Little Adventures

We have a little "nature trail" in the midst of the cluster of apartments we live in. It's a winding sidewalk behind all the buildings, with some desert landscape and a couple of greenbelts and a cool tunnel under the major road near us for added excitement. It's a good little walk, not to far but just hilly and windy and mysterious enough to be an adventure for a 4 year old! Today as a bit of a sprinkle rolled in we took advantage of the slight cool (it's been unseasonably warm, 97 degree! YIKES.) and walked the trail.
We saw: 4 rabbits, a half dozen quail, a whole mess of birds, a couple of dogs, identified creosote and palo verde, got sprinkled on, and enjoyed our stroll!

Our life in cell phone photos...

I have come to grips with the fact that this blog is really a place for my mother, my in-laws and a few friends to come and see pictures of my babies...and periodically be amused by my rantings. I'm okay with that. SO that said...Mom, Cici and Pop, Lisa, Rach, and the rest? Here's what we've been up too!











We've been:
-eating food like we're people and getting 2 new teeth to help us enjoy our cheese love!
-enjoying the view from on top of Nana's apartment complex garage
-taking brother baths and loving it
-Nighttime park adventures with Mama's small group
-making our own IronMan costume
-Lunch with Grandpa at the Tempe Town Lake
-playing the "ukelady"

Slowly but surely our average temperature drops down to 70 and we get to spend more time out and about (especially at our park across the street!)The squids and I couldn't be more delighted that fall has arrived!

Lil' Crunch

About 2 months ago I had my gallbladder out. If you are friends with me on the Facebook, you'll know that I had been having gallbladder attacks since my 2nd trimester while pregnant with Z. It was miserable. After trying to control the attacks with diet change and pain killers I threw in the towel and went under the tiny knife for removal. It was a basic easy procedure and now I don't have crippling attacks of pain from out of nowhere (though I still can't eat french fries or pizza).
I begin this way so you understand why my milk production has decreased for Z. Not dramatically, but enough that I started him on solid foods a fair piece earlier than his older brother. Z was thrilled about that, he'd been eyeing my plate and grabbing for sushi and green chili since month 3. Weirdo. He took to solids well and really wanted to bypass the standard baby food route and eat real people food. I was not thrilled with this as, at 5 months old, the child didn't really have the wherewithal to chew. Leading to a lot of fishing things out of his mouth and his wailing in rage.
Fastforward 2 months and we're at good place with it. Z eats various purees spread on homemade baby toast sticks, and little Gerber fruit puffs, and banana bites and yogurt melts and "Gerber Graduate's lil' crunchies" ...and it is here we reach the meat of the entry.
I hate the word lil'. I loathe it. If it were on fire and I had spit in my mouth, I'd swallow the spit. It is a cheese grater to my brain.
But guys...guys...these things? These odd puffed corn treats coated in vegetable powder? Sister Mercy. They are delicious. Z likes them well enough, he'll eat half a serving in a sitting, but I could put away half a can if I didn't display some effing self control. These things are better than Cheetos (which I also can't eat anymore) they are super astoudingly tasty.
And so I have a quandary. Do I keep buying the (clearly) cocaine coated "lil" crunchies the name of which is repugnant? Or do I stand my ground on the issue of "lil" and vote with my wallet.
RENAME THE CRUNCHIES GERBER! I WANT TO CONSUME THEM WITHOUT CRINGING!


ps I mean clearly I shouldn't be inhaling my infants snack treats...are there adult versions of these? I gotta get off the junk.

All Good and Perfect Gifts...Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

Nothing was happening. And I mean nothing.
Baby still wasn't moving, his heart rate kept decreasing with contractions (not alarmingly like Colin had but enough for concern) I hadn't gone past a 4 in 5 hours of strong regular contractions.
My lovely OB came in. "I know what you want, I am with you, but just in case let me see when the OR is open, I want to be ready just in case."
Surprisingly, this didn't make me defensive, or angry or panicked. I just said "all right. Let us know."
Luke looked at me with surprise. I had fought tooth and nail for a VBAC and now I was rolling over and accepting the possibility for a c-section. Dr. D left the room and I turned to my husband, I held his hand, he stroked my cheek. He kissed my head.
Dr. D came back in, we all looked at one another. "Well there is an open OR in 15 minutes or there is one available at 3 this afternoon. I can go back and reserve the room at 3 so we can do this the way you want!" She sort of trailed off and looked at me. I looked at Luke.
"No, let's go in 15 minutes, this is not going to happen the way I wanted."
It was like I wasn't even talking, I felt totally peaceful, totally at ease with giving up my dream scenario.
Dr. D let out a wooshing breath "oh thank goodness, I wanted to go in now, I just have a feeling we are going to need to be there."
Luke squeezed my hand "me too, lets do this."
Somehow without saying anything to one another we all had agreed that a c-section was our best option.
I called my mom and let her know to head down to the hospital. (It was her birthday!) She would get there in time for me to be out of surgery.
Going into the OR was a totally different experience this time.
I joked with the orderlies and nurses as they got me ready. Dr. D and the nurses and doctors talked about the Superbowl party she had that last weekend, with Luke asking about the food. My anesthesiologist went out of his way to make me comfortable, explaining to me why it was so bloody cold in there, and giving me focusing techniques for when they started.
"Let's start the clock!" Dr. D said brightly.
On the wall a digital clock started a countdown.
I felt nothing as she began the incisions, I was a little anxious but Luke was whispering to me and making me smile.
And all of a sudden, we were the only two people talking.

"Oh my God, her uterus ruptured." there was real fear in my doctor's voice. Flat out bone chilling fear. My heart stopped.

Everything began to move at an incredibly rapid pace.
I knew the score, if my uterus had ruptured the wrong way I could be bleeding out right now, depending on when it had happened the baby could have breached the uterine wall and could be dead.
I was trying to keep it together, I didn't want to be put under like last time but I was crying as the incredible pressure of getting the baby out descended on my abdomen. I could barely breathe.
Luke and the anesthesiologist were talking softly to me, trying to keep me calm and focused. Luke kept rubbing my temples, I could barely hear him but I am almost certain he was praying. The anesthesiologist made me keep telling him how i was feeling, what I needed, he would tell me the time periodically.

After what seemed like hours, but was mere moments in reality, I heard the shout. I heard him yell to the heavens, angry to be out. I grinned, I knew that whatever happened next, my son was here and whole and with us. I couldn't see him, I certainly couldn't hold him, but a great wave of love and relief washed over me. I felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude and blazing love for this tiny soul who had sent me a message: "Mama, come and get me, come and get me now"

I endured the wait while they sewed me back together. I barely remember what happened. The medicine they had used to stop contractions made me shake, I was cold. I was alive. Baby was alive. We were together. That's all that mattered.

Slowly we made our way back to the room, I tried to nurse and surprisingly got a latch, though nothing came out, not even colostrum. The toll of a stressful birth is the delay of your milk coming in. So once again, my kids first meal outside my body was formula. His dad got to feed him. And I was just fine with that.

My milk came in finally at the end of my long hospital stay. I had a blood transfusion, it took me a while to come back to myself. But 6 days after we went in, we got ready to leave. Our little family was complete.

Later, on the day Z was born, when my doctor came in to see me, we learned that after Dr. D had gotten through the layers of muscle and fat, Ezekiel's hand and arm were reaching up and out of the reopened scar of my first c-section. He had totally breached the wall of the uterus, the old scar had undergone a catastrophic dehiscence and he was making his escape. We joked about our "teeny Houdini", and tried to keep the mood light, I had lost less blood with a complete uterine rupture than another woman had in a regular c-section down the hall! Then Dr. D looked at me, any trace of joking gone from her face "when i saw his little hand sticking out, that's when I started to pray. I am so glad you're both here and you're both fine."

Writing about the birth of my second, and last, baby was a long process. It took me 6 months to work through my emotions. So much could have gone wrong, so much could have gone horribly wrong and when I thought about it, it made me broke out in a cold sweat. And still I felt guilty about "giving in" to another c-section. The natural birthing community I feel so strongly attached to (despite my "unnatural" births) feels that my c-sections were mistakes, were part of a medical community that views laboring mothers as paychecks that take to long to finish, that given the right conditions, if I had just stood up for myself I could have had the labor and delivery I dreamed of. And yet both c-sections saved my life, saved my babies lives.
I felt very conflicted about this.
And after 6 months of praying, of processing, I came to the conclusion that I shared at the beginning of my story. That we feel so out of control, our only natural impulse is to control everything we can. And yet, and yet, it is only in letting go of everything, in giving up any and all little bits of control, whatever shape that release may take, it is only then that there is enough room for that huge love to take over. To overwhelm us. To set us blazing with love for that new soul just arrived.

I titled this "All good and perfect gifts..." because I know without a doubt that is was God who helped me arrive at the place of peace. That it was God who stretched me bigger than myself and helped me let go of the control. It was God that had His hand in the final outcome and the outcome was so perfect, so good, such a blessing. I thank my God for that incredible gift.

that time of year...

We are a couple of months away from my favorite short lived season (at least here in AZ) - FALL! Glorious fall! The perfect weather lasts for all of a month or so and then it gets cold. But while it's here, oh marvelous time of year!
This year fall is going to be a little different as I am beginning to homeschool Colin. It's just preschool, he'll be joining the rank and file of public school kindergarteners next year, but he is terrifically excited and I am overwhelmed! In keeping with my fairly laid back parenting style, I asked him if there were specific things he wanted to "study" at "school" and in keeping with his interests of late he responded: "dinosaurs, robots, superheros, and making sheens (machines)" Who can argue with that?! So I have found enough curriculum with those themes in mind (and others!) to fill 3 months! whew!
It will mostly be doing art and reading books, much like we do now, but with a little more rigid schedule...more than reading, more than counting by 5's, more than any of that, I'd like my ball of energy to be able to sit still and listen for 10 minutes! This will be the biggest hurdle of all!
Do you have fond memories of autumn?

August 2011...morning.

Colin Jacob is almost 4 and a half. He is smart and funny and filled with life. He loves any movie about superheros. He builds amazing creations out of legos and string and bits and bobs (just like his father). He slept the whole night last night in underwear and stayed totally dry. He loves the water but cannot yet swim. I call him Bubs, and Buddy B and Birdie, my little bird. He eats only certain foods: miso soup with tofu and rice, peanut butter and honey sandwhiches, cereal. He loves his baby brother and will bring him toys to play with if he is crying, will bring me diapers when I need them, will kiss him and whisper: "I gotcha, I gotcha". He will not drink milk unless it has been laced with chocolate. He can count to 20 and recognize the letters of his name. He sings songs about God that make my heart soar. He is, in a word, marvelous.


Ezekiel Ryan is less easy now that he can army crawl and wants to eat everything he sees on the ground. We contain him for short bursts in this brightly colored plastic monstrosity that he loves and so we give it a place of honor in the middle of the living room. He loves avocado but not enough to stop nursing all the time. I call him baby, and Z and Tiny and Buggy, my little bug. He babbles and coos to himself non-stop, including the early "mamamamaaa" that makes my heart smile, though I know it is just noise. Precious noise. He loves chewing on fabric, we put him to bed and he curls around his blanket, wrapping his thumb in the cloth and sucking. e put him to bed awake and 7 minutes later he is asleep, my mind reels that it is that easy. He adores his big brother, giggles and grins whenever Colin comes in his line of vision. He is, in a word, lovely.


I am, in a phrase, the luckiest.

2 months

I will take this shot every month for as long as he will let me...he is my last baby after all!

1 month...

i will take one of these on this couch every month as long as he will let me...what can i say? he's my last baby




eyes? still blue. babylove? still gorgeous.


and lest he feel left out, who could forget my beautiful big boy?


Colin is adjusting well. He is a marvelous helper and loves showing off "his baby"

Tiny Z

Ezekiel Ryan Taylor
born February 7th, 2011 at 7 in the morning
8 lbs. 9 oz.

champ sleeper
netted me another emergency C-section
growing like a weed
beloved by all

hi...I had a whole baby and everything

squirt sleeping in the Moby wrap, via webcam


we named him Ezekiel Ryan Taylor. He was 8 pounds, 9 ounces, and was the source of my second emergency c=section...more soon, including pictures...still exhausted 2 and a half weeks later...

9 months

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Monday, January 24th. 7:00 PM

Even I am sick of myself these days. I told my husband that I am not thrilled with how I react to being incessantly uncomfortable, nor proud. He however lavishes me with compliments; "you're so lovely" this, "you're doing such an amazing job" that. He's a trooper, and I adore him. I can't imagine having babies with anyone else.


Colin has embraced the concept of "baby" fully. Yesterday as we sat on the couch, he leaned over and said "what is my baby doing?" I told him to ask the baby through the microphone (my belly button) and he leaned over and said "what you doing in there baby brudder?" It was so adorable that my head exploded.


Colin has also started karate. This was our bid to burn some energy and to do something special for just him. He seems to like it and I like the fact that it's on our cute little Main Street about 5 minutes from our house. The school is run by an awesome family and they are so patient with the little guys. I have yet to attend a full class with him but tomorrow we give it a go. Thank goodness for Nana!


Babylove is still growing. Firmly entrenched. Head down, 1 cm dilated, soft and thin. All that. I am a slow laborer and so the last few weeks of my pregnancies are really rough. This time around I have my eyes focused on the prize, a no pitocin induced, no c-section delivery. I have been having contractions off and on regularly for the last few weeks, just like last time. And terrible terrible insomnia, just like last time. Non-stop heartburn, just like last time. New this time? Incredibly debilitating back pain (attempted to control with Tylenol to no avail), much MUCH stronger contractions off and on throughout the day (last time it was more like Braxton Hicks with only some of the contractions being "real"), I have begun losing my mucus plug little bit by little bit (yay! finally something like a normal pregnancy! I didn't experience any of it last time!) and a three year old with boundless energy. On Wednesday we are going in so my OB can strip my membranes, just to see if we can get things moving along. I am glad for that, her non-medicated approach. I am also trying some "old fashioned" ways of getting things moving so we'll see what works!

With any luck this time next week I will be holding a tiny bundle. But if not, another picture will be forthcoming. I will attempt not to flip off the camera.

Song and Dance

inspired by the lovely news that I am 1 cm dilated and that my OB thinks I may in fact deliver a little early (in the next week!) I have been hard at work compiling my labor and delivery playlists

One of the myriad odd things I did to earn money in college (build sets for an opera, work the morning shift at a bakery, wrote grants for small non-profits) was sound design and sound engineering for local theatres. Now this is not at all what it sounds like, I was really a glorified DJ most times but it was usually good for a couple hundred bucks (less than Stage Managing, something else I did, but less time commitment). I pulled together music (generally royalty free blahblah) and put it order, showed up for dress rehearsal week and was a button monkey in the booth for a couple weeks or however long the run lasted.
(As an aside, my husband is an ACTUAL sound engineer (who does it for a living), as is our friend Phil (who mixes for headliner bands that you have heard of), and they do a whole lot more than press play on a CD player and push a slider up to make it louder or quieter in a 100 seat theatre. They have to actually mix the instruments and performers and what have you and get paid WAY more money than I ever made...and thank God because they are damned good at what they do)
Anyway, one of the fun things I have done to prepare for Babylove's arrival is to make myself some mix CD's to listen to while laboring. Some mixes have songs I can sing along to (does anyone else sing when they are in pain? No? Just me?), some have only instrumental songs. I asked Facebook for good suggestions and was delighted with all the good songs people came up with.
I added in some songs that make me smile, among them Sam and Dave's Hold On, I'm Comin' and Elizabeth Mitchell's Little Wing. And of course, since Babylove's first concert (in utero still counts!) was Jack Johnson, Better Together.
So now I'm curious: what are your top 5 labor and delivery songs? Songs that you could blast to make you feel strong and joyful and ready to have that baby!

before

“Do you know a cure for me?”
“Why yes,” he said, “I know a cure for everything. Salt water.”
“Salt water?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said, “in one way or the other. Sweat, or tears, or the sea.”

~Isak Dinesen


The Birth of Colin Jacob Taylor, April 15th 2007
SO
I spent the second week of April miserable because I am in fake labor. I have regular contractions, am 4 cm dilated and 95% effaced and yet? STALLED. Full stop, no progress after that. I want to kill everyone, I weigh 200 pounds and have heartburn all the time.
On April 12th or so, after being stalled for a week, my doctor says: "no baby by Sunday? We'll induce ya!"
Not thrilled about this but really want the baby out.
Say okay.
On April 14th (Saturday - after my sister has come up and gone back down to Tucson twice and the day before my sister and brother in law leave for Texas until their wedding in November basically) the phone rings at 5 pm: "Hi! come to the hospital! Get an IV! Have a baby!"
It's a bit anticlimactic.
SO we do so.
At least the first two.
I labor.
I watch the beginning of "Young Frankenstein".
I say some funny things that Luke records.
The initial IV of penicilin (I am a Strep B positive kind of girl) pokes through my vein and I get a crazy bolus of water under my skin. They flush it.
The second IV burns like a mother. I'm told that's normal.
I forget to use my video camera.
The Pitocin kicks in.
ow ow ow.
Contractions, while less painful than I anticipated, still hurt. Like woah.
I ask for my epidural. Because God created drugs for a reason.
In the midst of my contractions they make me walk.
Yes walk.
to my L&D room.
I hobble down the corridor.
I curse Scottsdale Shea.
I sit on the bed.
The lovely epidural man comes in. I love him. Way more than Luke at this moment.
He stabs me in the back and I barely feel it...one contraction later...I feel nothing. BLISS!
The nurse hands me an oxygen mask because the baby's heart rate keeps dropping when I contract.
This makes me nervous but not a huge amount.
The same nurse checks my progress - I have not progressed.
Then she looks mildly alarmed.
She asks me about placenta previa.
I know I do not have this but being asked is not a calming thing.
I notice a rather large amount of blood on her glove.
They call my OB.
The Doctor comes in.
(I'm sure I spoke to my mom and my dad and sister and my in-laws but I have no recolelction of that - my mother has told me that they were in the hallway after the internal exam and the nurses were freaking out about the amount of blood and were rushing to call my OB)
She lays it out for me:
Baby in distress, lots of blood from me = C-Section.
I am not pleased.
Doctor reminds me that we could do it my way but if I don't progress and things continue that we'll be rushing down the hall with more of an emergency than we already have.
I say okay.
I cry.
I get little scrubs as does Luke.
I love him again. He is quite the rock at this point.

After this it gets hazy:
The OR was freezing.
I had a bad reaction to the drugs.
The baby's cord was wrapped around his throat, and I could feel them cauterizing my veins as they worked.
Unpleasant.
Right after they took Colin out they knocked me out because I was having a panic attack like woah.
I couldn't breathe, my heart was racing I was shaking uncontrollably.

Luke took pictures bless him.
He captured the 8 pounds 8 ounces on the scale.
We birthed a tiny tax refund at 3 in the morning April 15th.
They took us back to the room (which was massively huge) and tried to get me to breastfeed, as I am drugged out my skull this was not easy.
We give up.
I cry again.
I feel like a failure.
Then I fall asleep because failure or no I had just been working for quite a while also, major surgery.
Luke got to feed Colin his first meal outside of my body.
It was formula.
I assume he liked it.

The next 5 days were clearer.
And not as eventful (until our last night when Little Tiny decided to rip out his umbilical stump on the only night I was alone as I had sent Luke home to sleep on something comfortable. THANKS SON!) and finally we brought home our wee linebacker.

I have been told by several nurses after recounting my birth story that it sounds like I had undiagnosed previa. This was sort of confirmed this time around when I was sent back for another ultrasound because my placenta was lying a little low at 20 weeks. And when my current OB told me she would not use pit on me because I am high risk. FUN!
I left my old OB for a myriad reasons, not the least of which was the chaos of my first birth. This time around I have a doctor who listens to me and respects me. I also have a doula coming with me who is a dear friend who knows the medical lingo and will fight for what I want. Despite being high risk my OB considers me a very good candidate for a VBAC and I am looking forward to going into labor naturally and experiencing the delivery on my own terms.
That being said, I have no birth plan other than: Meet my healthy, strong child. This time around I have learned that more than anything else, everything is in God's control and so I have had an easier time preparing for labor and delivery. I know that everything that comes together is done for my good and that He will be with me no matter what. It's a comfort and strength. 2 weeks to go!

January 13th, 2011. 8:00 am

just rolled out of bed edition


mercy. uncle. I give. 37 weeks hit me like a ton of bricks. With all usual pregnancy blah blah (insomnia, heartburn, muscle pain, fatigue) plus an incredibly active 3 and a half year old, AND a husband who just got done with one of the busier periods of work so I was alone a lot the last several weeks in addition to regular fake labor (actual contractions that lead nowhere after an hour or two), the news at my 37 week check up that I have not progressed at all almost made me cry. Not only not progressed at all but haven't even moved in the direction of being done. oh me. oh my. oh sigh.



Luckily, with the downheartening news came a bright spot. My very active, not particularly obedient little kiddo will be starting karate soon! It is in fact my fondest hope that this class will help him burn off some energy and learn how to follow directions. He is on an Indiana Jones kick which is hilarious because all of his toys now rescue someone or go on adventures while he sings the theme song. So awesome. Colin is also beginning to acknowledge that his "baby brudder" will be here any day and seems to be looking forward to it! He helps me fold tiny newborn clothes and likes to pat the massive belly. He enjoys getting a kick or a roll in response. He has also been very affectionate with me of late. While I have not always been the nicest mommy he always takes time to stroke my cheeks and say "I wuv you mom. you da best" and somehow we make it through another day. He really is such a sweet boy, my complaints about his non-stop-ness notwithstanding. :)



Babylove is growing growing growing. Last time around I gained weight all over and that helped balance out the big belly. This time I have been very aware of what I am eating and so my weight gain is under control. However the downside is that my belly continues to grow and so it is just out there, hanging, causing me near constant back, hip and shoulder pain trying to balance it. I should be grateful that I am not as big as I was last time, but the non-stop pain makes it hard to be thankful a lot.



All in all I think our whole family is just anxious to meet our newest member. And to have less in pain mama back! We are all looking forward to the move in the next few months and even more to the quiet summer we have planned after that! How has your recovery from holidays been going?

January 2nd, 2011(!). 8:45 AM

we had Christmas and New Years and single parenting and baking and preparing for a move and WHEW. But before all those pictures...here's an update on Mama and the Squiddos.

35 weeks. I will state for the record that somehow this pregnancy has gone by incredibly quickly and dragged on for years. I am very much at the "please dear Lord am I done yet?" point. But I have been trying to savor these last few weeks with Colin being an only child. I don't know how well I am doing, I am in a lot physical pain with the belly burgeoning larger and larger, and I am exhausted a lot. But my favorite times are when he and I cuddle up with a book and he tells me the story.

I have said it before and I'll say it again that 3 is the worst age so far. And the best. I have a bright, exuberant, energy filled kid and I am trying to reconcile my very low key personality with his need to be going going going. The last few months have brought an ability to play independently quite well and I am eternally grateful for the respite. He loves to build and imagine stories. He is still narrating his play and has no desire to capture it through art or writing (much to my sorrow all the usual toddler craft blah blah holds ZERO appeal for my rough and tumble boy). The downside of the bright and energetic personality is the myriad power struggles we go through. I am learning to choose my battles and more than once this winter we have left the house shoeless, thank God we live in Arizona. Any advice on how to cope with a smart kid asserting his independence in deliberate defiance of requests is greatly appreciated!

I have been having the usual weird pregnancy dreams (babies being born as fish, finding that my husband's father is actually an evil genius set on world domination, losing Colin in an amusement park only to find him running a roller coaster, you know that old chestnut) and insomnia and nonstop peeing. Nights have been rough, my Braxton-Hicks are a daily thing and the heartburn is miserable (another baby born with a full head of hair I bet!) but all complaints aside I feel very ready for this next boy. Not in the sense that we have the boys' room all set up (we don't) or that I know how Colin, ever possessive of his mother, will deal with the new interloper (this makes me nervous), but in the sense that we are ready for our family to be together and I am ready to meet my son. We have a perfectly lovely name chosen, we have an amazing support system in place to help us through this transitional period, and I feel less anxious about this birth than the last. I am grateful for the confidence I'm feeling these days...even as I suffer tha aches and pains of the last 6 weeks of pregnancy.

It will be QUITE a transitional period too as our family prepares to move out of the house we have lived in for the last 4 years and into a much smaller place MUCH closer to our church where we spend lots of time. The ability to do this is a blessing, and it will be a lot of work (and a lot of getting rid of 4 years of accumulated clutter!) but when we are in our new place I will be super super grateful to not have to drive 45 minutes to church 3 times a week!
The holidays have well and truly kicked my ass but I enjoyed so many moments in them. Here's hoping the next year will allow me to build on the lessons I've learned so far and experience a million more marvelous memories!

Love Came Down at Christmas by Christina Rossetti

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;



Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, love divine;


Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,



Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

Drop

oh my, it seems child #2 has descended into the lower reaches of my abdomen. At only 33 weeks it seems quite early for "lightening" and we'll know for sure at my doctors appointment on Tuesday if in fact this sensation is the kiddo dropping or not.
I maintain that it is because all day today the pressure in my lower regions has been incredible, I forgot all about that little bit of fun. I also am peeing roughly every 45 to 50 minutes.
But truly the miracle in all this is the oxygen. The beautiful lung filling air that I have been breathing deeply of since 8 this morning. So much so that my husband posited that perhaps I was high.
We are settling in for the non-stop week that is our Christmas week, keeping our eyes on the prize that is the 2nd week of January when everything finally calms down. Having a husband in ministry means I am a "Christmas widow" but this year we have lots of visiting friends and family to keep me occupied. :)
This last month means a lot of changes for us, so I am hoping that the smallest member of our family stays put for a while and lets us catch our collective breath!

Monday, November 29th. 7:30 pm

My posting here has been sporadic. I know why (I want to spend as much time as possible with my only child while he's still an only child) but I thought I should at least post a little tiny week to week, just to keep track of this insane journey. O shudder to think of how giant my belly will be in 10 weeks if this is how big I am now!



Colin is still the amazingly brilliant, hilariously funny, totally creative kiddo he has been. His personality shines, and while we have power struggles now and then (oh LORD don't get me started on the nightmare that has been potty training), he is overall just a joy to hang out with. He's got strong opinions and is fairly shy, so it takes him a little bit to warm up to people. But once he's warm, you're in. He has been quite enjoying the attention from the college kids we minister to at church. The story of how we found his godfather, an amazing 20 year old guy that Colin calls "Mr. Sean" and who has been unfailingly loving and awesome with my kid, is a funny story in and of itself, but suffice it to say the boys scoop him up and wrestle with him and the girls all want to kiss his face.
He loves building things and is still narrating his play, he does voices now and it's so amazing. He has taken to repeating the most inopportune things so I have had to re-instate my swear jar, just to save our more delicate eared friends the horror of hearing a 3 year old drop an f bomb.



The most wretched bit of pregnancy has arrived. That space of time where most everything hurts as one's body stretches and bends to accommodate the little wiggle worm inside. Babylove is a kicker as opposed to a roller like his brother and the comparison has been amusing. He also seems to be on a specific schedule and it makes an easy going, schedule averse parent like myself nervous. Is this an indicator of a temperament? or just how this gestation is going to roll? It's lucky for my husband who knows to get out of the house before the 8:00 hormone induced meltdown occurs and he only has to hear it on the phone.
Good news came in the form of blood test results, my liver and gallbladder are functioning normally! So while I am still fairly itchy I know that I am also processing toxins like a champ! WOOOO!



Of late I have been fretting over our name choice. This has hit once or twice since we decided and I know it's because in not telling people the name I don't get the constant feedback I like to have. Not that it would change my mind one way or the other I just like to see how people react to the name we have chosen to know how they will react for the rest of his life. Luke finds it amusing and irritating but goes with it, voting on the new names and steering me back to the one we both really do love. The middle name is kicking my ass, I just can't settle...I guess it will have to wait until he arrives. And maybe then it will all be clear.

I hope you all have had a marvelous holiday season kickoff with Thanksgiving. Ours was so low key we didn't even take pictures. We just enjoyed one another and a little Aggie pride when A&M defeated Texas soundly. :)