As a mom, I try to remind myself often that what I do and how I act is teaching Hannah about what it means to be a person. Talk about a reminder that will hold you accountable. Turns out, the Kid President had the same thought, and he expresses it in the touching, honest way that only kids can. Enjoy!
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Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
A birthday poem
It's hard to believe that my girl's turning one,
That a whole year has passed, a whole year is gone.
I'm not sure how I feel, not sure what to think,
She's no longer a baby, but a toddler on the brink
Of walking and talking and jumping and running,
She's already gorgeous, already stunning.
She knows lots of words and can point to her head,
And gets her baby chompers brushed before bed.
She loves to dance and splash in her tubby,
She cruises and crawls and chases her puppy.
She loves to read books and play hide and seek.
She's still got a belly and her giant baby cheeks.
She's still got a belly and her giant baby cheeks.
She leans in for kisses and reaches for hugs,
And when she's ready for milk on my shirt she still tugs.
It's hard to believe her baby days have passed by,
We no longer have nights when she wakes up to cry.
And although I don't think those long nights will be missed,
I do think I'll miss night time snuggles just a bit.
I hope I never forget this first amazing year,
Her little baby voice and her wispy blond hair
Oh my sweet baby girl, your mom loves you a lot.
I think you're the best, my favorite little tot.
Friday, January 31, 2014
I want to see you be brave
So it's been awhile since I posted here - almost six months - and our girl is almost one. One whole year. Already she has such a personality - she's funny and friendly and easy going and beautiful - and as her parents, we couldn't be more in love.
As her first birthday approaches, I've been thinking about what I want for her, in life, and there's a song lyric that has stuck in my head every since I heard it - I think it speaks to what I want for her.
Honestly, I want to see you be brave.
To be clear, I do mean brave, and not reckless - they are two very different things. I think recklessness is acting without fear; bravery is acting in spite of fear.
When she's afraid to ride her bike without her training wheels, I want to see her be brave.
When she's getting teased or sees someone else getting teased, I want to see her be brave.
When she's nervous to be away from home at summer camp, I want to see her be brave.
And when she makes decisions in life that are difficult and require trust in God's plan for her life, I want to see her be brave.
I want her to know that she can act in spite of her fears, because she knows that even if her worst fears come true, her mom, her dad, her God, and hopefully some really good friends she meets along the way will be there for her no matter what.
As her first birthday approaches, I've been thinking about what I want for her, in life, and there's a song lyric that has stuck in my head every since I heard it - I think it speaks to what I want for her.
Honestly, I want to see you be brave.
To be clear, I do mean brave, and not reckless - they are two very different things. I think recklessness is acting without fear; bravery is acting in spite of fear.
When she's afraid to ride her bike without her training wheels, I want to see her be brave.
When she's getting teased or sees someone else getting teased, I want to see her be brave.
When she's nervous to be away from home at summer camp, I want to see her be brave.
And when she makes decisions in life that are difficult and require trust in God's plan for her life, I want to see her be brave.
I want her to know that she can act in spite of her fears, because she knows that even if her worst fears come true, her mom, her dad, her God, and hopefully some really good friends she meets along the way will be there for her no matter what.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Hannah's birth story
As I listened to my dear friend tell the story of her daughter's birth yesterday, I was struck by the fact that I've never actually written down Hannah's birth story! Although I doubt she'll ever want to hear the nitty gritty details, I want to remember them, because giving birth was an awesome experience - in the sense that I was filled with awe, not in the "that burrito was awesome" sense. So here it goes. Beware - this is a long story.
I was 41 weeks pregnant, and although I was having constant contractions, they weren't painful and they weren't productive. We went in to the doctor for an ultrasound, non-stress test, and the regular check up to make sure the baby was still "thriving" (their word). The news was frustrating - I wasn't at all dilated and the ultrasound showed that the baby was big - 9 lbs. Thankfully, the baby didn't show any signs of distress, just completely uninterested in coming out.
Our doctor was concerned that if the baby got much bigger, I would have trouble delivering her and might need a C-section - not the news any pregnant woman wants to hear - so she was scheduling my induction for Sunday afternoon. I asked if we could go to the hospital immediately, but she said it would be worth giving my body a few more days to make progress, and hopefully help with a successful induction.
I wasnervous panicked completely freaked out. My mom was 3 weeks late with me, was induced, went through 48 hours of labor, and ended up with a C-section. It seemed like I was headed for the same fate.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. Surrounded by both sets of grandparents-to-be, I ate a turkey sandwich, an apple, and chips to prepare for the upcoming clear-liquid diet, and we headed to the hospital. We kissed our parents goodbye in the waiting room and headed in.
Since we had a "reservation", the nurses had kindly given us one of the big rooms, since we'd likely be there a little longer than most. I got hooked up to the necessary machines and our first doctor came in to do the induction. Typically, inductions are started by inserting a drug called Cervadil to "ripen" the cervix. Unfortunately, because I was having so many contractions already, the doctor wasn't able to use this method, and instead opted for a Foley balloon catheter.
If you want to know how it works, google it. For now, I'll just say it was intensely painful. Alex and I spent the night walking the halls, watching a movie on our computer, and walking some more. I was in a lot less pain when I was standing, but eventually, I had to lie down and try to sleep.
The next morning around 5:00 AM, the doctor came back to check my progress - turns out, the balloon had worked! I was 2 cm dilated and they were ready to start Pitocin - the labor inducing drug. When they give you Pitocin, they also give you IV fluids, which for my already swollen legs and feet, was problematic after awhile - my legs were killing me and my feet looked ready to burst.
After gradually increasing the Pitocin all morning, I started feeling painful contractions. I bounced on the birthing ball, did some more hallway walking, watched a movie. When the doctor came back to check on me that afternoon, I was 4.5 cm - progress! In the course of the exam, my water broke, and there was meconium in it - not totally unexpected because I was so late, but important to keep an eye on when the baby was born.
Over the next several hours, I attempted a shower, kept changing positions, and the contractions kept getting worse. A good sign, right? But when the doctor came back to check a few hours later - no progress. Still about 5 cm. It had been 24 hours since the induction began and I was only halfway there. And I was in agony.
I think this is the point where Alex was the most terrified. I was in a lot of pain, shaking, and I knew I wouldn't make it another 12 hours, so I asked for the epidural. In the end the epidural was a great decision, but the process of getting it inserted was horrible. Maybe the worst part of the whole experience. As I was enduring the worst contractions yet, I had to sit up, hunched over a pillow, attempting to stay perfectly still as the anesthesiologist inserted a needle into my spine. 45 minutes and three attempts later, I finally had some relief. My neck and shoulders were killing me from the process, but it was worth it.
I don't remember much about that night - just the music. I had made three playlists for the hospital, and one was soothing music. Those songs gave me something to focus on, something to take my mind off of the swollen legs, aching neck, the constantly running blood pressure cuff, and the contractions. I think I actually got some sleep.
At some point in the middle of the night, I was checked again - 8 cm!!! It felt like a miracle. Maybe I could actually do this after all. I was checked again several times, and the nurse did some stretching to try and move the process along. This part is all pretty hazy too, but finally, we were there. 10 cm. I was ready to push.
All told, I pushed for about an hour and a half, but I had no concept of time - I would have said 30 minutes probably. After some time, the nurse said she could see the head - Alex took a peek, and one glance was enough for him :) After lots of pushing, the baby seemed stuck, and the doctor very calmly said that he wanted to use a vacuum to help get the baby out. Only later did I find out that the baby was showing signs of distress from the cord being wrapped around her neck. At the time, I would have done anything to get that baby out - yes, bring on the vacuum.
As I pushed, he pulled, until finally...it was over. She was out! I kept asking "what is it, what is it", Alex couldn't see, and finally the nurse said, "it's a girl!". On Tuesday February 19, at 5:36 AM, 36 hours after the induction began, our Hannah was born.
The emotions at that point were completely overwhelming - I had done it. I delivered a baby. And it was a girl!!! We were convinced it would be a boy, but here was this (not-so-tiny) girl on my chest. I had a daughter. A beautiful 8 lb 14 oz, 21 inches long, healthy daughter. It was awesome.
I was 41 weeks pregnant, and although I was having constant contractions, they weren't painful and they weren't productive. We went in to the doctor for an ultrasound, non-stress test, and the regular check up to make sure the baby was still "thriving" (their word). The news was frustrating - I wasn't at all dilated and the ultrasound showed that the baby was big - 9 lbs. Thankfully, the baby didn't show any signs of distress, just completely uninterested in coming out.
Our doctor was concerned that if the baby got much bigger, I would have trouble delivering her and might need a C-section - not the news any pregnant woman wants to hear - so she was scheduling my induction for Sunday afternoon. I asked if we could go to the hospital immediately, but she said it would be worth giving my body a few more days to make progress, and hopefully help with a successful induction.
I was
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. Surrounded by both sets of grandparents-to-be, I ate a turkey sandwich, an apple, and chips to prepare for the upcoming clear-liquid diet, and we headed to the hospital. We kissed our parents goodbye in the waiting room and headed in.
Since we had a "reservation", the nurses had kindly given us one of the big rooms, since we'd likely be there a little longer than most. I got hooked up to the necessary machines and our first doctor came in to do the induction. Typically, inductions are started by inserting a drug called Cervadil to "ripen" the cervix. Unfortunately, because I was having so many contractions already, the doctor wasn't able to use this method, and instead opted for a Foley balloon catheter.
If you want to know how it works, google it. For now, I'll just say it was intensely painful. Alex and I spent the night walking the halls, watching a movie on our computer, and walking some more. I was in a lot less pain when I was standing, but eventually, I had to lie down and try to sleep.
The next morning around 5:00 AM, the doctor came back to check my progress - turns out, the balloon had worked! I was 2 cm dilated and they were ready to start Pitocin - the labor inducing drug. When they give you Pitocin, they also give you IV fluids, which for my already swollen legs and feet, was problematic after awhile - my legs were killing me and my feet looked ready to burst.
After gradually increasing the Pitocin all morning, I started feeling painful contractions. I bounced on the birthing ball, did some more hallway walking, watched a movie. When the doctor came back to check on me that afternoon, I was 4.5 cm - progress! In the course of the exam, my water broke, and there was meconium in it - not totally unexpected because I was so late, but important to keep an eye on when the baby was born.
Over the next several hours, I attempted a shower, kept changing positions, and the contractions kept getting worse. A good sign, right? But when the doctor came back to check a few hours later - no progress. Still about 5 cm. It had been 24 hours since the induction began and I was only halfway there. And I was in agony.
I think this is the point where Alex was the most terrified. I was in a lot of pain, shaking, and I knew I wouldn't make it another 12 hours, so I asked for the epidural. In the end the epidural was a great decision, but the process of getting it inserted was horrible. Maybe the worst part of the whole experience. As I was enduring the worst contractions yet, I had to sit up, hunched over a pillow, attempting to stay perfectly still as the anesthesiologist inserted a needle into my spine. 45 minutes and three attempts later, I finally had some relief. My neck and shoulders were killing me from the process, but it was worth it.
I don't remember much about that night - just the music. I had made three playlists for the hospital, and one was soothing music. Those songs gave me something to focus on, something to take my mind off of the swollen legs, aching neck, the constantly running blood pressure cuff, and the contractions. I think I actually got some sleep.
At some point in the middle of the night, I was checked again - 8 cm!!! It felt like a miracle. Maybe I could actually do this after all. I was checked again several times, and the nurse did some stretching to try and move the process along. This part is all pretty hazy too, but finally, we were there. 10 cm. I was ready to push.
All told, I pushed for about an hour and a half, but I had no concept of time - I would have said 30 minutes probably. After some time, the nurse said she could see the head - Alex took a peek, and one glance was enough for him :) After lots of pushing, the baby seemed stuck, and the doctor very calmly said that he wanted to use a vacuum to help get the baby out. Only later did I find out that the baby was showing signs of distress from the cord being wrapped around her neck. At the time, I would have done anything to get that baby out - yes, bring on the vacuum.
As I pushed, he pulled, until finally...it was over. She was out! I kept asking "what is it, what is it", Alex couldn't see, and finally the nurse said, "it's a girl!". On Tuesday February 19, at 5:36 AM, 36 hours after the induction began, our Hannah was born.
The emotions at that point were completely overwhelming - I had done it. I delivered a baby. And it was a girl!!! We were convinced it would be a boy, but here was this (not-so-tiny) girl on my chest. I had a daughter. A beautiful 8 lb 14 oz, 21 inches long, healthy daughter. It was awesome.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Slack
People often ask me how it's going, working from home and taking care of the baby and keeping up with all of the mundane tasks required by adulthood, and most of the time, I like it a lot, especially now that she is on a more consistent schedule, taking longer naps, and going to bed at a regular bedtime.
But there are days when I don't like it, when Hannah has a fussy day and I need to focus on her, or when a bunch of work emails come in at once and I can't find the time to focus on them. Or both. It's on these days that I am learning one of my toughest parenting lessons so far - cutting myself slack.
I'm the type of person that likes to go to bed with an empty inbox, a completed to-do list, and an empty sink, and on some days, that is a tall order. I expect a lot of myself, and historically, that has been a great attribute because it keeps me motivated, but I get into trouble when I can't meet my own expectations.
I guess what I'm learning is that God gives me grace for those days when I feel like a lousy parent or a slacker employee or a rude wife, and I need to give myself grace too. This is not an excuse for bad behavior, but when I screw up, I need to apologize if I unloaded my stress onto someone else and then move on, because there are so many more victories to celebrate than defeats to wallow in.
Two recent examples.
The night before Hannah's dedication, she started sprouting a second tooth. I was up with her on and off from 2:30 - 4:00am, before she finally settled back to sleep. Then I decided to wake her up at 7:00 like usual, so that she could get her nap in before the service at 11:00. Well, she didn't want to nap and it took about 45 minutes and lots of tears (from both of us, if I'm being honest) just to get her to sleep, only to have to wake her up 30 minutes later so we wouldn't be late for church. It was brutal, I was frustrated, and I let it get the best of me. Parental failure.
Yesterday, I made my first batch of baby food. I bought this awesome baby food making appliance for the job - I was never going to get out a pot and steam basket and blender, so I bought a nifty, idiot-proof, time-saving appliance (it should be a parenting commandment - know thyself). While it was steaming her carrots, I made a healthy salad for dinner, did the dishes, and responded to a few lagging items in my inbox. I felt amazing - parental (and personal) success.
So, I am learning to cut myself slack, to let go of parental failures, and when I'm in the middle of one, I'm trying to remember that a better day is always just around the corner.
But there are days when I don't like it, when Hannah has a fussy day and I need to focus on her, or when a bunch of work emails come in at once and I can't find the time to focus on them. Or both. It's on these days that I am learning one of my toughest parenting lessons so far - cutting myself slack.
I'm the type of person that likes to go to bed with an empty inbox, a completed to-do list, and an empty sink, and on some days, that is a tall order. I expect a lot of myself, and historically, that has been a great attribute because it keeps me motivated, but I get into trouble when I can't meet my own expectations.
I guess what I'm learning is that God gives me grace for those days when I feel like a lousy parent or a slacker employee or a rude wife, and I need to give myself grace too. This is not an excuse for bad behavior, but when I screw up, I need to apologize if I unloaded my stress onto someone else and then move on, because there are so many more victories to celebrate than defeats to wallow in.
Two recent examples.
The night before Hannah's dedication, she started sprouting a second tooth. I was up with her on and off from 2:30 - 4:00am, before she finally settled back to sleep. Then I decided to wake her up at 7:00 like usual, so that she could get her nap in before the service at 11:00. Well, she didn't want to nap and it took about 45 minutes and lots of tears (from both of us, if I'm being honest) just to get her to sleep, only to have to wake her up 30 minutes later so we wouldn't be late for church. It was brutal, I was frustrated, and I let it get the best of me. Parental failure.
Yesterday, I made my first batch of baby food. I bought this awesome baby food making appliance for the job - I was never going to get out a pot and steam basket and blender, so I bought a nifty, idiot-proof, time-saving appliance (it should be a parenting commandment - know thyself). While it was steaming her carrots, I made a healthy salad for dinner, did the dishes, and responded to a few lagging items in my inbox. I felt amazing - parental (and personal) success.
So, I am learning to cut myself slack, to let go of parental failures, and when I'm in the middle of one, I'm trying to remember that a better day is always just around the corner.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Another post on husbands
Actually, this one is really more about the idea of soul mates. Someone I sort of know posted this on Facebook, it showed up in my news feed, I read it, it resonated, and I am posting it here. Yay for social networking. Or something like that. See what you think.
My husband is not my soul mate.
My husband is not my soul mate.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
The nursery
Today we left Hannah in the nursery at church for the first time. It was hard for me, harder than I thought it would be. I clutched our little pager throughout the service, wanting to make sure that if my girl needed me, I got to her right away.
But it didn't go off. She did great - played on the floor and jumped in a jumper and was rocked and snuggled and loved by the volunteering women. By women who weren't me.
I found this reality to be both comforting and scary. Comforting for obvious reasons - my girl was safe and happy and I got to enjoy and focus on a church service without keeping one eye on her for the first time since she was born (this time I just had an eye on the pager).
But it was scary too. I started thinking about all of the other people who will have influence over my daughter's life - Sunday school teachers, school teachers, small group leaders, coaches, babysitters, friends...the list goes on. And I thought about all of the people who played those roles in my life, and the positive (and some negative) impressions they left.
So I started praying, for wise teachers, supportive coaches, kind and loving and helpful and encouraging friends. And someday, for a husband who fulfills the requirements described in my previous post and more.
And I prayed for myself, and for Alex, that we would be parents who recognized and pursued our God-given calling to raise our daughter, but also parents that acknowledged our daughter's need for other relationships, for other mentors, for other teachers in her life. I feel this deep need to watch over my little girl, which I know is a good and important and necessary feeling. But if taken too far, I can easily see how it could manifest as a need to control her, to coddle her, to keep from experiences that may hurt her, and that is not the kind of parent I want to be.
So next week, we will take our girl to the nursery again, and I will thank God for loving and kind women who gave up their Sunday morning to love my daughter and keep her safe. And I will try to clutch that pager just a little less tightly.
But it didn't go off. She did great - played on the floor and jumped in a jumper and was rocked and snuggled and loved by the volunteering women. By women who weren't me.
I found this reality to be both comforting and scary. Comforting for obvious reasons - my girl was safe and happy and I got to enjoy and focus on a church service without keeping one eye on her for the first time since she was born (this time I just had an eye on the pager).
But it was scary too. I started thinking about all of the other people who will have influence over my daughter's life - Sunday school teachers, school teachers, small group leaders, coaches, babysitters, friends...the list goes on. And I thought about all of the people who played those roles in my life, and the positive (and some negative) impressions they left.
So I started praying, for wise teachers, supportive coaches, kind and loving and helpful and encouraging friends. And someday, for a husband who fulfills the requirements described in my previous post and more.
And I prayed for myself, and for Alex, that we would be parents who recognized and pursued our God-given calling to raise our daughter, but also parents that acknowledged our daughter's need for other relationships, for other mentors, for other teachers in her life. I feel this deep need to watch over my little girl, which I know is a good and important and necessary feeling. But if taken too far, I can easily see how it could manifest as a need to control her, to coddle her, to keep from experiences that may hurt her, and that is not the kind of parent I want to be.
So next week, we will take our girl to the nursery again, and I will thank God for loving and kind women who gave up their Sunday morning to love my daughter and keep her safe. And I will try to clutch that pager just a little less tightly.
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