Seven months old. SEVEN MONTHS OLD. Agh.

I say with utmost caution that the past month has been the easiest month of parenting for me. No random doctor visits, no freak-outs over whether or not she's breathing as she sleeps... I think maybe I've just come to accept that my baby is a part of my life, and I've begun to believe that the Lord is in truly in control of our day-to-day chaos. That's not to say that we didn't have our moments. A certain 6 1/2 month old opted to take a little face dive in the bathtub once. I grabbed her immediately, but still learned that "Dry Drowning" is a thing. Who knew? It allowed me to have 3 tense hours of watching my child breathe. THAT was a blast. Or perhaps the day that she decided to get choked on breastmilk and cough for 3 minutes straight takes the cake of "What the heck am I supposed to do here?" I've taken the classes. I went to 4 separate classes to learn what to do with infant emergency situations. After the incident was over, I was able to say "Oh yeah, that's what I should've done." That was usually 4 or 5 hours later. After the baby was snoring in her crib or screaming at the television. Basically, an instinct kicks in during "high panic" situations.... but the remarkable thing is watching your baby's body take care of itself. It's so crazy to watch her natural instincts take over and fix whatever's going on. Does she need me? Yes. But it's nice to know that her body is doing its part to keep her breathing as well.

Now, while it's been the easiest month of parenting, that doesn't mean that we didn't have a few moments of "I'm probably going to die of exhaustion tomorrow." Ella managed to contract her first real, serious, terrifying head cold. I see now why the doctor laughed at me when I took her in November for "sniffles." I was stubborn this time around, and when the symptoms started, I shrugged them off and turned on the humidifier. When the snot began to pour, I suctioned her nose,  and took it in stride, because I knew the treatment. Then came the rising temperature. That was a little terrifying, though it never climbed past 99.6, so I couldn't take her to the E.R. or her doctor. We held a screaming baby all hours of the night for 3 nights, but there was never a temp. Then came the cough, which is when I finally allowed myself to text Sheri the P.A. (Sorry Sheri.) Who once again confirmed my "No temp, No doc" rule. I was at my wits end, and on day 6, called the doctor. I forced my way into an appointment, and of course that was the day that we started seeing glimmers of Ella again. So I called back and said "Just kidding." And seemingly in a matter of 2 hours, we had our baby back... with a residual cough and a clingy demeanor. After 2 days, we had a residual cough and our regular baby back. The cough is finally going away, and believe me, I'll throw a farewell party for it. It was a crazy exhausting week to be a Mom.

The wonderful thing about it is that I have such a vast pool of "Moms" to call during these situations. I can text them a video of my hacking child and say "She sounds like this." And to hear them say "We sound like that over here too!" is super comforting. While I never rally for our kids to be sick at all, at least we can conclude together that there's something in the air, and that our kids didn't pick up some rare strain of illness by touching the cart at the grocery store. Because that is probably my worst fear. I practically hyperventilate if I see her touch the grocery cart in any way, shape, or form. In the midst of all of this, Sheri gave me the greatest, most comforting words as I blew up her phone while I was terrified of "dry drowning." I mentioned how tired I was of being afraid of the worst, and while she said that things usually don't get better until baby #2, I should keep in mind that the reasons we even hear about things like "dry drowning" and "grocery cart paralysis" is because of how rare they are. We don't see news titles about each child's common cold, ear infections, or blocked tear ducts because they happen every single day. The rare things really are rare things. It's been a great comfort to me. I would be so lost without Sheri. Here's a picture of Sheri's husband holding my child. It melts me to the core, because Jay also officiated Cody and I's wedding almost 4 years ago. They hold such a special place in our hearts.

More than ever, I realize how blessed and thankful I am to be raising such a ball of sunshine. Even at her sickliest, we would get the sweetest little grins between sobs. I think I've mentioned that "Ella" is a name of many meanings, just depending on which website you use. One of the meanings that always stuck out to me was "Bright Light" and I can say without a doubt that it sums up my sweet baby's demeanor. She wakes up smiling, goes to sleep smiling, and even in the dog days of motherhood, that sweet grin lights up our lives. I've watched her bring a smile to the face of every human that dare look in her direction, and I pray that her demeanor is always this precious. I hope her sweet smile always brings joy to another person, because I know what her tiny grin does for my bad days now. I've been so fortunate to be a mother to an easy going, patient, and tolerant baby. She smiles for countless photo sessions, laughs without a great effort on my end, and is perfectly content to lay in the floor and play with her toys. I'm able to cook dinner, clean when I feel like it, and have conversations with her Daddy when he gets home from work. That's not to say that every day is a dream, but our bad days are rare, and I don't take that for granted at all. Before I make it sound like I have the world's most perfect child, I will say that we're entering into "fits." This is usually for the funniest reasons, like picking her up out of the floor while she's content playing, or taking a toy away from her because we have to do less important things, like bathe. I think the funniest fits are the ones that she throws after her Daddy kisses her one too many times. They're still "cute" fits, but I know a day is coming where discipline will come into play... clearly not anytime soon, but a time is coming where those fits will embarrass me. Those days can take their time.

When my baby was a just a few weeks old, my Grandparents came down for a visit, and during a quiet moment with my Grandpa, I mentioned that I was excited for her to be a little more interactive. He laughed to himself and said "I think that you'll find that when you get to those days, you'll catch yourself saying "This was so much easier when you stayed where I put you." I laughed and threw it in my "memory book," and never thought much about it again. Well, let me tell ya, it's all coming crashing back. This child is everywhere.  There was a time (even two weeks ago) that I could put her down in the floor and go about my business. My heart skipped a beat when I walked around the corner last week and my baby wasn't in the floor where I left her. I found her in the hallway adjacent to the living room, grinning and giggling at my panic. She's not a certified "crawler" yet, but homegirl can get where she needs to go in no time at all. So now I check on her way more than I should and attempt to do everything in thirty second intervals. It's a total blast.

I'm excited and nervous to announce that we are officially moving. Our home in Odessa is under contract, and we are under contract for a home that felt like "home" the moment Cody and I stepped inside of it. The Lord really shook our plans for a home, as we were ready to build another new home and be content. Our home was for sale for 3 months, which is pretty much unheard of around here. We were tired, beaten down, and weathered, but just one day out of no where, the house sold. So we went to speak to our builders, and learned it would be April before we could ever begin building. That would be a new home in August. Homeless for 4 months. No thanks! So we started looking around Midland, convinced we would never find a decently priced home in a good neighborhood, but the Lord is so good to provide for us. Our new home was on the market for ONE day, I saw it on the website, text Cody that we NEEDED to see it, and we went to look at it the next day. We were the first people to ever look at the home. We made an offer, and it was accepted. We absolutely choose to believe that the Lord has been holding this home for us. The fact that the sellers took our offer (which was below asking price) and didn't make us wait until they had other offers to compare it with just spoke volumes to us about how good God really is. This has been the plan the whole time. We see that now, and we're so excited to begin our new lives in a home that we adore. This will be the home that Ella remembers all of her life, and so we're bound and determined to get in and make it "ours." The backyard is one of the prettiest backyards I've ever seen, and that's even in the middle of January. I can't wait to see it this summer. There's an entire gated area that we've designated as "Garden," a wonderful shop that Cody can transform into his studio, and bookshelves are all over the house. We love it so much, and I can't wait to post photos next month!

So now that we're starting to pack this house up, those feelings I've been dreading are starting to make themselves known. When we walked through the door for the first time 2 years ago, I turned to Cody and said "We'll probably bring our first baby into this house." Cody shrugged and said "Probably." And we did. When I prepared my first grocery list to break in my brand new appliances, I thought to myself "I'll probably use these more than anything in this house." And I did. When my newborn baby woke up to eat every hour for the first week of her life, I sat in the corner of my room and cried while I rocked her. The corner that I hated so badly then is the corner that I'll miss more than anything in this house. It hurts my heart to know that I'll never be able to see that corner again. And yes, I know that I'll make tons of new memories in our new home, but I feel that my heart is always going to cling tightly to those first few months in the house on 93rd, and I think I'm allowed to mourn the loss of the "Rocking Corner." We've watched our baby form a personality in this house, and while I'm so looking forward to watching her form a childhood in the new house, I'm clinging tight to our last few weeks here.

I think that's most of the big things. Our baby is growing and thriving. I so wish that I could get her to take a bottle or eat solids again. After her diseased week, she hasn't been interested in anything other than me. It strokes my ego, but at the same time, Solid food helped keep her bowels regular, and despite the blatant information overload, I prefer one dirty diaper a day to one ENORMOUS diaper once every three days. So gross. If this child ever cuts a tooth I might pass out from disbelief. I always think it's right on the edge of cutting and then it disappears again. I hear that I'll wish she had no teeth once she accidentally bites down while eating, and I'm sure that's true, but I ready for my baby to stop having a runny nose and crying with achy gums. It hurts me to watch her hurt. I'm so thankful my parents. They always seem to know when I'm the brink of a meltdown, so they're quick to "need alone time with Ella" to give me a minute to collect my thoughts. Around the middle of month 6, my mom said "Uh, what clothes fit her right now?" After I showed her the 6 onesies that still fit our chunky baby, my Mom promptly took us to Kohl's for outfits that didn't showcase baby cellulite. When my Dad took note of the baby food that Ella showed no interest in, he was quick to raid Target for a brand of baby food called "Ella's Kitchen," and of course she devours it. They always seem to show up with diapers as soon as our stash starts dwindling down. I hate to say that we rely on them, because we could certainly make life work without their support, but date nights would be obsolete, and I don't think I could manage that. I'm equally thankful for my awesome husband, because I know how hard it is to make it work with one income. I know things would be so much easier if we had a double income... but he also recognizes how important it is to me that I don't miss the little things. He knows being Ella's mama is my joy, and he finds a way to make it work. So blessed. 

Oh yeah! Ella got another haircut! I tried and tried to soldier through, but it was so uneven and stringy that I took her to our retired hairstylist and said "See if you can give her a bob." And she did. And her hair is so adorable that we just laugh when we look at her. It looks like somebody put a wig on my tiny baby. It's seriously the cutest thing I've ever seen. Ella was a champ through her haircut, and even played nicely with my hairstylist's baby, who's only 3 weeks younger than Ella. It'll be fun to take a picture of them every three months, because it was so crazy to see how they've both changed since November. I love that technology allows me to take a picture whenever I feel like it.

Okay I think that's all. I finally feel like I'm thriving in motherhood. I don't have any problems saying that it took my hormones 6 months to balance back out, because to say otherwise would be a lie. I never really battled post partum depression, but I definitely suffered "dips." I had good days and bad days, but over the last month, I've noticed that even in the heat of the most stressful month of my marriage and motherhood, I had mostly good days. I'm thankful for that. I feel like myself for the first time since November of 2012, and it's been wonderful to have myself back. I see why people do it again. She's so much fun, and somehow, you survive the exhaustion. I don't know that we'll be ready to jump on the train again anytime in the next 15 years, but I see why other people reproduce multiple times. Ella has brought so much joy into our lives, I don't think we could handle double joy. Maybe we could. Basically, I don't know much about the future of our lives, but I know that today, life is wonderful... and I think maybe that's all that matters.

Here's our socktopus picture, see ya next month!

Ella Morgan: Month Six

Well, here we are. Ella is six months old.

I'm actually taking it a lot better than I expected. Maybe it's because I know that easier days are ahead. Well, I say easier days are ahead. I'm sure they'll grow more inconvenient, but they're ahead. Why? Because she's almost sitting up. Because she's almost got crawling figured out. Because it'll be just a little bit easier for her to entertain herself while I get a few things done. Yes, I am aware that this also means that I'll be followed around my house and I need to baby proof everything, but it really will help me so much when she can control her surroundings a little better. Does my heart ache to know that I'm no longer the mother of a "newborn?" Yes. But it's a part of the gig. I've been reassured that the fun days are coming. The days that inspire you to say "I could do this again." When words start forming and giggles require less of a show. When crawling becomes "toddling" and they're still little enough to curl up next to you without being obnoxious about it. I don't necessarily welcome those days, but I'm okay that they're approaching.

I'm so happy to announce that we finished the first six months of her life with an exclusively breastfed baby. Where there's a will, there's a way, and my body has adjusted to meet her needs. I gave her cereal about four times, and I couldn't follow through with it. It made me too sad. So I stopped, and we soldiered through to the sixth month, as her doctor originally recommended. I'm told that we need to begin introducing her to solids, and I have, but it breaks my heart in two. I bought a few options at Target, just to see how she liked it, and she devoured them. She didn't have any tummy problems after, she didn't spit the food out, and she cooed with glee after each bite. I guess that means she's ready. I wanted her to hate them. I wanted tears and for her to refuse the baby food. I wanted to tell the doctor "We tried! She just wasn't interested in them. She clearly wants to continue being exclusively breastfed." She didn't. She gleefully and enthusiastically tries anything I throw at her. The only reaction that hasn't been an obvious love was Bananas. Weird, right? She loved green beans, peaches, and sweet potatoes... but the bananas took a few bites. I wish you could have seen me at Target when I was trying to decide which food was best for her. I stared at the food. I thought about all of the times when I told Cody "I'll never make it to six months. It's too hard!" or when I cried at 4 in the morning because he got to stay in the bed while I fed her for the umpteenth time that day. When she was in the middle of a public meltdown because she didn't like to be covered up while eating, I would fight tears on the way to the car and remind myself that the days of solid foods were coming. I longed for the days when I had another way to feed her, because she refused a bottle. Then as that six month mark started approaching, I started dreading it. I didn't want to share her. I wanted to continue to be the one that provided everything she needed. I didn't want to introduce solids yet. I mentioned as such to my husband... using something along the lines of "Cavemen probably breastfed until the kids were like 5." He shut me down, encouraged me to continue breastfeeding, but discouraged doing it exclusively. I'm not sure who the more selfish one is here... =)

Anyway, it goes by so fast. The days were so long, but here we are at 6 months. Don't get me wrong, there were days when I thought I was going to die if she didn't grow a little faster. There were days that needed to move at a quicker pace. But knowing we're already half way through "infancy" is so hard. I'm so excited for the days to come, but I'll miss breastfeeding so much. I know we still have at least another 6 months of feedings, but they'll grow farther and farther apart as we move on. It wrecks me every time. But I'm becoming more and more okay with it. I'm ready for dates with my husband again. I'll be happy to drop her off with my mom and not stress about her when I'm supposed to be enjoying him. I know that it'll be awhile before I could comfortably leave her for longer than a few hours, but hey, we're getting there. It's so funny... most days I stare at her while she throws a tantrum in the floor and think "If I could just have an hour to myself, I would have more patience for this." But when I finally call my mom to ask her to babysit, I talk myself out of it. I would miss her too much. It's an uphill battle, I tell you.

Believe it or not, this kid is still toothless. We went through two weeks of hell with this girl. No sleeping, nursing strikes, runny nose, temper tantrums, enough drool to drown in, and an exhausted family. We just knew that her first tooth was on the horizon.... Nope. Nada. Zilch. As a matter of fact, all teething symptoms have completely disappeared. I have no clue what happened, but I guess her tooth decided it wasn't ready. It was such a big fat bummer. But I'll take a happy toothless baby over the stranger that was residing in my home ANY day of the week.

I suffered a bit of a psychotic break during those two weeks. I think I mentioned in the last blog that Ella's sleeping habits had suddenly changed with the time change, and we couldn't find a good groove. She was doing a lot of sleeping with me, and I hated it. We were up every few hours, she didn't nap during the day, and I was exhausted. Exhausted. One night, I stood in my kitchen and cried. I probably cried for thirty minutes because I couldn't stand my exhaustion another second. I told Cody through sobs that something had to change, or I was going to lose my mind. We tried all kinds of things. A lavender bath before bed, followed by quiet time and rocking her to sleep. We tried putting her to bed 2 hours earlier, thinking she might be too tired to slip into a restful sleep. We fought her with all of our might, and she fought right back. We even gave "Cry it Out" a whirl. Let me just say that I salute all of the "Cry it out" Moms. I'm not one of them. I made it an hour before I caved, and I never tried it again. She was inconsolable, and slept exactly zero hours that night unless she could feel me breathing next to her. If I moved at all, she woke up. Miserable. SO, we're not a cry it out family. And it's totally okay if you are... but it wasn't for us. Never. ever. ever. Basically, I don't have a clue what changed, but about 2 weeks ago, she stayed asleep when I put her down in her cradle. And she slept a solid 8 hours. Then she did it again the next night, and she's done it since. Sometimes we get 10 hours before she wakes up to eat, but not too often. When she wakes up to eat, I can put her back down and get another 4 hours out of her before she wakes up. It's remarkable. We were still having problems with daytime naps, but after turning a "Vornado" fan on high blast, she takes two hours naps now. It's the best. I've been so much happier. I've even been motivated to exercise.

Speaking of exercise, I still hate it. Right after I delivered Ella, I told myself I would wait at least 6 months before I started really trying to lose the baby weight. Yes, I know that it's harder to lose the weight after the first six months, but I'm okay with that. I didn't want to pressure myself into doing anything, because I knew I would never stick with it. It took a long time to recover from my C-Section, and even now, I still get sore if I over do it with the workouts. I'm not naive enough to believe I'll be a size 2, but I would like to fit back into my wedding dress eventually. I'm sure as soon as I hit that weight, I'll be ready to get pregnant again, but that's just how life is. I grew a human, and then I provided nutrients for it. She's been my sole focus so far, and now that we're introducing other things to sustain her, I'm ready to start focusing on me. Breastfeeding has been great, because even though I haven't lost any more weight, I also haven't gained anymore... so that's been nice, but it's time to start making some changes. Perhaps a little less pasta and a few more greens. Boo. Anyway, I'm hoping that by posting it publicly, I'm held accountable. I'd like to lose ten pounds over the next few months. Yes. Months. I'm doing it at my own pace. I think a lifestyle change is more significant than immediate results. I've given up coffee (with the exception of social settings and early Sunday Mornings at church.), Dr. Pepper, and I'm working on Sweet tea. It's an addiction that's going to be hard to kick, but it's something I feel ready to do. So, there's that.

Speaking of weight gain, I'm glad the holiday temptations are done. Really, I'm glad the holidays are done. Like. December was on drugs y'all. At the end of the month, we were so tired that we just sat in our recliners and stared at the wall. It was hard to have a husband on staff at a really popular church. There was a lot of "single mom-ing" it, a lot of parties, a little bit of quality time, and a whole lot of memories. It's the best and worst time of the year. Ella had a wonderful first Christmas, was spoiled rotten, and adored by each of our family members. She was intrigued to eat the paper as we opened each gift, has enough new books to last her entire life, and I'm already plotting how we're going to find room for everything. It was a wonderful first Christmas, and I'll cherish it in my heart always.

In case you're wondering, If I never sell a house again in my life, it'll be too soon. I hate that we're making so many memories in this house, because it'll make it so much harder to leave. We were so convinced that our house wouldn't have any issues selling, and I'm really just at the the point that I don't know if I want to move at all. Like. Seriously. Please be praying that the Lord sends a buyer soon, because we. are. over. it.

I say it every month, and I'll say it again. It's so hard being a parent. There are days that I seriously consider ear plugs, because if I hear "Baby DaVinci" one more time, I'm going to lose my mind. But she cries for it. She plays in the floor with this cloth book, stares at the TV, and watches it as many times as I rewind it. Sometimes it's the only way to get a shower in this house, but Cody and I both feel the need to bang our heads against a wall after the third time in a day. It would be one thing if she was willing to watch multiple episodes, but she's only willing to watch one video. All day. Over and over. Is this a big complaint in the grand scheme of things? No. But any parent can relate. Every kid finds one obnoxious thing to love, and Ella's is Baby Einstein. Could it be a big purple dinosaur? Yes. Would that be worse? Probably. But I welcome a change. It's so hard to want to make fun and exciting dinners, but settling for whatever can be thrown in a pot and left alone. She's figured out that I'm her Mama, and that's a blessing and a hindrance. Sometimes when I really need to get something done, she really needs me. She's not interested in Cody, Baby Einstein, or playing... She wants to be close to her Mama, and she wants her Mama to cuddle back. Sometimes it melts my soul, but sometimes it makes getting anything done impossible. It's a weird thing, raising a human. I've learned it's possible to Love and Loathe in the same breath, Laugh and Cry in the same minute, and Long for time to move faster and slow down in the same day. It's wonderful, but maddening. It's a heartache, but the greatest joy I've ever known. Clearly I've got some things to work through.

I think that's mostly all. We've got a Roly-Poly, a baby that woke up one morning and decided she was ready to sit up, and the sweetest giggle in the world wrapped up in one tiny Ella. She's so close to crawling that she can't stand it. She throws the biggest tantrums when she gets on all fours and can't decide what to do next. She's found her voice, and "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma" and "Da-da-da-da-da" have started filling our ears. When she's in a really good mood, she says "Hi" when we say it at least thirty times before her. She kicks with glee, shakes with excitement, and raises her eyebrow in confusion at us daily. We love this tiny girl, and I think she's figured out that she can melt her Daddy with a coo at any moment. She'll be using that to her advantage soon. Our lives are wonderful, exhausting, and full of grace. Every single day is a new day to show grace. Every. Day.

Here's her socktopus picture, and we'll see ya next month!

Ella Morgan: Month Five

If you must know, I'm a ball of emotion over this month. Maybe it's because I know that next month means 6 months, which means this is the last month on this side of her first year of life. Whenever people ask me how old she is, I've always shrugged it off. "Oh, She's 3 months old." OR I would even round up. If she was 3 1/2 months, I would say "She's about 4 months." Those days are coming to a quick end. It'll be so hard for me to acknowledge that my baby is almost half of a year old. It shreds my heart to pieces. PIECES.

But until then, Ella Morgan is 5 months old. And she's beautiful... I swear she's the prettiest baby I've ever seen. I don't know if I feel that way because she's mine, or because it's true, but I stand by my conclusion. She's putting on weight so quickly that it's getting difficult to carry her around for an extended amount of time, because even though she's got great head control, we're still working on our back muscles, and that means that I have to use both arms to balance all 25 inches of her. I'm just a bit over 25 inches myself, so it's a battle to carry her to and fro. I love and hate this season of rapid growth. It makes me happy and sad. Joyful and Mournful. Welcome to Parenthood, right? 

Month 5 was one of the first big doses of "Parenthood" for me. Right at the beginning of the month, my little turtle started hacking and coughing and sneezing her head off. I suctioned her nose countless times, and she still sounded congested to me. I took her to the doctor for the first time, and we were basically given a pat on the back and a "It's just drainage." Apparently she was teething so intensely that her saliva accumulated in the back of her throat until it tickled her, causing her to slurp air in, causing spit to go down her breathing tube, causing her to cough. I felt like a goon for taking her in, but the best thing about Ella's pediatrician is that she always makes you feel like the world's greatest parent for bringing her. I love that she spends time with us, instead of rushing through the appointment. I need that in a doctor for my child. For me, just tell me I'm okay and go about your business. For my baby daughter, tell me the tiniest of details. Please, give me another reason to obsess over her.

Shortly after the first doctor appointment, we scheduled Ella for her first haircut. Never in a million years did I think I would have a baby with so many hair needs. We have to wash her hair every single day, or homegirl has an oily, homeless, hobbit looking mess of hair. We have to brush through her hair, or it tangles. If she gets a nighttime bath, we have to blow-dry it, because otherwise she has a lion mane of frizz the following morning. If she lays in the floor and rubs the back of her head on the carpet, it gets this gross looking texture to it, and the only way to fix it is to wash it. This girl is a hair diva already. Fortunately, she loves bath time, and tolerates her mother's excessive need to control her hair pretty graciously. Anyway, she was so incredibly adorable during her haircut, smiling at herself in the mirror and slurping on her fingers. It only took a month for her hair to grow back to the same scraggly lengths, but I'm trying to be strong and allow her hair to enter the awkward stage and pray it passes quickly. Until then, I hang out with my Frodo haired baby and keep her hair out of her face with a bow.

A couple of weeks after the first doctor's visit, Ella's eyeball started acting sketchy. We've always battled watery eyes because of clogged tear ducts, but this was a different type of eye issue. There was a lot of goop. Her eye was matted shut, gooped back up after I cleaned it out, and got super raw and red. I sent pictures to several mom friends, a PA (Sorry Sheri), and family members. I didn't feel like it was pink eye, and neither did anybody else. I was stubborn and convinced myself that we were going to ride it out, because clearly it had something to do with the tear duct, and I wasn't going to look a fool at the doctors office again. Well, I made it 3 days before I caved. Her eye made my heart hurt, even though she seemed fairly unaware of the nasty side effects. Of course, her eye looked completely fine at the doctor, with the exception of super red skin surrounding the eye. I was prepared, and showed the doctor pictures of how gross it looked the night before. Fortunately, she said that bringing her in was the right thing to do. She pushed on Ella's tear duct, made Ella angry, And a bunch of goop came flowing out with the tears. She basically said there was an infection in her eye, but it definitely wasn't pink eye. Yay! We were prescribed eye drops and sent about our way. Ella took them like a champ, and her eye looks healthy again. Yay!

Ella is gaining weight rapidly (like, a pound in ten days), and it's exhausting to keep up with her in terms of "feedings." I mentioned this to her doctor, and while we both want me to continue breastfeeding exclusively for another month, she gave me the go ahead to give Ella cereal once a day if it gets too hard to keep her satisfied. I've only done it a handful of times, because it makes me so sad to fathom not breastfeeding my baby someday, but Ella has loved the special treat. She only gets a tablespoon of it, so I don't know if it's the spoon she loves or what, but she's so funny to watch. I video it every time I feed her. It's been a nice break, but I think I'm going to be selfish a little bit longer, and wait until 6 months to make it a part of our daily schedule.  I love that feeding her is something that only I can do (except for between the hours of 12 A.M. and 7 A.M., then I hate it) and I want to hold on to that for as long as I can. Maybe we'll try again at 6 months. Maybe I'll wait a little longer. We'll play it by ear.  

I didn't say anything last month, because I prayed it was a phase, but my perfectly sleeping baby has disappeared. It started with the time change and never went away. I'm assuming it's a mixture of a growth spurt, teething, cold weather, and bonding to me, but I'm fighting the war of my life to get this baby to sleep through the night, forget about trying to make her sleep in a cradle. She sleeps mostly okay if she sleeps next to me, but I don't sleep at all. Somehow, my infant baby daughter manages to take up the entire side of my bed, leaving me with achy muscles and a bad attitude. However, if I try the alternative and put her back in her cradle every time she falls asleep, We get about 45 minutes of sleep at a time, with a 20 minute fit upon awakening. This means no REM sleep for me, no feelings of good rest, a coffee overdose, and a moody wife for Cody. Basically, at this phase in our lives, I sleep horribly any way we word it. I wish so badly that Ella would take a bottle, so I could at least take her to my mom's one night and let her battle the baby so I could get at least 4 hours of constant sleep again (Sorry Mom,) but alas, she won't have anything to do with it. I refused to give her bottles the first couple of months of her life because I didn't want there to be any confusion... but that's definitely something I regret. We have to plan our dates in about a 2 hour time span, which pretty much cancels out doing much more than a quick dinner. But we make it work, because we know that it won't be like this for long... and I'll miss it. 

"Kaylea, You don't work. Why don't you just sleep during the day?"

Oh, you. I've joined forces with SAHMWTD (Stay at home moms work too, Doofus). I'm not actually sure that's an organization, but I could recruit members in an instant, I'm sure of it. I've become one of the women that grows angry with people who claim that SAHMs live the easy life. I can tell you with all of the confidence in my soul that a stay at home mom works just as hard as anyone else. Even if Ella took naps longer than 20 minutes at a time, I would consider laying down with her. Maybe I could forget about everything else long enough to take a nap with her. But twenty minutes isn't worth putting everything else off. By everything else, I mean The laundry, the dishes, the meal prep, the grocery shopping, the housekeeping, the whole "raising a baby" bit, the feedings, the battle for control of your own house.... it's never ending. It's a vicious cycle. The job is never through. There are no breaks. The only perk is doing it in yoga pants. Sure, we get to love and hug on our babies, which makes it all worth it... but if staying at home with the baby meant lounging around and watching "Teen Mom," then everyone would be a stay at home mom. Real talk. Motherhood is exhausting, hard, and the greatest job in the world. All of the corny hallmark cards are true. 

I feel like I'm complaining a lot. That tends to happen with my cool new sleep schedule, but I don't want any of my words to be interpreted...so I just want to make it really clear that we are crazy about this little girl. Cody always laughs at me because he'll hear me say "You drive me nuts, Ella!" and usually about 2 seconds later, he hears a baby giggle and a Mama say "Oh, I love you madly." And really, I think that sums up this section of parenthood for me. She drives me absolutely crazy. She frustrates me to the point of tears. Sometimes, I sit in the floor with her and laugh while she throws fits, because I can't please her. She makes getting anywhere on time pretty inconvenient, so I've turned into a bit of a hermit. But I cannot fathom trading her for all of the sleep in the world. Her laugh brings me more joy than anything else on this planet. She has a grin that she gives me lately, it's almost like she knows I'm on the verge of tears, and it melts me. I like to pretend the grin means "Hey, I think you're the greatest person on this planet. Sometimes I can't even believe that I get to be your baby. I'm so lucky!" And it helps. It gives us both a clean slate. In perfect honesty, the grin probably translates to "Wow, what a whack job. What could there possibly be to cry about right now?"  But I choose to believe otherwise. I have to believe otherwise. 

For better or worse, she's changed our lives completely. I really don't think there's any worse to it, but the phrase is boring without it. My husband loves me more because of this sweet baby that I baked for him. I love my husband more because he loves our daughter so much. We know how blessed we are to be in a loving, functioning marriage after Hurricane Ella blew through, and we know that as she grows and changes, our love for each other will too. Even if the occasional "Don't yawn in front of me. YOU stay up with her and see what tired feels like!" or "I'm sorry that I don't lactate, Kaylea. I would help you if I could" is thrown across the room at each other.  At the end of the day, we know that this entire life we lead depends on us staying in love through it, so we both put a valiant effort into our marriage, and I appreciate that I have a husband that cares enough to fight for me. 

Even on my most exhausting days, I appreciate my quiet time with the Lord. These days, my quiet time consists of putting on "Baby Einstein" and tuning out "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" while I try to journal my thoughts down. It tends to calm my anxious heart, and I feel refreshed when it's all said and done. I'm so thankful that I don't have to barrel through motherhood alone. I'm aware of a sweet, merciful, gracious Jesus in my life, and I wish everyone could know the peace that comes with knowing him. I really, really, really do. 

I'm really rambling this blog. It probably has something to do with the fact that it's 12:45 A.M. and I have a sleeping baby sprawled across my upper body. Maybe I'm afraid to move, because I know that as soon as I do, she'll wake up again, and we'll have to start the bedtime routine all over again. Either way, it's nice to vent. So what else can I cover? Oh. I'm so thankful for great friendships in our lives. I'm thankful that we have so many friends who love our baby so deeply, whether that be Cody's co-workers (and friends) making sure that Ella and I are included in their worlds, Ella's Aunt Lexie making the trek to spend time with her so that they can build a relationship, or My BFFL Alyssa showing up and my door and flaring her nostrils at the fact that it's 2 P.M. and I'm still in my pajamas... people pursue relationships with us. Lexie loves to cuddle Ella while Ella plays with her Hair, Alyssa spoils my daughter entirely too much, and our friends demand that Ella calls them "Aunt" or "Uncle." Alyssa makes me leave the house one day a week. She makes me put makeup on, brush my hair, and stand in the sunshine for a few minutes before she lets me go inside. I am drowning in community and a text is always there to remind me of that when I start feeling sorry for myself. I love the relationships that the Lord has provided for me, because it's truly the answer to a prayer that I prayed continuously while pregnant with my tiny baby.

I guess that's all. I could go on and on. OH! Ella's first thanksgiving was wonderful. We spent the day loving on our baby, and she was a big winner in the "I'm thankful for..." game. I'm aware every moment that our story could have ended so differently, whether that be never conceiving, a hard pregnancy, or a bad labor. I bless the Lord for his goodness, and I'll forever be reminded that we never walked alone. Never once. She wore an adorable turkey outfit (Thanks, BFFL), and then we changed her into camo so that her Daddy would know somebody was cheering him on... and we took a three hour nap. It was the best. We decorated our Christmas tree during the Ice Apocalypse of 2013, and my heart of full of love and joy as we cuddled together and watched "Home Alone." It was such a wonderful three days. For me. Cody was ready for it to be over around noon of day 2. 

Okay. I need to stop! Thanks for holding on through the world's most random blog. We'll see ya next month!

P.S. These Socktopus pictures are getting harder and harder to take. Seriously. She can't be still. 

Trudging and Thanksgiving

If we're being honest, I shouldn't be blogging right now. I should be taking full advantage of the fact that my daughter is taking a nap for the first time in at least twelve days. We're right smack in the middle of a sleep pattern change, and I hate it. I'm just being totally, completely, sincerely, brutally honest. I was quite content with Ella sleeping 8 hours a night, and I don't know if we're in a growth spurt or her first attempt at rebellion, but she's killing me. The logical side of me believes that she's adjusting poorly to the temperature change. Our room is a little colder, but we're not quite ready for  the heater yet. When I finally get tired of fighting her and pull her into bed with us, she sleeps like a queen... but I sweat all night long. And I sleep with my arm against my husbands back so that he doesn't roll over on her. And I keep my body stiff so that I don't fall of the bed (which has actually happened recently.) And I wake up every morning cussing myself for letting her stay there. My neck hurts, my back hurts, my head feels like it's going to explode, and I really feel like I'm going to have a meltdown if I don't get coffee coursing through my veins immediately. My excessively chipper husband greets me with a "Hey Baby!" and my morning child smiles at anything and everything. I ponder how I could possibly exist in a home full of people who enjoy sunrises and getting out of the bed in the morning, and don't respond to any questions or baby shrieks until the coffee light ticks on. 

One of my favorite movies is "A Knight's Tale." Not because of the plot, necessarily, but I love to quote movies, and this movie is a great one for quoting. One particular line is from the character named Geoffrey Chaucer, and in this line he says:

"To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on."

Y'all. I'm trudging. I'm trudging through motherhood right now. I feel the best form of blogging is honest blogging. I. Am. Trudging. 

Anyway, I should be creating my grocery list. Or possibly doing laundry for the first time in three weeks. I could finish cleaning out Ella's closet, considering we've transitioned into the next size up, and that means finding a new house for all of the clothes that we bought just a short month ago. It would be a good idea to clean up the mess I made while cooking dinner. Logic would state that I should be proactive in preparing a crockpot dinner for tomorrow's lunch. But I'm not going to do any of those things. I'm going to sit in this recliner, drink my coffee, and collect my thoughts. I'm going to pretend that my daughter's vaccinations haven't made her a complete psycho for the past 24 hours. I'm going to pretend that I have so much money that I don't need to worry about making a budget friendly grocery list. I'm going to pretend that my toenails are painted a vibrant shade of red, and there's no such thing as callouses. I'm going to close my eyes while I type, because I know that as soon as I put my head on a pillow, that darling little princess is going to open her eyes. So I wait. I have a Coldplay album playing in the background, I ponder a few of the lyrics in-between keystrokes, and I wait for those sweet little shrieks to fill my ears again.

Yet... in the midst of the chaos... in the midst of trudging... in the midst of the never-ending cries and the 24 hour buffet I've been running for the last week... I'm grateful. My heart is full. I have a healthy, happy, rapidly growing daughter in my home, and she's just about the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I can say with completely certainty that I will not miss these sleepless nights. I will not... but I'll miss her tiny face burying into my neck when a stranger speaks to her. And I'll miss the way she looks curled up on her Daddy's chest when she takes her ten minute power naps. But I will not miss these sleepless nights. I just want to make that real clear. 

My heart is thankful for a husband that understands that this is just a phase. One of these days, he's going to come home and dinner will be ready. He's going to walk into the room, and Ella is going to shriek with excitement to see him, his wife is going to come around the corner with hair done and makeup on, and she's going to throw her arms around him. He's going to sit in his recliner, watch an episode of some television show that I don't understand in peace, and then he's going to sit down with his family and enjoy dinner. Someday. Right now, he comes home to a wife with dirty hair and dark circles, a baby thrown on her hip, some form of protein defrosting in the sink, and an overall sense of exhaustion in the air. He takes the baby as soon as he walks in, and hastily kisses his wife on the cheek so that she can start dinner. He bounces the baby until the baby gets too hungry to hang out with Dad anymore, then he cleans up the living room so that he can find his recliner. We're in the heat of new parenthood y'all, and one of these days we're going to find a routine. Until that day, we soldier through and collapse into the bed at night.

My heart is thankful for the vaccinations that have wrecked our world lately. I know there are so many thoughts and opinions and warnings about vaccinations, but I really don't care to talk about them. We chose to vaccinate our daughter because we aren't willing to risk the consequences of opting out. I'm thankful that we are raising our daughter in a world of countless medical advancements, and that we're able to protect her through modern medicine. I won't lie, I wish that I had the ability to disappear through some of these fits that Ella is throwing, but I clearly can't be upset with her for responding to her body building antibodies.

My heart is thankful for the chaos. Someday, we'll look back and laugh. We'll be the parents of a teenager who knows everything, and we'll smile to ourselves. "Ha!," we'll say, "And we thought things were complicated with an infant." We'll look at each other with tired faces, and say "Remember when she couldn't talk?" and smile. We'll look at her baby pictures with whatever device technology has advanced to by then, and our hearts will hurt a little bit. Was the teething phase so bad? Were her cries really so exhausting? Were we being dramatic? Surely things were easier when she stayed where we put her. 

My heart is thankful that I'm aware of how quickly this is going to pass. I picked up a pair of newborn jeggings today and I just about crumbled into pieces. I scooped up my cranky baby, sat down in her bedroom floor, and I held her. She screamed bloody murder, I prayed that the tylenol would kick in soon, and it wasn't a moment that I would call "precious," but I soaked it in. I soaked in all 24 1/2 inches of her. I kissed her cheeks and her forehead. I kissed her nose. I held her close to me and ran my fingers through her hair. I love being her mama. She wears me out, and sometimes I really do wish she came with a pause button, but we're going to make it. She is worth every minute.

My heart is thankful that even though I am certain my body will never be the same, it continues to amaze me. It managed to grow a human, recover from two abdominal surgeries, heal itself remarkably fast, and feed the human it grew in a year's time. I have aches and pains all of the time, but in the grand scheme of things, the Lord crafted us so brilliantly. I push myself to the breaking point, but my body always bounces back. I never want to take that for granted. I'm thankful for the Lord's design. Especially when it comes to feeding my baby. For free. 

Basically, this blog is just a way for me to collect my thoughts. To sort through the million things I have coursing through my brain at any given moment. I'm so, so tired. I swear I've never been this tired... but I said that while I was pregnant. I said that when Ella was born. I said that after her first round of shots, and I said it last week. I think eventually I'll just adapt to being tired, and then life will get easier. And that's just about the time that it'll be time to start thinking about another baby. And then it'll start all over. It already makes me smile, and it already makes me want to punch myself. I hope that if you're exhausted, and plotting how many grown up beverages you're going to have when your child has its first sleepover at your parent's house, and wondering how in the world you're going to keep living this way... You remember that it's just a moment in the grand scheme of things. It's going to get better soon. Until then, hold the baby a little tighter. Cuddle through the screams. Ponder your sanity while you kiss baby toes. Laugh when you want to cry. You won't miss the mundane, but you'll miss the little years. I'm sure of it. 

"When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there’s no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy." John 16:21 

Ella Morgan: Month Four

I just want to begin this blog by saying that we had a baby in the PERFECT month. It was hotter than hades outside (Actually, that's not true... during our hospital stay and the drive home, it rained cats and dogs. but the months leading to her birth were hot.) And it was miserable carrying her in the heat, but we are having so much fun as we enter into this holiday season. SO MUCH FUN.

October is my favorite month of the year. The 4th of July is my favorite holiday, but October is my favorite month. I love the transition in the weather. Long sleeves, but no jacket. Gorgeous sunsets that always shine the brightest on a drive home. The prettiest colors decorate porches and mantles. I just love it. I think it's a wonderful, wonderful month. And having a baby that isn't old enough to voice an opinion about wardrobe choices has just been a blast. I bought one halloween outfit at the Beginning of October (featured in her monthly picture) and a sickness was born. I love dressing this baby to the season. I already love what Ella has done to rejuvenate my enthusiasm for holidays. We ended up with four halloween outfits (all super cheap) and we wore them into the ground. I feel a little bad for how neglected the rest of her clothes have been. I'm only allowing two thanksgiving outfits. Both have been purchased. She's growing so fast. The halloween onesies were really too small when it was all said and done, so I'm glad the month is over and I don't have to continue to fight her into her clothes. Mom Fail.

This month was so full of milestones that I can't imagine typing all of them. It has been without a single doubt the funnest month so far. Something happens between month 3 and month 4, and you really begin to see little peeks of the personality beneath the baby fat. I don't have a single doubt that she's going to be sarcastic, and I'm on the fence about how I feel about it. I've lived my life with an extremely dry sense of humor that a lot of people really don't understand. I'm sure any number of people think that I'm just rude, but those are the people that don't understand the quick wit. Those that understand me love me, and I'm making a very conscious effort to tone down the sarcasm knob. I especially want to make a change for the sake of my child. I never want to pop off and hurt her feelings because she misinterprets my words. I know it's going to happen, but it's my responsibility to control how often it happens. However, if she's anything like me, Cody is in for a world of zingers and laughter... maybe at his expense. On the other side of the sarcasm, we're raising a daddy's girl. The moment she hears her daddy's voice, she cranes her head anyway it will go until she finds him. She usually shrieks with excitement when she sets her gaze on him, and he always wraps himself a little tighter around her finger. It's very sweet. I do think she'll be more like I am in social settings, where she observes before engaging. I've never liked it about myself, but it's who I am. I would prefer she was like her Daddy, with the ability to talk to a vase if it so intrigued him, but we'll just have to see where we end up. She's got the funniest little smirk, hates being in a quiet room, watches our every move, and randomly let's out a coo or a shout whenever her heart so wishes. She kicks her legs with glee, moves her lower jaw with discontentment when she's getting upset, and opens her eyes to record breaking scales when we talk to her. She slurps on her pointer and middle fingers (because a thumb is just too easy), and loves to play with a toy elephant that she found in her crib. The kid is obsessed. It's hysterical to hear her talk and shake it around.

Ella's first "major" holiday was Halloween. Her first technical holiday was 4th of July, but I was recovering from a c-section and bringing a newborn home from the hospital that day, so a red, white, and blue dress was the extent of recognition. Next year, I plan to have Ella's birthday party of July 4th, with a "Little Firecracker" theme. It's going to be 200 percent adorable, but we have at least 8 months before that blog post, so we'll discuss that at a later time. I was a little conflicted about Halloween, because I was raised in a home that didn't partake. We went to an occasional trunk or treat at a church, but we never bought costumes and we never went door to door. We were raised in a church that believed that Halloween was evil, and if you partook in its festivities then you were participating in evil. As an adult and as a member of a church that has truly allowed me to learn and love my Jesus now, I don't know that I believe what I was raised to believe. Do not misinterpret my words. Don't send me links to the history of All Hallow's Eve. Don't tell me I'm blind to the evils of this world. I'm not oblivious to the horrors of Halloween or the "darkness" that accompanies it. But I also didn't dress my daughter as a zombie and take her to a haunted house. I put her in a pumpkin and pushed her in a stroller with her cousins down one of Midland's better known neighborhoods. There were so many people that I was feeling a little claustrophobic. I observed the costumes and the scariest one I saw was a woman in her 30's dressed as a... well I don't really know what she was going for.  Leggings aren't for everyone, guys. Each house had a theme, from Duck Dynasty to Queen Elizabeth. The candy bars were legit, not fun sized. I was shocked. As a first time "Trick or Treater," I had no idea that this is how it went down. One house handed out Juice or water with their treat bags... and inside the treat bag was a piece of paper, and on that piece of paper was all kinds of scriptures and encouraging words. And I kind of thought to myself "Maybe that's how you do it." Maybe that's how you go out into the world and be a light. Maybe that's how you carry your candle "in the darkness." I was truly impressed by the kindness of the woman and the subtlety of her witnessing techniques. Truly. Anyway, the wonderful thing about my parenting decisions is that they're decisions of Cody and myself. We aren't obligated to adhere to anybody else's decisions, just as you aren't obligated to agree with ours. It's one of the coolest things about having a child of your own.

All of that aside, she is everything I hoped for in a child. She's happy, smiles at just about anything, and loves to cuddle. She sleeps in her own cradle, for at least 8 hours, sometimes up to 10. Her fussy days are hard days, but they're few and far between. This child has brought more love into my marriage than I ever could've thought possible. I guess it's maybe because we look at each other and we know that she needs both of us so much, it requires the two of us to need each other more. She has deepened the partnership between us, and I love it so much. Sometimes I truly can't remember what we did before Ella was born. I know we sat on our front porch a lot, but the memories stop there. I'm being a little dramatic... but I also feel so inclined to point out that most days, in the heat of motherhood, I look at Ella and say "All I've ever wanted was 5 minutes to stare at a wall and forget my name. Can you just give me 5 minutes?" Her response is usually a smile and leaning toward me. Then she buries her face in the crook of my neck and my heart crumbles all over again. It's hard to be a Mom. You learn how selfish you really are as a person. But it's also made me so aware of how deeply I need Jesus and how deeply I love my husband. I fall into the lap of Jesus and the arms of my husband every single day, mostly because I just need a little affirmation. It's okay to need affirmation. It's okay to take a break from the baby. Not because the baby is a burden, but because it's important to brush your hair. We are rapidly approaching the one year mark that I learned I was pregnant, and my heart is so full of gratitude that it only makes those sweet little cries something I want to remember. This time last year, those tears were my own, and I longed for the cries of an infant in my home. I think maybe that's what pulls me through. I choose to remember everything that brought us here, and I choose to praise when I want to hide in my closet and pretend like I'm in a 5 star resort where spit up and alarm clocks aren't permitted. I choose to laugh on the days when Ella is crying just to hear the sound of her voice. I choose to rejoice in the mundane rather than considering what it would be like to take a shower in peace again. When I was pregnant, a friend told me that the days are long, but the years are short. Even though it's going to be so great when Ella has an established routine, eats Peanut butter and Jelly for a snack instead of me, and can tell me what the issue is before she has a meltdown... I'll miss those baby feet. I'll miss the coos that fill our home. I'll long to hear the sweet giggles that we had to work so hard to hear. I'll miss it all, even though living in the middle of it is exhausting. So in the meantime, I'm thankful to have a partner that needs me as much as I need him. I'm thankful for a husband that understands that even though the house is a wreck, the dinner isn't cooked, and the wife looks like a Tim Burton character, He knows that his baby is growing up in a world that revolves around her happiness. That her mother is giving everything she's got to raise a baby that knows what it means to be dearly Loved. A mother who prays for grace in every step she takes. A mother who fights the negative thoughts that can so easily consume a new mom. He knows that some days, I'm too arrogant to ask for help. He's so wonderful to clean when I'm not in the room, because it's so easy to feel attacked when he cleans in front of me. I know that it sounds so silly, but some days, it hurts my feelings that he cleans the living room. My advice to new Moms would be to let your husband help you. It's incredibly hard, because you'll get this weird feeling that you aren't good enough when he starts cleaning, like he's doing it to spite you. But he's not. Some days, you'll conquer every aspect of motherhood. Other days, you're lucky if the baby has on clean clothes when it's all said and done. It's a part of the ride. It'll pass. Try again tomorrow.

I don't know if I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Motherhood is such a blessing. I'm learning everyday just how gracious the Lord is, and I'm so glad that he blessed us with Ella. She's a handful and I swear somedays she purposely waits until I'm in the middle of something before she decides to get hungry, but she's changed me so completely. She's 4 months old and has been the sole reason that I've clung so tightly to Jesus, and I can only imagine how much deeper I'll dig in when she starts walking and talking. Geesh Louise.

I think that's it. Here's her socktopus picture, and we'll see ya next month!