Sleep and Other Quick Updates

Sweeeeeeet! Our 7 week old daughter has begun to sleep through the night.

Oh! Sweet, precious baby, either I am the best Mother or you are taking pity on me.

I'm thinking she is taking pity on me. I'm grateful. I've deemed this a success as it has happened several nights in a row. Either that or she's resting up for an all night cry fest. Keep your fingers crossed this continues.

We'll be back next weekend and I promise to tell you all about it, our new car and plenty of pictures will be posted. Right now, I'm drinkiing beer and eating good food at a tailgate with good friends --- before we head to the stadium to watch the Saints spank my beloved Bucs. I hope for the best.

Until next weekend, my friends.

Weed

Our almost 6 week old infant is now officially wearing 3-6 month clothing. We still have some 0-3 month clothing that fits but not for long. Apparently I have given birth to a fast growing weed.

Not Lost

We're not lost. We have made our way to Florida for the next month to play with friends and family.

We'll be back on here shortly with pictures and stories.
See you soon.

Enamored

Many years ago, when Matt and I began to date exclusively, I decided to introduce him to my closest friend. This was important to me only because I tended to pick boyfriends on extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. They were either too good or really bad. You know the types, so good you lose interest the next day - borrring - or the type of bad that made you cling to them hopelessly, knowing it was never going anywhere. I figured Matt had to be one or the other and I was too enamored to see it. Sarah was always good at telling me what I didn't want to hear or pointing out what I didn't want to see.

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Like the time we went shopping and when I came out of the dressing room sporting this dress that I just loved, she told me to take it off. It looked better on the hanger. You got to love that type of honesty.

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Anyway.

I asked Sarah and Gabe over for dinner. I believe, at this point, they had already met Matt at our favorite pub but who can really get to know someone screaming over loud music. I figured a quiet evening at home would open the conversation up a bit. I remember the four of us sitting in my apartment eating dinner around the coffee table - because we were young and poor back then, a dining room table was well beyond our means - hoping they didn't notice any serial killer tendancies or anything else that would make me scurry in the opposite direction. Towards the end of the evening, I quietly asked Gabe what he thought. He liked him. I then asked Sarah what she thought and her exact words were (I'll never forget them because it so wasn't what I was looking for at the time) "You'd make beautiful babies together."

(Choke. Cough. Ahem. Ooooo-kay.)

Moving forward nine years, Matt and I have made a baby together. I'm completely enamored with her. I stare at her all the time. I squeeze her and kiss her and smell her little head. I'm completely amazed that we made something so adorable. So beautiful.

I am in love.

Thanks for the warning Sarah, although it wasn't exactly what I was looking for at the time, you were so right. And no, I'm not biased at all.

In other news, our daughter is growing like a weed. At her 2 week appointment, she's gained 1 full pound and grown almost an entire inch in length when compared to her 1 week appointment. After double checking the measurements, the doctor stated the obvious. "Yep, she's going to be a big girl."

Thoughts On Motherhood

1. I've never worked so hard sitting and rocking in my recliner.

2. Where do belly button stumps go when they fall off? Is there a mythological creature that goes around and collects them? A stump fairy? (I swear, it was there when we last changed her and gone the next time.)

3. How is it such horrible sounds come out of something so adorable.

I Did This

As you know, I was supposed to be induced on the 30th of September.

Supposed to be.

Matt and I got up early and all ready to go, called the hospital as instructed and was told we were being rescheduled to the 3rd of October due to too many emergencies. The doctor had warned us that though its rare, it happens sometimes. Matt was mad, I was disappointed but ok.

October 3rd, we started all over again. I entered the hospital at 7:30am and was hooked up via IV to Pitocin by 8:00am. This is where the torturous part begins. Waiting. Waiting. Waaaaaaiting. Not a whole lot happened until noon when the doctor decided to break my water. Then, guess what we did - we waited. I didn't expect this to happen quickly but from the time we got started to about 6pm, nothing was happening. I wasn't progressing at all. At 6pm, I finally began to feel some discomfort and asked for an Epidural, thinking this was it.

Nope.

By 7pm the doctor decided to stop the Pitocin drip for half an hour in hopes that the break then restart would trick my body into getting serious about this birth thing. (HA!) He also mentioned "plan B", which Matt and I figured was doctor-speak for C-Section. (We're smart that way, you know).

7:30pm, we were restarted and hopeful this show would start kicking into high gear. (HA!) Yep, a whole lot of nothing was happening at my 9pm check and the doctor threw out the "plan B" option again.

At 10pm, the doctor checked the readings from my contraction monitor, our other vitals and sat down with us to seriously discuss "plan B". Basically, and obviously, the attempt to push me into labor was going nowhere. I was not responding to the Pitocin and "failing to progress" into active labor. My contractions were spaced about 2 minutes apart, but they were not becoming consistently stronger, and my cervix was showing little progression. Finally, he said my body and the baby was telling him to call it quits. My temperature was rising, her heart rate was rising and the Pitocin levels in my system were too high. We were having a C-Section.

Fine.

He had to take care of a couple of emergencies first then I would be moved into the operating room. In the meantime, Matt was gowned up and I was prepped. At 12:45am, October 4th, I was wheeled into the O.R. and the final prep went into full swing. Shortly after, with Matt at my head, it began. At 1:08am, almost 18 hours after this adventure began, a beautiful baby girl was pulled into this world. I didn't hear the typical screaming baby, I heard a whimper, then a small cry and more whimpering. She was here. I was happy - exhausted and doped up - but happy.

(Stella, 10/4/2009, 1:08am, 21.5" long, 9.0 lbs)

Matt was the first to hold her while I was still being tended to and one of the very first things I remember him saying to her is "You may not remember this, but I will never forget it." It didn't hit me at the time exactly how sweet that was - I was kind of out of it - but I hope I remember to tell her about it when she is older.

The hospital stay was a looooooooong 4 nights, and we were ready to go home. Very ready. Looking back, I find it funny now - not so much at the time - that there were 800+ nurses coming and going constantly - all saying "get some rest" as they walked out. About 2 minutes before the next person walked in.

We are now home, happy, healthy and settling in - we even have a semblance of a schedule. Here is a picture of Miss Stella just a few moments before leaving the hospital. I leave you with this beautiful face.

(Stella, 3 days old, leaving the hospital)

Eviction Notice Served

Dear Stella,

I don't blame you for getting all warm and comfy in "House o' Mama". You have everything you need - food, water, air, warmth, love, shelter - all your basic necessities. I get it, its a pretty sweet setup. At one point in my early existence, I didn't see a reason to leave either as I was 2 weeks late myself. However, you will not get a chance to be late. In fact, you will not get a chance to be on time. Matt and I, along with my doctor, have decided that you can either come out on your own in the next few days or we will be evicting you on Wednesday.

Why you ask? Well, you're getting big and considering the size of your Daddy and the size of your Aunt & Uncles (at birth and currently), it is very likely that you could work your way up to a hefty weight. One day, you will understand that no woman in the world is interested in birthing a big baby. Also, your Mother is completely done with being pregnant (again, something you'll understand later - much later - in life). There is also the convenience of it, which I admit is selfish and unnecessary however, there is something to be said for being able to plan Grandparent visits* and other various life events.

At my last doctors appointment, he 'squished' you so that he could feel where you were and make sure you were still in the correct position. I take it you didn't appreciate it much as you gave him one heck of a kick back (and this wasn't the first time you showed him your disapproval). He chuckled a bit and said "Well, she's solid.", which your Daddy and I have decided is doctor-speak for huge. With that one statement, I became completely comfortable with this decision.

So, little missy, on Wednesday September 30, I will enter the hospital at 7am, and be hooked to an IV containing a drug that will get this whole experience kick started. We will see you later that day and begin the process of getting to know each other and settling in. That is, of course, if I can pry you out of your Father's arms. We're both excited to meet you but he's wearing that silly grin he gets when something makes him really really happy. (You'll get to know this grin very well)

*Your Grandparents will all be here and I'm pretty sure we will have to protect you from your Grandmothers who both have full intentions of kissing and squeezing the skin right off your little body. I apologize to you in advance - they could not love you more if they tried and you will learn to appreciate it.

SAHD

Several weeks ago, I read an article* about the growing trend of couples chosing for the man to be a Stay at Home Husband/Father. There are plenty of articles out there these days as we see more husbands taking on this role however, this article in particular caught my attention as it stated that many professional women lose interest in and respect for their stay at home husbands over time, resulting in divorce.

My first thought was, "How can you say that? This trend hasn't been happening that long."
My second thought was, "Really?"
My third thought was, "Those people are Nuts."
My final thought was, "If it doesn't work for you, make a different decision before you give up on your marriage. Geeeeez!"

I put the article down with the intention to forget it however, it continued to spring into my mind. Today was one of those days that I thought about this article. See, Matt and I have made a similar decision. Though he works, its free lance and he spends most days at home or working from home. He will be the primary caretaker for Stella, and honestly, me with minimal outside care needed. This being said, here's how our week has been so far:

Monday: Matt got up with me in the morning and made my lunch as I am perpetually running late since entering these final weeks of pregnancy and dinner was on the stove when I got home.

Tuesday: Again, Matt made my lunch in the morning, brought my water bottle to me at work (which I forgot, again, I blame the pregnancy), cleaned/vacuumed the house, made dinner in the evening.

Wednesday: Rinse and repeat - my lunch had a homemade chocolate chip cookie in it (Yum!)and the house smelled wonderful when I walked the door this evening

So now I think back to that article and I think, "WHAT? REALLY?!". I don't know how a woman - a professional, educated woman - can not respect a man that can and will take care of her - in a domesticated sense. It makes my head hurt. I love the mess out of him. I have nothing but respect and appreciation for him and I just really really really like him. A lot.

So Honey, I thank you, for taking care of me, keeping track of me and keeping up with the house and cooking. I will try not to be jealous when your attention is diverted, very shortly, from me to Miss Stella. I wouldn't want anyone else in the world taking care of her or us.

*Of course, I can not locate it right now.

Pregnancy Brain

I would normally keep my stupid (aka: pregnant) moments to myself and just continually pick on my dear husband, but that just wouldn't be fair would it? Plus, this one, I have to admit is funny. So here you go, behold my pregnant stupid moment.

Matt and I were watching Jeopardy the other night as we always do when eating dinner. This answer came up: "This Red Hot Chili Pepper bears the name of the capital of French Guiana".
My immediate thought was "Well, what are the names of some different types of peppers?" This is a reasonable thought considering the answer that was given, correct? I mean it made sense to me at least.

What didn't make any sense whatsoever was the question that my brain came back with: Who is Flea? **

FLEA!

That is the question I came up with - Who. is. Flea.? This was the only response that my pregnant brain could spew. Instead of saying Cayenne or Poblano or Jalepeno or Green or any other pepper, my brain says FLEA!

**(For those of you who have no idea who or what I mean by "Flea", I will explain. There is a popular rock band called The Red Hot Chili Peppers. The bassist for this band is called "Flea".)


Go ahead. Point and laugh. I can take it. However in my defense, I knew it wasn't correct I just couldn't get my brain to switch gears because I am very very pregnant.

Sigh.

The Day Matt Became His Father

Today, we finished painting the shutters on the second floor. It didn't take too long to do but was one of those things that needed to be marked off the list before Stella arrives. About half way through, Matt asks me if we have knee pads anywhere because his knees are right at rung level and are beginning to hurt.

He comes down, goes inside - convinced we have knee pads somewhere. I remained outside when the front door opens suddenly and I see this:

and hear: I knew this day was coming

Me: (???)

Matt: The day I become my Father.

You know those dust masks you can buy at your local hardware store? Yep. That's what he has around his knees. These had just enough padding so he didn't feel the rung of the ladder on his knees. And people, I am ashamed to admit that I allowed him to walk around outside just like this. I'm sure the neighbors are questioning what type of people we are.

Then I realized that one day, Stella is going to see this picture and demand a paternity test because this man just can not be her Father.

Sorry little girl, he's all yours. Learn to deal with it.