A nine month old lives in my house! That's a pregnancy, people. She's been out as long as she was in. She's been out of my belly longer than she was in my belly (Thank ya, Jesus.)

What a month it was! Seemingly overnight, we went from a baby in our home to a tiny human. A vocal, mobile, facial expression-ing, giggly tiny human. All in one month, Ella started clapping her hands, playing peek-a-boo, dancing, "singing" with me, and truly coming into her own. She's got the personality of a 13 year old bursting through the eyes of her tiny face, and I'm already exhausted.

I've heard so many things about what it's like when your baby really understands who you are and what you represent in their lives. I've heard that there's no greater feeling and that it will melt your soul like butter on a pancake. I would like to add that while that may be true, it is also single-handedly the most exhausting thing about our lives right now. On more than one occasion this month, I threw my hands in the air and yelled "ANGST!!!" because it's the only word that I could think of at the moment. More than once I hid in the corner of my bedroom because I was too afraid to walk freely around my house, because I knew that if she heard me, she wouldn't stay asleep. Putting this child down for a nap was a nightmare. As soon as I moved her away from me and put her in the crib, she was awake and screaming. The stress and exhaustion became too much to bear for me. I was feeling very depressed, I never had an appetite (imagine that), and really ended up in a bit of a dark place for about a week. This a blog of truths, y'all. I was miserable. It was so impossible to describe to Cody through sobs that I loved staying at home with our daughter, but I also wanted to crawl under a rock until she was thirteen and it was okay to hate her. I felt like the scum of the earth because I resented her presence in my home, especially because of all of the months that I cried and prayed for a baby of my own this side of two years ago. I'm not proud of it, but I'm writing it because it's so important for you to know that it's okay to feel that way. Did I ever stop loving my baby? No. Did she still make me laugh through tears? Yes. Did I still cry when she wouldn't be away from me long enough to exercise my large digestive system? Definitely. It was a bad week. It was a horrible week. But we made it. And I blogged at the end of it. I still have Psalm 116:7 plastered on every writeable surface in this house. I need the reminder, but I also need sleep... which leads to the next section.

I hit the wall. I hit the breaking point. I waved the white flag and did what I said I wouldn't. We started "Cry it Out." I read "Baby Wise" when Ella was about a month old, but never took much away from it because we had a world champion sleeper until she was about six months old, and also: harsh. There were things that I didn't (and still don't) agree with, and though I appreciated the insight, we did things our own way. Until Kaylea lost her kool-aid over the course of month nine. So, after a talk with my husband and the shattering of my soul, I nursed my baby to the "Almost Asleep" phase and laid her in her crib, where she cried for 5 minutes and slept for ten hours.

Not.

She sat up as soon as I laid her down, waited until I walked out of the room, and then let out the loudest scream I've ever heard escape her tiny body. Windows broke, dogs howled, I feel I probably have permanent hearing damage... the whole shebang. But onward I marched... I marched down the stairs and straight into the lap of my husband. We listened to fifteen minutes of solid screams, then Cody went in and calmed her down. We listened to an additional fifteen minutes of whining, then Cody calmed her own. I sat in the chair and stared at the wall. I don't know that a single thought crossed my mind the entire time. After 40 minutes, the whining slowly turned to whimpering, and the whimpering to silence. We walked upstairs, and Ella was staring into the darkness. The girl's eyes were glazed over like a donut, but they were open. It was probably the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. About ten minutes later, we walked upstairs and found her slumped over between her legs, finally asleep. After we moved her on her belly, she slept for 6 hours while I stared at the ceiling, because I didn't know how to function in a silent bedroom. The next night involved a similar notion, but only about 15 minutes of crying and 15 minutes of creepy staring. We're slowing evolving into a different realm of bedtime around here. She's going to bed at a time that I'm not embarrassed to acknowledge, and even though it rips my heart to leave her, it's better for her. We're seeing significant changes in her mood and personality. So even though it's been extremely difficult, I am of the belief that we're on the right path. Hopefully one of these days I don't get slapped with a psych bill because she's eternally traumatized that I forced her to sleep as an infant. Kids these days.

Everything that I've ever read about infants is that they thrive on routines. "That's definitely the most impossible thing in the world," I used to say. But it's probably the truest impossible statement around. I've started shoving a routine down Ella's throat... mostly for my benefit, but hopefully for hers too. At 11:00 every morning, Ella's gets a package of baby food shoved down her throat. At 2:00 P.M. Ella gets a bath, and at 2:30, she nurses and takes a nap. The rest of the day is anybody's game at the moment, but at 6:30, she gets more baby food. These are tiny steps, but we're learning. I'm a much bigger fan of "Eh, let's see what today holds..." but that's not a life I want for my daughter. That attitude has been the root of all sorts of blowouts in my marriage. Well, blowout is a dramatic word. Cody never gets his feathers too ruffled. Unless we're late for something because "Gaines aren't late." This Gaines is late, but that's another blog. Anyway, we're working toward consistency in this house, and hopefully we see the fruits of our labor soon. Please, Lord Jesus.

I'm eternally grateful for so many people in my life. For my cousin (whom I've always referred to as an Aunt) Stina, who's always quick to answer my First time Mom questions with the bluntest, no nonsense answers in the world. I need that dose of reality in my life. Sugar Coating has never been my forte, and Stina has always been quick to deliver the bitter truth. Alyssa is still so great to come to my house and play in the floor with my baby, and most recently offered to let me take a nap while she performed her best tricks for Ella. My parents continue to usher us through this phase of our lives so graciously, providing baby food and wardrobe for my child. I don't think I realized just how badly I would need people when I embarked down the journey of pregnancy. I guess I just kind of figured "Eh, we'll figure it out." But when a fever-filled baby is screaming in your arms and you realize that you don't have even the tiniest clue about what you're supposed to do about it, you need people. When your baby's onesie is so tight that you can see cellulite, you're thankful that you don't have to pinch pennies to buy the cheapest option at Target, because all you have to do is open a closet door to find countless outfits that your mother has provided. I need people. I need them every single day. It would be miserable to walk down this road alone.

We did take Ella on her second road trip! "Wicked" is my very favorite musical and my Dad was so gracious and amazing to take us to see the touring Broadway show in San Antonio. It is a statement of fact that my soul feels at rest in Texas Hill Country. I absolutely love the environment and the restaurants... and the trees. I love the people, and servers who care about your dining experience, and outdoor shopping malls. I love it all. It was the best weekend I've had in quite some time, and I'm positively bursting at the seams to go back as soon as possible. Ella was a champ, and tolerated late nights and long car rides with surprising grace, and it did this Mama good. I enjoyed an evening out with my husband, Father and Niece (who's really closer to being a bestie) and didn't think about how tired I was even once. My mom and Ella hung out at the hotel, and while I'm sure my mother had an eternal evening, she never let on that she was worn out. I was thankful for that. All in all, it was an escape that we all needed, and I'll treasure it always.

Anyway, it was a big month around here. A hard month, but a month that truly made me aware that  my daughter is growing at a pace that I'm not totally comfortable with. I think I watched her crawl across the room at lightening speed three times in a row before I turned to Cody and said "It's time to get pregnant again." And he said "Okay." And I searched Amazon for a Chastity belt because clearly NO. All joking aside (because Pregnancy is not something to joke about with a hormone driven mother of an infant), it's all happening so fast. I'll never be able to put Ella in the floor and leave her there again. I've been forced to vacuum my floors more frequently in the past month than I did in all 4 years of marriage. Everyday holds a new trick in Ella's arsenal, and I'm just trying to keep up. I know it's something that I mention in every single blog, but I'm so thankful for this little life. I'm so thankful for the screams, the tears, the laughs, the shrieks, and even the messes. It's exhilarating to see that you're doing something right every single day, and to know that you're throwing every ounce of your heart and passion into the current calling in your life. Ella might take all of my songs about Jesus and the Sheep as a giggle now, but oh, my heart will sing when I hear her sing along. The Lord has blessed me so deeply with this firecracker that we're raising, and we're absorbing every ounce of her sweetness that she's willing to give. I'm so thankful for a husband that still swats my behind as he walks through the house, for a husband that builds me gorgeous farmhouse tables that cause my heart to soar, and for a husband that takes the baby and walks around outside long enough for me to throw a chicken in the oven. I cannot imagine doing this whole phase of life without Cody pushing me along, and I'll love him until I'm dead. Or until my heart stops beating. It's really whatever makes you feel more comfortable reading.

I think that's it! This is our last month of single digits around here... I'm almost positive that my next update will include a walking baby, considering that she's standing next to me holding on to nothing at all. BLESS IT! Here's her socktopus picture!

Ella Morgan: Return To Your Rest

I have a bit of a confession that may or may not come as a shocking revelation:

I. Am. Exhausted.

There are unpacked boxes scattered around my house because they're at the very bottom of my priority list. There are dishes in my sink that I swear I'm never going to find the end of because for every dish that I wash, three more replace it. There are piles of laundry in my living room and I can't comfortably say which ones are clean and which ones are dirty. There are unpacked suitcases in the office because they're out of sight and out of mind for me, and though they've only been there three days, I'm comfortable saying they'll be there for at least three more. Everything about my house either makes us look like hoarders or like we've been robbed recently, and truth be told, it drives me absolutely crazy. But lately, surviving has been the top priority around here.

My 8 (almost 9) month old daughter hates sleep. I don't know why, because it would appear that I could sleep for days without regretting it at all. I've blamed teething for the past 6 months of her life, but here we are, still toothless. I've relished every minute of her runny nosed cuddles, and closed my eyes and dreamt of sandy beaches and crystal waters while she nursed for the umpteenth time in a day. We've pushed through sleepless nights and napless days for three months now, and it would appear that I've come to the end of my rapidly fraying rope. I find myself extremely irritated by the cries in the middle of the night, and even more annoyed by the tears during the day.

But the truth of the matter is that she's only little once. These days are so long, but this year has been so short. Most days, that gives me great perspective. But today, the most wonderful thing happened. I put the baby in her crib, and she stayed asleep. I decided to put a hot oil treatment on my hair, and she slept through that too. A twenty minute nap is a miracle in this house. So I came downstairs and plotted which chore I wanted to tackle first... when my eyes landed on my bible sitting on the coffee table. And thought long and hard about the last time that I read more than a quick psalm in the mornings to "dwell" on for the day. So cliche of me. But today, I sat down and opened to Psalm 1. And I just kept reading. And reading. And then I stumbled upon Psalm 116:7. 

I found myself intrigued, and to be sure that I wasn't misinterpreting, I looked up multiple versions of the same verse. All leading to the same conclusion:

"Relax. God has been good to You."

And them comes perspective. I don't want to travel down the cliche Christian ramblings of "We have a roof over our head and food in our bellies!" Because while I'm ever grateful for those things, they aren't the point. When I was in my darkest days of adolescence, and my Dad kept tucking me under his arm and saying "You've just got get through the next couple of years, and then the fun starts..." every other day. When I would cry in my room because of MEAN GIRLS and ponder how things would ever get better, I would pray that God sent me a good man. I prayed that we would have a beautiful baby together. I prayed for a life full of love and friendships and an overall sense of happy. And if he hasn't exceeded every expectation! If only I could have SEEN what kind of beautiful baby that was going to come out of me. If I had only known that the obnoxious guy that worked behind me would shape up to the greatest blessing in my life... man, I would've sprinted into his arms and drug him to the altar. But I didn't know then what I know now. I needed time, perspective, and patience. When I finally married him, I was convinced that those were the best years of our lives... and then along came those two pink lines. And pregnancy. Oh, Pregnancy. I loathe thee. I didn't know then that  I would look back and miss baby hiccups and kicks, because I needed time, perspective, and patience. You cannot convince me that there is a sweeter sound in this world than hearing an infant giggle. I'm certain that it's the song of the angels. You see, I'm worn down and battered and exhausted, but all of my dreams have come true. Isn't it funny how even in the middle of the fairy tale, we still wish for the fairy Godmother to come back around? It's just further proof to me that there will never be a phase in my life that I won't fall down on my knees and beg for Jesus to give me grace. There will also never be a day that I wish I was back in high school because DRAMA. 

I'm so thankful that my eyes and my heart were open to hear what the Lord was trying to tell me today. I'm going to Need him even minute, hour, and day of my life. And hopefully Ella learns to say "HELP ME JESUS" when she's stressed out, because she hears it at least 5 times a day right now.

I just wanted to blog today because I wanted to remember today. Is there still a screaming baby in her crib waiting for her mother to finish blogging? Yes. Is the house still a disaster because I blogged instead of cleaning? Yes. Am I brewing my 3rd cup of coffee today? Yes. Will I still throw my head back in angst when Ella screams at 4 o'clock this morning? Definitely. But my soul is at rest, because the Lord has been Good to me.

Ella Morgan: Month Eight

Eight months old. She's been out almost as long as she was in! Somedays feel like she's only been in our lives for a moment, and other days feel like I'm going to turn gray before she ever turns one. This has been a short month, probably because of how chaotic our lives were, but we are living in a gorgeous new home, adapting to life in a new environment, and absorbing every second of what has truly been a dream come true for us.

Ella is as mobile as babies come these days. She's into everything, every minute. If she isn't crawling, she's pulling up. If she isn't pulling up, she's scooting along on her feet while holding on for dear life to whatever she's pulled up on. I've learned over the past month that sometimes she's just going to get hurt. There were times that she would be sitting up and she would just fall straight back... like she forgot that she was sitting. Those were the days that I HATED having hardwood floors. I'm so glad that our new home has carpet. I won't miss those floors at all. Not one bit. Anyway, she's into everything. This made packing a home nearly impossible, because as soon as I would get a box packed, she pulled up on it, tried to walk away from it, and fell. As soon as that happened, she needed Mama... then the rest of the day repeated itself. I tried putting her in her bouncer, playpen, and crib... only to pack to the screams of an abandoned child. It was exhausting. Fortunately, my mother came to the rescue multiple times, and bless my husband, he basically packed the entire house the day before we moved out because I managed to poison myself with something. It was an exhausting time to be a Gaines, never mind being the mother of a tiny Gaines. Those days were the first time since she was born that I really had to control my temper with her. I knew she wasn't intentionally sabotaging my packing plans, but she also didn't have to be so helpful. It was a thin and fragile line that I walked that week, and I'm just glad it's over.

I knew I should've expected it, but this girl is stubborn as a mule. I would say she gets it from her Daddy, but I already know the speeches I would get, so I'll just acknowledge that I am just as stubborn as Ella is. Sometimes this makes for some pretty intense wars in this house. These wars mostly have to do with sleep. I guess it was a month ago that she came down with an awful head cold, and the only way she could sleep comfortably was sitting up on me. Well. since then, she's decided that it's the only way to sleep. We've entered into some dark days here at the Gaines abode. I truly try to fight her from getting into bed with us, but a Mom can only fight for so long before she decides she needs to function the next day. I'm hoping that Ella surrenders soon, because otherwise we're going to revisit "Cry it Out." That's actually a lie. I'm still not strong enough for that form of tough love yet... but if this keeps up, I might be there soon. Sometimes I swear I'm going to lose my mind if she doesn't learn that her crib is the best place for her, but I try to remind myself daily that She's only little once. I'll miss that sweet baby grin when I wake up in the morning... especially when she develops halitosis.

Okay, now that we've covered the initial "whomp whomps," I will say that she is still the ultimate joy in my life. She's a 110% Mama's girl right now. This drives her Daddy absolutely crazy, and if we're being honest, sometimes it drives me crazy, but most of the time it makes my heart flutter. When she wakes up, she will not be consoled by anyone but me. She will scream bloody murder until I take her. In a crowd of people, if I am not in her sight, she has a mild panic attack. I waited and waited for signs that she knew I was Mom, and seemingly overnight, she formed this crazy cling to me. I'm soaking every second of it up, because I know that in just a few short months, she's going to figure out just how wonderful her Daddy is, and it's going to be all over for me as Queen Bee. Most of the time, I welcome those days... but I also know how insanely jealous I'm going to be when it's all said and done. Basically, I walk a thin line between "I love being this baby's favorite" and "I think I'm going to die before I'm done being this child's buffet."

Sweet baby has found her voice. She's trying so, so hard to form words. She's pretty good at "Hi." She'll almost always repeat it to us if we say it a couple of times. Otherwise, through tears we hear "Maaaa" and when she's giggly we hear "Dat." I think we're working toward Mama and Dad. Regardless, I love hearing her figure her voice out, even if we're subjected to shrieks and screams in the middle of a restaurant. Even if strangers stare at us, as if I have any control over what comes out of my eight month old. Ella tries with all of her soul to sing when music comes on, and I genuinely believe that she thinks she's singing. It never ever fails that she makes the funniest sounds and noises when I turn on the "Frozen" soundtrack. Yes, our Eight month old listens to "Frozen." We're already on the train. She can be in a complete and total meltdown, and if I turn on "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?' Silence. No tears, No shrieks, Silence. Cody hasn't been fortunate enough to watch the movie, so he sings along, though he's clueless about the plot.We've entered into a stage of life that I've looked forward to since Ella's birth, and though I may loathe "Frozen" before it's all said and done, it's making some really sweet memories for us right now.

I think in the grand scheme of things, it was a fairly mellow month. Our lives were full of distractions, and we were out of sorts for most of the month, but we're getting settled and adapting to an entire new phase of parenthood. One that involves a walking baby, and and talking baby, and a baby with opinions about what she eats. Most days, I have to convince Ella that it's important to eat baby food. She's usually willing to try anything, but not quite as apt to finish the food in front of her before deciding that she would rather nurse. I'm entering into a phase where I feel okay with weaning her. Not this month, or even the next, but I'll be confident in doing so when she's one year old. She's not really transitioning the way I would like her to, meaning that it is exhausting to me to feed her every three hours. If she took a bottle, this would be a different conversation, but this is probably what needs to happen, or she would breast-feed until she was entirely too old (I'm looking at you, Sharona.) It's a strange bond that happens between a nursing mother and an infant, and I've been so afraid to lose that bond, but I also know it's time to start preparing for other people in our lives to see a side of Ella that I've been so blessed and fortunate to witness. It's time to leave her with Uncle Jake and Aunt Jessi while we go on a date that lasts longer than an hour. It's time to acknowledge that we're closer to having a one year old than we are an infant. Oh, it hurts. But I can say without shame that at least once a week I yell "WHERE ARE YOUR TEETH?!" when we're on our 5th meal of the day at Gaines Dairy. Once a week, I bury my face into Cody chest and say "If you could just lactate for one night. ONE NIGHT." Truth be told, I love breastfeeding her. I will advocate breastfeeding until I'm blue in the face... but I'm also a human. A human that is ready to mingle with other humans without my baby feeders hanging out under a tiny sheet. I truly believe that this is a part of the natural order of things. I'm definitely not ready to be done yet, but by the time July 2nd rolls around, I'll be getting close. 

I think that's all. We're thriving through parenthood, even when we're trudging. Our lives are full of joy, slobber, and giggles. We're better with Ella than we ever without, and we love the clarity that comes with knowing that we have our priorities in order. I fall deeper in love with my husband every single day, and I still find myself speechless when I see how beautiful our baby is. Our lives are wonderful, and each day is a challenge, but it's also so full of the fruits of our labor. I'm blessed and confident in knowing that The Lord has ordained each step of our lives, and we really are Loved and Cherished by our Creator.

Here's Ella's soctopus picture, we'll see ya next month!

Ella Morgan: Month Seven

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.