Put a Sock in It

I have a confession to make. I have been on Pinterest. Yes, me. That girl that doesn't do Pinterest. I have perused that pictorial wonderland a handful of times recently.

It all started a couple of months ago when my friend, Jenny, was hanging out at my house and wanted to show me something she had pinned. (I can't for the life of me remember what it was...but it was relevant to our conversation at the time.) Since then, when I pop up a blank tab on IE, one of the little "recently visited" boxes offers to take me to Jenny's Pinterest board. And because she's my friend, and because we have similar interests, and because curiosity killed the cat, I've clicked over a few times.

And on one of those clandestine visits, while I was skimming over her pins, I found something that changed my life:

THE SOCK BUN.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to any woman that I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. Just like most women, I have phases of leaning more toward one side of that relationship than the other--but it usually balances out as I resign myself to the state of my hair, for better or worse.

Just prior to my amazing discovery, I was at one of those critical crossroads of hair styles. You know, when you HAVE to do something different or you may end up shaving your head? (At least that's what you threaten... Or that's what I threaten...) I really like having my hair long. It lends itself well to many quick and easy hairstyles. But a ponytail only takes you so far in life. And my hair, ponytail or not, kept getting stuck in/on things or just plain getting in the way. So, I was definitely in the market for something new.

New, this definitely was. You cut the toe off of a sock, roll that sock into a ring, put your hair in a ponytail, slide said ring over pony, and then starting at the ends, roll your hair around the sock until it reaches your head. You can just leave it rolled like that or slide a few bobby pins in, (which I always do--just because it feels more secure).

I am, admittedly, always a little wary of trying hairstyles I find online. What works beautifully for a girl with thick, well-textured hair just never turns out the same on my baby-fine, slightly-less-than-average thickness hair. So, per usual, I was a little wary of this particular tutorial. But, I courageously forged ahead anyway and out came this:

And I loved it. Finally, an easy hair style that gave my hair the illusion of being thick and well-textured! Fancy enough for a night out, but casual enough to toss up so you can go to the grocery store. Another bonus is that this makes for AMAZING second-day hair.

Take THAT, stick-straight hair! (Well, take THAT on a sunny day...because no curl will EVER hold in this hair on a rainy day...)

The moral of this story is: I still don't do Pinterest. And I still don't intend to. But, my hair and I are glad that Jenny does.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take a sock out of my hair.

Power to the Introvert

My second child, Whitney, didn't walk until she was 16 mos. old. She wasn't the tiniest thing--really was probably pretty average--and I was getting REALLY tired of carrying her EVERYWHERE. As a way to encourage her further mobility, I would set her down, on her feet, in the middle of our small family room floor. I figured when she was ready, she would take those 3-4 baby steps to the couch. But, without fail, she chose instead to carefully lower herself to the floor, keeping her balance the entire way down, and then crawl to the destination of her choice. I knew she could walk--she just wouldn't. I was really puzzled by her behavior. But, she finally DID walk--and once she did, she didn't stop. There wasn't any "3 steps here or there" situations...she was a full-on walker.

Fast forward to a few years later. At age 3, (plus a couple of months), I decided it was past time to potty train Whitney. Training pants, candy, and new character panties were purchased; charts were printed and we began the process. And nothing happened. And by that I mean that she just wouldn't do it. I knew that she had the ability--but again, she refused to keep her unders dry. So, I put her back in diapers. And then before too long, she had potty trained herself. There were no night time diapers, no pull-ups when we went to the grocery store, no "oh--you ALMOST made it!" accidents. She was completely potty trained.

Sometime between then and now, Ryan read a book called, "The Introvert Advantage." According to this book, introverts and extroverts have differing patterns and processes of thought. (I'm sure that's a "duh" statement--but the book explains that in greater detail.) Among other ideas, the book explained that extroverts are willing to try out something new and if it doesn't work out--oh well. While introverts won't even attempt a new experience until they are 100% certain that they can be successful. I have known since Whitney was very little that she is an introvert. She recharges her batteries by being alone and closing into her own little world. Suddenly, the light bulb went on. THAT is why she didn't walk until she could do it perfectly! THAT is why she didn't potty train until she was 100% dry! My world, and Whitney's, made a little more sense to me.

Fast forward again to the end of last school year. Whitney had started reading words she saw at the store, on TV, or in other random places. I pulled out our BOB book collections and started having her read to me. We would make it through one book...maybe two...and she'd be done for the day. And after a little while, she refused to read anymore. Again, I KNEW she could do it. She'd already read several books to me! And, she was still reading random words she saw. She would still "read" books--looking only at the pictures--but would absolutely not sound out any more words to me. I tried to encourage her in many different ways, to no avail. She refused. And I stopped bugging her about it.

Yesterday, she came to me and said, "Mom, I want to read the Rainbow Magic Fairy books." When I told her that she would need to read the words rather than the pictures, she agreed. She explained that her friend read those books and, "If Ame can do it, then so can I, Mom!" (Those books have been some of Kallie's favorites, too!) So, I promised Whitney that if she would read the rest of the BOB books we have, I would check out some Rainbow Magic Fairy books from the library for her. Today, Whitney sat down after school and read 8 BOB books to me. In a row. (That's half of the second collection!) After about 4 books, I asked if she was getting tired and wanted to be done. She said, "No way, Mom! I love reading!"

Watching and listening to her read today, I saw those little introvert tendencies popping out. She really doesn't prefer to sound out the words. She'd rather just read it in her head and then say the correct word the first time. But she's reading again. (As a side note, I mentioned this story to Ame's mom this morning. According to her, Ame is still in the very early stages of reading and doesn't really read the Rainbow Magic Fairy books yet. Her mom lets her take them to school to encourage her own reading skills. Shhh! Don't tell Whitney!)

I'm sure we'll encounter many other situations that will challenge Whitney's introvert personality. But, because of her track record, I'm completely convinced that if she's going to take it on, she'll definitely succeed 100%.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego and Mothering

Yesterday, we were reading in Daniel 3 for our girls' Primary scripture reading program. In this chapter, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego refused to worship the king, instead choosing to worship only God. Because of their faithfulness to God, they were cast into a furnace burning so hot that it killed the king's servants who put these three young men into the fire. But they were pulled out of the furnace when the king saw that they were not burning.

Sometimes, it's hard to liken these experiences to myself--because they seem so different from what I'm experiencing. But at this point in my life, verse 28 really struck me:

Then Nebuchadnezzar spake, and said, Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, who hath sent his angel, and delivered his servants that trusted in him, and have changed the king’s word, and yielded their bodies, that they might not serve nor worship any god, except their own God.

I've had a lot of opportunity lately to consider mothering. It seems that in the things I've read and listened to recently, anything about improving my abilities as a mother has stood out. And at that moment, this verse spoke of mothering to me. I likened this scripture to myself:

"...Blessed be the God of [Amanda], who hath sent his angel, and delivered his servant [Amanda] that trusted in him, and have changed [the world's] word, and yielded [her] body, that [she] might not serve or worship any god, except [her] own God."

Since having my fourth child, I have noticed people paying a lot more attention to me and my little brood in public. I see some people mentally count my little chicks, then raise their eyebrows, as we pass them in the store. Some just stare in amazement. One mother, who had 2 very young boys in her cart, passed me while muttering, "And I thought my hands were full..." I can't count how many times I've heard similar phrases when we're out and about! I see these opinions as being "cast into the fire," in a manner of speaking. The comments are generally fine. But sometimes, the comments are meant to be scathing--to burn--to make the point that I haven't chosen to worship the same gods that they have chosen to worship.

But even as they cast me into the "fire" of their opinion, I realize how God protects and helps me in the midst of the fire. If I'm realistic, I have to agree, YES! My hands are full! And then I think, "Isn't it great?! They're full of little people who are interesting and creative and learning and growing. This is what life is about!" That doesn't mean that life with several kids isn't challenging, repetitive, and overwhelming at times. But, I know in the deepest part of me that my husband and I were prompted by God to bring each one of these children into our home.

Trusting in God's plan has meant that I have to let go of some things that prevent me from being a better mother. I have to realign myself and focus on doing and being those things that give me the strength and ability to handle the challenges inherent to having four young children. (I'm not perfect in the process of letting go and realigning--but I'm working on it!) Doing what God has asked of me is one way I choose show that I worship Him. Rufusing to bow to the opinions of the world is another.

Maybe I'm a little presumptuous in connecting myself with those three faithful young men. I certainly hope that I will never have to endure what they experienced. But I do hope as the fires of opinon burn around me that people will also see that the hand of God is what allows me to pass through unscathed.

Letters

It's time, once again, for an installment of letters...
*****

Dear teenagers playing with fireworks next to us on the beach:

Just in case you were wondering, accidents happen. I get that. But, when the exact same thing happens AGAIN, it is no longer an accident. And, as far as fireworks are concerned, all it takes is ONE accident to ruin a life. I wonder how your parents would have felt if they had to replace the BMW SUV they let you borrow for the night because a firework "accidentally" got lodged underneath? Or how they would have reacted if they had to pay for hospital bills for someone hurt because of the way you were playing with fireworks?
Please forgive the tone of my voice that night. I would have preferred to actually walk over and talk to you instead of yelling from where I was standing. I hope you'll understand that I was too busy trying to protect my children and myself from the shrapnel flying from your tipped explosives. If I had to do it over again, I'd be a little more specific than just telling you to "knock it off." Perhaps if I'd been more clear the first time, you wouldn't have had to hear me threaten to call the police after it happened again.
Oh, and remember before I even said a word to you, when your bumper fell off and you drove over it? Yeah. That would have been pretty funny, if I wasn't concerned about you hitting my car, which I happened to be sitting by. Pulling donuts on a beach crowded with people celebrating 4th of July just ISN'T a good idea. And, in answer to the question one of you posed to no one in particular: It always happens to you because you don't think before you act. Obviously.

Sincerely,
Mama Bear
*****

Dear body,

Are you amazed as I am that 3 different people in the past two weeks have thought you didn't look old enough to have 4 kids...or a 7 year old? Must be the new anti-aging stuff I got a month ago.

Sincerely,
Thirty-something
*****

Dear June,

I forgive you for being a little gloomy. After 3 years in WA, we should know that you're just like that.

Sincerely,
Lowered Expectations
*****

Dear July,

It's about time. Thanks for the sunshine!

Sincerely,
Western WA
*****

Dear Deception Pass:

Apparently, walking along your length with a baby strapped to me, a 180 foot drop on one side, and cars whizzing by on the other, while watching my toddler being carried in front of me (at railing height), is a little TOO much for my mother heart to handle. Hopefully, my minor panic attack wasn't too obvious. Thankfully, I could still admire your beauty from the tiny parking lot. You really are incredible.

Sincerely,
Apparently Afraid of Heights
*****

Dear chocolate,

I really wish you got along better with Tanner. I really miss you.

Sincerely,
Intensely Craving

The Purpose of...Katy Perry?

Last week, on the last day of school, Kallie came home bubbling with a million different emotions. School was out, summer was in. Somehow, while we were talking about everything, Kallie said, "I love Katy Perry!" Cue me inwardly freaking out. OK--I may have outwardly freaked out a little too, because instead of being the rational, calm parent that I always am, (um...you can stop laughing now), I immediately launched into a lecture: "No. You don't like her. You don't even know what her music is about! She doesn't dress modestly and she does naughty things!" In spite of my immediate attempt to clean up that disaster by asking questions, Kallie clammed up.

In the moments that have followed that 3-minute experience, I have kicked myself repeatedly, (but gently), for what I consider a parenting FAIL. And I have given a lot of thought to the future of my darling daughter and my family. I feel like I've all of a sudden been dumped into a whole new realm of parenting that I wasn't prepared to enter for at least another 3-5 years. Maybe I'm being a little over-dramatic. But, as one who studied Family Science in college, I feel like I need to try to prepare myself a little more intensely for what is in my parenting future.

So, recently, I've been thinking a lot about how to improve my parenting. Especially as I have found myself, on many occasions, speaking to my kids with more volume and/or less kindness than I would prefer. I have been reminded of the power of scripture study and fervent prayer--how a daily choice to include both in my schedule serves as a balance and support as I move through my day.

Yesterday, while talking with a friend, I shared with her a phrase another friend shared during the Relief Society lesson on Father's Day. She said, "The purpose of the task is to strengthen the relationship." I vaguely remembered hearing some similar ideas, especially in the midst of my college classes, and I thought, "Yeah--I like that." But, after it tumbled around in my brain for the week, it popped back up at just the right time--and it really struck me. I want that to be my parenting focus for now.

(Image from www.beckyhiggins.com)

So, I have decided to print up several copies of this image and hang it all over my house so I (and my family) can see and remember that one of the purposes of life is to cultivate and strengthen good, healthy relationships. Most of all, I hope this phrase and image will serve as a visual reminder of the kind of parent that I want to be, especially as I look ahead to the teenage years.

I guess I'm kind of grateful for Katy Perry after all. (I NEVER thought I would say that!) The mention of her name alone has brought about a change for the better in my life and home and, I hope, in my family.

First Learn Lesson One

Last night for Family Home Evening, Ryan chose "Love at Home" for our opening song. Ryan and I often laugh when our kids complain, "Why do we have to sing that one AGAIN?," and then we answer "First learn Lesson One..." because we remember hearing something similar in a talk once. (Does anyone else remember that talk? Was that in Conference? I can't find it.)

Today, I was on my way home from grocery shopping with three kids. Tanner was crying and Whitney was trying to sing to him. She, interestingly enough, chose "Love at Home." Clayton, being a contrary 2 year old, was yelling at her to stop singing. It was then that I realized she couldn't remember the words and was singing, "There is joy in every sound..." over and over. I laughed at the irony.

But then I had to stop and think for a minute. Here I was, in a confined space and exhausted from grocery shopping at two stores with several kids, listening to a crying baby, a screaming toddler, and a singing 5 year old. I wondered if there really was joy in EVERY sound. And if the person who wrote that song was ever in a similar situation. Because if they had been, the lyrics might "There is joy in most sounds..."

Then I thought that I should find joy in every sound. It means that I HAVE kids. That they have the ability to talk and to listen. That they are developing their own little personalities. That I get to be home with them to hear these funny (although sometimes stressful) situations.

When I started thinking of how to find joy in those sounds, it really helped my deteriorating attitude to perk up a bit. Who knew that even I am still working on learning Lesson One?

Oh, Happy Day

Today has been a really great day.

We started it by taking our kids to participate in a ward service project on the grounds of the Seattle Temple. I'm not sure how much we really helped, especially since I spent a good chunk of time feeding Tanner in the car. But, more important than what we actually did was teaching our kids that's just what we do. I'm so glad we went.

Later in the day, as we were in between a few activities, one of our neighbors showed up, offering to give us a nice, barely used tricycle. Ryan has been her home teacher for a few months now, in spite of the fact that she hasn't attended church since we moved into the ward 2 years ago. Apparently, she's prepping for a garage sale and didn't want an "insulting" offer on the beautiful trike. She said she'd rather give it away to someone who she knew would enjoy it. Clayton has certainly already been enjoying it! He went out to ride it and didn't even want to come in for dinner tonight. I feel like it's such a perfect blessing right now, as I was just starting the process of finding a trike or Big Wheel for Clayton.

Finally, as you can see from the button in my sidebar, my inlaws are currently serving a mission. They were called to the Baltic Mission--which is where I served my mission! I was THRILLED because it meant we could go visit them AND I could finally show Ryan where I served. A few months in, they were reassigned to serve in the Bulgaria, Sofia mission. I was a little bummed, but looked forward to visiting them in yet another part of the world that I hadn't yet seen. Since then, Ryan and I have been talking about the trip we intended to take next summer and wondering if the trip would be worth the money, since Bulgaria really hasn't been on our bucket list. In addition, Carissa's roommate, Hillary, is living in Lithuania this summer. Since I'm reading Hil's blog on a near-daily basis, (and talking to her occasionally when she and Carissa skype), I have been feeling a little homesick for those places that are so close to my heart. So, in skyping with my inlaws tonight, we discussed the option of meeting them in the Baltics at the end of their mission and touring the area together. Of course, we would be going during a less-desirable, (read: colder), time of year--but I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that's really not going to matter. The thought that I may still get to go back to the Baltics makes me so happy!

For all of the craziness of today, (grumpy kids, almost being rear-ended, lots of errands), these few small events sure made it a great day!

Dreams

Most young girls spend at least a little time dreaming about their future. They think about how it will all come together, who they will marry, and what kind of life they want to build. I was no different.

Because of these dreams, I had certain hopes and expectations that I carried with me through my dating years. As I spent time with different people, I put mental check marks next to those dreams. And with every person I dated, I felt I would have to sacrifice some (or many) of them if the relationship were to continue. In a few instances, I convinced myself that I'd be OK with that. After all, I'd been told my entire life that I'd never find EVERYTHING I wanted. I started to believe that.

Until I met Ryan.

From the very beginning of our relationship, those dreams fell into place between us like tumblers to a key that unlocked my future. Within two weeks after our first date, (Nov. 21, 2003--which has a story of its own!), I was pretty sure that this was IT. Around this time, we had a quiet conversation by the light of the Christmas tree in which we discussed where this relationship was going. While we didn't say the word "marriage," we did admit, in vague (safe) terms, that we both felt that this relationship was more "long-term."

When Ryan went home to Seattle for Christmas, his absence confirmed that "pretty sure" feeling into an "I KNOW" feeling. I remember telling him, as we talked on the phone Christmas night, that life was just better with him than without him. I didn't want to be separated from him ever again! I also remember saying, "Next time you go to Seattle, I am coming with you." And he agreed. During that same conversation, (which was a couple of hours long, if I remember correctly), we talked about getting married. To each other.

We were engaged a month later.

After a four month engagement, we were married on May 22, 2004 in the Mt. Timpanogos temple. Today is our 8th Anniversary. I've said this a million times before and I'm sure this isn't the last time I'll say it: When we got married, I knew I was getting a good guy. What I didn't know was just how good he was!

During our life together, Ryan has shown me again and again what a lucky woman I am to have him. During our sealing, our sealer counseled me to brag about my husband. And, really, Ryan makes it easy to do that! He will happily do anything that needs doing, from changing a diaper to major home improvement projects. He is my calm and steady when I'm anything but. As cliche as it sounds, he really is my best friend. I know that I can trust him with my heart and he will keep it safe. How this incredible man ended up choosing ME remains a mystery to me.

After 8 years, life continues to be better with Ryan than without him. Even in my most hopeful young girl dreams, I could not have imagined a more amazing man or a more beautiful life than the one we have built together. I am so glad he's mine!

Happy Anniversary, Ryan!

Today

Today I am:

Tired. Not because my baby was up, but because my Pick-a-Littles came over last night. Almost 2 years after the play and we're still going strong! Love those ladies.

Grateful that Tanner wasn't hurt when the cart he was in, (which I checked to make sure it wouldn't move), rolled out into the parking lot at Target.

Pondering the merits of chopping 4-6 inches off my hair. I like it long, but today it has been in my way much more than I would prefer.

Proud of Whitney for catching on so well to reading. I'm slightly disappointed that I haven't worked with her much before now. But I'm thrilled at how quickly she has caught on to the concepts.

Surprised at my reaction when Tiny T got his 2 month shots today. With my other kids, I've been fine. This time, I wanted to cry with him.

Amazed by my husband. Because of his hard work and talents, the dining room remodel is DONE. It looks incredible.

Delighted by my sweet 2 year old. He is so loving, so cute, and so sweet. I love his phraseology and his joy for life.

Excited to go hiking as a fmaily tomorrow. There are so many near-by places that we have yet to explore!

Happy to have my sister living with us for the summer. I'm so glad her internship worked out!

Content. Need I say more?

The Arrival

Now that our little one is almost a month old, I decided that it's finally time to post the story. I'm not quite sure where to start...so I'll start where the last post left off.

The two weeks between my last post and my ultrasound were fairly uneventful. My bile acids were steadily declining and, as of Tuesday, March 13, I was completely ready and willing to wait until March 24 for deliver. That same Tuesday, I had my blood work done again and was a bit anxious to know the results.

Friday, March 16, I had my ultrasound--everything looked great. I asked if the cord was wrapped around the baby, as I was concerned this was the case, due to one deceleration during an NST a week and a half prior. The radiologist assured me that the baby was not tangled in the cord. I was relieved to hear this. Later that afternoon, I called my dr's office to find out what the results of my blood work were. My bile acids were at 50--which was both higher than the week prior (33) and above the "dangerous to the baby" threshold (40). At that time, I realized this baby was most likely coming on Sunday, March 18.

Because I was pretty sure the baby was coming sooner than anticipated, we spent our Saturday reorganizing our bedroom, cleaning the house, and finishing up the necessary preparations before the baby came. Babysitters had been arranged for my NST the next morning and I went to bed feeling like this baby could come now.

Sunday morning, at 5 a.m., Kallie threw up. Lovely. I was a bit stressed about this turn of events, but I think I've come to terms with the fact that someone always gets sick when we have plans. It just seems like that's how things go. I couldn't send her off to church with a babysitter when she was sick, so she came to the hospital with us that morning for the NST. I sat in the bed while she curled up in a chair, face covered with a mask, and slept.

The NST went well, but knowing my bile acids were up, my dr. gave me a couple of options. We could bring the baby on Sunday afternoon or we could wait until Saturday, (when he was back in town), but I would have to come in every day for an NST. Knowing that my bile acids would probably continue to rise, knowing that I'd have to take 3 hours out of my day every day for an NST, knowing that I'd have to find babysitters for those 3 hours every day, knowing that my Dr. would be out of town and unable to deliver if any of my NSTs didn't go well...I didn't hesistate to decide that Sunday was the day.

At that point, it was about 10:30. My Dr. wanted us back to prep for surgery by about 12:30. We came home as fast as we could, I was texting people at church the whole time, trying to arrange for the babysitters to drop our kids off at home and for someone to be at our house so soon after church. (I will just say here that I am SO grateful for good friends who are so willing to help us out!)  I had packed most of my things the night before, but needed to gather the final things--like toiletries, nursing pillow, etc. By noon, Kallie was sleeping in her bedroom and we were ready to go. We left her with a phone and a list of phone numbers if the babysitter hadn't arrived in about 15-20 minutes.

We headed out to the car--and as soon as we got in, both Ryan and I mentioned giving me a blessing. This was so important to both of us. We went back in the house and he gave me a wonderful blessing. I don't remember the exact words or phrasing, but I was assured in word and feeling that the baby was going to be fine and that my surgery would go well. I was definitely nervous as we headed out, but so grateful that Heavenly Father has given His power to righteous men--and that my husband holds that power to bless our family.

When we got to the hospital, they did all the pre-surgery prep. I had 2 bags of IV fluids, (which were cold!), while I sat under a "Bair Hug" blanket. (It's basically a paper blanket they attach a hose to and blow warm air into. It was so warm and wonderful!) They had me drink an acid neutralizer for my stomach--which I've had (and hated) every time. I don't know how it's supposed to neutralize acid, because it tastes way more acidic than my tummy feels! (Plus, they gave me Pepcid in my IV this time, so why I needed another acid reducer/controller, I have no idea.) I warned them that I ALWAYS throw up during the surgery, (and the first two times, I threw up until the spinal wore off), but last time, the anesthesiologist put a motion sickness patch on as soon as I was nauseated and I didn't throw up again. So, they put a motion sickness patch on me right then. By about 2:30, meds were all administered, paperwork was filled out, signatures had been obtained...and we headed in to the operating room.

Once I got in there, the anesthesiologist administered my spinal. I felt more than I remember feeling in other c-secs as she was putting it in. But even then, it wasn't worse than a pinch. The warm feeling started spreading from my toes and pretty soon, that familiar "my legs feel like ham hocks" feeling set in. Within a few minutes, preparations were over and it was time to begin the surgery. This time, unlike previous times, I could see a reflection of my abdomen in the surgical lights above the table. Most of the time, I turned my head toward Ryan so I didn't have to see the surgery, but I did look a few times, (mainly when they were pulling the baby out and when they were finishing stitching me up). I found it very interesting and not gross at all! (Of course, you have to remember that I once intended to become a nurse.)

Tanner Elijah arrived at 2:53 p.m. on March 18.

He started crying as soon as he was born, but because of my excess fluid and because he was an early c-sec baby, he had a bit of fluid in his lungs. I could hear it bubbling as he cried. After about a minute or two, he wasn't crying anymore. This isn't all that abnormal, so I wasn't too worried until the anesthesiologist explained to me that they were just giving my baby a little bit of help so he could transistion. That's when I looked over to the warmer and saw that they had a CPAP on my tiny boy--and he was still purple. They were also suctioning his mouth occasionally. I started praying for him (silently and through a few tears), and remembered the blessing that I was given only a few hours earlier. He was going to be just fine--that was SUCH a comfort to me at this point! After another couple of minutes, he was pinking up and breathing on his own. And it was then (after the worst was over) that they finally were able to weigh and measure him.

He weighed 6 lbs. 3 oz. and was 18 1/4 inches long. He now holds the distinction of smallest baby in our family. (Just for the sake of comparison, Clayton was born at the same gestational age as Tanner...and Clayton holds the distinction of largest baby in our family.)

I don't remember a whole lot that happened after that or in what order. In spite of the motion sickness patch, as they were closing me back up, I threw up. I'm pretty sure all that was in my stomach was that awful acid neutralizer. Next time, I'm going to see if they'll let me skip it. As they were finishing up the surgery, the nurse mentioned that APGARs had been 3, 4, then 7. Yikes. I'm glad he finally caught on to the breathing thing. It was also during the final part of my surgery that my Dr. told me Tanner was completely tangled in the cord. It was wrapped around his neck, body, and legs. He said it was a good thing we'd delivered on Sunday--because had something happened to the baby before Saturday, we wouldn't have known if it was a cord accident or because of my cholestasis.

I'm not sure when they took Tanner to the NICU, but Ryan went with him. (I'm sure Ryan can fill in these details.) They finished the surgery, then took me back to my labor and delivery room for post-surgery monitoring. Ryan joined me there after Tanner was settled in the NICU and we made phone calls to let our family members know that he was here. After a bit longer, they moved me to a mother baby room for the rest of my stay.

I worked really hard to wiggle my toes/legs as soon as I could because I wanted to go to the NICU to see my baby. Within a few hours, although my legs were still tingly, I could move them. The nurses were great and brought a wheelchair as soon as I asked to see Tanner. This is when I finally got to hold Tanner and try nursing him for the first time. He did a pretty good job and was really getting the hang of it!  I'll just add here that because Tanner was "late pre-term" (meaning he was born prior to 37 weeks), there were all sorts of instructions about feeding him. I had to try to nurse him, supplement with formula, (he was supposed to eat a certain amount), and then I was supposed to pump. I spent a lot of time just dealing with all of the feeding "requirements" in the hospital!

Because of Tanner's breathing issues at birth, I thought he'd probably be in the NICU for longer than the mandatory 6-hour observation for pre-term babies. I was actually quite pleasantly surprised when they brought Tanner to me as soon as that observation had ended. It was so nice to have my perfect, tiny boy in my room with me. I didn't want to let him out of my sight again!

The last 4 weeks have passed in a whirlwind. The day after I came home from the hospital,Ryan and I came down with that sickness Kallie had. (Thank goodness we didn't throw up--just had a cough and felt HORRIBLE.) Clayton came down with it that night, and Whitney came down with it about a week later. I was so concerned about my tiny newborn getting it, too! None of the kids were allowed to touch Tanner or even get near him until I was certain that they were no longer sick. In fact, Kallie just got to really hold him a couple of days ago!

We love our Baby Tanner. He is so sweet. Clayton can't keep his hands off his brother--he's always touching, patting, kissing, etc. And, at first, every time Clayton saw Tanner, he would say, "Baby Nanner SOOOO tute!" It was so cute to hear and see! We just can't get enough of this tiny little boy and are so glad he (safely) joined our family!