most amazing things about Mamaw is that she only went to school until 6th grade, but she was a gifted writer and poet and one of her favorite things to do was read. She had an enormous collection of books (she belonged to a lot of book clubs) and she wanted us to love books, too. I have many, many books from her and she wrote long messages in the fronts of all of them, which makes them all the more special.

She liked to shop and dance and wear nice clothes. And collect things. She could sniff out a Goodwill anywhere. She gave me my first copy of "Little Women" (one of my favorite books EVER). She liked to get takeout Chinese. If she had ever had a cell phone, she would have run the bill out the roof. The first thing she wanted you to know about her is that she loved God. She was fearless and bold. She loved Michael like another grandson, but she always told him that if he hurt me, she would tear him apart--and she would have! She was so multi-faceted.

We miss her, but in a non-cliche way, I know she's in a better place. I'm sure heaven is getting a kick out of her. We love you, Mamaw! Happy Birthday!

Surprises

How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!"

--Isaiah 52:7 (NIV)

These are the tiny feet of our son! Yes, we are having a boy. Another boy, I mean! Of course, God knew that this baby was a boy all along, but we were quite surprised. He probably got a good chuckle out of all the pink we were buying, though. 

 

When I was pregnant with Kade (before we found out he was a boy), I secretly hoped he was a girl. I grew up with a sister and am a girl myself (duh), and I knew nothing about boys or sons or brothers. I was still overjoyed when we found out he was a boy, but actually having and raising a son (so far) has been the best. Kade is momma's boy. He is cuddly and snuggly and loves to give me kisses. I know that part won't last for forever, but from what I hear, sons are loving and protective of their mommas. Having another son--well, that's just the icing on the cake. Brothers! And to all those people who keep saying, "You can try for a girl next time!" (and then snickering because they think I would say no to another child)--Sure! Or maybe we'll end up with three sons. Who knows! My only prayer is that all of my children have "beautiful feet", in the words of Isaiah 52:7.