3 more sleeps!

I'm doing my best to not let my kids being sick ruin the holiday spirit around this house.... But it's not working. Between washing puked on sheets and trying to break fevers, I'm losing sight of Christmas being just a few days away. So here's the plan to shake the bah humbug and restore the Santa excitement:

Gingerbread house decorating

Classic sugar cookies

Santa books

Christmas movies

Bing Crosby

Wine.... For me

Cinnamon candles

Hopefully, that does it!

Newtown.

I'll keep this short.

My heart aches for the families of the teachers and children

killed in last week's shooting.

As a Mother, I cannot even begin

to imagine what the Mother's of those children are feeling.

A very sick, bad man took their babies away.

And with it, he took away all of the dreams those

Mothers had for their babies.

He took away hugs.

He took away awkward kisses.

He took away holidays.

He took away sick days on the couch.

He took away varsity.

Prom.

College.

Weddings.

Grand children.

The list goes on.

The loved ones lost are in my heart and their families in my prayers.

I will hug my kids tighter for the Mothers that can't hug their's.

Things like this just shouldn't happen.

Will there be more?

I can't believe how interested people become in your plans to procreate after you get married. If I had a dollar for every time Jay and I were asked about our family plans... I wouldn't have student loans!

At first, I didn't mind it. I actually liked talking about my baby plans with everyone and anyone that would inquire. But now... Let's just stop.

Now it's weird.

I have 3 kids, 3 and under. I don't think anyone can say for certain that they'll have a 4th until they've mastered 3. Now sure, I feel like I've mastered 3 already (let's be frank, I am Super Mom after all), but I honestly don't know how to answer the ever concerning question of: will you have more children?

I love kids. I have been blessed with 3 beautiful, healthy, and thriving babies. But just because the hubs and I make some cute offspring doesn't mean we're shooting for TLC Duggar spinoff.

Maybe we will.

Maybe we won't.

For now, I am just going to soak up every moment I can with my 3 snot noses.

They are my world, and today I am content.

JP is 6 months!

My once little baby is little no more.

My 8 pound 8 ounce baby clocked in at a Van Campen record breaking

21 pounds 10 ounces.

And 28 inches long.

What the hell?

I got ripped off in babyland!

Every parent in the history of parenting has send and will continue to say how fast time goes by when you have children. They're not joking. As we crested the milestone of 6 months, I asked myself:

Have I hugged him enough?

Have I taken enough pictures?

Have I kissed his chubby cheeks enough?

Have I missed anything?

My baby is growing up so fast. He rolling over, reaching for toys, picking up those toys, babbling, laughing at his siblings, and changing everyday. He's moments away from crawling and really started to find his center of gravity, allowing him to sit up with being supported.

And as incredible as it is to watch him learn and succeed... This Mama is a little sad.

My baby is growing up so fast.

Bah humbug.

4 wardrobe changes.

3 sick children.

2 fevers over 100.

And a partridge is a pear tree.

Argh! Why, why, why?!?!

I haven't been this excited for Christmas since I was 6

and now my babies are sick.

Needles to say, operation kick-this-bug's-ass has officially been launched. This is JP's first cold which makes it all the more heartbreaking. No Mom enjoys sick children and multiplying it by 3 was not something I was prepared to do this early. I wonder if this is how drug dealers feel? I am literally running around my house with syringes of alternating Tylenol and Motrin, wiping noses, cleaning up puke, checking temps, and topping off sippy cups.

Screw you viral bug. May the surface you festered from burn in a hell of disinfectant.

Eva's 2 year UPDATE

Eva is TWO!

I love my boys to death,

but there's something special about

having a daughter.

 

 

AGE: 2 years

HEIGHT:

WEIGHT: 26 pounds

FAVORITES: babies, puppies, COLORING, and

anything glitter

 

She's such a girly-girl! Hopefully this sticks!

I love painting her nails and doing her hair.

I can remember thinking about what it would

be like to have a daughter while I was pregnant with her...

And I always imagined this little peanut, watching me

do my make-up and asking to put on lipstick.

Incredibly... that's the little girl I got!

She's always watching me get ready, and loves

getting her make-up done too.

Granted, it's only ever blush and chapstick...

but it's those special little moments I'll

hang on to forever.

I'm sure when the time comes to help her

get ready for her wedding, all I'll be able

to picture while she's finalizing her make-up

for her big day, is my little girl, slathering cherry

chapstick all over her lips and teeth.

:)



Cameron's 3 year UPDATE

This couldn't be coming any later.

Cameron turned 3 in August of this year.

I can hardly believe my once baby boy is 3 years old!

I know everyone says this, especially once

they have kids...

but time flies.

 

AGE: 3 years

HEIGHT: 40 inches

WEIGHT: 40 pounds

FAVORITES: hockey, cars (more accurately: anything with wheels),

super heros and transformers

 

He is so incredibly smart. I love watching things click in his mind.

He's getting really good at letters and numbers. He'll count anything.

And he's gotten so creative! Coloring, painting, drawing....

his imagination is endless!

 

And watching him evolve into the big brother

role has been amazing. He loves his siblings.

I hope his little sister and baby brother know how good they have it

by having Cameron in their corner.



Sophie the Giraffe

I've been eyeing up Sophie the Giraffe on Amazon.com for YEARS. But it always seemed ridiculous to spend $20+ on a teething toy. Well... I got over it, and finally ordered one.

 

And I regret not doing it sooner!

 

Sure, it's really just a glorified dog toy (If you have one, you know what I mean. If you don't, same texture and squeak as your average dog today.), but it's definitely living up to the hype in this house!

 

EVERYONE LOVES HER!!!

 

 





 

 

October Citrus Lane Box!

This box was even better then the first! I am so happy with this subscription so far!

Love. Love. Love.

 

 

This, again, is for JP-- so a baby boy at 4 months.

 

www.citruslane.com

 

September Citrus Lane Box!

I'm not going to go into huge detail about Citrus Lane, but long story short, it's a monthly subscription box service, that sends boxed filled with goodies tailored to your child's age and gender. IT'S AWESOME! And worth checking out...

Here's what was in my September Citrus Lane box!

 

 

I have the box tailored for JP.

 

www.citruslane.com

Hoarding baby products.

Hello. My name is Kate, and I hoard baby products. Please help me.

This past weekend, for whatever reason, I decided to re-organize all of our baby products and changing stations. I wanted to consolidate everything to one location. We had a changing station on the main floor, and then a changing table in JP’s nursery (for a brief period of time we had THREE kids in diapers, so more then one location to clean butts was necessary). Plus I had a plethora of products to select from in the bathroom as well.

I FILLED A LAUNDRY BASKET WITH BOTTLES OF LOTIONS, WASHES, AND CREAMS!

Whoa. How did I acquire all of this?!

I can’t be the only Mom that does this, but nonetheless, I am a bit …upset... by it. I don’t know how I’m actually going to put of the money spent on it to good use, but I sure as heck am going to have the cleanest, most moisturized kids, this side of the Mississippi.

I hope I can stop spending money on these things, but I don’t foresee it. I have a disease.

HOME SCHOOLING

Never. I would have never thought we would even consider homeschooling. Jay and I both went to public schools, and excelled. We have NO DOUBTS about public school being the right choice for our children too.

And then it came time for 3 year old preschool. Not that it’s mandatory, or in the case of Cam, even necessary (he’s a smarty pants… good and bad). But we found ourselves in a difficult position.

Cameron’s birthday is August 31^st. Meaning he is age eligible for school, THE DAY BEFORE the cut off, September 1^st. So in a sense, having him do two years of preschool seemed like a great idea. Maybe he wouldn’t seem like the absolute youngest kid in his class if he had the extra year. (Though, I have to say, if you saw him, observed his interactions with other kids, and listened to him talk, you’d never think he JUST turned 3… Yes, I’m bragging. But he’s MY SON. I get to do that!)

 Cue the drama surrounding potty training. (I’m so thankful we’ve finally crossed that bridge!) We tried several times, and had to continually put in on the back burner. The kid just wasn’t ready. But of course, being diaper free was a requirement for preschool.

So much for that.

Sure, he was officially potty trained the week before class started…but it was too late to get him signed up. So we opted to home school him this year.

I was nervous. Jay and I have a TON on our plates any given week. Could I manage MORE?

Well, I’m happy to say, we’re pulling it off. We bought curriculum and Cameron loves it. And after each lesson, I’m feeling pretty accomplished too.

 I don’t plan on doing it for more then just this year, but I can see the appeal. On top of everything, it’s extremely rewarding. Being the person that helps light the bulb in their little minds is overwhelmingly rewarding. I love it!

 Maybe I should have been a teacher!

 Kudos to all those home-schooling parents out there!

 

www.busybeelessons.com

sweetness overload.

 

I will cherish this photo forever.

 

I am so blessed.

CHOOSE THE KIDS.

When in doubt,

CHOOSE THE KIDS.

There will be plenty of time later

to choose work…

 

-Anna Quindlen

 

 

 

This is exactly what I've been doing. I (again) haven't been posting because I seriously struggle to find the time. There's always something that needs to be done around the house...

OR a baby to snuggle with.

 

I doesn't matter how old any of my children get, they will always be my babies.

 

 

In the land of sparkly headbands...

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I envisioned her wearing headbands with flowers bigger then her face… at all times.

In real life, that lasted for about 5 minutes. When she was tiny (and couldn’t coordinate her hands to rip them off) she had no problem wearing headbands.

 

Then she got older, and could have cared less. My hopes of tutus and glitter seemed like they were slipping away as I watched her play cars with her brother and Daddy. I wasn’t exactly a “girly-girl” when I was little, but nonetheless, having a daughter, that’s what I was hoping for with her.

I know she’s not even two, and it’s far too early to “label” her preferences in clothes and accessories, but as of recent, my hopes for headbands and nail polish have been restored!

 

 She’s so goofy, but I love her to pieces!

MOMARAZZI

I cannot get enough of my kids. Seriously.

I take pictures. Every. Day.

Babies don’t keep! They grow so fast! And heck, toddlers don’t keep either! I don’t think it’s fair to refer to my Cam-sicle as a “toddler”…he’s a little boy. And by little, I mean 99.999^th percentile.

See the MOMARAZZI at work! Follow me on Instagram! kate1747

Potty training in a weekend, you say? IT CAN BE DONE!

Potty training. A necessary evil in toddler land. I dreaded it.

We tried. We failed. We gave up.

A few months later, it was time to revisit Mr. Frog Potty. This time, Mr. Frog and I were going in with guns blazing because it was time to say good bye to the diapers.

After getting myself pumped up for potty training (only a fellow parent can truly understand the personal pep-talk required for such a lifestyle change), and expecting a fight, Cameron was suddenly a WILLING participant.

It truly pays to wait until the child is ready.

Here are a few tips that helped us potty train in a weekend:

     1.)    Like I said, wait until they’re ready. Don’t just potty train because everyone else is doing it.

           Try, back off, and try again later if you have to. If they put up a fight, they’re not ready.

2.)    Get excited! Approach it positively. I honestly think Cameron picked up on and played off of our excitement in regards to potty training.

3.)    Some may disagree, but reward with praise and not treats. High fives and verbal confirmation for how proud you are, is far more valuable then three M&M’s.

4.)    Have a symbolic throwing away of the diapers. We literally had Cameron take his remaining diapers and put them in a garbage bag. (Which I later stashed away. I spent money on those darn things, and the heck if I was going to just throw them out!) We discussed why we were getting rid of them, and what he would be wearing instead…and we never looked back.

5.)    Take your child underwear shopping. We let Cameron pick out underwear he WANTED to wear. Thank you Pixar for putting Woody, Buzz, Mater, and McQueen on little boys’ underwear.

6.)    Put the potty in a public place. This might sound a bit weird…and possibly even gross, but it really helped us. We put Cameron’s frog potty chair in the living room, and hauled it upstairs for when he was playing in his room. It basically followed him all around the house until he really understood what it felt like to have to go potty, and learned a bit more control.

 This is all pretty basic stuff. Sure, it won’t work for everyone, but it’s worth a shot!

CAMERON versus MASCARA

This is what I get to thinking I can trust any one of my kids unattended for 20 minutes.

 It was a typical Saturday afternoon (aside from the fact that the hubby was at work). I was tending to things around the house, and the kids were playing together.

 After I finally finished folding the MOUNTAIN of kids’ clothes, I decided I would be extra productive and actually put it all away (I tend to just leave it in the laundry basket for another day or so before getting around to putting it in everyone’s dressers and closets).

This was a fairly large task on it’s own, but I’ll admit, I got a little distracted once I got upstairs, and started picking up each of their rooms too. So I probably got stuck upstairs for 20, maybe even 30, minutes...

 Side-note: I had apparently left my tube of mascara on the bathroom counter and it proved itself to be all too tempting to Mr. Cameron…because this is what I found when I made my way back downstairs:

 

 

 

 For the record, baby shampoo and a little elbow grease remove mascara when it is mistaken as body paint.

My poor Flossie-cakes.

Eva. I don’t even know where to start! She’s such a sweet little girl, and we love her infinitely, but she sure knows how to test us. I’m not talking about trying my patience or behavioral issues (she really is too sweet for words). I’m talking about all of the “accidents” she’s had, and all of the things that, as luck would have it, have happened to her.

It’s not usually for little kids, especially as they’re perfecting their toddler walks, to have bumps and bruises. But my Eva has taken this to a whole new level. She’s had a handful of goose eggs on her forehead and scrapes on her chin. I think she thinks she’s bigger and tougher then she really is. Something she probably gets from her older brother. She just doesn’t get, that even though she’s only 14 months younger then him, she just can’t always do what he does.

 Her most recent physical ailment TAKES THE CAKE. Labor Day was extra exciting in our house this year! In the midst of getting everyone ready for a Labor Day barbecue with friends, Eva fell down the stairs. I know what you’re thinking, “Way to go Mom and Dad! Your daughter fell down the stairs while BOTH parents were home! Where the heck were you?!” You don’t need to judge. We feel terrible enough. But in defensive of the situation, these were not stairs that were new to her. She’s walked up and down them dozens of times “unattended” and she knows to hold on to the railing. All that aside, she fell. And we’re not talking about a fall and bump your head. No, no, no, we’re talking about a fall and knock your teeth out sort of fall.

 Yep. Epic parenting fail.

 Long story short, after lots of blood and tears, a trip to the ER, and then a trip to the dentist the following morning, our sweet little Flossie-cakes will be toothless for a while. She’ll have a gap for YEARS. Thankfully they’re “just” baby teeth. The downside to that though is that there’s nothing that can be done. We just have to wait for her permanent teeth to come in.

 Did I mention how terrible I feel?! Ugh. Hopefully she doesn’t hate us too much for her gap-toothed smile when she head’s off to preschool in a couple years.

Parenting fail.

We have had plenty of experiences with parenting failure. Obviously, I'm not proud. But it happens. We're human. We're learning as we go. It can't be avoided. Anyone who thinks they're doing the perfect job, is more messed up then the rest of us.

We're going to get things wrong. We're going to make the wrong choices. Some things will slip through the cracks. The next few posts with reflect on some of our recent failures.

Laugh with us. Some times a failure can be laughed off. Some times all you can do is cringe, embrace the guilt, and more forward.

I promise I'll share my failures. Maybe someone can learn from me! :)

a third baby?!

Apparently I should have taken note that maybe I wasn't responding to the pill as I should have, given how quickly I got pregnant with Miss Eva... But I'm getting ahead of myself...

It was the end of September 2011, Eva's first birthday was less then 8 weeks away, and Audrey and Josh were rapidly approaching their due date with baby number two (our God-daughter!).

And here we were again, waiting around for another late period.

I didn't think much of being a day or two late. No big deal. When it got to be a week late, I was getting a bit panicked.

Finally on our third wedding anniversary (October 10th), my husband addressed the elephant in the room. "Have you gotten your period yet?" Um...I was scared to answer. "No." "Well then when are you going to take a test?!"

We had a pregnancy test in the cabinet. I knew it was there. But I couldn't talk myself into taking it. Another baby wasn't even on our radar. I was on the pill. It wasn't what we were planning. With some persistence from Jay, I gave in, and took the test.

After a few minutes, Jay was the first to check it. "Well it says you're not, so why the heck haven't you gotten your period?" I grabbed the test from him to examine it myself. What the sh*t was he talking about? There was a second line! This was our first test with pink lines. In the past we had always used digital tests. I don't even remember how or why we acquired this kind of test. So maybe he just missed it? Once he looked it over again though, he saw what I saw. Two pink lines.
What was happening? How could I possibly be pregnant?! AGAIN!

Long story short, we accepted that we were having another baby and jumped right in with getting our lives, our house, and our kids ready. And it didn't take long for our shock/anxiety/nerves to turn to excitement.

In early November we had an ultrasound and set a due date. June 14th, 2012. Two months shy of Cameron's third birthday. You got that right. We would have 3 kids, UNDER three years old.

 

 

This was my most difficult pregnancy. I started showing earlier then ever before (I'm talking elastic pants at 9 weeks!), and I was sick. I felt like garbage ALL THE TIME. I was relieved when we got through the first trimester and things settled down a bit.

 

Early in the pregnancy Jay mentioned John-Patrick as a name. John after my Dad and Patrick after his. I loved it! Little JP. We even agreed on a girl's name this time around too. Zoe. I couldn't get over how cute Eva and Zoe sounded. Perfect sister names!

 

I don't know if it was because I was having so much fun dressing my little girl, but I really thought baby #3 was a girl too. Of course I had a 50-50 chance at being right, and I had been in the past...but this time, I got it wrong. I thought we were for sure having another girl, but in January of 2012, we learned that we were actually having another son. Despite having been convinced baby was a girl, I was in no way disappointed to be having a boy.

 

 

 

We left our ultrasound feeling great! We got to see our baby and he cooperated for all of the pictures and measurements the tech needed to complete her assessment. It was a great day! Seeing how much he had changed since our first ultrasound was incredible. But our joy only lasted the weekend...

 

The following Monday we got a phone call we never saw coming. There had been some abnormal findings from our ultrasound and we were going to need to see a maternal-fetal medicine specialist for further imaging. Apparently a ventricle in our son's brain was measuring larger then normal causing my doctor to question if spinal fluid was backing up in his brain -a birth defect that could have devastating side-effects. As if that wasn't enough, they were concerned about a "marking" on his brain, and thought that it might be a "cyst". All in all, it was URGENT that we get in with a maternal-fetal medicine specialist ASAP.

 

Holy shit. They thought something was wrong with our baby's brain. Fear doesn't even begin to describe what came over me. I was devastated. I was terrified. I was heartbroken. I was helpless.

 

I've never prayed so hard in my life. I begged God every second of the next two days to please have mercy on JP. To please let him be as healthy as his siblings. I told God hundreds of times that if I had done something wrong during this pregnancy, to please not punish my baby for it. He was so innocent. To have a team of doctors questioning his quality of life was unbearable.

 

All we could do was wait to get in to see the specialist, and hope for good news.

 

Two days later, February 1st, we had a follow up ultrasound with a specialist an hour away. My husband and I were practically silent on the drive up. We knew the next few hours of our life had the potential to change everything.

 

We arrived at the clinic, and after completing a ridiculous amount of paper work, we were called back to an ultrasound room. My hands were shaking. I was practically sweating. I had no idea what to expect. I had never been so scared (little did I know that REAL FEAR was waiting months down the road for me).

 

The woman who performed the level II ultrasound was old enough to be my mother. And I was so grateful. She was gentle and sweet. She told us everything she was doing, as she was doing it. She told us exactly what we were looking at and what she was looking for. She knew why we were sent to see her, and we couldn't hide our fear. Thankfully she took note, and did everything in her power to calm our nerves.

 

After an hour and half, she had all of the measurements, photos, and videos she needed to finish her report. She said she would get things written up, send it all to the doctor to review, and then the doctor would be in to see us. The ultrasound room had a table and chairs in it as well, which she gestured to when explaining what would happen next.

 

20 minutes or so after she left the room, a receptionist came in and asked us to move to a conference room while we waited for the doctor. She proceeded to lead out of the exam room.

 

The next room was overwhelmingly terrifying. It was practically an empty room. A round table. Four chairs. An ugly green, plastic plant. A box of Kleenex. Everything about the room felt cold. WE WERE GETTING BAD NEWS. I knew it. Why would they bring us to this other room? And the box of Kleenex?! Seriously? Crap. It was bad.

 

I damn near threw up in my mouth when the doctor finally came in. I could barely form words to greet him. The first thing he did was ask, "Why exactly did your clinic send you here?" After a brief explanation of what I had been told, he looked me right in the eye and said, "Well none of that is going on here, but I can try to explain why they might have thought that."

 

The details of the rest of our conversation with him aren't important. JP had been given a clean bill of health! Our baby was fine! I could have kissed him! We were thankful beyond words. As we left the clinic, I couldn't control my emotions. My husband turned to hug me as we left the dreadful conference room and I started to sob. And I mean sob. We're talking, heaving, snot running out of your nose, big tears, ugly face, flushed cheeks... the kind of crying you wouldn't want ANYONE to see. It was almost like there was no other way to purge all of my fear. Sometimes you need a good cry, and that was one of those time.

 

Along with the great news, we got a few really amazing pictures of Mr. Man.

 

 

 

The remainder of the pregnancy went on without anything major to report. Doctor appointment. Doctor appointment. Doctor appointment. The usual.

 

I never had a good feeling about labor and delivery this time around. You'd think that having done it twice before, I wouldn't be so anxious, but I was the opposite. I just couldn't shake the fears. I even at one point expressed concerned to my husband that JP would be face up, or that I would be facing a marathon, 48-hour labor. In the end, I just chalked it up to being paranoid.

 

This time around, my due date, June 14th, came and went. I had never hit the 40 week mark. There are no words that can describe how frustrating it is to miss a due date. Every day is torture.

 

I was six days late and at the end of my rope. I e-mailed my doctor on the morning of June 20th, with questions regarding my appointment the next day. Would I be induced? What happens at 41 weeks? Basically, I just wanted to know what to expect. He explained that we would discuss inductions, how it all works, and schedule my induction for 41 weeks and 1 day pregnant, June 22.

 

A few hours later, I was on my lunch break (yes, I was still working). And without warning, a contraction. I didn't allow myself to get too excited. I had had plenty of contractions over the past few weeks, all of which lead no where. But a few minutes later, there was another contraction. And another. And another.

 

An hour later I decided it was time to make the 40 minute drive home because this was the real thing. I immediately called my husband and told him I was on my way. Surprisingly, driving while having contractions wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be. Yes, I was uncomfortable, but things were still pretty mild.

 

Again, I had planned on laboring at home for as long as possible. And again, things didn't play out that way. My pain level was maybe a 6, and though my contractions were 3 minutes apart, I could have stayed home longer. But my kids were making me crazy. Bless their little hearts, but while they wanted to snuggle up with me and crawl all over my bed, I just didn't want to be touched. So earlier then I really needed to, I opted to go to the hospital.

 

The kids went to my in-laws, and we went to have a baby!

 

Fast forward to 8:30 p.m. that evening, June 20th. I was suddenly 8 cm dilated and things were going GREAT. Labor was going quickly, and we were sprinting to the finish line. The nurse called my doctor, told him I was 8 cm, and he said he would be right up to break my water.

 

I few minutes later, I was sick. And it hit me like a train. I was sure I was going to throw up. My heart started to race. I was in a cold sweat. The room was starting to spin. I didn't know what was happening. This just so happened to coincide with the first drop in my son's heart rate. It dropped to 95, but within a few seconds, was back up to 130. And just as soon as the nausea train hit me, it was gone, and I felt fine. But it was only the beginning...

 

The doctor arrived shortly after my little "episode", and when he had been brought up to speed, he decided to continue with the plan to break my water, and get the show on the road.

 

Within minutes of breaking my water, I was a fully dilated and ready to push. Within minutes of pushing, my perfect labor ended, and a nightmare delivery began.

 

JP's heart rate continued to drop with each contraction. 100, and back to 130. 90, and back up to 130. All while I was pushing as hard as I could, and making very little progress. It was now after 10 p.m. and I wasn't getting anywhere. It didn't take much longer to figure out why. JP was face up. I knew it. My earlier fear of him being face up, was right! The WIDEST part of his head was coming through first. And basically, he was stuck. After several more pushes, JP's heart rate dropped to 75... and only bounced back to 90. I was terrified. My husband was terrified. The mood in the room suddenly flipped. The doctor and both nurses were SERIOUSLY concerned. My amazing OB calmly told me that he was going to "assist" me with pushing. He then explained he was only going to give me a few more pushes with the assistance of the forceps, before we would have to move to "plan B". He was telling me that if I didn't get this baby out soon, I would be rushed off for an emergency c-section.

 

There was no way I could go home to now THREE kids, while recovering from major surgery. I had to get this baby out. AND FAST. Three pushes later, thanks to my doctor's help, at 10:27 p.m. JP was out. It was the worst physical pain I've ever felt in my life. Forceps are no joke. I couldn't have done it without them, but I was not at all prepared for how painful it was going to be.

 

Immediately after JP was born, everyone knew something was wrong. He was limp and blue. The doctor gestured to my husband to cut the cord, but in the same second, realized there was no time. He cut the cord himself, and ran with our little baby to the warming station, where the nurses were already waiting.

 

I didn't get to see his face. I didn't get to touch his skin or cradle him in my arms.

 

He wasn't breathing.

 

One nurse started to bag breath for him, the other nurse started rubbing him down with a blanket, trying to stimulate him. My doctor was holding his head, keeping his airway open for the nurse operating the bag. The nurse with the blanket kept saying, "His pulse is good. His pulse is good. Come on buddy, it's time to breath on your own. Come on handsome! You can do it!" She ran to the door, called to another nurse sitting at the nurses station, "Call the on-call pediatrician! Tell him it's an emergency!" She then ran back to continue monitoring his pulse and rubbing his feet.

 

Jay and I were left there, watching all of this unfold. We were complete helpless. Was he going to make it? Was he going to breath? What was happening to our baby?!

 

I've never been so scared. Scared doesn't even begin to describe the feeling of not knowing if your child was going to live or die. This was real fear.

 

Four minutes after he was born, he let out a faint little squeak. HE WAS BREATHING! 

 

Four minutes is such a small fraction of time. Four minutes blinks by, and we don't even notice. Four minutes spent pleading with your son to breath and begging God to let you keep your baby feels like a lifetime. Relief washed over everyone. Me. My husband. The nurses. My OB.

 

He was breathing... and I think everyone else in the room started breathing again too.

 

It didn't take much longer for the pediatrician to arrive. JP wasn't entirely in the clear yet. His breathing was short, shallow, and rapid. The pediatrician examined him, and was concerned with what he heard in his lungs. Fluid, and lots of it. He was going to need to move him to the nursery for a chest x-ray and to collect blood for labs. But before he left with our new baby, Jay and I were FINALLY able to hold him.

 

Forty-seven minutes after he was born, I finally got to hold my baby. But my bliss was short lived. We still didn't know what was going on with JP, and we had no idea what would happen if we didn't figure it out soon.

 

And just like that, the pediatrician was gone with him.

 

My OB turned his attention back to me, and we finished with the remaining part of "labor". The nurses were getting the room put back together and helping me get comfortable in bed. I was in so much pain. Labor had been excruciating.

 

Once we got my pain under control, the pediatrician was back. JP had a LOT of fluid in his lungs, but he was able to get a significant amount of it out. They had drawn blood to send to the lab to check for any sort of infections and started an IV to begin 48 hours of antibiotic therapy. The worst part though was that he was going to have to stay in observation until 8 a.m. on a "one-to-one". This meaning he was assigned a nurse, who was to be with him at all times. Under CONSTANT observation. Our baby was spending his first night in this world, away from us.

 

And it was the longest night of my life.

 

By the next morning, he was completely fine. His vitals had been great over night, and had it not been for the IV in his arm, you'd never know there had ever been an issue. By 8 a.m. he was back rooming with me.

 

 

 

Because it would take 48 hours before his lab results would return, his IV for antibiotics would remain in until the results came back. We decided to be pro-active and begin treating an infection, instead of waiting for the results first. By Friday evening (he was born on a Wednesday night) the IV was taken out. All of his blood work came back perfectly fine.

 

Even today, almost 3 months later, we have no idea why he had such a rough start. But I would travel to hell and back for him again, without question. He's perfect. The whole family is in love with him.

 

John-Patrick (JP) William

June 20th, 2012

10:27 p.m.

8 lbs 8 ozs

21.5 inches long

 

 



 

 





Time for two.

Cameron was just about 6 months old, and we were really starting to get the hang of parenting. He was such a happy, easy-going baby... I couldn't wait for another one!

Apparently Jay had already caught the baby bug again too.

Driving home from a dinner with his family, he out-of-nowhere turned to me and said, "I want to have another baby." And just like that, the decision had been made.

As soon as we got home, we flushed all of my pills down the toilet. The goalie had once again been pulled from the game.

After some discussion, we both acknowledged that it may take a few months, and that we shouldn't get our hopes up. We weren't "trying" but we weren't "preventing" either. We were honestly expecting another 6 months like our last experience.

Were we ever wrong!

Three weeks later, my period was late. I couldn't possibly be pregnant already! But, despite thinking it was impossible, we bought a test.

PREGNANT.

What the heck? How could it have been that easy? Before we really even gave ourselves time to process the possibility of a second child, a second child was on the way.

Any early ultrasound confirmed, we were indeed expecting. Baby #2 was due November 23rd, 2010.

A few weeks later, we let Cameron make the announcement for us.

"I'm not LION, I'm going to be a BIG BROTHER!"

This pregnancy wasn't quite as easy as my first, but it was in no way something I would have complained about. Sure, I was sick a bit more, but it was manageable.

This time around I KNEW it was a girl. It was like everywhere I turned, there was a cute pair of shoes or a big flowery headband calling my name. Baby had to be a girl.

I could have skipped my 20-week ultrasound. That's how convinced I was that we were having a girl. And yet, I was afraid that if I told me husband JUST how sure I was, I would jinx myself. So I kept all of my baby girl planning to myself.

And sure enough, at our July 2010 ultrasound, my intuition was confirmed. BABY GIRL!

 

 

I guess you could say Cameron named his baby sister. Jay and I couldn't agree on anything. One night, while we were all just hanging out, watching Wall.E (Cameron's FAVORITE movie at the time), the name conversation came up again for the 9,787th time. But this time, Cameron gave his two cents. Suddenly he said, "Eva". Now, if you're familiar with the movie, Wall.E falls for a robot named Eve, but always pronounces her name as "Eva". Surprisingly, we both loved it and basically the rest is history. We finally had a name! Baby girl was going to be named Eva Florence. Florence as homage to Jay's grandmother.

 

The rest of the pregnancy went as well as anyone could hope. I was healthy. Baby girl was healthy. Another complaint free pregnancy. Until I hit 39 weeks....

 

I had only made it to 39 weeks with our first, and I hadn't even considered being pregnant longer then that. I wanted to be done.

 

39 weeks and 1 day.

39 weeks and 2 days.

 

At 39 weeks and 3 days I had a standard OB appointment. I opted to have my membranes stripped, in hopes of jump starting labor.

 

24 hours later, I was convinced I'd be pregnant forever. I was so convinced that I was no where near the end, that I encouraged my husband go to a WILD hockey came that night, but I agreed to hang out with Cameron at my in-law's house, in case I spontaneously went into labor.

 

The night was uneventful. Jay got home around 10:30 p.m. from the game, and the three of us went home.

 

BOOM! What the hell heck was that?! We hadn't even been home for an hour when I was hulk-stomped with my first contraction. And these were no joke. Painful and three minutes apart from the very beginning! I guess she was just waiting for Daddy before getting the show on the road... and she wasn't wasting time.

 

I had wanted to labor at home for as long as possible like I had the first time, but the immediate intensity of the contractions freaked me out. You could say I panicked. After only two hours of laboring at home, I wanted to go to the hospital. So we called my mother to stay with Cameron (since it was the middle of the night) and we made our way to our local hospital.

 

By 4 a.m. I had gotten an epidural. And this time around, I was actually able to take a nap.

 

I woke up at 6:30 to a dull pinch in my right hip. It was a contraction. Right then and there I was sure that my epidural was wearing off or not working at all, but then again I hadn't had an epidural for this long before (see previous labor story), so who was I to stay what was normal and what wasn't.

 

By 7:30, the contractions had continued to get stronger again. Before I really had a chance to assess my pain, the doctor asked if I was ready for her to break my water. YES. I was ready to be done with labor. I was ready to hold my daughter. YES, please break my water!

 

I should have known better. Having your water break is a total game changer, at least for me. Things take off so fast after that. And the pain was suddenly so intense, that it was as if my "epidural" didn't exist! PANIC.

 

I could feel EVERYTHING. Again, not something I was completely prepared for. After insisting to my nurse that something was "wrong" with my epidural, and having the anesthesiologist come back to double check his work, I realized that amongst the pain, my body was starting to push. Pain or not, I had no choice but to do it on my own.

 

The bright side to feeling everything, is that I knew exactly where Eva was, and how effective my pushing was. Four pushes later, baby girl was in my arms! After carrying her for 39 weeks and 5 days, I finally got to see her sweet little face!

 

I melted. I looked at Jay, and literally saw him fall in love with his daughter right before my eyes.

 

 

 

Eva Florence

November 21st, 2010

8:31 a.m.

7 lbs 4 ozs

21.5 inches long

 

 

She was beautiful. We were so blessed.

 



 

 



The boy that changed everything.

2009 couldn't have gotten off on a better foot! We were having a baby, due September 7th!

The first half of the pregnancy went as perfectly as I could have hoped. Very little morning sickness. No hiccups in the road. Everything was smooth sailing. As we were anxiously approaching our first ultrasound at 20 weeks, I was pretty much convinced it was a boy. I don't know if I truly thought it was a boy, or if because I desperately wanted a son, I had convinced myself that baby was, in fact, a boy.

In early April we got the news I was hoping for, and at this point expected. BABY WAS A BOY!

We had only ever discussed boy names. And Cameron was always the front runner. As I said in a previous post, hockey is a big HUGE deal in our house. So it was only fitting that our first born son have a hockey related name. Cam Neely. One of Jay's all time favorite hockey players.

I liked Wyatt, Jay like Cameron, and Cameron Wyatt had a better ring to it then Wyatt Cameron.
So Cameron Wyatt it was.

The second half of my pregnancy went as perfectly as the first. Never was I uncomfortable, and the only reason I ever got desperate for labor was simply because I wanted to meet my son, not because I wanted the pregnancy to end.

Audrey (also pregnant with a boy) and I were due just a few days apart, so August was met with much anticipation by the entire family. Both sides of our family were getting their first grandsons/nephews and no one could hide their excitement.

On the morning of August 28, we got a phone call that Audrey's labor had started. I'll admit, I was, again, a little bit jealous, but knew our time was soon too. By that evening, our first nephew was here!

The next morning, my contractions started. Earlier then I had expected and not much to report, but they were there. Mild and every 10 minutes or so. This continued for the entire day. By that night they were 5 minutes apart, and we were given the go-ahead by the hospital to come in. At this point, I would say my pain was maybe a 3 on a scale of 1-10.

The nurse was able to pick up the contractions on the monitor, and I was 3 centimeters dilated. We decided to see what happened over the course of the next hour, and if I was making progress I would be admitted to labor and delivery.

An hour later there was no change. I was disappointed, but in my heart I think I was expecting it. So, we went home. I felt much more comfortable sleeping in my own bed for the night, and continuing to labor at home if the contractions were going to stay.

The next morning my contractions were practically gone. I couldn't believe it! The night before, I thought I was having a baby, and now I was no closer to his arrival. My husband, being just as anxious as I was, suggested we go for a walk to see if we could get things going again.

It actually worked! A few hours later we were back home, timing contractions. It was ANOTHER day full of them. By 11 p.m. on August 30th they were finally to the point were I couldn't talk through them. Or even walk for that matter. But there was no way I was going to let them send me home again, so I was going to labor as long as possible before going back to the hospital.

My persistence paid off, and around 2 a.m. my water broke. It was showtime!

We made our way back to the hospital, and were shocked to find out that I was already 7 centimeters! Once my water broke my pain was a 10. I wanted the epidural. I couldn't wait any longer. The nurse tried to inform me as kindly as she could, but it was just as upsetting either way... no one was around to perform an epidural. They had already called the on-call anesthesiologist, but it could be up to an hour before she arrived. I would have to endure it for at least that long.

When the anesthesiologist finally arrived, I would have jumped up and hugged her, had I not been in so much pain. To say I was happy to see her would be an understatement. I damn near cried from relief as she walked into the room.

Within a few minutes, I was resting comfortably. I was totally exhausted from the last two days, especially the last couple of hours, and in desperate need of a nap. And so was my husband. Before either of us got too settled in, the nurse wanted to check to see where I was at.

10 centimeters. After all that, when all I wanted to do was sleep, it was time to push. Jay and I were shocked! We had only been at the hospital for a couple hours! Thank goodness we hadn't waited at home any longer!

After 39 weeks of pregnancy and 40 minutes of pushing (give me a break, I was so tired!) our beautiful baby boy was born!

Cameron Wyatt
August 31st, 2009
5:09 a.m.
7 lbs 4 ozs
21.5 inches long

He was perfect in every way. Seeing him for the first time was better then I could have ever imagined! He looked so much like his Dad! The love that consumed me was indescribable. I never knew how much I loved my husband, until I saw him hold his son for the first time. Until I saw how much he loved his child.

We were changed forever.

The journey to MOTHERHOOD.

I've always wanted a family. ALWAYS. And when I fell in love with my future husband in July of 2007, I couldn't wait to start a family with him. I fell for him almost immediately, but that's another post, for another day.

Following our January 2008 engagement, Jay wanted to start a family right away. And I did too. But it was important to me that we be married first. Not for any other reason then that I didn't want to be a pregnant bride, and I wanted to have the same last name as my child and my husband on our child's birth certificate. Maybe those are superficial reasons, but that's what I wanted. So we put our baby plans on hold... for awhile.

It was now July, and we were finally in the thick of planning our October wedding. I was (and still am) head over heels for Jay, and couldn't quiet my hopes and dreams of a family any longer. So in August, as my husband likes to say, we "pulled the goalie". (Hockey is life in our house, but again, that's another post, for another day.) I knew I was putting myself in a position to be pregnant at our wedding, something I never wanted, but hopefully if a pregnancy happened quickly, it would be something we could keep secret. I couldn't help but picture the looks on our parents' faces at the reception when we surprised them with our baby news!

Well, it didn't play out that way.

August came and went. September came and went. October AND our wedding, came and went. By November I was starting to have serious concerns that maybe something was wrong. Looking back, three months of trying to conceive is nothing, but at the time, it felt like a lifetime.

For whatever reason, I was much more optimistic in November then I ever had been. I just felt like this was our month. I had a thousand different ideas for telling Jay he was going to to be a DAD! Every day we got closer to when Aunt Flo was due, I got more excited. The instructions for the pregnancy test claimed to be able to detect pregnancy five days before a period had been missed, and you can bet your last dollar that we were going to test as soon as we could. So, of course, five days before my period was due, we took a pregnancy test. NEGATIVE. My heart sank. How could someone be so sure of something, and still be wrong?! I refused to take this negative test as the final word, and decided we would just wait to see if my period showed up.

A few days later was Thanksgiving. Aside from my incredible husband, I didn't feel like I had much more to be thankful for. Despite trying to be positive, the optimism I had greeted the month with was gone. I know, that sounds terrible, but I wasn't in the best place. I couldn't stop thinking about the negative test. I had no idea getting pregnant would take this long and I was in no way prepared for how emotional the journey would be. To make matters worse, my period arrived. On Thanksgiving day. At my in-laws' house. All I wanted to do was cry. But I couldn't. No one knew we were trying (though I'm sure some may had suspected) and the last thing I wanted to do was let anyone into our heartache. I put on a brave face for my husband and his family, even though inside I was crumbling.

It was December, and with Christmas and my birthday on the horizon, I was glad to have some distraction. My husband and I had had a serious conversation, and if we hit the 6-month mark, we would see our doctors and ask for help. Not the ideal way to start off a new year, but if something was wrong, we wanted to address it and not prolong the inevitable.

A few days before Christmas, we got news that damn near killed me. My brother-in-law's girlfriend was pregnant. I was furious. It was more then I could handle emotionally, and physically, I was sick. In no way was that a reflection of how I felt about her, or their relationship. I was just so stunned. Did Jay and I not want it bad enough?! Were we being punished for something?! Why did they get a baby and we didn't?! They had only known each other for a few months! It wasn't fair. And I was mad.

I will NEVER forgive myself for how I treated Josh's girlfriend over the next few days. I was jealous, angry with our "situation", and bitter... and I took it out on her. She's now my sister-in-law, and I can thankfully say we have a great relationship (she was brought into my life for a reason, that I wouldn't truly appreciate for a few years yet, but in the end, I am LUCKY to have her as a friend and sister), but it will never change how I treated her or the things I said to her.

Her pregnancy and my jealousy brought out a side of me I didn't even know I had. I couldn't think about anything else. The jealousy and bitterness consumed my thoughts for days. Why? Why?! WHY NOT ME?

It was the day after Christmas, and the day I would have to face Audrey. I couldn't handle one comment about pregnancy. I couldn't handle one conversation about their future baby. I had no idea how I would be able to get through the day. On top of all that, my period was due. When I got out of bed on December 26, 2008 and discovered that Aunt Flo had not yet arrived, I decided to take a test. I was feeling terrible, and didn't want to be caught off guard mid-Christmas festivities with my husband's family, by my period. So I thought it best to just get the testing over with. Maybe even put my mind a little bit as ease for the day.

Jay was already in the shower, and I couldn't wait for him to get out. I took the test, and tucked it back into it's foil wrapper. Watching the hourglass flash on the digital screen made me queasy, and by putting it back into the wrapper, I could postpone my heartbreak. After what felt like days, I peeked at the test.

"Is this possible?" My knees almost buckled. I couldn't breath. My eyes were welling up with tears. PREGNANT.

I had almost given up. I wasn't expecting it to be positive. What a perfect Christmas gift.

I ran to the bathroom, threw open the shower curtain, and shoved the test in my husband's face. I had no words. Literally, my brain couldn't connect to my mouth. PREGNANT.

We were finally getting our family.

Of course we couldn't keep it secret for long. Not even a day. Barely 12 hours. We told his family that same night at our Christmas get together. The crack in Jay's voice as he told everyone the news, trying to keep from crying, and the shriek of excitement his mom let out made the moment perfect. My brother-in-law and his girlfriend didn't say a word. Not a smile. Nothing. But that was the reaction I deserved. And in that moment, I knew JUST how hurtful I had been, and I was immediately embarrassed by my behavior. But it would be months before I would be able to swallow my pride and apologize.

FINALLY we were off the road of trying to conceive, and on the road to PARENTHOOD!