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Welcome to the World, Wesley

SkyMommy-Wesley-Yawn

This picture perfectly describes how we all feel in this house right now. Not at all surprising of course.

That being said, this will be the short version of things. I’m working on the full birth story but it’s really hard to pull myself away from staring at his perfect little face long enough. That, or I’m trying to catch a moment or two of sleep or maybe shower. Maybe. Anyway, here are the important details.

Wesley made his entrance into the world on Easter Sunday, 03-31-13. He weighed 8 pounds 1 ounce (which is only one once off from the weight estimate on the BPP ultrasound. How often does that happen?!) and he was 21 inches long.

His birth was positively beautiful. It really was everything I hoped it would be. I owe so much of that to my amazing support team. Everyone from the nurse, to my midwife, to my mom and sisters played their part and helped me through everything. Mostly though Joel was my rock. He was by my side literally every minute of my labor and I could not have done it without him. With all their help and thanks to my body somehow knowing exactly what to do and when to do it I got an empowering, natural birth. The moment I met my son will forever be one of the best moments of my life.

We are home now and adjusting nicely. Wesley is a champion at nursing. I really expected it to be difficult and painful at the beginning but he knew just what to do and I have to say breastfeeding is one of my favorite things I’ve ever done in my life. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of sleep but duh, I wouldn’t have expected him to. Joel is great at taking shifts so we both catch some sleep in spurts.

All in all I’m in state of complete newborn bliss. You’ll have to forgive me from slacking online for a bit. I’m just trying to soak up every second with my gorgeous new son.

Welcome to the World, Wesley

SkyMommy-Wesley-Yawn

This picture perfectly describes how we all feel in this house right now. Not at all surprising of course.

That being said, this will be the short version of things. I’m working on the full birth story but it’s really hard to pull myself away from staring at his perfect little face long enough. That, or I’m trying to catch a moment or two of sleep or maybe shower. Maybe. Anyway, here are the important details.

Wesley made his entrance into the world on Easter Sunday, 03-31-13. He weighed 8 pounds 1 ounce (which is only one once off from the weight estimate on the BPP ultrasound. How often does that happen?!) and he was 21 inches long.

His birth was positively beautiful. It really was everything I hoped it would be. I owe so much of that to my amazing support team. Everyone from the nurse, to my midwife, to my mom and sisters played their part and helped me through everything. Mostly though Joel was my rock. He was by my side literally every minute of my labor and I could not have done it without him. With all their help and thanks to my body somehow knowing exactly what to do and when to do it I got an empowering, natural birth. The moment I met my son will forever be one of the best moments of my life.

We are home now and adjusting nicely. Wesley is a champion at nursing. I really expected it to be difficult and painful at the beginning but he knew just what to do and I have to say breastfeeding is one of my favorite things I’ve ever done in my life. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of sleep but duh, I wouldn’t have expected him to. Joel is great at taking shifts so we both catch some sleep in spurts.

All in all I’m in state of complete newborn bliss. You’ll have to forgive me from slacking online for a bit. I’m just trying to soak up every second with my gorgeous new son.

Two birthdays

This past Wednesday my nephew turned 1.

Today my dad turned 74.

Seventy. Four.

In celebration of both their birthdays we all met downtown at Lincoln Park Zoo.

   

We ate lunch, saw animals, acted like animals…

 

turned into super heroes….

And basked in the glory of the brisk spring weather and each others company.

My dad’s birthdays are always kind of hard on me mentally, especially since he had his stroke last year. I love him so incredibly much and it’s hard for me to accept the fact that he’s getting older. It’s hard for me to not view each birthday as one step closer to losing him.

I hate that those thoughts creep in. Birthdays are supposed to be happy. They are supposed to be a celebration of life. It’s easy to celebrate life when that life is so fresh. My nephew is such a sharp contrast, just turning one. He has so much life ahead of him and it’s exciting to imagine what it will be like.

It’s harder to purely celebrate when you know the life has more years behind it than in front. I don’t want to think like that but it hangs over me like a shadow.

Today, instead of letting those thoughts consume me, I fought to stay in the moment. Because today had so many special moments. Maybe made even more special because of the bitter-sweetness in them.

I will not let the fear of the future spoil the potential happiness I have today. Today I celebrate my dad. My funny, stubborn, loving, outgoing, wonderful dad.

Six years

Six years.

Wow.

That’s how long Joel and I have been married, as of today.

If our marriage was a human it would be getting ready to go to first grade this fall.

It’s amazing to me how much we’ve done and seen and grown in those years.

We’ve moved five times. We’ve both changed jobs more than once. We’ve visited five continents together. We adopted and have raised a pretty freaking awesome little dog who just turned three. We’ve driven from one end of the country to the other. We’ve visited twenty seven of the fifty states together.

We’ve fought and yelled and cried. We’ve very nearly called it quits. More than once. We’ve gone through the utter elation of expectant parenthood only to be crushed by losing the pregnancy.

I’m so glad we fought for our marriage and made it through the dark times though because they made us so much stronger.

Far outnumbering the downs there have been so many more times that we’ve joked and been silly and laughed till our stomachs hurt and tears were running down our faces.

I can be completely and totally myself around him. Whether myself at the time means talking in crazy cartoon voices at the dog, being a raging lunatic who needs chocolate right this second, or just really wanting to cuddle, he takes it in stride.

I have never known anyone so well.  In the car today all he had to say was “Is this going to be like the time when…” and I could already say yes because I knew the end of the question. Yep, we have officially turned into that annoying couple that finishes each others sentences.

He is truly my best friend. He is an amazing lover. He is brilliant and creative. Every time I see him around kids I can see what an incredible daddy he will be someday. He treats me like a queen and rarely asks for anything in return.

I am not the same person I was when I said I do six years ago. Joel is very different as well. The best part of marriage is making that journey to a new a better version of yourself with someone you love at your side. Life is one big adventure and I couldn’t have picked a better companion to share the journey with me.

Six years down and I look forward to at least sixty six more.

Thank you

It has been four weeks since we saw nothing on the ultrasound.

Three weeks since it was confirmed that the pregnancy was not viable.

Two weeks since my D&C.

In that time I have received a lifetime’s worth of love from each and every one of you. It has taken me so long to write this because I don’t know how to do justice to how much your words have meant to me over the last month. Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.

Every tweet, every comment, every email, every phone call, every kind word was like a hug. Each word was like air when I was drowning in pain.

I cannot express how much it all meant to me. Still means to me. My words are not enough to express how incredibly grateful I am to each and every one of you. I wish I could personally hug each of you.

At a time when I felt so utterly lost and alone and honestly wondered if I would ever find any light or any happiness ever again you all sent me that love and light through your words. Without you all I have no idea where I would be. Probably still drowning in despair. Instead I am healing and each one of you deserves some credit for that.

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

I often find it easier to communicate through music. I listened to this song on repeat during this whole process. I first heard it on Weeds, and apparently that’s all Youtube knows it from also. Ignore the background, it’s about the words.

We’re expecting!

and we’re beyond thrilled.

Fuckin Perfect

I know when most people post music videos on their blogs I scan the post and move on. Songs never speak the same way to everyone. I don’t necessarily expect you to do any different.

That being said, this song touches me in a way I can’t really explain. The lyrics are incredible and the actual music video is moving as well. If you’re so inclined, listen to this song. Really listen. Maybe it will speak to you too.

Be warned, this is not the radio edit of the song. But, as my friend Kris says, explicit words are sometimes required.

Orange Roses

Joel and I have been having a hard time lately. I’m working so much more than we were used to. My job is really important to me and I want to do it well. I just wish my marriage wasn’t suffering as a result.

I was worried that Joel had lost interest in me completely until I came home to this.

The orange rose has mainly come to be regarded as the symbol for desire, enthusiasm and passion. Being a literal mixture of the colors yellow and red, orange roses [are] often seen as a bridge between the feelings of friendship symbolized by yellow roses, and love associated with red roses. – ProFlowers.com

He even told me the reason he picked orange flowers. He said we’ve had the perfect balance of love and friendship and he thinks we can get it back again.

Just the right amount of cheese.

I love him.

Marital duties

I grew up in a household of eight. Eight. Do you even have any idea how many dishes eight people produce? Especially considering the fact that it was almost never just the eight of us. My siblings and I always had friends over so a dinner on any given evening could easily have a dozen people or more.

That makes for a lot of dirty dishes. In case you were wondering.

I hate doing the dishes for this reason. I had done more dishes by the time I turned 18 than some people do their entire lives.

Or at least it felt that way. I’m not a drama queen. Shut up.

When I was growing up I used to babysit for a family with three adorable kids. Their mom was young and became quite a good friend. I spent a lot of time with her. One thing she told me was when her and her husband got married they made a deal, she’d do the laundry if he’d do the dishes.

Even at 13 this plan seemed brilliant. I knew I would employee this whenever I finally got married myself. They were such an adorable happy couple* and my friend? Never had to do the dishes. Ever.

Brilliant.

When Joel and I were talking about getting married I pitched him on this plan. He did not seem convinced. Always having to do the dishes? Always? Just in exchange for laundry? Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone for it either.

So I upped the ante. “How about,” I said “I do all the housework. I’ll cook, clean, do laundry, everything. As long as I never have to do the dishes.”

He was sold.

That plan lasted a really long time. And by really long time I mean it lasted until the first time we had guest coming in ZOMGthey’llbehereintwentyminutesandthishouseissomessy!!!1!! and I politely asked made him help me clean the house.

I still did the laundry though. Eventually the deal became what I offered originally. Dishes are Joel’s chore and laundry is mine. This may or may not be partially because I am obsessive compulsive a little picky about how my clothes are washed. Also? Joel did manage to destroy several of my shirts in one load the first time I let him help me with the laundry. He says it wasn’t on purpose… but he almost never does the laundry anymore either. So I’ll let you be the judge.

Anyway, this weekend Joel was in Memphis at a conference. Luckily(?) I had the plague and basically didn’t eat** for two of the four days he was gone. I did have cereal Sunday morning and ate some dinner and things though.

Today I realized Joel was going to be home soon and, even though “his” job is the dishes, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count when he hasn’t contributed to them in four days. So, I did the dishes this evening before Joel got back because I am a fabulous wife like that.

Side note: Did you know that milk, when left a day and a half in a bowl in the sink smells and looks just like yogurt? Gah! No wonder he gets annoyed when I don’t rinse it out in the morning.

There weren’t that many and it wasn’t a huge deal. But I was reminded today how much I appreciate having a husband that doesn’t mind doing the dishes all the time. There were a million other little things I missed about him while he was gone this weekend too. But the dishes were a big one.

I’m so happy he’s home.

*They did later get divorced. So maybe not the best marriage role models. At least their dishes plan worked out.

**I weighed myself Sunday after two days of hell. I lost 8 pounds. In two days. Yeah. I wasn’t kidding about feeling like I was dying.

So thankful

For my wonderful family.

For sisters who look like me.

For cousins and nephews and their cheesy smiles.

For future nieces or nephews.

For football and snuggles.

For time spent laughing and talking around the dinner table long after the food is gone.

For puppies that love attention.

For the one I adore and for being adored in return.

And for a million other things….

It was a wonderful Thanksgiving full of delicious food and quality time with so many that I love. Those that weren’t there were thought of and missed. I’m so lucky for everyone and everything in my life.

Hoping every one of you were surrounded by love and warmth on this holiday.

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