What a quick, quick month it was!

I don't want to say that I can't believe Ella is already two months old, because I can. I have the laundry piles to prove it. I couldn't begin to count the diapers we went through. I have over one hundred ounces of breast milk sitting in the freezer, because I have a never ending supply and I have to pump everyday so that I don't drown my baby while she eats. I have a brand new pile of clothes that are marked "3 months" because our newborn onesies are too tiny for our sweet baby. Nobody could have prepared me for the sting that accompanies putting those tiny onesies in a box. It ripped me to shreds, y'all. Anyway, before I spiral downward again, I should continue my previous thought. I'm watching the garden outside die because it made it through the life cycle, and that always lets me know that cooler temps are on the horizon. All of the signs are there to show that our baby is 2 months old, but looking at her is when things don't feel real.

Ella stretches all the way across my upper body when I hold her, which isn't saying much considering that I am remarkably short; but to consider that she used to fit perfectly on my chest, it's a little strange. When I feed her, I look for things to support my arms, because even though she's only about 12 pounds, my arms feel like they're breaking about half-way through a feeding. This baby has the sweetest grin, and she's so responsive to our voices. Even when we aren't speaking to her in a typical shrieky voice that accompanies speaking to babies, she'll turn her head and look for us if she hears one of us speak. There are dimples on her cheeks, but there are even cuter dimples on the back of her thighs. I tell her daily to live it up, because this is the only time people will think that those dimples are adorable. She's able to eat without my help, which is one of my greatest victories as a Mother, because it means that I can at least read my book while she spends 45 minutes eating at night. She has the biggest eyes I've seen on such a tiny face, and they're just the darkest shade of blue. For a little while, it looked like they were going to kind of "starburst," and be light around the pupil, but dark around the edges. Nope. They've changed into one solid color of blue, and in the right light, they almost have a purple hue to them. I've never seen such interesting eyes. Her fat rolls are the most kissable things, and it always makes me smile to see how far we've come in the two months that she's been around. They change right in front of your eyes, and most of the time, you kind of look at them and think "What have I been doing?" I'm thankful to be aware of the changes in her already, but I would also be okay with her staying this tiny for a little while. She's such a sweet cuddly baby.

Ella went to church for the first time when she was six weeks old. I didn't put her in a frilly dress, but she certainly looked adorable. I opted out of putting her in the nursery, partially because I knew I wouldn't focus for the message and partially because I feel like she can wait awhile longer. Fortunately, I found out she will be with Sheri (one of the only people I would comfortably leave my child with) until she starts crawling, SO I guess my goal will be to push her down until she's 5 so that she can't leave Sheri's care. Anyways, Ella went to church with Mama and She slept the entire time we were there. I will admit unashamedly that I was a nervous wreck when we were in the public eye after service. People I've never seen before in my life came up to me and asked to hold my daughter... to which I had to politely say that she was fussy (she wasn't) and that it was probably best if she stayed in her stroller. It was difficult to remain polite when everything in my head said "No, freak! I don't even know you!" I cringed whenever somebody rubbed their hands all over her head. I had to resist the impulse to swat hands away whenever they grabbed hers. Here's a little bit of advice for those of you meeting an infant for the first time: Don't touch skin. I know Ella is a sweet baby, and I know she has a full head of hair. Don't touch it. If you MUST touch my child, touch her tummy, which is covered by her onesie. Don't grab her hands. She puts her fist in her mouth ALL the time. That's super gross. I brought her home and scrubbed her down in the bath, and I had to remind myself that I can't keep her in the bubble of our home forever. In the meantime, I've grown quite efficient at slamming the carseat/stroller combo shut whenever I see a creeper approaching. I'm excellent at saying "No" when someone that I don't want to hold her asks to hold her. I'm sure I'm gaining the reputation of an overprotective new mom, but I would rather be that mom than the mom that feels nauseated at the thought of strangers and their gross hands. I'm sorry if you become victim to my blunt responses... it's not you, it's your hands... So I guess it might be you a little bit.

My baby has always been a fantastic sleeper, but she's pretty much established a consistent routine. She gets put in a cradle beside my bed at 11:30. She then sleeps until about 5:45 before she wakes up to eat. She eats until about 6:20, and then she stays in bed with me until she wakes up again about 9:30. From there, she eats again and then goes back in her cradle, where she sleeps until around 11:30 A.M. Some days she sleeps from Midnight to 6:30, Some days she sleeps from Midnight to 4:30. Sometimes we have a really bad night and she's awake every 2 hours. Most days, she sleeps for most of the night, and I love her more than words for it. I love my cuddles with her, and even though I know it isn't the greatest habit to form, she really doesn't mind sleeping in her cradle. We're raising a belly sleeper, and as long as she's on her stomach, she'll sleep her life away. I've grown to shrug off the naysayers and the pessimistic words that I hear come out of people's mouths. Ella's life belongs to the Lord, and I believe with my entire soul that she'll be just fine sleeping on her stomach. I sleep comfortably and deeply at night, and it's helped my body heal SO quickly. It's a wonderful thing not to feel like a crazy.

One of the questions I've been asked most frequently is whether or not I like being at home. The answer is yes, I love it. I love feeling like I'm right in the middle of my element. I've lived my entire life waiting and preparing to be a mother, and now that I'm here, it feels as wonderful as I always hoped it would. I love planning dinner menus, and having the time to coordinate what meals have the same ingredients, so that food is used efficiently and budget friendly. I can buy 10 days worth of food for about $120.00, and I eat leftovers for lunch every day. When I was working and just cooking what sounded good, we were spending at least $175.00 at the grocery store PLUS eating out frequently because I was always so worn out, PLUS I ate out for lunch every day. Our budget is so much friendlier with me being home. I love searching for recipes, finding ways to sneak vegetables that Cody claims he doesn't eat, and having the energy to "plate" the food creatively. The smallest details of cooking bring me the greatest amounts of pleasure, and I'm thankful for my simple little life. Some days are hard, especially when Ella is in a growth spurt and I feel like a dairy cow trapped in the recliner feeding her. Some days are lonely. Some days I don't get a single thing done because I'm just worn out from raising a newborn. I try to make to-do lists daily, with a reasonable amount of tasks to check off... because who doesn't feel a little sense of accomplishment when you can actually check something off of your to-do list? Some times the list sits ignored, and other times I get the list plus additional tasks done. It all depends on how badly my baby needs her Mama that day. My parents are really wonderful about calling us for lunch dates, so we get out of the house a few times a week. As I said before, I plan the grocery list 10 days at a time so that I can get out of the house and be alone for an hour or two every now and then. I wouldn't say that I enjoy the grocery store as my alone time, but it's nice to have an opportunity to miss Ella. Most of the time, we're together 24/7, so it's good for both of us to get a break. It's also important to me that Cody and Ella have time alone together. I'm sure it can be hard for him to feel like the Dad when I'm staring over his shoulder all of the time. I want them to be comfortable without me around. It's never too early for Daddy/Daughter dates.

For the most part, we have a dream baby. She's incredibly laid back, and has the sweetest grin in the world. She does have a few allergy issues, and often wakes up with a stuffy nose. God bless the nasal aspirator we took from the hospital. She absolutely hates getting her nose cleaned, as it's one of the few times she throws fits. She has two stubborn tear ducts that are still clogged, but the doctor assures me they'll open soon. I have definitely noticed less of the gunk in her eyes, so I'm praying it won't be long. She very rarely has stomach issues, but when she does, we give her 1/4 teaspoon of gripe water. It calms her almost immediately. I recommend it to any new parent. I used to be super judgmental about giving babies things for gas and such, but it only took one night of being up all night listening to her scream in pain before I changed my tune. I'm so thankful she skipped the colic train. Bless all of you that had to fight it.

At the moment, Ella is giving every effort in the world to hold her head up. She does remarkably well, and only wobbles if we move and she tries to follow us. She loves sitting in her bumbo chair, though it makes me a little sad to look over and see her looking so much like an infant instead of a newborn. She's gaining weight so fast, and it's taking me longer and longer to scrub between the rolls during bath time... but it's so adorable I can hardly stand it. Ella can't stand to be alone. She doesn't necessarily care if she's being held, but she wants to see me and she wants to hear me. This makes getting things done especially difficult sometimes. She spends a lot of time in the baby carrier during the day, because otherwise I spend the entire day watching the tv with Ella sitting in the bumbo beside me. I love having a baby that's awake for the majority of the day, but I have to clean like a mad woman when she naps. It's a fun part of being a stay at home mom. You kind of begin to base your life around when the baby sleeps. And on days that she doesn't sleep, the house stays in disarray. I used to really stress about it, because I hated that Cody worked all day and then came home to a house that looks like a baby department store threw up inside. But I had to get over that. Raising Ella is the priority, and right now she demands a lot of effort, and so much time. Sometimes I miss the check that proved that I was contributing to our family's well being, but I can't imagine leaving this sweet little world to go back into a paying job. I'll spend the next few years of my life sacrificing a little bit of the glitter that came with extra money if it means raising a baby with a heart of gold. I know that's super corny, and I'm sorry that you had to read it, but it's my heart's cry that Ella know a world of manners, visiting a library, and spending her days at her home. I want her to know food outside of macaroni and lunchables, and even if we have to fight it out everyday, she'll have an eclectic food palate. She'll sing Disney songs and play baby dolls in the living room floor, and if we're lucky, she'll find joy in getting lost in a book. I know there are so many expectations, and it's okay if she doesn't meet all of them, but I know she'll be thankful when she looks back and sees how much of my life I invested into hers when she has a baby of her own. I know I'm thankful everyday that my mom fought through the mundane of motherhood when she chose to stay home and watch us destroy the living room she had just cleaned.

The last exciting piece of information for this month is that the Gaines family survived our first road trip. We have so many family members (even family in this town) that still haven't met our sweet baby. We're trying to remedy that, so we took labor day weekend to shoot up to Wheeler so that Ella could meet some of Cody's family. It's a wondrous thing that Ella has so many people that are so excited to love her. My favorite part of the trip was watching Ella meet her great-grandfather, Pops. Cody has been bursting at the seams to let him meet this baby, and so it was a joy to watch him interact with her. I was prepared for Cody's mom's side of the family to ooh and ahh and rejoice over Ella's tiny face, but the last thing I expected was to see Pops' heart melt when he saw her. They spent so much time together, and Ella kicked and grinned every time he gave her the slightest bit of attention. He even volunteered to babysit while Cody and I grabbed lunch. I loved our time in Wheeler, and it was so special to see Ella with so many family members. She was even blessed enough to meet her GREAT GREAT grandparentS. That was two greats and a plural. Yes. Cody's Maternal Great Grandparents, Ray and Mae (is that not adorable?) are both still alive and kicking. They've been married for 76 years this week, and they're still absolutely mad about each other today. Grandma battles Alzheimer's, and it's in a very advanced stage, so I was prepared for her not to acknowledge Ella at all. We let Grandpa hold Ella for awhile (seriously, the man is almost 100 years old and still sharp as a nail), and before any of us could stop him, he put Ella in Grandma's arms. I cringed, and I saw Cody's mom prepare to snatch Ella away... but just then, Ella let out a little whimper... and Grandma came to life. She started bouncing Ella , patting her on the bottom, and kissing her hand. I don't know that there wasn't a soul in the room that wasn't touched by the sweetness of the moment, and I'll cherish the memory always.  

That's it! Our lives are full of love, drowning in sweetness, and covered in grace. I'm so thankful everyday that the Lord saw us fit to raise such a wonderful little life. Here's her Socktopus picture, and we'll see ya next month!

Ella Morgan: Month One

Our sweet baby is ONE month old today. It's been easily been the fastest eternal month of my life. The day-to-day seemed eternal for the first couple of weeks, and then we kind of settled into a rhythm, and time picked up the pace a little bit. It's been a wonderful month, even in the middle of chaos. Here are a few highlights:

The first week was absolutely terrifying. I cried more in the first week than any other, sometimes for good reasons (Like a baby that wouldn't nurse, causing me to panic that I would be forced to go back to work so that we could pay for formula), sometimes for obvious reasons (Like you would expect someone being overtaken by hormones would), sometimes for petty reasons (Like looking in the mirror at the shape of my stomach), and sometimes for no reason at all (Like at three o'clock in the morning when the baby is eating peacefully and you're stuck thinking about how tired you are.) In the midst of all the water works, I was completely captivated by my sweet, teeny tiny baby. I guess maybe I'm not like most moms, and even though I knew I loved her before I saw her, I fell into a completely captivating love as I got to spend time with her outside of the hospital. The first week was the hardest week for me, because even though I know about babies, I was completely clueless about newborns. Was it normal for her to make those noises? Why was she coughing at 4 days old? Why were eyes a yellow tint where they should have been white? I knew the answer to most of those things based on common sense, but it was hard not to call her pediatrician and say "I know she's okay now, but when should I be concerned?" I never called, but I certainly blew my mom's phone up. I was terrified of bathing her with the cord still attached, so my mom bathed her for the first week. The baby hated bath time. Absolutely hated it. It was a very stressful time for me... but more so Ella. We were so tired, and I'm so thankful that Cody's wonderful job gave him 2 weeks off of work. I sincerely don't know that we would've survived. He slept at night, and I slept during the day between feedings. He was wonderful for diaper changes, burping her after she ate, and it was wonderful to see him bond with her. There's absolutely no doubt that the first week is the sweetest kind of torture you'll ever endure. It was worse than Labor... but we would forget our misery as soon as we would look at her sweet tiny face. You'll find that your life has changed drastically, and you'll celebrate like never before the first time the baby has a bowel movement that isn't meconium (go ahead and look that word up), and you'll rejoice over multiple urine diapers. It means that they're getting sufficient food, and their tiny stomach is functioning and full. It's a great victory for a first time nursing mom.

The days started running together for awhile as we transitioned into the second week, and we had to take Ella back to the doctor for her one week check-up. I was suffering a pulled muscle next to my incision (It was terrifying, I sincerely thought that I had ripped a stitch and that I would have to take my sweet baby daughter to the germ filled emergency room. Those are things you don't think about when you plan to breastfeed.) I decided to risk a hemorrhage and wait it out (yes, I was that dramatic, do not judge me.) All the while, our sweet baby was slowly distinguishing days from nights. At her one week check up, she weighed 6'1, and mama almost passed out that she had lost 4 ounces. I was assured that it was normal, and that she had likely gained weight since we had been home. I don't know what her weight was when we left the hospital. She had a little jaundice, but apparently on a scale of 20, she was only a 9. They only grow concerned at 15 or above. They asked a million questions about her feeding schedule, whether I was suffering baby blues (the answer was yes, by the way, and it's okay to admit it,) and her bowel movements. We were given the green light to take her back home with us, which was my first sigh of relief. Maybe we were going to make it after all. Our sweet baby slept through the entire appointment, a brief trip to Target, and the ride home. It was glorious. She started sleeping for three hours a night instead of a different schedule every night, and really caught on to the concept of nursing. I went to the doctor and got a thumbs up for keeping my incision cleaned well, and I had to bid farewell to my wonderful doctor that had taken such wonderful care of us over the past 9 months. It's kind of strange how attached you grow to your doctor, because you don't realize how big of a role he plays until it's all said and done, and you look at your sweet healthy baby. It was bittersweet, and I'm still so thankful that he made the best decisions for Ella and myself during my pregnancy. Anyway, our sweet one grew and thrived during the second week, and I was actually excited for her doctor's appointment to see how much weight she had gained.

Before I knew it, it was time for her 2 week check-up at the doctor. She was a day shy of being three weeks old, I guess it's all the same to them. We weighed her with a diaper on, then weighed her without one. Ella has a fun habit of peeing EVERYWHERE if she gets a chill while her diaper is off, and sure enough, she peed all over the table. The good news is that she gained ONE whole pound, plus an ounce, putting her at 7'2. The pediatrician was super impressed, saying than about an ounce a day is the goal for baby girls, and Ella kind of stomped that goal over two weeks. I was proud of my sweet fatty, and even more excited that she grew over an inch in two weeks as well! She passed the rest of her check-up with flying colors, and I was feeling pretty good about myself as a mom, even when my naked baby pooped all over the exam table. Then came the heel poke. It's miserable to watch, because she obviously had no idea what was coming. The needle prick scared her, but the screaming didn't start until they started filling in the dots with her blood. Even when she hasn't had a needle shoved into her foot, she HATES having her feet held against her will... so that was hard for me to listen to. I tried to stay out of the nurses way, but I finally put my face right against hers and talked to her a little bit.. and she actually stilled at the sound of my voice. It's the first time that she was very obviously comforted by me, and that was wonderful in the midst of such a sad situation. She looked completely adorable in her jeggings and cardigan, and slept the rest of the day.

By week three, Ella and the exhaustion kind of felt like normal to me. She started cluster feeding during that week, meaning she eats from 10 o'clock at night until 1 o'clock in the morning. She'll eat for ten minutes, then take a twenty minute break, then eat again. It's exhausting for me, since I'm literally at her mercy for three hours, but the great thing about it is that she sleeps from 1 a.m. to 6 a.m., then eats for about thirty minutes before sleeping until about 9:30. I get my allotted amount of sleep, she's fat and happy, and I don't feel like I'm dying from no sleep. That's not to say that we don't have an occasional bad night, whether that be having tummy issues until 2 in the morning or waking up for a random 3 o'clock feeding that lasts for 40 minutes, but for the most part, she has a pretty good routine down. I love that little bit of consistency in life.

My Grandparents from Okie brought along my Aunt and cousin for a visit to Texas. They were able to spend some sweet cuddles with Ella, and even though it was tough to make her eat somewhere that wasn't the comfort of our home (it's really interesting how babies are so aware of their surroundings), it was good practice for when it's really time to introduce her to the outside world in a couple of weeks. It is absolutely exhausting getting both of us ready when we have to be somewhere at a specific time. If we don't have a schedule, everything is easy breezy and falls right into place. If there's a designated time, you can bet that all hell is going to break loose. She'll demand an extra feeding, ruin her outfit with a bowel movement, scream for me to hold her, or I'll lose track of time myself. I think that's just kind of Murphy's Law with new parents, but we're getting better at getting ready faster. My advice is take all the advantage in the world of their sleeping, even if you don't have to be somewhere for 4 hours. Get ready while you can, not when you planned to. We enjoyed our time with them regardless, and I do hope to get Ella up to Enid soon to meet her great-great-grandma Bee. It's so wonderful that she has the opportunity to meet so many people who love her so deeply!

To round out the month, it's kind of crazy to still feel so clueless and to feel like she's always been a part of our lives simultaneously. I've learned that no two days will be the same, and that's okay for now. She might not be on a routine yet, but she's getting fairly easy to predict, which makes planning our day easier. I've learned to distinguish her cries, and now I can help her through a tummy ache instead of growing frustrated that she's crying but won't eat. She really is a wonderful baby, and we don't discount how blessed we are for a minute. She cries over her stomach or over hunger, but it's a pretty whimper filled cry, so when she really does get angry and cry loud during a late night diaper change, it's a little scary. She sleeps in her crib during the day, and I've adapted to it fairly well. I only check on her every 5 minutes instead of standing over her crib and watching her breathe (as I did in the beginning.) At night, she sleeps in a cradle beside our bed, and sometimes she does really well. Other times, she wants to be close to her mama, and so she lays with me. I'm sure I'll get plenty of "That's a hard habit to break!" and "You better stop before that becomes a habit!" And Maybe I'll regret it later, but right now, I have a tiny baby who makes the sweetest sounds while she dreams, and she'll only be tiny enough to cradle in my arms for a little while. I'll never regret cuddling her while I had the chance. When she's 2 years old and hogging the bed, it might be annoying, but it'll be something that Cody and I laugh about when she's grown. Hopefully we will have broken the habit by then. You never know with cuddlers. I still curl up next to my Mom when I have the chance.

This baby is in love with her Daddy, and I am certain that the sentiment is mutual. I tease Cody about her being the love in his life and me being the full-time Nanny, but I think that maybe this is how things are supposed to go for now. Maybe as she gets older and rolls her eyes at his jokes, or stares at him with a confused look on her face when he starts rambling about audio, or isn't interested in sitting in 20 degree weather to shoot a deer, he might see a little bit of me in her personality, and I'll win him back again. He has done a wonderful job at pulling me close to him and kissing my cheek when I'm frazzled trying to feed a baby, peel potatoes, and clean up the juice I spilled all at the same time (yes, this actually happened.) He's made sure to tell me he loves me the most, and he's taken me on dates while my mom cuddled the baby at home... but she brings out the most tender, caring side of him. When he looks at her, I see what love really looks like. When he talks to her, it's a voice that I know will comfort her when she's old enough for scraped knees and bad dreams. When he laughs at a face she makes, I see what it means to be adored. It makes my heart feel like it's going to burst, and it makes me okay with losing a little bit of the attention I'm used to. I still want to thump her in the head when he walks right by me because he's so anxious to see her, but that's just a girl and her daddy.

All in all, our lives are so radically different... but they're so much sweeter. We're loved and adored by a baby that tolerates our kiss attacks, waits as we learn to figure her out, and smiles when we tell her we love her. She melts our hearts everyday, and even though she's only a month old today, it already hurts to know that someday she'll be too big to scoop up and cuddle. I try not to dwell on those thoughts, because I want to rejoice in her life as she grows, and I know that each new age will bring another reason to love her. I'm excited for giggles, less feedings in the day (breastfeeding is a 24/7 job. Sometimes I don't know how she could POSSIBLY be hungry again, but she eats on), and for her to hold her head up on her own. I'm excited for her to reach for me when she sees me, and I'm excited to see more fat rolls pop up on her sweet legs. Until then, I'm soaking up every minute, and I love that I'm able to stay home and watch her grow. I'm so thankful for my husband.

We've opted to do the monthly photo with a stuffed animal. One of our favorite people, Karen, bought Ella the funniest little "Socktopus," and I thought it would be perfect for these pictures. So the first one is Ella at one week old, and the second one is Ella today!

My only word of advice to a new mom is to ban the word "overwhelmed" from your vocabulary. It's really easy to dwell in that state of mind if you say it over and over again. It might be how you feel, but you're raising a baby... of course things are going to get a little out of your control. Rejoice in the chaos. Oh, and don't listen to "Butterfly Kisses." Just... Don't.

I know this picture is blurry, but it just sums up joy for me, which is the best word to describe Ella. We are so, so blessed, and the Lord is so, so faithful. As Darius Rucker says in his excessively depressing song that makes me cry hysterically, "One day soon we'll look back laughing at the week we brought her home..."

Mama Gaines Out.

The Post-Partum Fog

The purpose of this blog has never been intended to serve as an advice column, nor do I claim to have all of the pregnancy questions and answers. I do, however, feel obligated as a woman to share some of the details that nobody prepared me for after the birth. I feel like if I had been prepared, things would've been WAY less dramatic. That being said, this is not a blog for male eyes. I know you're going to keep reading it anyway and then scoff at my lack of boundaries, but I won't feel sorry for you, because I tried to warn you. This is for the ladies. Not the single ones. I'm not Beyonce.

1. You will be on an adrenaline rush after the baby is born.

This one is kind of obvious, but it's important to cover all of the bases, here. I suffered through 31 hours if labor, and around hour 27, all I could think about was getting the baby OUT so that I could sleep in peace. I had great plans to hold her until around 11, then send her off to the nursery for a sleep I had been looking forward to since I was about 5 months pregnant. I was going to sleep with reckless abandon, and no one was going to stop me... Except for me, apparently. I was so exhausted that I had transitioned into a super alert state of delirium. I was wide awake after I sent the baby to the nursery, and even though my body was so exhausted that I literally couldn't move any of my limbs, my mind was racing. I was so in love with my baby that my heart was still pounding, I kept looking at pictures of her on My phone, I wiggled my toes in an almost anxious fashion, and I waited for sleep to come. When sleep finally showed up at my door, so did the nursery. It was time to feed my tiny baby, which leads me to my next point.

2.  You will not sleep the first night.

The nursery brings your baby to you every two hours (if you're nursing.) This part of the tale is extremely exhausting and extremely hard. You see, your baby doesn't know emotions yet, so all they know is that they've had an especially long day, and they're ready to sleep. I don't know much about newborns, but I have learned that they aren't waking up unless it's of their own accord. Maybe I have a child who likes sleep more than the average bear, but from the day she was born, she would not wake up to eat unless she woke up on her own. This was excruciatingly frustrating, considering that she was sleeping for 4 hours at a time, and the hospital demands the baby eat every two hours. The nursery would not back off, and eventually decided that leaving her in the room was the best thing for me,  because that way I could "bond" with her. Don't be me. Page the nursery back to the room and demand that they take the baby. You'll thank me. This leads me to the second half of the sleepless first night: regular nurses. Because I had a c-section, my vitals had to be checked on the hour, every hour. This meant someone coming in my room, checking my blood pressure, temperature, and pulse every time I started to doze off. It was horribly frustrating, but fortunately, they had me on some pretty intense pain killers, so I was fairly unaware of my annoyance. I don't know what happens to the people who deliver naturally, maybe they leave you alone at night, but if you end up being gutted like a fish, prepare for a long night.

3. Breastfeeding is easily the hardest part of post-partum.

I didn't read too much about breastfeeding, mostly because I knew it was a natural experience, but also because I thought it would come easily to me. I was so looking forward to the beautiful moment when my baby daughter would latch on, and I would provide sweet nectar for her to thrive and grow on. That moment didn't come. My daughter opted to take an approach that involved latching on for 2 seconds and sleeping, or latching on for 2 seconds and screaming her head off. I tried for two days straight to feed her, all the while enduring pressure from the nursery to "supplement" her with formula "until we found a rhythm" and going on 5 hours of sleep in 48 hours. I cried and cried every time I tried to feed her, and pondered what was wrong with me as a woman. I couldn't feed naturally, I couldn't deliver naturally, and eventually the hormones had me so depressed that I allowed a formula feeding. While I was wheeling her back the nursery, she threw up every ounce of the formula that they had forced down her baby throat. It smelled awful, broke my heart in two, and rejuvenated my desire to feed her myself. I'll be honest and tell you that it wasn't until I was home from the hospital, exhausted on the couch, and making a half-hearted attempt to feed her while I took a nap that she latched on for the first time. She ate for about 10 minutes and then slept. For 3 hours. Babies really have a mind of their own, and the nursery is going to make you feel like a bad mother if you don't feed your child every 2 hours. I would encourage you to meet with the lactation consultant at the hospital, because she was wonderful to remind me that the baby's stomach is only the size of a marble for the first week of life. They really don't need much, and they'll make sure and let you know when they do. Breastfeeding is hard, feels like the world's most UN-natural thing, and you'll be tempted to give up. Don't. Once Ella got it down, it really did become beautiful to me, and watching her little fat rolls pop up Pushes me to soldier on. It is natural, it IS beautiful, and it's free. Every mom loves free things.

4. You're not as strong as you think you are.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. I was basically sliced in half to deliver my daughter. Doctors cut through skin, muscle, fat... you name it. And I was up and walking around the next day. You're on some INSANE pain killers, and even though you kind of say "Ow" every time you take a step, it's a very tolerable pain. But the pain killers are masking the extent of your pain. If you don't make yourself rest, by the end of day 2 of recovery, you'll be miserable with the pain of trying to move in bed, as they start weaning you off of painkillers so that you can go home the next day. Once again, I don't know how it works for natural births... but c-sections are painful. Don't be me, don't be the hero. Stay in your bed and cuddle your newborn. They smell like heaven.

5. You will be absolutely insane for the first week.

Like, we're talking bi-polar, schizophrenic, and manic-depressive all rolled into one giant blob. I am quite certain that Cody pondered leaving me at the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was very easily stressed, moved to hysterics over things that wouldn't normally bother me, and so exhausted that I had a mini-panic attack on the second night. This is a true story. People had been coming in and out of my hospital room all day long, so I hadn't slept at all. Never mind the fact that I was still running on fumes from labor and the first night. All I could do was cry by about ten o'clock that night. Cody tried hugging me, consoling me, comfort in all of it's forms, but it only made me cry harder. I knew I was acting like an idiot, which only made me madder, which only made me cry harder. Cody knew that if the baby stayed in the room with me again, I wouldn't sleep. He called the nursery, and while I've never hated my husband, I think that watching them roll the baby away was the closest I've ever come to it. I was already crying, but that flipped a switch in my crazy brain, and I was gasping for breath between sobs for about 30 minutes. Cody basically sat in silence on the other side of the room and waited for me to fall asleep. When I finally fell asleep, I didn't move. Even when the nurses came in to check my vitals, I was so tired that the literally had to lift my arm for me to put the blood pressure cuff on. I slept like I've never slept, and even though I hated that they gave Ella formula that night, if I hadn't stopped and slept, I have no doubts that I would have suffered a serious bout of post-partum depression. To be completely honest, I thought that getting home would be the key to feeling like myself again. Nope. When I got home, I realized that I didn't have a doctor to page about every weird thing Ella did. I didn't have nurses there to weigh her and make sure she was eating enough. I didn't have nurses to track my recovery and calm me whenever I felt a weird pain or twinge by my incision. I was on my own, and it felt lonely. I didn't know how to express this without crying, but I didn't want to freak everyone out by trying... So I basically didn't talk for about a week. I knew my parents were concerned, I knew Cody was wondering if he would ever get his wife back, and I absolutely hated the way I felt. It's normal. Your hormones are running rampant, and it takes a week or two to balance out a bit. The first week really is about surviving. Cry when you feel like it, and take showers when you feel like you're about to lose your mind. It helps.

6. The Second night home is the hardest.

The first night was tough, don't get me wrong, But it was manageable because I was prepared for sleepless nights with a newborn. I survived the first night (even though we ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room, and she slept for 3 hours, tops) and didn't rest the next day. I'm going to be really honest with you and say that the whole "Sleep when she sleeps" thing is crap. You're still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from the night before, and you're constantly checking on the baby, even if she's in a cradle right beside you. It takes a couple of weeks before you're okay with letting them sleep without poking them every 10 minutes. When the second night rolls around, you regret not taking a nap immediately. Your body is beginning to shut down, and you'll fall asleep in places you never would have imagined. I fell asleep in the glider with my head hanging down to my chest. I still have a knot in my neck from it. The baby is still trying to establish a routine, and their only source of communication is crying. It's completely okay to cry with them. I know I did. The second night is the night that you'll wonder what you were thinking by choosing to reproduce. This doesn't make you a bad person, and it really doesn't make you a bad mother. It makes you a human being. It means that you're still functioning despite overwhelming exhaustion. It means that you will miss life before the baby, when you could at least sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. It means that the hormones coursing through your body are doing their job. It's a tough time, because you're so thankful for your beautiful baby, but you're so miserably tired. It will be awhile before it becomes "the new normal" and you'll learn how to function again. Hold on!


7. You're not hemorrhaging.

... Just trust me. You're not.

8. There are tools to help you survive.

I have very quickly discovered a couple of baby items that have been our saving grace. I'll share them here, just in case you want to investigate on your own time.

This is where our daughter sleeps for the time being. It started as a "nap" idea, but she has slept like a queen in it since the very beginning. She sleeps in it beside my bed at night, but also uses it for naps during the day. I love it because it's tall enough for me to be able to reach in and grab her at night, but low enough that I can still roll over and look down to make sure shes okay. The cradle keeps her at a slight incline, so she's not flat on her back, and I completely believe that it's a major contributor to her lack of tummy problems. It folds up for travel (I take it to my mom's house when we visit,) and it's super lightweight. I have loved and adored this cradle. I'm so glad we chose it over a bassinet.

 

This is a nursing pillow called "My Brest Friend..." and it is. It really is. You can't tell from the picture, but each side of the pillow has a small raised pillow for sweet baby heads to rest on while they nurse. The pillow straps around me, which is one of the greatest advantages it carries over the Boppy. The pocket is great for storing cell phones (I use my timer on my phone to track her feedings.) This has been a complete lifesaver for late night feedings, because I'm able to throw her on the pillow and lean against my headboard for feedings. I don't have to worry about holding her up, smothering her if I fall asleep, or keeping her latched. It has been my favorite baby item to date.

 



 9. Fluids are crucial.

Even if you aren't breastfeeding your child, your body still needs the hydration to help recovery. I wish I had known this. I wish I had maintained my gallon of water a day immediately after recovery instead of waiting 2 weeks to start it back up. I'm 3 weeks post-partum, and I've been back on my gallon of water a day for 3 days. I have not suffered a single after-pain... those are real, by the way. After-pains are pains that are similar to light contractions, and it's just your body putting everything back together without your uterus in the way. I noticed them the most while nursing, but since the water is back in my system, I haven't felt them at all. I haven't had an breakthrough bleeding (just being real,) and I feel more like myself than I have since birth. It's no coincidence. It's the water. Stay hydrated... ESPECIALLY if you're nursing, because otherwise you won't produce enough to satisfy your tiny little leech.

10. It gets Better, almost overnight.

I'm not saying it gets any easier to feed a baby at 3 o'clock in the morning, and I'm definitely not saying that it's easy period... but it gets better. You begin to see the fruits of your labor through tiny baby fat rolls, good reports from doctors, and sweet baby grins. Your baby begins to see you as a comforter, and instead of screaming until you feed her, she calms when you pick her up and talk to her. She might scream again a few minutes later, but the satisfaction of knowing that she's beginning to recognize you is one of the most wonderful feelings. The first time Ella smiled at me, the world stopped spinning, and as tired as I was, I spent the next hour looking at her sweet face and wondering how we were ever "the Gaines" without her. Your husband starts treating you like his wife again instead of walking on eggshells around you. You'll find that you enjoy hugging and kissing him again. He'll change the way he loves you, and it's all because he loves you as his child's mother, which is a new, tender kind of love. He'll still tease you and playfully tap your behind when he walks by, but you'll notice that he hugs you a little longer, and kisses your cheek a little more often. You'll feel so incredibly adored that you won't care about the strange new shape of your stomach. The only thing you'll care about is this new dynamic to your marriage, and eventually you'll smile every time you realize that you're a family instead of a couple. Everything about your world is different, but somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The feedings and constant sleepy kind of become part of the new normal, and you start to feel like yourself again. Eventually, the baby sleeps for 4 hours at a time instead of thirty minute intervals, and those extra two hours feel like twelve. Ella is a wonderful sleeper, and she has been since our fifth night at home, but I try not to brag about that, because I know others that have 6 week old babies that are still up every 2 hours. Every baby is different, and hopefully yours is going to be a dream, but be thankful for the 4 hour stretches. I know I am.

Okay. That's probably enough. There are other things that go on that weren't appropriate for blogging, but I'm still thrilled to discuss them if you have questions. In the meantime, prepare yourself, ask the Lord to prepare your heart, and Sleep while you can. Cliche advice, but you'll wish you had listened.


Medium Marge Out.

Ella Morgan: The Arrival

I guess it's a good thing I bared my soul in week 36, because it was my last pregnancy blog. I know I mentioned there that we were full term and baby could come at any minute, but I really didn't understand the weight of my words, apparently. I'm a little bummed that I won't get to do the 37 week blog, because I was half-way done and it was actually a pretty fun post, but this tiny baby yawning on my chest makes it okay. Before we get too far into things, I want to give everybody fair warning that while bringing my daughter into this world was one of the most beautiful moments of my entire life, the process was pretty disgusting, and some of that is going to be shared in this blog. I also need to express that it is about 4 o'clock In the morning, and I tend to get a little weepy and sentimental running on limited sleep and lots of hormones. So if you aren't one for the "details" of a story or the joy that consumes my soul now, this isn't the blog for you.  It was only fair that I warned you.

On Monday, July 1st, I went for my 37 week check-up. Technically, I was 37 weeks and three days, but it's apparently all the same. I was feeling fantastic, decked out in Rangers gear from head to toe, and plotting a day of cleaning and naps. I got to the doctor's office and there was a woman in full blown labor sitting across from me. Next to me, there was a woman going through a list of foods she needed before her induction the next day. I smiled a little bit, because I was thrilled that in just a few short weeks, it would be me either dying from labor pains or bossing Cody around as I prepared to give birth. As usual, When my name was called, I had to step on the scale, and noticed I gained 2 pounds in a week with no changes to my diet. We took my blood pressure and I closed my eyes while the machine pumped the daylight out of my arm. It took several minutes to get the reading, and when the numbers popped up on the screen, I almost came out of the chair. 149/97. That's pretty much 150/100, y'all. The nurse immediately started asking all sorts of questions and took me to a room. My doctor came in about a minute later (even though I knew there were still people in front of me.) He was very calm, collected, and casual about everything as he checked her heartbeat, listened to mine, and prepped me to check my cervix. Of course, it was no where close to ready, and only a little "softened." He did say he could feel her head, which was exciting for me because it meant the process was starting. I started to relax, prepared to hear "bedrest", and thanked The Lord that she was okay. He sent the nurse for a sonogram machine and asked me where Cody was (Mondays are incredibly busy for him and my appointment was late morning. I had forced him to go to work with the promise that he wouldn't miss anything.) He found Ella on the sonogram machine and explained as he went that he was checking position and fluid. He turned the machine off, said "Hey, so, I want you to call Cody and tell him to wrap up whatever he's doing at work and come on back, because we're going to have a baby." Of course that grabbed my attention, and after a delayed reaction of "Ummmm, what?" He explained that Ella was completely okay, but her fluid was incredibly low, there were calcium deposits on my placenta, and my blood pressure/weight gain pointed to pre-eclampsia (again.) he basically said that since we were 37 1/2 weeks, it was safer for her to be out than in, so we were going to induce. I called Cody, he kind of sat in silence for awhile, then got REALLY excited. The doctor had me go home and get my stuff, then head straight to the hospital. I called my parents to meet me at the house, tried not to throw up, and took a deep breath. The moment I had cried out for only days before was here, and I had no idea how to cope with it.

Admission to the hospital was quick and easy (pre-registering has that effect) and it still felt surreal to walk into the room and change into a hospital gown. The nurses immediately hooked the blood pressure machine up, and we got a reading of 153/98. Baby was cool as a cucumber, with her heartbeat hanging out right at 160. They shoved a needle into the side of my arm, right by my wrist (ow) and checked my cervix. In one hour, I had dilated a centimeter and was 60% effaced. I celebrated and smiled, thinking that the day might not be too dramatic. The nurse placed a pill by my cervix that was supposed to dissolve and hopefully begin labor. I had to stay in bed and on my left side for 2 hours. At the end of those 2 hours, I was allowed to get up and walk around for a bit since my blood pressure had dropped to 118/77. Annoying, right? As soon as I stood up, I felt a contraction. Nothing bad, just enough that I noticed it. About thirty minutes later, I was put back in bed and had my cervix checked. No change. I watched Sleepless in Seattle and A League of Their Own and smiled that two of my favorite movies were on TV while I was waiting for my baby to come. Two hours later, another pill was placed, and not even fifteen minutes later, I was having contractions about 2 minutes apart, and about thirty minutes later, the needle was going off of the charts because they were so strong. Cody was downstairs eating dinner by then, and I think he only panicked a little when he walked back in to find his previously happy wife in a ball of tears. He sat beside me, held my hand, and kissed my cheek each time I survived another contraction. I was having them about a minute apart, and while I wouldn't say that the pain was enough to make me scream and slap Cody for putting me in this position, it was a pretty bad pain. I think the very worst part of it is that you do great for the first few hours, and then you just want them to stop for a minute. All I wanted was a break from the pressure and pain. But that wasn't happening. This went on for about an hour before my new nurse, Amanda, came in and said "Hey, I've been watching your contractions on the monitor, and I know you haven't asked yet, but I called the anesthesiologist. He'll be here in about thirty minutes. Those are really big, fast-paced contractions and they're obviously not pleasant since you're crying." I almost hugged her, but it felt like my hips were breaking, so I didn't. She checked my cervix and told me I was finally a two, and I almost punched her because I was annoyed that I wasn't at least a 5. Your mood changes rapidly and without warning during labor. Shortly after, the anesthesiologist came in, and even though he was completely in love with himself, I tried to be patient, because he had the drugs, and I needed them. The epidural was not a pleasant experience for me, mostly because he didn't tell me what he was doing, then told me not to move when he shoved a needle unexpectedly into my spine. Half way into the process, a contraction kicked in, and I was pondering ways to kill him when he said "You really shouldn't move right now."

Epidurals are a blessing and a curse. Well, for me anyway. It was wonderful to stop feeling the contractions, but I hated not being in control of my legs. It was about 9 o'clock at this point, and hunger was making itself evident. I was incredibly thirsty, and already battling dry mouth. I chewed ice chips like it was the best thing I'd ever had, but my mood was gradually declining. The next 12 hours were the most miserable part of the entire experience for me, as I was basically paralyzed in a bed, and had to page a nurse anytime I wanted to roll over. Cottonmouth was the worst part of it all, as I knew water was still hours away. I was awake until 4 o'clock in the morning, my body held prisoner, and labor had almost come to a standstill. I don't know that I've ever prayed as hard or as continuously as I did that night. The contractions were hardly even peaking. I had another pill placed at 4, and I was foolish enough to ask what happened if the 4th pill didn't work. The nurse told me we would have a 12 hour wait period, then start again. That meant another 24 hours with no food, no water, and no legs. She checked me again, still a 2. No changes in my softening cervix either. I finally fell asleep about 6:35, and my new nurse woke me up at 7:30 to check me. No changes. I threw my head back against the pillow and asked when I would get the 4th pill. She shook her head, said "The Pills obviously aren't working for us." And started a pitocin drip. Mother of mercy, even in the midst of the epidural, I could feel my uterus contracting in response. I was delighted. About 2 hours later, she came back in and said that my doctor wanted to stop the pitocin drip (it elevates blood pressure) if I wasn't dilating. She checked... No changes. At all. Defeat began to fill my heart as I waited for the 4th and final pill before a 12 hour wait. She mentioned that I would be able to eat during the 12 hours, but all I heard was that it was another 12 hours trapped in a bed before another 12 hour round of pills. I was so, so, so irritable. I was disgusted with my attitude, and I pity anyone who dared to converse with me. About noon, Cody was brave enough to come and love on me a little bit. I lost it. Tears fell faster than they've ever fallen before. Of course, the nurse walked in right in the middle of it all, and said that my doctor was in an emergency C-Section, but she would make sure he came in immediately. Well, about an hour later my doctor walked in. He checked my cervix (again) and sighed. Still a two. He sat back in a chair and said "Did your mom deliver naturally?" I said "Nope." Then he went through an entire list of scenarios and basically said that because of the position of the cervix, Ella's decision to disengage her head and hide in my ribs, and the lack of progress, he felt that there was about a 1 in 10 chance of me having her naturally. He said something about my pelvic bones also being an issue, but I had stopped listening. I already knew this meant I was going under the knife whether it was on July 2nd or July 3rd. He was wonderful enough to still allow me to believe that the decision was mine, and laughed when I said "If I was your wife and you loved me madly, what would you tell me to do?" He stood up, told the nurse to book the O.R. at 5, and said we would deliver her via C-Section. That was a weird moment for me. I knew it was the best option, and if we're being honest, the Lord prepared my heart the entire pregnancy for a C-Section. I knew. I just knew. But a piece of me was still sad, because I knew that I would be the last to see her. I knew I would have to go to recovery and go through endless vital checks because my body couldn't do what it was created to. Part of me wonders what would've happened if I had gone into labor naturally, but the other side of me knows that her life is pre-written, and nothing about that day took the Lord by surprise.

My mood lifted significantly after learning that the end was in sight. I had about a three hour wait, but I was on cloud nine. About an hour later, I gradually started feeling itchy across my chest and back. It spread to my arms and legs, and I finally buzzed the nurse because I was tearing my skin and bleeding from excessive scratching. The nurse immediately started looking for the source of the problem... I should probably mention that I have a pretty severe latex allergy. Her only conclusion was that it might be my catheter, and I told her that we sure weren't taking it out to check it now. She gave my IV a shot of something about 30 times stronger than benadryl, and I felt immediate relief. She warned me that I might feel sleepy, and I thought "Um, sleepier than going on 3 hours of sleep?" But I didn't. I just smiled and nodded. Not even 5 minutes later, I started feeling a sensation that I don't want to go into excessive detail about, but I basically thought my water broke. Cody threw the blanket back to check, and I knew by the look on his face that my water wasn't what I was feeling. My mom ran to find a nurse, and all I could do was lay in the bed and pray. I felt the blood start gushing again right about the time the steroid filled benadryl kicked in. It was a surreal moment because I couldn't decide if it was the medicine or blood loss that was making me feel sleepy. I fought with my entire being to stay awake. The nurse came in, changed my bedding, told me to relax, and had me watch Ella's heartbeat. No changes. Her sweet tiny heart never slowed, skipped a beat, or accelerated. The nurse assured me that it was because my cervix was irritated, and it likely shifted back toward where it needed to be, causing a bleed. I told her I was feeling sleepy, and she smiled and said "Then go to sleep." I prayed that the Lord would knock me out for the next hour and a half, as I couldn't stay there and think about the situation. He sure answered that prayer. Apparently during that time, Ella woke up and started moving all around my stomach. Nurses kept coming in and adjusting the fetal monitor because she kept disappearing from the radar. It was apparently a panic filled hour for those aware of the circumstances, but I was blissfully unaware. The anesthesiologist came in and started talking to me about the surgery, but I couldn't focus on his words. I knew it was go time, but I couldn't make myself wake up. It was nice to be so laid back about it all, but frustrating that I felt too drugged up to really absorb what was happening.

 They wheeled me into the O.R. and my body started quivering. I was assured that hormones were causing the problem and everything would be fine. Cody came in and I immediately felt the quivers cease. It was a wonderful feeling to know that just the sight of him could steady me. I was still feeling overwhelmingly sleepy, and only snapped out of it when the anesthesiologist said "Since they've already made all of the major cuts, I'm going to assume that you're not feeling anything." I focused in on the weird sensations on the other side of the curtain, and while it's not something I would do everyday, it really did feel cool. I heard them count to three and both doctors started shoving my daughter out of my ribs. They were both shaking because of how hard they were pushing, and I felt it as soon as they finally unwedged her. About 30 seconds later, I heard him say "Cody, get your camera" and watched Cody's face move from anxious to a state of awe. He kept saying "Oh my Gosh. Oh my Gosh. Kaylea... Oh my Gosh." My husband fell in love with my daughter and I was blessed enough to watch it happen from my side of the curtain. Of course, I blame the drugs, but all I could say was "Is she bald?!" and Cody laughed. "No, Kay. She's not bald at all." They whisked her by me and over to the table so that they could get the fluid out of her lungs. A short time later, I heard a sweet baby cough and a whimper. I smiled, felt the tears well up, and thanked God for her life. They let Cody hold her, but sat him down behind me, so I still couldn't see her. They whisked her to the nursery to start oxygen (Which she didn't even need) and took Cody with them. I was left to listen to the doctor's talk about their weekend plans while they stitched me up, and then I was wheeled to recovery. The quivering started again, and it freaked everyone out. I had to assure them I wasn't seizing and it was apparently my body's response to the birth. Cody came in and showed me pictures of a tiny baby with a ton of hair, and my heart was full. I encouraged him to go and see his tiny baby, and I only had to encourage him once. People filed in and out of the room over the next half hour, and then I was taken to my post-partum room. About 15 minutes later, they wheeled my tiny baby in, and I almost clawed the nurse's eyes out when she made me go through a long list of do's and don'ts before she would let me hold her. Part of me wanted to scream "LEAVE, DOOFUS!"... but I didn't.

After the world's longest (and lamest) speech, she placed a baby in my arms. I looked down at her tiny face and felt closer to the Lord than I ever have in my life. I couldn't form words, and I think I said "Hey!" about 30 times. My heart was racing, my cheeks were blushing, and I was completely in love. Of course, Ella took the opportunity to let out a giant scream, and reality settled back in. I looked over at my husband and fell in love with him in a different way. I was indubitably the farthest thing from his mind, because all he could do was kiss our baby and say "Daddy loves you so much," but I didn't mind. The pieces from the past 9 months fell into place. Every ache, every hurt, every hormone, every tear-filled evening during the first trimester, every stretch mark, every pound gained, and every MOMENT of the pregnancy made sense. It was the greatest sacrifice I've ever made for another person, but looking into the eyes of something that was made out of love was overwhelmingly wonderful. I had waited anxiously to see what sort of creature Cody and I's genes would form, and instead of cringing, I saw the most beautiful face looking back up at us. I always kind of knew that even if she looked like Smeagle, I would think she was wonderful, but I can say with certainty that she is absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I look into her eyes and see her Daddy's staring back. She smiles (I refuse to believe that it's gas) and I see a dimple that my Dad and I both have. Her tiny toes are just as funny looking as they were on the ultrasound, and even though they probably won't be very pretty when she's older, they're cute now. I don't even have to mention how completely perfect her hair is. It blows me away every time I look at pictures.

I see the Lord's design in every facet of her being, and my heart races when I consider the times that I thought we might not see a baby Gaines. Our hearts are full of love, and we believe more than ever that the Lord is good, and that he's super creative. I am certain that we serve a God who really does want good things for us, even if our timing doesn't line up with his. I see now that the journey to get here was hard, but I don't think I was ready for how drastic and life changing the process would be this side of a year ago. It sounds so cliche to say, but your world really does change overnight. I went from arrogantly assuming that parenthood was the reward for 9 months of work, but I think it's better to warn you that pregnancy is the easy part. After the baby is here, you don't care about anything else but their well being, health, and general happiness. Sometimes, it's easy to see that they're content. Other times, you feel so helpless that you cry with them in the wee hours of the morning. The difference between the two phases is that in pregnancy, you're sacrificing your body for a tiny stranger. In parenthood, you're happily sacrificing your sanity to make sure that your child is provided for. It's the hardest, most exhausting, sometimes even the most stressful thing I've ever done. But it's also the second greatest thing I've ever done in my life. The first was marrying Cody. I know our lives will never be the same, and I probably won't ever fall into a deep sleep again, but man, when I look at her baby face, I know it's worth it all.

 

That pretty much sums up her arrival. I plan to blog about Post-partum and things I wish I had known, but that's a different story for a different time. I also plan to continue blogging about Ella's life, but I'm only promising to do so once a month. I'll be consistent with it though, I promise. I guess I should sign off of this party now, because I hear a baby stirring, which means that it's almost time for Gaines Family Dairy to open. See ya later!

Large Deflating Marge Out.

Week 36

The obligation to blog is almost over, and I'm super pumped.

4. I think one of the funniest things about pregnancy is that you always think you know what to expect... until you're actually pregnant, and then it's literally every man for himself. Or Woman for Herself, if you really want to get technical. The day I found out I was pregnant, I bought "What to Expect When You're Expecting". I read all the way through the first trimester and thought to myself "Well this is going to be miserable." I was only 3 weeks into the process when I found out, after all. As the weeks ticked on, I grew increasingly aware that I wasn't battling morning sickness. I wasn't battling nausea, changes in my baby feeders, or frequent urination. The only symptoms I had were excessive exhaustion, an occasional bout of angry tears when I felt like people were treating me like I was being dramatic, an aversion to food in general, and cramping. Of course, this kept me in a constant state of stress and doom. As my gallbladder started shutting down, the vomiting started, but it was at 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning and after I had taken my prenatal on top of a fattening dinner. I thought that I had "night sickness" and put up with it until the dramatic attack almost 2 months later. Otherwise, my first trimester really would have been a breeze. My second trimester, I still didn't fight issues with excessive tinkle time, I didn't feel "flutters" when the app said I should, and my appetite didn't change at all. I still felt pretty tired most of the time, I had super stretchy ligaments, and I really didn't gain any weight. I consistently chugged water, averaging 4 liters a day, but sometimes more. I always felt like I hadn't had enough water. Other than that, I had a super calm baby, a forgiving weight module, and craved salads or "light foods." The third trimester has been the most "pregnant" of the three. The baby decided that she was done being calm, my back gave up on supporting me, and my legs feel like weights at night. The only time I "frequently urinate" is between the hours of midnight and 6:45 AM, when she lays up against my bladder. The weight gain picked up a little bit, but I've only gained 9 pounds to date. For me, Pregnancy has been 9 months of "Ow," "Are we there yet?," and "I feel like I could sleep for at least 40 hours." I say all of this so that the stranger reading this will know that it's okay not to line up with what your app says. I deleted it when I was about 27 weeks along, and my pregnancy immediately took a turn for the better. I stopped stressing, I stopped obsessing over why my pregnancy seemed so different than what literature said it should have been, and I learned that my pregnancy truly was my pregnancy. My child was always right on schedule, moving wonderfully (she was just laying awkwardly, I never felt her,) and we never received a negative report from the Doctor. So even though there's entirely too much information out there for a pregnant woman to read, try to ignore it and try to relax. Trust that the Lord is present and involved in your baby's life. That's my advice for the newly pregnant woman who stumbled across my incredibly blunt blog.

3. I don't know what you've heard about your pets and pregnancy, but they know. It's eerie, really. I don't want to be one of those creeps that spends thirty-seven minutes talking about my dogs, but I think it's safe to say that Cody and I are "dog people." Our dogs live good lives, sleep inside, generally get scratches whenever they want them, and generally keep us pretty wrapped around their sweet little tails. We know, we know, we won't care about the dogs after Ella is born, but right now, we really like them. I say all of this to say that my dogs are acting CRAZY right now. Well, two of our dogs are acting crazy. I am certain that the third dog is possessed by some sort of dog demon and silently plots my death. Anyway, Ellebelle, the dog that would be considered "mine" in this family, has decided that she hates my face and won't come within 3 feet of me. She ignores me when I call her, locks herself in her cage so that she doesn't have to sit with me on the couch, and is newly obsessed with Cody. It's very, very strange. She generally avoids Cody, remains glued to my side, and gets very upset if I ignore her. I'm not sure how to exist in this universe. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Todd, our obese dachshund, is generally content to be in the room with us, but not really one to cuddle. He generally uses you for scratches until he feels sleepy, then plops down in the floor. Not lately. The dog stalks me. If I'm horizontal on the couch, he tries to lay directly on top of my child. If I'm doing dishes, he lays in the hallway and keeps a close watch. If I step out of his line of sight, homeboy wigs out. I don't know if he knows my litter is coming soon, or if he's just picking up on my discomfort... regardless, it's super sweet, and I'm excessively curious to see if he's protective of the baby after she's born.

2. I just want to say that I can already confirm everybody Else's statement about why people reproduce twice: You forget. I was reading back through my blog, because November feels so long ago these days. I'm not even done with this pregnancy and I already found myself saying "Oh yeah! That was horrible. I hated that part." And I realized, though we've already discussed how different pregnancy is for each woman, for me... the farther along we get, the easier it gets. Maybe your body adjusts to feeling like it got hit by a freight truck. Maybe it's the calm before the storm known as labor. Maybe the Lord knows that we would cease to exist if it didn't become a little more tolerable as it progressed. For me, I think it was knowing that the farther along I made it, the closer to a healthy delivery she was. The first trimester was absolutely horrible. I don't know which part of that was pregnancy and which part of it was a failing organ, and I never will. I do know that the exhaustion was enough to make me feel absolutely crazy... maybe depressed is a better way to describe it. Because we opted to wait until we were done with the first trimester to announce our pregnancy, most of our friends and family just thought I was in a bad mood 24 hours a day. The holidays were exhausting enough without the hormones. And the hardest part of it all was feeling the way I felt, knowing that the Lord was in control, but still fearing that something was going to go dreadfully wrong. Reading back through those first 3 months made me complain a little less about my current predicament. Sure, My back kills me right now. Sleeping through the night stopped about a month ago. Some days, I lay on the couch and I don't move. Other days, the filth of my house sends me into a cleaning rampage. I exhaust easily, and I won't even BEGIN to discuss this heat. But it's all tolerable. My baby responds like a newborn would to most things now. When her Daddy talks to her, she responds to his voice, and it melts my heart. When I haven't felt her move, all I have to do is find a body part (the bigger the baby, the easier knees and elbows are to find) and push a little bit. She immediately adjusts or moves her little appendage from me in an annoyed way. When she's startled by me laughing or speaking louder than usual, she gets the hiccups. When she's uncomfortable, she makes sure I know it. These past few weeks have bonded the two of us, because it's almost like she's kind of saying "Here I am!" with all of her funny little perks and habits. I am absolutely in love with her, and I've already blocked out some of the worst parts of this pregnancy party.

1. Here's my public apology. (As we finish this pregnancy out, I don't know how many more posts I'll be doing, so I may as well do it now.) Back to the apology. Well, I don't even want to use the word apology... Hm. I will change my phrasing. Here is my public explanation. I have been faithful to document every step of this journey, and we have a pretty consistent following of readers. I don't know who you are or where you come from, but there's about 170 of you out there, and you always show up in my page views for each post. In my faithfulness to keep you updated, this meant that you got to see a very detailed, non-sugarcoated version of my pregnancy. Some of you that I know in real life have informed me that I make pregnancy sound horrible. Well... I don't really know what to say to that. It was no walk in the park. I don't know that I've ever met a woman in the middle of pregnancy that said "I wish I felt like this every minute of every day for the rest of my life." Granted, I didn't have a super easy pregnancy. Surgery generally doesn't come with the package unless it involves a sweet newborn at the end of it. I tried to find the balance between "I feel like a bag of crap" and "I'm still thankful for this sweet blessing." Sometimes I was successful, and sometimes I failed. I hope that when you embark down this road in your life, it's easy, breezy, and beautiful. I hope that you have a baby and look forward to multiplying again and again. But don't be surprised when you wake up one day and say "I feel like a bag of crap today." It's better to acknowledge those days. People are already going to walk on eggshells around you, even when you're in a good mood. And as you get close to the end, people are going to start saying "You look like you're ready!!!" and you'll bite your tongue from saying "Nope, that's just my face." It doesn't matter if you feel great or wonderful, people will still find some way to make it seem like you have a sign on your forehead that says "I hate the world!" Even if you're in a GREAT mood, they'll still remind you that you're almost there (even when you're like 19 weeks.) It's something to look back and laugh on, but in the moment, all you want to do is scream "I love my baby and I don't hate the world!" Pregnancy hurts. Pregnancy is exhausting. Pregnancy is hard. Pregnancy is a character building exercise... but it's still such a blessing... To know the Lord trusted you enough to house a child that will pursue Him one day is enough to make me do it again someday... maybe. Maybe not.

That's it. The end of week 36 means that we are officially FULL TERM and could safely have a baby anytime between now and July 19th. Sometimes that's super exciting, other times I think "Get out now. Get out now. Get out now. Get out now." Just kidding. I really do want a July baby. Back when I was newly engaged and plotting our futures when I thought that every aspect of my life would work exactly the way I planned it, I wanted a July baby or an October baby. If we embark down this road again, I will be plotting a birth in the middle of Spring. This summer pregnancy stuff is for. the. birds.

Large Marge Out.