Friday, August 5, 2016

11 Months

I can't believe how quickly these last 11 months have flown by. You are your own person now - every day you're showing us more and more of your personality. You are literally the happiest baby I've ever met. You rarely ever cry and usually just get upset if you're trying to tell us something and we aren't understanding. You vocab looks like this:

Nuh-nuh: Nurse or eat food
Dit-dee or Titty: Sissy (can be either one)
Bye bye
Uh oh
Bubba: Solomon
and probably a few others that I've forgotten.

You're nursing consistently through the night - 10pm, 12am, 3:30am, 5:30am. Sometimes you skip one or two and once you slept all the way from 10pm-5:30am. I felt glorious the next morning. Most of the time, though, you have to eat because you're burning calories cruising the furniture. We gave you a present ahead of time of a walking elephant and you think it's pretty darn cool that you get to move about the house freely. You also love to play the piano with your dad (that's what you're doing as I type this.)

You love food. You LOVE food. You are now eating probably three meals a day, when we sit down, you eat. Cheerios are a common breakfast and then a pouch for lunch. Dinner is whatever we're having. The only food you've turned your nose up to is ham - but after a few tries you ended up liking that, too. You just now got one little tooth. It took it's sweet time coming in. There is another one coming, so hopefully that one will be easier to break through.

We love you more and more each day and can't believe how fast it's gone.

Friday, July 22, 2016


Don't tell anyone but Solomon is BY FAR your favorite sibling. Yes, you love all the others totally unconditionally, but Solomon is super special to you. He's always entertaining, always making you laugh, you just love it. He is really excited about how much you want to be with him, too.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016


Well, we made it! You had a GREAT time in Disney World. It was super hot but you laughed and charmed us all. (Not surprising, that's just who you are.)

You ate your way around the world in Epcot (like the rest of us.) Mama maybe even let you taste a few desserts (shhh) including the famous Dole Whip. Every time I'd give you a lick of something Daddy would say "Fourrrrrth Chiiiiiild." Yes, you are my fourth. You are my last. I get to make the rules. ::Sticks out tongue.::

I was worried about you on the plane but you were a delight. In fact, Hannah had a wee little bit of trouble, but you did just fine. Mostly just nursing and sleeping. Daddy drove with Solomon and Sarah Grace. We flew with Aunt Becky and Grandma and Granddad. It was nice to have so much help walking through the airport. That could have been sticky alone.

You and Zeph became friends at Disney and sadly he figured out how to say your name correctly. Prior to that he was calling you "Mer Ter Ter" which we all loved and found hilarious. I have a feeling that one is going to stick around.

It was a successful trip by everyone's standards. And, don't tell anyone, but you're the only kid coming on the girls' trip in October. More Dole Whip, perhaps?

Monday, May 30, 2016


Today you pulled to standing. How in the world!? I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be frozen in time. You're also consistently playing Peek-A-Boo and clapping along with songs. These are some of your favorite games. If you think no one is noticing you'll position yourself so that you can't be missed and then start playing peek-a-boo again. It's awesome and adorable. You like to look through your hands while you're playing to see if anyone is noticing. Oh, Caboose, you do have our hearts.

Monday, March 7, 2016


I didn't really want to write our postpartum story in with your birth story. Partially because it would have been too long, and partially because postpartum felt just as hard as birth. Nothing about bringing you into this world was easy. It was God's beautiful and broken way of telling us "Hey, no for real, you're done here."

Right after you were born everyone was oo'ing and ah'ing over your complete adorable-ness. I mean, you were so. stinkin. cute. I felt pretty darn good and ate something. My friend Lorie happened to be at a birth down the hall so she came in and said "hi", too. It was a doula party! We called people and told them you were a girl (except your brother and sisters, who we wanted to tell in person)

After everyone left I started feeling a little unwell. I called Maria, our friend and nurse, and told her I thought I was sitting in a puddle. She came in, pulled back the sheet and then said "take a deep breath in" and before I could go "huh?" I got a very vigorous fundal massage. Um. Oh. Ouch. OK. Phew! Then I got some more drugs, and she inserted some Cytotec rectally. A good friend, indeed. There was a lot more blood than typical at this point, so Maria helped me get cleaned up a second time. I started feeling better and we continued nursing and loving on you.

That night we noticed you were happy as a clam as long as you were skin to skin and weren't moved. Moving you caused intense screaming. Due to your sister breaking her collar bone at birth, I asked two nurses and the on-call pediatrician to please check yours out. Everyone told me it was fine. (Spoiler alert: it wasn't.)

We left the next afternoon and were ready to get home. I look at the postpartum pictures and I look like I've been in a fight. I am swollen, pale but happy. I didn't feel as great as I usually do postpartum, but your birth had been quite different, so I chalked it up to that.

The first week home went so well. We loved snuggling you, I was starting to feel somewhat better and I kept asking people "How come I'm not bleeding at all??" Well, about that.

The Wednesday after you were born I went to church. We came home and your grandmother had just come into town to help. At some point I went to get up from the couch and felt extreme pain. I thought perhaps I needed to use the restroom. When I went into the bathroom I wasn't any better and I was starting to feel faint. I called Nicole our midwife and asked her if I could have a bowel obstruction. (Note to self: don't let postpartum women diagnose themselves.) She said maybe, offered to have me come to the hospital but I declined and told her I'd come in to the office in the morning.

At my office visit it quickly became apparent that my intestines were fine but I had developed a uterine infection. No hospital stay if I agreed to complete bedrest and two heavy antibiotics for the next ten days. Those days sucked. I was so grumpy. I wanted to get up and do things (but I was in a lot of pain and feeling quite yucky.) Time passed, I was feeling OK, they agreed again to let me stay home from the hospital despite not getting as well as I had expected. The most shocking part of this was that I was making a completely normal milk supply throughout the process.

Our family came into town and we hung out and I was able to mostly see them and enjoy their visit. I wasn't quite my usual self but everyone encouraged me to rest and let them take care of things. What a blessing it was to not have to cook, clean or tend to other children while I dealt with this stuff. In fact, I even spent a couple of days working at the pediatrician's office with Mary Esther in tow. <-- Dumb.

The next week things intensified again. I called and asked if the pain and other gross symptoms were supposed to come back within the course of antibiotics. They told me Dr. Wright (the doctor who works with the midwives) wanted me to come in. I felt like I was getting called into the principal's office. He told me the infection seemed to have spread out of my uterus and into the endometrium so now I would get a lovely course of IV antibiotics. OK, I have four children at home, I CAN'T go inpatient. So I walked myself over to the hospital, got the IVs (and called Mark and said "Hey, can you come and help me with this?")

At this point we had your two-week check up. I asked your pediatrician if he thought your clavicle could be broken as I had felt what I thought was a healing calcium. He said no, but he agreed to an x-ray so he could prove me wrong. The x-ray showed a healing fracture, very close to the neck. No wonder you didn't want to be moved. Mama intuition for the win. Or lose in this case.

I had another check up with Dr. Wright after a few days - which, btw - they do a very painful exam during - and he said since the pain was still there we'd do an ultrasound. Of course they saw some tissue remaining. Robin had taken my placenta home after the birth and had mentioned the lack of membranes attached, so it didn't surprise me too much. It was 11ish and I was awfully hungry but they scheduled my D&C for that evening. No eating or drinking. I drove myself home, Mark met me there and we worked towards getting ready for me to have surgery.

At the hospital people kept saying they were so sorry for me and I kept having to explain that I had not lost a baby. My baby just forgot to take all of her belongings with her when she left the uterus. My least-favorite anesthesiologist was on call but he was surprisingly kind. We had a male nurse, which meant there were three males in the room for my gynecological surgery. Weird.

Afterward I took more antibiotics and really felt amazingly better. It took a while for the emotional aspects of processing this birth/postpartum, but that's really a separate post. As I reflect now, I wonder if this wasn't God's way of making me tuck into bed and get to know you. I had no choice but to lay there with you (and watch Netflix while you slept.) Perhaps there was a purpose to all of this.