On hope, where it comes from and why we have it

I have been so blessed by the outpouring of support that has come from friends near and far. I was directed to a blog called 4 Day to Eternity, created by a family who lost their son Mason after 4 days with him. As part of their ministry, they send the book Safe in the Arms of God (truth from Heaven about the death of a child) by John MacArthur, to anyone who has lost a baby.

We know of the couple, Chris and Anna, because we briefly went to college together. If I remember right, Chris was a senior my freshman year. The college president happens to be John MacArthur. We were so happy to receive this book, knowing it was full of truths that would take us a long time to discover ourselves.

I think it's natural to wonder what happens to babies that die. I am so thankful for this book, which answers that question with biblical support, something vitally important to us.

We already know that God knows us from the womb. The passage assuring us of that was what we clung to as we waited in the hospital.

"For you formed my inward parts, you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made....You saw my unformed substance, in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." Ps. 139:13-14, 16

Excerpts from the book:

"You may think you 'made' your baby. Not so. God made your baby and breathed life into him or her. Your child is His creation." 19

"Your child has never been beyond the loving care and concern-or the watchful eye-of the Lord." 22

"He does not allow a conception that is beyond His sovereign plan and purposes." 23

Dr. MacArthur addresses the topic of the sin nature, inherent in all humans because of Adam's original sin. Having this sin nature means that eventually when faced with a choice between right and wrong, we will inevitably pick to do wrong. This begs the question, are babies condemned to hell because they are carriers of the sin nature, despite never having chosen to sin?

Because we are born with a sin nature; "we cannot say that babies who die go to heaven because they are 'sinless.' Rather, babies who die go to heaven because God is gracious." 72

Throughout Scripture, God refers to children as "The innocents." (See Jer. 2:34 and 19:4 for examples). "Though fallen creatures like all Adam's offspring, infants are not culpable in the same sense as those whose sins are will full and premeditated." 35

"The Scripture weighs very heavily toward the fact that innocent children are in heaven, redeemed and dwelling in the presence of God." 41

Though babies do not have the ability to accept Christ, Christ is gracious to accept them. Quoting John Calvin, MacArthur says, "Those little children have not yet any understanding to desire His blessing, but when they are presented to Him, He gently and kindly receives them, and dedicates them to the Father by a solemn act of blessing." 60

"The saving grace given to an infant who as no part whatsoever in his salvation is a perfect example of salvation, which is always wrought sovereignly by God through grace." 77

"If we understand God by His nature as a Savior (see 1 Tim. 1:1; 4:10), is it not the truest expression of God's heart that He chooses to save infants?" 79

I'll end with this:

"Yes, children are in need of a Savior.

"Yes, God has provided a Savior for them, Jesus Christ.

"Yes, all children who die before they reach a state of moral awareness and culpability in which they understand their sin and corruption--so that their sins are deliberate--are graciously saved eternally by God through the work of Jesus Christ. They are counted as elect by sovereign choice because they are innocent of willful sin, rebellion, and unbelief, by which works they would be justly condemned to eternal punishment." 89-90

These are small snippets of the comfort this book, written through searching of the Scriptures, can give. There is so much more, but I'll leave it here.

We know Isaiah is with Christ, free from all the pain and hardship, as well as the sin and temptation of this world. We do not grieve that he is with Christ, we grieve only for ourselves, for our empty arms, for the son we can't know until we are reunited. He has gone ahead of us...but we will be reunited in Perfection.

If you have questions, please let me know, I'll do my best to answer or direct you to someone who can.

On us, three weeks later

It's been nearly a month since Isaiah was taken Home. How are we doing? I don't really know.

Most of the time we're fine.

Physically:

I'm pretty much healed from the delivery. This helps a lot, I think, with the fits of anger I had the first two weeks after he left us. My appetite, after an initial decrease, is back to normal. Unfortunately, my hair, which has just started growing back from my post-Charlie-pardem hair loss, coming back in wild wings in awkward places, is now falling out again. This is very frustrating, not to mention disgusting. I can't pick Charlie up from the floor without then having to pluck obscene amounts of hair from between her toes and fingers...sigh.

I am still very tired. No one told Charlie that mommy's body is recovering from chaos, and filling to the brim with excess hormones, so she's being the busy 10 month old she is, and I'm doing my best to keep up on about 6 hours of sleep a night.

Emotionally:

Initially I had such a great perspective on this whole thing. The baby center we were in plays a little lullaby every time a baby was born, and as I labored to birth our stillborn son, I surprised myself with being happy for those mommy's who were marvelling over their new baby. I had expected to be bitter, but I was so glad that they were spared from my pain. I also surprised myself to discover that it's now that I'm bitter. I see pregnant women everywhere, and experience varying levels of jealousy, from slight (generally people I know) to extreme (strangers). I see people carrying newborns or playing with their baby boys and feel a lot of self pity. Why did this have to happen to us, is a common refrain in my mind.

I've learned the things that will set me off - some I can avoid (gazing at the baby boy clothes at H&M and thinking of what I would be buying had things gone differently), some I can't (pregnant women are every where. You can't dodge 'em.)

I often want to feel numb. I have a stack of cards and a dried rose from a flower arrangement waiting to find their place in the keepsake box from the hospital. Although the box is sitting in my line of vision most of the day, I dread opening it, and feeling the pain that, in a way, I've buried in it. As long as I don't open that box, see his tiny footprints, the notes from our nurses, the reminders of the son who went ahead of us, I can contain myself. I don't have to feel.

It's a really hard thing, grieving for someone who was such a large part of you, but whom you never knew. I don't really know how to do it. For 19 weeks he was growing in me, reminding me he was there first with cravings for salty foods, then spicy foods, then with the nudges that a mother can't get enough of. Then he was gone. In my arms for the briefest moment, then presented to me as ashes in a little wooden box. It's almost surreal. I told a friend recently that sometimes I feel like I'm recovering from a disease. I was hospitalized, sent home to recover, then sent a nice big bill as a reminder. There's no baby at my breast, no first smiles to wait eagerly for, just another bill to stress over.

Tim is experiencing this in an entirely different way. When he told his coworkers that we lost the baby, the reaction, for the most part was, "Oh yeah, I knew someone who had a miscarriage once. That sucks." and on they go with whatever work related thing they have.

To say "That sucks" to someone who actually held his dead child in his arms doesn't cut it. I watched my husband sob when the nurse sadly said, "A little baby boy," as she wrapped him up for us to hold. Tim clung to him, holding him longer than even I did, kissing his face, gazing at his hands, already missing the boy we'll never know. So, I'm beyond frustrated that his coworkers aren't more sympathetic, and even more so that some of them hold grudges over having to cover for him for those three days he took to be with me in the hospital and at home while we grieved.

Reading this through, it kinda sounds like we're a mess. Sometimes we (usually me) are. But day to day, we're doing really well. We have hope and faith that Isaiah is with Christ in Heaven, and that eases the blow of his loss immensely. It enables us to pull ourselves, or eachother, from despair. To seek strength in the Lord. To be better parents to Charlie, not taking her for granted. This post was written purely from my human response to my loss, but there's a lot more to it.

We have hope, and I'm going to tell you about it. Read on, friends.

What's Charlie Wearing Wednesday

Charlie is becoming a ham as she gets older. She knows what to do when the camera comes out (most of the time), though she's having more trouble sitting still than she used to.

This outfit was a gift from our friend Zib. It's a little Carter's ditty, complete with ruffle butt, and a bee embroidered on the front. Cute, easy on, easy off, what more could you want?

See what I mean about the ham? That third picture cracks me up. It barely even looks like her. This outfit is from our friend Laura, and she brought it back from a shop in Australia, called Charlie Belle, believe it or not. It's so cute with the patchwork elephant and super ruffle butt.

As for the rest of us, we're doing pretty well. Tim is back to more than full time work (but he has this weekend off to celebrate our 7th anniversary), I'm coming out of my funk a bit, even going so far as to clean two different rooms today. I'm blessed to have many friends willing to distract me or listen to me, depending on my mood. Charlie is ever moving, keeping me on my toes. She's still resistant to crawling, but the allure of things out of reach is getting to her, so I don't think her resistance will hold much longer.

Physically, I'm still dealing with contractions as my body returns to normal, which is emotionally challenging, because a lot of the movements I feel are so similar to baby movements. It doesn't help the yearning to hold my baby when I feel like he's still in there squirming around, and have to remind myself that he's gone.

Blessedly, Charlie has been a joy. The past two days she's woken too early, so I've given her a bottle and then laid her on my chest until she falls back asleep. Then, two hours or so later, I wake to a tiny finger tracing down my nose, and open my eyes to huge blue ones staring back and giddy laughter. It's been the highlight of my day. Tonight she woke up 45 minutes after I put her to bed, and as I held her and coaxed her back to sleep she gazed at me with heavy eyes and just grinned and giggled herself to sleep. She's also been extra cuddly, holding me together when I feel like I might fall apart. She's such a blessing. I love her.

In a parallel universe...

...I would be getting ready to go find out I was having a boy, instead of getting ready to pick our car up from the shop.

...I would be meeting my friend Meghan there, and she would play with and distract Charlie.

...I would be heading to the store to buy this, and putting it in a box with a blue balloon that would float out when opened.

...I would be driving to Tim's office to surprise him with said box.

It was going to be a great day.

Truthfully, I don't always have the holiest outlook on this situation.

Yesterday I sat down with my coffee, looked at Tim and burst into tears, complaining that my "human" summer clothes (read, not maternity) were out of style. He offered to take me shopping for new clothes, and I got even weepier, saying, "But I don't want to wear regular clothes! I want to be pregnant!" Poor guy. He couldn't win.

I wish, much to frequently, for a mulligan. Just a little trek back to a few weeks ago, and everything could go differently.

I continually scold myself for having complained about anything pregnancy related, and for worrying about logistics instead of enjoying the life within me.

Grieving is an unpredictable process, one I sometimes handle with grace, and other times with petty selfishness and whining.

If I'm being honest.

There's no real point to this post, just thoughts running through my head, needing an outlet.

For my birthday, I had a son

(This will be long, and hard...feel free to skip it. I just want to log it while it's fresh in my memory, and this is pretty much the only place I write...)

Wednesday July 6th, I went in for my 19 week OB exam. I was vaguely worried, because I'd been feeling the baby move for a few weeks, and the last 4 days or so I hadn't. I'd also noticed that suddenly things were too spicy...and impossibility the week before. I pushed these things out of my head and walked through the office doors. A half hour later, the fear I'd refused to acknowledge was confirmed as my doctor fruitlessly searched for the baby's heartbeat. She wheeled in an ultrasound machine, keeping it turned away from me, then took me to a bigger ultrasound machine and showed me my little baby, and its missing heartbeat.

I was given a few minutes to collect myself and call Tim, then was given an insane amount of information about how to proceed, most of which bounced right off of my ringing ears. I came away with the understanding that one way or another, I was delivering our tiny beloved baby on Friday.

Thursday afternoon I was given laminaria, a seaweed based induction agent. I went home to let the process start overnight. Friday morning, Tim and I checked into the birth center, were put in a secluded room (they were sensitive to keep us apart from evidence of live births) and introduced us to our nurse, Evie. I began sobbing as soon as the nurse entered the room, so she gave us some time to come to terms with the reason we were there. Soon after that, my OB came in and removed the laminaria and started me on cytotec, which would continue my dilation and kick start labor. For the next several hours I experienced increasingly stronger contractions while Tim and I researched names with beautiful and hopeful meanings. We tucked prospective names in the back of our minds, and read Psalm 139 for comfort. We discussed God's grace upon unborn babies, and our faith that He was already holding this little one I was cherishing in my womb.

Tim's parents brought Charlie in to see us, since it had become clear that this wouldn't be a quick process, and we would be spending our first night away from her. Unfortunately, this time was when my contractions started getting more painful, and I had to stop everything when I had one - about every 4-5 minutes. I hung in for awhile, but could tell I was grouchy and impatient, so we called for an epidural and said goodbye to Charlie and Tim's parents. It was about 4:00. The epidural was given around 4:45, and it hurt. A lot. I said "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow," which surprised Tim, because I tend to be silent in my pain, but as soon as the medicine started I completely forgot that there was ever pain. Pretty soon I felt no pain, just a lot of heaviness in my legs. I was completely paralyzed, and my feet were hanging heavily off the bed (this is one time that long legs was not a blessing). I continually made Tim shift my leg to a more comfortable position, and was amazed that he could lift those 1000 ton things.

At this point I was given another dose of cytotec, and told how I was progressing. My dad came to visit after this exam, and just sat with us for a few hours. We talked a little, watched some How I Met Your Mother, and just whiled away the time. He left around 7, and Tim and looked at names a little more. Our nurses switched. Maria tended to my every need, almost seemed to know them before I told her. My blood pressure had been low and inconsistent ever since the epidural, so she called the anaesthesiologist in the adjust my dosage, and she checked on me constantly. I was given meds to bring my blood pressure back up, and then I tried to sleep, and Tim fell asleep immediately. A few hours later I felt the pressure shift, and I new I was about to deliver. It was about 11:00, and I started saying, "Tim." Nothing. "Tim. Tim. TIM. TIM!" Finally, he woke, and called the nurse, trying to explain what I had told him, ending with "but you should probably come talk to her, cause I'm half asleep." Maria came in, and saw that the water bag was coming, called the doctor and told me just to breathe.

My doctor came in, explained what she was seeing, and then told me she had an emergency c-section to do, and asked me to fight against the urge to push, she'd be back in a half hour. Another doctor was made aware, and a few minutes later I woke Tim again (he was tired) and told him it was time, and get the nurse now.

Maria, a doctor and another nurse came in. Despite my not pushing, the intact water bag holding the baby had slipped out with the help of contractions. I pushed to get the placenta out, though I couldn't feel if I was pushing, so I was constantly apologizing and asking if I was doing it. Eventually the doctor opened the bag, and the baby was cleaned.

The nurse told us "It's a little boy," and Tim began sobbing. They brought him to us, and Tim held him first. He was the size of my hand, not fully formed, but his tiny face already had similarities to Charlie's face, his hands, smaller than dimes had all their fingers, and the smallest fingernails you can imagine. His feet were the same way, tiny and beautiful.

I held my son in my arms just after midnight, as the day became my 30th birthday. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping, cradled in my hands. I looked at Tim, and, in my post delivery haze, I said, "I know we haven't talked about this name, but what about Isaiah, since we've found such comfort in the Isaiah 139 passage?" Tim immediately agreed that it was perfect, and seconds later we realized that the passage was Psalm 139, but we didn't care. His name was Isaiah. It came out of nowhere, but fit better than any of the other names we'd discussed.

We passed him back and forth between us, took pictures, touched his tiny hands, and talked with him. I told him I loved him, that I was so sorry he couldn't stay with us, and that we would always miss him.

Eventually we gave him to the nurse, sobbing. She carefully took hand and footprints, made a mold of his footprints, and called the photography company to schedule an early morning session. They told her that they only do pictures for babies 20 weeks or older, so this amazing woman bought a disposable camera, dressed our baby and took pictures in the studio for us. She was amazing, going above and beyond in every way.

It was about 2 am, and Tim and I went to sleep. I woke a few hours later, and Maria changed my bedding and whispered, "Next time, He will have a happier ending for you." She then told me Isaiah's measurements, 9 ounces, 7.9 inches. She told me she'd taken the pictures, and we could get them developed when we were ready, and put a fabric keepsake box on my bedside table, telling me to open it later.

In the morning I opened the box and found cards from the whole nursing staff, the mold of his footprints, cards with his hand and footprints, a tiny blue teddy bear, a journal, a sachet and a few other trinkets.

A few hours later we were discharged.

I was dreading sharing my birthday with this event. But, as it unfolded, I found it to be so much more peaceful and healing than I expected. If you can only hold your baby one time, it should be on a momentous and memorable day...I love that I share my birthday with him. It can't be overlooked or forgotten, it's a part of my life.

He will be missed and longed for every day, but we know that the Lord is holding him close. Isaiah's name means "Yahweh is my salvation," and that is where our comfort lies. His accidental name is perfect.

Psalm 139:13-16

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.

Made By Me Monday/4th of July

I hope everyone had a happy 4th! I had a lot of fun dressing Charlie up in red white and blue, playing Monopoly with Tim and eating a giant meal of ribs, corn on the cob, salad, watermelon and bread, followed by strawberry shortcake at my dad's.

Charlie wasn't so excited about posing for a picture initially, but Tim and I stuck with it, and got some cute shots of the Squirt. Notice the red shoes...I have some very similar:
For the Made By Me Monday portion, I attempted to make

white chocolate strawberries with blue sugar sprinkles. But, I couldn't find the sprinkles. So, I went with red white and blue candy sprinkles. The didn't turn out as pretty as I'd hoped, and before I was half way done the chocolate clumped up and caramelized...so we got a few festive strawberries out of the deal. But they tasted good!

We didn't blow up, or even watch any fireworks (we saw one by accident while we were loading the car.) We were more concerned with getting Charlie to sleep despite the noise and keeping her cool on such a toasty evening. But we're fine with that. Explosives aren't really our thing.

Did you do anything fun and delightful?

Happy Birthday to my Original Baby

Today my husband joins me in the last year of our roaring 20's. (Yes he's younger than me, cradle robbing runs in my family. My Grandma had 8 years on my Grandpa.) Our amazing friends Ryan and Meghan are coming over to take care of our tiny, and sending us off to Tim's favorite restaurant for dinner. We are so excited! It's been a l-o-n-g time since we've eaten out. I made a cute colorful "Happy Birthday" bunting rather than pull out the shiny metal birthday banner I bought years ago. I thought this was more fun and personal. It should be a happy night, full of little black dresses, yummy food, laughter, and later games and cake with Ryan and Meg. So excited!

Valentine's Day Revisited

A glimpse at our Valentine's day:

Quick and easy construction paper decor

Charlie's Valentine's present from Nana and Papa

(He tells you that he "Wufs you" and his ears waggle)

Enjoying handmade cards from friends

Wearing red shoes - any excuse

Drinking red wine - any excuse

Snuggling my Sweets


What a wonderful Valentine's Day

The Weekend...

our weekend will be spent relaxing and playing board games (Monoply has made a come back in this house.) And, of course lots of snuggling will be done with this beauty. Tim has a potentially life changing job interview on Monday, so we'll also be spending time prepping and praying and probably day dreaming. How will you be spending your weekend?

What's Charlie Wearing Wednesday...or Thursday as it were

Well, second week of doing WCWW, and I failed to post it. But, I had a very good reason. My 88 year old grandma took a fall last week, breaking her femur bone. While she was in the hospital, an infection was discovered, and my sweet, feisty grandma quickly deteriorated. She went Home to be with her Lord and Savior, as well as her husband and daughter early yesterday. So, the day was spent with my dad rather than in my photo studio, aka, rocking chair.

Tim, Grandma and me at my brothers wedding in Castaic Lake, CA
Grandma and my side of the family at my wedding in Renton WA

So, despite the sadness of the day, Charlie brought us lots of joy, and I did manage to take pictures of outfits #3 and #4 before bed. (Yes, it was a 4 outfit day, and neither of these were what I planned for her to wear for WCWW).

This outfit is a hodge podge of various pieces. The headband is one I won over a year before Charlie was even conceived. It's from BudsButtonsandBows on Etsy. She puts snaps on each headband and bud, button or bow, so you can make your own color/style combination. Genius! The top was a gift from a friend, and is Circo from Target. The pants are part of a Carters fleece set, and came with a skirted hoodie, that she got for Christmas. The socks are also Carters, and are clearly on their way off...also a gift, so this outfit cost me nothing.

This next outfit is a sweet snugly sleeper that I got at my first shower. You can see the confusion on Charlie's face as she notices her bear feet. Also, forgive the squints, this poor little girl has the dreaded pink eye.

That's that, hopefully next week I'll actually get this up on Wednesday.

Made by Me Mondays

The day before Charlie was born was my last day of work. Tim and I knew that when we started our family, we wanted, more than anything, for me to be able to stay home. My passion and desire is to be with Charlie as much as possible, to teach her, to learn from her, to love her and dote on her, to do everything I can for her.

To be able to do this, we've had to make a lot of sacrifices. Tim has to work two jobs, we've had to cut all extras out of our budget and live the leanest we've ever lived. Worth it? Absolutely.

So, when Christmas time rolled around, I was faced with the biggest challenge I've experienced in this lean time...no buying presents for people, something I love to do. Thankfully, there is a never ending amount of crafting to be done, so in our need for creative gift giving, I was able to make, among other things (jewelry, mounds of cookies, etc...):

Yarn Wreaths with Felt Flowers:

I found a tutorial on this a few weeks before Christmas and made one for my Grandma in traditional Christmas colors:

It took me awhile to decide if I liked it, but eventually I determined I did.

(Bonus shot, Grandma with her great grandkids on Christmas Eve)

Once I decided I liked it, I made another in less traditional colors for my sweet friend Laura. I was even more uncertain of this one, so much so that I didn't initially give it to her, giving her only the jewelry portion at first. Later I decided I was being stupid, "slyly" asked her if she was familiar with the yarn wreath fad, and eventually presented her with the wreath, assuring her that she didn't have to like it. She did though, and happily hung it up right then.

What do you think of yarn wreaths? Is this something you'd buy in an Etsy shop? What would you expect to pay, and what color combos would you like to see? Any input it welcome!

Once upon a time...

...I had a different blog. And on that blog, I did a post about what our children might look like. I took a baby picture of each of us, morphed them, and got this:

What do you think? Not too far off. Please excuse the slobber, it's drooling season at our house.

My Birth Story - a planned C-section

FYI - this includes details of what my C-section felt like and may not be for everyone. I thought it may be helpful to people who are expecting and may have to have one. Consider yourself warned.

We knew early on that a C-section may be necessary to bring Charlotte safely into the world. I found out at my second ultrasound I have a heart shaped uterus - essentially, my uterus is misshaped, causing there to be less room for Charlie to grow and move in. It wasn't severe, so while I was labelled "high risk", the odds of her suffering from it were very low. But, it did mean that once she settled into her upright position, she probably wasn't going to be turning around any time soon. Or, as it turns out, at all. She was completely breach, with her upper body in one side, or horn, of my uterus, and her legs in the other. So, with many many many ultrasounds performed to check for unbreaching (for lack of a better word), we planned for a C-section on September 29th (my doctor was leaving for Italy that night, so she fit us in when I was 39 weeks exactly).

The week prior to her coming, Tim and I frantically tried to get everything ready. The night before we were vacuuming, organizing, packing, etc. We ended up staying up really late, despite the fact that we had to be at the hospital at 5:30 the next morning. When we woke up the morning of, (around 4:30), I showered, put on mascara (so necessary before surgery), dressed in yoga pants and my "I'm so crafty, I make people" t-shirt, and headed out the door with our empty car seat and jam packed diaper bag. I felt vaguely anxious, but the coming surgery, and ultimately the arrival of this little baby we'd been loving, and praying for, for so long seemed somewhat abstract. We got to the hospital, then drove around for awhile to find the birthing center. Once we got in, I changed into the hospital gown, got my IV, had blood drawn, a last ultrasound to confirm she was still breach, and then was checked for contractions, which, it so happens, I was having. I had just thought she was moving around a lot, so I was surprised to hear that. Then, my doctor came in, looking like a model despite her scrubs and pumas in place of her usual designer clothes. (I won't lie, as I got increasingly rounder and my wardrobe got more limited, I also was increasingly more jealous of her tiny body and adorable clothing.)

They took Tim and me to the C-section room and introduced me to the anesthesiologist. He then proceeded with the spinal block, starting with a shot to numb me (PS - this isn't bad. And I hate shots.) then the block itself. It felt warm, and similar to yolk or, I now know, spit up, running down my back. Then I was numb. Beyond numb, I couldn't have moved the lower half of my body if my life depended on it. I was told that the second I felt any nausea I had to tell him so he could give me something to stop it. That's when the shakes came in. Ugh. Some people experience shaking from the spinal block, and I was one of the lucky ones. I was shuddering violently, and felt extremely cold. In the meantime, they had laid me down and were prepping for the incision.

My wonderful doctor kept me informed of everything that was going on, so I knew when the surgery started. Nausea came immediately, and I was given drugs through my IV to help. Tim was alternating between trying to calm me down - the shaking was really upsetting me - and watching what was happening, when he suddenly got sick. He says it was the smell of the iodine, not the blood and guts, but either way, he was throwing up. I started feeling a lot of pressure - no pain - but pushing and pulling, and the intensity of it made me sick. The anesthesiologist gave me a bed pan and I dry heaved into it for a while. Then, suddenly we were told to look up, and above the little curtain separating the whole me from the cut up me were two purple little feet, and then a piercing wail. I immediately teared up, knowing that Charlie was here, and I was listening to the world's most beautiful cry. I was handed a wad of gauze to wipe my face with, and then Tim was told to go with the nurse to the corner of the room where they cleaned Charlie and swaddled her.

In the meantime, I was feeling very faint, and very sick. It took less time for them to get Charlie out then it did to put me back together. I could feel every tug and shove as, I can only assume, my insides were rearranged, and I was eventually sutchered together (I was scared of staples, so my doctor opted for sutchers). In the midst of this, Tim brought Charlotte to me. It was a strange moment for me. I think it must be true that the act of labor helps you bond with your child, because when he brought her to me, I thought, "I don't recognize her." She wasn't what I'd imagined and it threw me for a loop. Not to say I didn't love her, or think she was amazing, I just didn't expect her to have dark hair, no eyebrows, and her lower lip firmly tucked under her upper lip. It doesn't help that I was exhausted in every way at this point, and very close to passing out.

Finally they finished with me and wheeled me (on the bed, I don't remember how I got there) back to my room. My dad and mother in law were in there, stocking it with snacks, so they got to meet Charlie briefly and learn her name. I still hadn't held her, due to the shaking, and was eager to breast feed her, so they were shooed out pretty quickly. She was given a quick sponge bath, and shots, and then given to me to feed. That was when the bond formed for me. She latched quickly and wonderfully, and then fell asleep in my arms. The things I thought were odd when I first saw her weren't any more. Brown hair because her dad has brown hair. No eyebrows because I have fair pale eyebrows. Her lower lip had been hidden because she had been sucking on it, something she still does. She was beautiful, perfect, and mine.

I won't tell you my hospital experience, because it was, in many ways, really terrible and no one has that kind of time to commit to reading a blog. But, to finish the story of the C-section...because of the spinal block combined with my inability to move, they put compression sleeves on my legs, that squeezed them continually to keep blood clots from forming, 12 hours after my c-section (7:30 pm) they made me get up. I was not given the drugs I had been told I would get, so this experience was extremely difficult, and so painful the wind was knocked out of me. I fell back to my bed three times. My recovery was slower than I had anticipated, it took several weeks for me to get up or down without wincing. Thank goodness Tim was off work for two week and could do a lot of the physical work. By six weeks I was back to normal, only experiencing the smallest pangs now and then, just above my incision.

So, the moral of the story is:

C-sections are rough. If I don't have to have one for any future children, I won't. But, remember, if you do have to have one, they are the most commonly performed surgery for women in America, and though uncomfortable, they are extremely safe and relatively quick.

If you don't bond immediately with your baby, don't panic, don't feel guilty, just give it a little time. You will be more bonded, connected, and in love with your baby than you could ever have imagined so soon.

Utilize your spouse to help. Bending is not an option after a C-section, so Tim changed every single diaper for at least a week. He also did all the burping, and was on crib duty, checking on her every sound.

No matter the means you have to go through to bring your baby into this world, it's so worth it. Charlotte has brought us so much joy, I can't imagine my life without her.

A Girl, A Baby and A Pile of Laundry

Someone recently asked me what my day looks like now that there is a baby in the picture. I didn't really know how to answer. I feel constantly busy, watching my to-do list grow exponentially by the second, trying to balance what the baby needs, what the house needs, what the husband needs and what I need on an incredibly unstable schedule. That said, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Today, so far, has consisted of:
1 am - feeding the tiny. This is crazy unusual, only the second time she's woken in the night since she was 8 weeks old (Yes, I do realize how blessed I am.)
1:30 am - both of us back to bed.
6:45 am - sleepily kiss the husby goodbye.
7:45 am - feed the tiny (while watching DVR'ed American Idol). Most of the time she goes back down after this feeding for a few hours, during which I am free to go back down also, or to do whatever I can in that time, IE - shower, dress, tidy, what have you. But, generally I go to sleep or read my google reader blogs, check facebook, e-mail and etsy.
8:30 am - put the tiny down for nap #1. This is the only nap that she agrees to most days, but it's a good long one. It should last until about 11, if I'm lucky.
8:40 am - coffee, my dear friend, and a trip to the mailbox to send of a sweet necklace to a sweet customer. I added a little something to this necklace, so I was extra happy with it as I put it in the mail slot.
8:50 am - here we are. Blogging rather that showering. What are you going to do.
The rest of my day will consist roughly of something like this:
9:00 - fold the bitty laundry and put it away (hers is the only laundry I like doing - her stuff is soooo cute!)
9:45 - start some grown up laundry
10ish - dress myself, tidy a bit
11ish - change the laundry, feed the tiny, change her, dress her, play like crazy
12:30 - think about lunch
1:00 - attempt to put the baby down for another nap, change the laundry
1:15 - give up and rock her to sleep
1:30- ease her into her crib and pray it sticks, change the laundry
2:15- feed the tiny, watching Gilmore Girls
2:45- change the baby, play some more, work on rolling
4:30- fold and put away laundry, start prepping baby for nap #3
5:00- seize the 15 minute window I have of definite napping, find some dinner (husby is working tonight, so I don't actually have to make anything)
5:15- eat while bouncing fussy baby (teething has made the evening rough lately)
5:30- feed and change the baby, play
6:30- give up on crib naps and let baby sleep in my arms
7:00- change the baby into jammies, or run a bath, depending on how dirty she's gotten herself today
8:00- feed one more time and start the bedtime attempts (let's say it works on the first time)
8:30- watch TV and wait for hubs to get home
Between 10 and 11- hit the hay and start again tomorrow

This is my rough plan, but odds are today will wind up looking extremely different. I know I'm going to enjoy it though. This girl is an absolute delight.

17 weeks old

The Final Selection

I spent over an hour narrowing down my favorites of Shutterfly.com's many, many holiday cards. When I finally chose one, I spent an equal amount of time selecting the pictures to feature on it (with some help from Tim, of course.) But I'm so happy with the end result, especially considering they were a gift from Shutterly (a $104 value!). I can't wait for them to get here, and I also can't wait to send them out! What a wonderful experience!

Charlotte's First Christmas

is coming up, so naturally I'd like to document it with as many photos as possible. One thing that is really important to me is to send out a photo Christmas card. Since she's so new (and wonderful), and changing and growing so quickly, I want everyone we love to be able to have a picture of her, and this is the best possible way to make that happen. So, with the help of Shutterfly.com, this years Christmas cards should be amazing! Here are some of my favorites:


I love the bright colors and simple styling of this one. It's sweet and festive.

This one feels so modern to me, and it can have multiple photos on it.

Again, I love the modern feel of this one, that it can have three pictures, and the colorful lettering.
Some possible card worthy shots from our days in the snow:

Having a snow ball fight with her grandpa (while blowing bubbles, a favorite past time of hers.)

Snuggling with me to keep warm,

And getting squishy smooches from her mommy and daddy.

Right now, Shutterfly has a promotion for 50 free holiday cards (what more could a new mom want?) All you have to do is blog about it! Simple enough. I'm thrilled that at a time when so many people are strapped for cash and are having to do away with certain non-essentials (for us, one of those things was going to have to be Christmas cards, actually), this wonderful company is making it possible for us to share with our friends and family. Thank you Shutterfly!See here for details.

My Baby Shower

My amazing friend Laura threw me the worlds most beautiful baby shower. Everything was color coordinated and custom picked to match the branch and berry paper Laura found. She even had her dad handmake this lollipop tree.

All the desserts were carefully selected to match...and they were delicious!

Most everything at the shower was handmade...Laura made a memory book that matched the invitations. All the girls wrote a memory they had with their mom for me to draw inspiration from. We also made the poms to hang among the streamers (Laura knows my motto is "It's not a party without streamers".) All the door prizes were also hand made...stamped tea towels, cards, jewelry, jams...they were awesome.

We had an amazing time...playing non traditional games, catching up with friends, and of course opening mountains of baby items!

It was the best party ever. Thanks Laura! We love you! (Also, most of these pictures are ones she took, as well as all of the ones on the previous post)