Ice cream and thought

My daughter is asleep next to me and I am eating ice cream. As her romper says, life is good.

I spent about an hour tonight trying to get S. to sleep in her crib. Our usual routine is that we rock in our chair and she nurses to sleep. Then she goes in bed with us.
Yes, my daughter sleeps right next to me in our king-sized bed. An arrangement that suits all of us just fine. (Why settle for a crib if you can have a king-sized bed?). So there I was tonight, practically in Sophie's crib, rubbing her back, humming, with her little sad eyes looking at me, and all I kept asking myself was, "Why am I doing this, exactly?" Because I should. Because so and so's baby sleeps in a crib. Because the doctor looked at me funny when I said that I co-sleep. Notice, all of these are dumb reasons to do anything.
I swore I would never have a child of mine sleep in bed with me and husband. Then I actually had a child. A child that I would nurse for an hour, try to put down, that would instantly wake up crying, that I would have to start the process all over again with, ALL night LONG. Until I couldn't function at all. So one night I let her sleep with me (after many tears over whether I was ruining her for life). And she slept. I slept. We all slept.
It was beautiful. Since she was about 5 or 6wks old, S. has slept for about 5-7 hours at a stretch. When she wakes up, she rolls over to nurse and goes back to sleep. I never have to get up. It is beautiful, I will say again.
I love waking up to watch her stretch her arms, and legs, and toes and give me a first sleepy smile. Then I scoot her over to Husband so I can feed the dogs, and come back in to see her all cuddled up with him, having a morning chat, or sleeping some more. All three of us get some precious time together at the very start of our day. She is happy and healthy.
So it hit me tonight (as I devoured some coffee ice cream) that one day S. will sleep by herself. Sooner rather than later. That these times of us all sleeping and waking up together are precious and will be short in the scheme of her life. I am going to try to enjoy them rather than end them before any of us are ready.

And just so you know- we are very careful about this co-sleeping business. No blankets or pillows near her. She is not near the edge of the bed. And sometimes, she does sleep in her own bed for a few hours before joining us.

The difference between men and women

Husband and I were talking tonight via skype since he is away for work. I find our house creepy at night when I am by myself. I find any house I am alone in creepy at night. This is when I am most thankful for Max's big old self by the way. I find it creepy enough that I'd rather watch a movie on my laptop in bed than venture to our TV room (Husband asked if I was planning on using our very nice entertainment equipment at all while he is gone....). I lock the back door (which we don't lock when he is home) and pull all the curtains. To all this Husband simply says "I guess men and women are different." I had no idea.

In other news, Sophie is trying to crawl. She gets up on her knees and then catapults forward and lands back on her belly. It's pretty great. She is one determined little peanut.

Now for random photos of Sophie that have nothing to do with this post.

G'night from the creepy house.

The story of Max

This is Max. Otherwise known as Maxi, Maximus the Moosimus, Maxi-bear, Moose, etc. Sometimes just Max. He is 125 lbs of baby (he should be 115-20 lbs of baby, but don't hold it against him, he eats well around here). There is no better cuddler than Max. He'll let us bear hug him to pieces. He drools over clementines, and sweet patatoes. He kisses Sophie (under very close supervision). Unfortunately, this is not the side of Max everyone gets to see. Our neighbors know him as the dog that they see plastered against our big window barking. Max, through no fault of ours or his own, was left basically by himself for over a year before we got him back (that's another story). In rottweiler life, this is no good. Our baby is now a mass of fears. And what do dogs that think they are supposed to not be afraid, do when they are actually afraid of their own shadows? They act tough. Napoleon complex? Maybe.

Max has growled at potted plants, Christmas decorations (the big floaty ones), snowmen, driveway statues and shadows. Then when we bring him close to see what the "threat" is, he cowers and tries to pull away. Less humorous is when he growls at our friends visiting, or people that pass by on walks. And when people are afraid of him (which I can't really blame them for) they throw their hands up, which scares him even more.

Husband and I lament on almost a daily basis that we wish everyone could see the Max we get to see. He wants to curl up against us when thunderstorms happen. He quietly follows us around the house to see where we are. He won't go to bed until he has collected his "baby" (a stuffed puppy) that he sleeps with every night. He even whines at the door if we have closed him in before he can get it. He wags his little nub tail when Grandma comes to visit (my mom, whom he loves). He lets Amber (our other rottie) put him in his place belly side up even though she is much smaller than he. He likes to sleep in the shower. He sulks if you even raise your voice at him a little. This is my Max for better or worse. So please, if you see us out and about, don't be mad if he barks and acts tough. We're working on it.

Appreciate them while you can!

My husband is about to leave for 6 months for work. Whoa right?
Six months is in fact the longest he has been gone. To put this in perspective though, in the two and a half years we've known each other he has been gone a total of eleven months. Eleven. It's what he does (not disappear, travel because of his job).
We are in full swing preparing for him to go. This time is different because we are married and have a baby (last time we were newly married and I was prego...)and I am staying in our home. As we get ready my mind turns to all the things that I will miss while he is gone/things I appreciate about having him around.
I wonder if people whose husbands are around all the time even think of these things? Some of them are seemingly so small, until you contemplate having to handle them on your own.



I appreciate...
-someone who will get up at the crack of dawn to let Max out, again. -another set of hands to hold Sophie
-someone to walk Max(more on that later) so I can carry Sophie and walk the other two dogs.
-Husband knows how to grill. I don't.
-an "I love you" every morning when he walks out, and a kiss when he comes home.
- a person who will honestly answer "how does this look?" to make sure I don't leave the house looking like a complete dork (only a partial one, because I still like what I like, and he is still preppier than me).
-being driven around- sometimes it's nice to not drive, and sometimes its necessary so I can feed Sophie in the car.
-adult conversation during dinner
-a hug, kiss, shoulder rub when he walks by
-another body in the house (one that is bigger and taller than me)
-not sleeping alone (the dogs and Sophie don't count)
-being teased out of a funk
-watching my daughter turn inside out with happiness because Daddy is talking to her
-watching him become a total goof to get her to smile
-someone to mow the lawn, take out the trash, and check the tire pressure on my car (I can do all these things but he does them so I don't have to. And lest we sound like a 1950's couple- he folds laundry better than I do, and I take care of trimming the bushes and pulling vines down).
-someone to watch Sophie so I can get my teeth cleaned, go to the doctor, get the oil changed on my car

This list could go on forever and doesn't even begin to cover the things about HIM I will miss. Maybe I am boring you.
I just can't help reflecting on these things and reminding myself how thankful I am for my husband (who is terrible at taking compliments by the way, and quite possibly embarrassed by this post) even though he can make me crazier than anyone else.

The man and his alarm

My husband has this bizarre relationship going that is starting to bother me. It is even costing me sleep (yawn). I've known about it for some time, but there are times it bothers me more than others. And to make matters worse, it's one of those relationships where he wants to end things but can't stop....
...pushing the snooze button.

Husband will set the alarm for let's say, 6am. He will then continuously push the snooze button til whenever he decides to get up. Today he decided to get up at 10:30 (although he didn't actually get out of bed, just turned off the alarm). In case you weren't tracking- that's 4 hrs of snooze cutting in on sleep every 5 minutes!
Much of the time I have gotten so used to it that I can sleep through his snoozing habit. Inevitably though, there are times when I have just gotten Sophie to sleep, or myself to sleep, and, you guessed it- "BEEP, BEEP"
This morning I tackled him and warned that the alarm might be going out the window. His relationship with the snooze button might be coming to and end! Or not. Apparently, this relationship goes back to high school when his parents functioned as his alarm- coming in every few minutes to get him up.
At least when he gets up, he is happy.
I warned you Husband, that I would blog about this.

A rant, if you will

We do this a lot, my daughter and I. We sit in rocking chairs, car seats, floors, couches... She earnestly eats, running her little hand over my face and skin. We bond. I fall more and more in love.

She does not however, like to have a blanket, or cover or anything else suffocating her, blocking the view, or getting between my face and her little hand while eating. What does this mean now? It means I am done trying to feed my daughter "discreetly". Have you ever found yourself standing in a public restroom, trying to feed your child because you are trying to be discreet and there was nowhere else to go? I have. I would like to apologize to everyone waiting in line for the bathroom that night (there were 2 stalls in a busy restaurant).
Don't get me wrong. I will and have used a nursing cover. I will feed in a private place if one is available. Otherwise I'm going to tend to my daughter in the way SHE prefers.
Now I feel better. Husband agrees.

Sophie's birth, the end and the beginning

So where was I? This typing of her birth has been interesting. I struggle to be honest in relating the experience without having one of those "why-are-you-telling-me-this-scary-scary-story?!" stories. Sophie's birth was one of the hardest, most beautiful experiences in my life. It rocked me. How does one go about getting that into words on a page?

I digress (I love that phrase by the way).
Back to the story.

After I negotiated for and spent my half hour of time, they came in to start up my contractions. I prayed to get past the 6cm mark I had reached and not passed before. I prayed that I would get there fast (remember this party had started on Thursday and now it is Saturday am). I prayed for no c-section, but most of all I prayed my baby was healthy.
My body did its thing with the jump start they gave it. Although the epidural hadn't "taken" in my right leg, this actually allowed me to support myself upright while pushing. Did I mention the pushing? Did I mention the relief when the nurse told me I had dilated and it was time to push (no c-section!)? Not to brag, but I pushed like a champ. They were talking about me on the floor the next week; "Oh you were the record-setting pusher." Yup, that was me. I wanted my baby out and in my arms before any other craziness could happen. I squatted and pushed. My nurses were wonderful too. At one point they asked if I wanted a mirror to see her (gross, I had thought before) and to my surprise I did. There was nothing more motivating than seeing this little body start to emerge.
Husband got to announce her gender (although one of the nurses thought he forgot because he hesitated), and then they whisked her off since she had inhaled meconium with her first cry. That started a week of IV treatments in the hospital, which is in and of itself a whole other story.
Forever I will remember two things very distinctly about the moments after she was born. First, Sophie was taken to a table where a team suctioned her, etc. She was crying. Then Husband walked over and started talking, and with that my baby girl started craning her head around in search of the voice that had talked to her for the past months. She knew her daddy's voice so well. The second memory was while this was occurring I just started to cry (I'm not really a huge crier) and a nurse asked what was wrong. "I want my baby!" was all I could wail. After the ordeal the three of us had been through, even those few moments of her being separated from me felt like torture. They eventually brought her back, we tried for our first feeding and life as a family of three had begun.

Confessions of a new mommy

While I happen to adore my daughter- think she is the best, cutest, smartest baby ever, (Got that? Ever.) and I love her more than I ever thought possible, I have some confessions to make about my "darker" feelings towards motherhood.
They are as follows:
1. I do not want to spend every waking moment, of every single day with you, baby girl. Sometimes I want to do my thing and not have to worry you might wake up any second needing me.
2. When you wake up all smiley, and I am barely aware of what day it is, sometimes I want to roll over, fake sleep and pray you get the hint. I don't of course. And your smile does make it easier to get up.
3.Sometimes when you scream, I want to go to another room and stuff my head under pillows. I don't do this either of course.
4. I have moments when I wonder what my first year of marriage would have looked like without you. Please understand, there is not a second I wish for anything but my life, with you, exactly the way it is. But you, baby girl, have changed things for these newlywed, new parents.

Anyone else? Any confessions?
I love being Sophie's mom, my heart wants to explode with all the love I have for her, but motherhood is anything but easy.

fear is staying home

Tonight Husband (he likes it when I call him this btw) is out with the boys.
I am in with the dogs....and Sophie.
Supposedly I am composing a talk on fear- I need a notes outline and powerpoint done by sometime tomorrow.
Really, I just want my coffee, comfy tank and shorts, and a book.
Must be disciplined.


In other news, Sophie now thinks it is a game to roll over to her back and then wait for me to flip her back over. She is such a happy kiddo.

Sophie's birth continued

So where were we..
Ahh yes, leaving for the hospital.
After being in labor for over 24 hrs, hearing that you aren't progressing is completely disheartening. All the work you and your body are putting in to manage contractions, reminding yourself that they don't have to feel painful, just uncomfortable...well you just stop caring about that.
Our midwife was able to contact nurses at different hospitals to find out who the doctor on call would be. This was incredibly fortunate, since two of the three hospitals had doctors that had incredibly high rates of c-sections on that night.
I made it to the hospital, moaning so loudly at the admittance window in the ER that they sped things up quite a bit. My midwife had actually made the joke that I should do this on purpose, but as it turned out I just did it anyway. Husband met us on the labor and delivery floor (someone had to park the car) but had to leave me to get up to speed with the doctors and our midwife/doula team. So I lay on a bed totally by myself in a room, knowing I was going to throw up yet again, having contraction after contraction....
When the nurse and Steve finally came back in, we asked for something for me to throw up in. She hands me a kidney dish (think very small). What are you thinking lady? I'm gonna blow!. I grabbed the garbage can thankyouverymuch.
Anyway, so much for unmedicated birth. I needed some rest. I was given fentanyl (which made me loopy, and very out of it... not particularly enjoyable) and then, after what felt like forever, an epidural.
So there we are, me woozy, Steve exhausted, Sophie hanging in strong.

And then she wasn't.

I was not entirely aware of what happened (courtesy of the fentanyl), but all of a sudden machines beeped and in swarmed a team of doctors and nurses who all started telling me different things at the same time. Sophie's heart rate had dropped from the 130-140 range to 60 in seconds. Thankfully, by moving me and some other techniques I don't remember, her heart rate came back up. After things had settled down, Husband puked. It was that upsetting. I was afraid to lay on the side I had been on again, lest it happen again.

I tried resting but it was hard knowing they were going to start contractions for me, and possibly need to do a c-section if I failed to dilate again. They pumped us with antibiotics b/c they were worried about infection since my water had broken over 24 hrs before. My doctors and nurses were wonderful- even though they were prepping me just in case of c-section, they also were doing everything they could to prevent that. The next morning I negotiated (literally,"can we wait to start? oh, only a half hour? ok.") with the doctor for an extra half hour of rest before they got the party going. And demanded something to eat. Oh yeah, they gave me something wonderful to stop the nausea...absolutely wonderful I tell you.

Family is coming over, more later!

Welcome to the world, Sophie!

It took you long enough to get here!
48 hrs...

I should explain that Sophie was born April 2nd and I am just now getting around to posting her birth story...on Husband's birthday. But I don't know his birth story so I can't write that. Just her's.

Anyway,
3:30pm Thursday afternoon I decided to run some errands.
I made it to the post office before the on and off contractions I had been having for a few days hit. Hard. I remember standing in line thinking, "These people have NO idea what my body is doing right now!!!" Going home straight-away seemed like a good idea.
Called Husband on the phone. I think I said something like, "Umm...soo...are you going to be heading home soon? (please note the edge of hysteria in my voice) because that would be good."
We got home (don't try driving with contractions btw) and started timing contractions. They were not coming regularly, but weren't abating either, so we left for the birth center to get checked and see where things went. "Things" did not progress. Our midwife gave me some natural supplements, etc., to take to slow down the contractions and let me rest. And home we went. I took my second round of these, went to bed, and felt a pop.
Yup, water broke. So much for slowing down contractions. Definitely no rest.
Back to the birth center we went.
Labor was actually one of the most amazing things I have experienced- well the first 24 hrs anyway. My husband and our doula were incredible. Especially husband. I "danced" with him, walked a narrow hallway more times than I can count, breathed through contractions with their support. He seemed to anticipate what would help. Interestingly enough, I couldn't stand to have more than light touch anywhere on me- They tried giving me a massage or even a hand on my shoulder and I kept saying very insistently, "Your hands are too hot! Please don't touch me! Too hot!"
Normally I love massages and hugs.
Sometime on Friday afternoon I started telling Husband our baby was never coming. I believed it.

Husband: "Soon Rachel, our baby will be here soon and you can hold him or her in your arms."
Rachel: Wailing "Our baby is never coming out! Never..."

Now the not-so-fun part:
I got severely dehydrated, started throwing up like no one's business, couldn't pee...and stopped dilating. Sophie got stuck.
Through it all though, our girl's heart rate never dropped. Not yet anyway.

Off to the hospital we went...
to be continued.

oh, weekend..

Mixed weekend. Husband took me on a much needed, but delayed shopping trip (he likes to shop, I like it less). That part was actually fun and I got some new stuff for my post-baby self (which is very much like my pre-baby self, but different enough that some stuff just doesn't fit well anymore, get me?).
On the same day, we heard about the helicopter going down with 31 of our military on board.
Wow.
I cannot find any other words right now to describe this. Holding my baby daughter, my mind is overwhelmed by thoughts of other babies held by moms who have lost their men, all the parents that have lost their sons, all the friends and on and on. All the gapingly wide, jagged and torn holes left where these men stood. Their lives on earth have stopped. Have we stopped to remember, pay respect to, pray for these men and their families? Have I?
Or have we stopped paying attention because we have tired of hearing about this thing called 'war'? Forgetting that in 'war' there aren't 'casualties'- there are men who have given their lives. For you. And me. For a higher good.

So on this weekend I don't know how to feel. Thankful for time with my husband and daughter. An enjoyable day out. Time with friends. Incredible and inexpressible sadness for this great loss.

What?

At different points in my life I have found myself saying "I never imagined I'd....".
Have you?
...I never imagined I'd be typing a blog with my daughter asleep in an ergo on me, and two rottweilers sleeping at my feet.
...I never imagined I'd meet my husband at a car dealership
...I never imagined I'd live in Virginia ( "the south"- I'm from NY).

I find myself living a life I couldn't possibly have imagined.

After having spent way too much time considering blog titles, this is what I have come up with. My life is bigger, fuller, and far more than I imagined. Unexpected and beautiful.