holding a chubby little hand

One of the sweetest things that Brody does is when I ask if he wants to hold my hand- he always does. I love the feeling I get when I get to hold that tiny, chubby, little hand. Even when Jeff is pushing him in the stroller, I'll sometimes walk beside the stroller, holding hands with my precious little blonde haired toddler.

One thing that I have learned about Brody is that he is very sensitive in the mornings (and in life in general, haha). But especially in the mornings, he needs everything to be just right. He doesn't like his diaper changed right away, so I hold him on my shoulder, sit in the rocking chair, and cuddle him for sometimes up to a half hour, depending on the morning. He just likes it. I don't complain either because 7:15 comes quickly on some mornings, so just sitting down while snuggling my growing babe is a nice time for me as well. Then I change his diaper, and we go into the living room (always with his two favorite blankets in tow) and watch a cartoon. We hold hands then too. :) Until little Bonnie wakes up and joins us. I just love holding this boy's little hand.

The past week Jeff has been putting Brody to sleep at night. I'll be honest, it has been a nice break. Usually Bonnie gets hungry around 7:00 each night, and since Brody's bedtime is 7:15, Jeff takes over on Brody duty. Jeff is a great Dad though, I must add, and is awesome at putting his little man to bed. Tonight though, Jeff had had enough of little Brody. Brody had not only puked all over (and I mean ALL over) the kitchen floor, he had broken a vase, and he had spilled a whole glass of (thank goodness) water all over the couch, all within the half hour before bedtime. Bonnie had finished eating before Brody's bedtime, so I took over and did bedtime duty. As I sat there, rocking little Brody with his bottle, I asked (I always have to ask first, or he won't let me) if I could hold his hand. He let me hold his slightly bottle chilled hand, and we stayed like that for the next ten minutes, hand in hand- me singing, him becoming drowsy in my arms. At that moment I realized how much I had missed rocking my little baby to sleep at night. While the break had been good, I truly love this nightly ritual.

quiet nights

My little Bonnie is about to be two months old already in just a few days. I remember when Brody was this age, time felt like it was going by so quickly. However, I am amazed at how much faster time seems to be flying by with two kids. I can't believe that it has almost been TWO months since this precious little girl entered our lives.

She's been literally the easiest baby that I can ever imagine. She rarely cries. When she does, I know that it is for one of three things- diaper change, hungry, or tired. If she is tired, I just lay her in her bed and asleep she falls. It is incredible. I wonder daily if it is because I just got lucky with a great tempered babe, or if it is because I'm simply a more experienced momma. Probably a little of both.

I remember with Brody I was always so stressed that I wasn't doing something right. I also always felt like people were judging my decisions, which constantly made me self conscious about the choices I was making with Brody. I still feel myself feeling this way occasionally, but I definitely am a way more confident parent the second time around.

I understand how to use things like cry-it-out comfortably. I understand so much better how to read my baby and know her exact need. It just feels good. I always (and still do) wonder how there are moms out there with 5, 6, 7, or more kids. After having Brody, while he was still a little baby, I remember wondering if I'd even have the ability to handle two kids at once. And while it is still hard, I have figured out that you just adjust. Your heart expands and is able to love two at once, and your ability to take care of children improves. The multitasking skill... man oh man how that skill grows and grows each day.

Bonnie was sent to us to be a second child for a reason. She amazes me with her ability to be patient. There are times where a full feeding takes more than an hour for her because I constantly have to lay her down in the middle, take care of something (Brody attempting to launch himself off his highchair, Brody stinking up the entire room/house with a diaper-like smells, a knock on the door from a tenant locked out of his house, the dinner needing to be removed from the oven...), and then continue to feed her. She just lays there and waits, even though I know there are times where she is so so hungry.

She has started to smile more frequently lately. It melts my heart. She is such a happy baby, even with her living in a house where the background noise tends to be a screaming toddler. She sleeps through the craziest sounds. Again, she was meant to be the second child.

Sometimes I catch myself feeling bad for Bonnie though. I start feeling like I'm letting her down by not giving her the amount of attention that I used to give to Brody when he was a baby. She's just so tiny, and so innocent. She deserves so much love- just as much as Brody did. But I have to remember that Heavenly Father sent her down as a second child for a reason. As long as I am doing my best, and loving her just as much as Brody, everything will be right and okay. She will somehow understand.. I hope.

During the long hours of the night, I get to cuddle with my sweet baby, Bonnie. I lay on my side, and pull her as close to me a possible. Babies are the best snugglers. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and just watch her sleeping so peacefully. I listen to her breathing and lay there in awe that she is really all mine. She is so precious to me. My heart is overwhelmed with love every time I get to hold her close in the quietness of the night. She's mine, all mine. (And maybe a little of Jeff's too.)

yucky snow

Brody wasn't the biggest fan of his first day out in the snow. He didn't mind to walk near the snow.. like on the shoveled sidewalk, but once he stepped in the snow, he stopped smiling all together. And oh, if he fell in the snow... life was immediately over. Especially since snow sticks.. to gloves, and pants, and shoes. Holy cow, did Brody freak out. He would start crying and showing me the yucky snow. "Please, mom, get this stuff OFF of me!!" is what he would have said if he could talk.

I have to say though, he was a cute little winter toddler. Gosh, I love my sensitive boy, so so much.

Oh, and this is when he saw a GIANT basketball hoop in a yard nearby. He has been so used to just seeing his Little Tikes hoop that in his room. He could not believe his eyes when he caught sight of this one. He started to jump around and wave his little, puffy arms. So cute!!

the girls in the mall parking lot who taught me about life

I went to the mall by myself, with two kids.

For the few times that I have left the house with two kids in tow, it has been exhausting...
especially when I have went to places without carts...
like the mall.

So I get out of the car, wrap up my body in the baby wrap, while trying not to let the material touch the dirty ground. Then I go to the trunk, and get the stroller out, unfold it, and put the diaper bag in the basket underneath. Then I run over to the other side of the car, take Bonnie out of her car seat, bring her quickly up to the passenger seat (so she doesn't get too cold), lay her down on the seat, and put her inside a warm swaddler. Then I wrap her up in one more blanket, and put her inside the baby wrap on my chest. After that (hopefully Brody isn't getting too anxious to get out of his car seat), I go back to the other side of the car, unbuckle him and lift him out of the car, while being careful not to bump Bonnie too much in the process. I sit Brody in his stroller, lock the car, and we are finally ready to go inside of the mall.

Phew! What a process THAT is. Looking on the bright side, I guess it will stop me from taking unnecessary trips to the mall to spend the money I definitely do not have.

After we walked the mall a bit (stopping at the play place for Brody of course), it was time to leave and get the kids back into the car.. This is basically the same process as the one described above, but backwards. As I was struggling through the steps, a group of five girls came laughing down the parking lot. I could hear bits and pieces of what they were saying.. things about boys, clothes, and other things that I realize I never talk about anymore. What a different life I lead. While those girls, not too much younger than me, were worried about what they were going to wear that next weekend, I'm here worrying about making sure I have an extra baby outfit packed in the diaper bag in case of a major blow out.

At that moment though, while juggling two babies between nap schedules, I realized how much life changes in such a short period of time. And while I am not complaining about these life changes, it struck me just how much life doesn't slow down... ever. We are in one phase of our life, and before we know it, we are in the next.

Jeff and I were talking about how our anniversary is coming up this month and we were listing all of the things that have happened in just those three, short years:
Got married,
moved four times,
changed schools once (Jay),
became managers of an apartment complex,
had two kids,
finished student teaching (Kay),
taught my own class, (Kay)
graduated college (Kay),
changed major (Jay),
sold two cars,
bought one new car...
The list kept going on and on. We realized that without paying much attention, so much has happened in such a short period of time. It made me wonder what other big things are about to happen in the next three years. Life doesn't stop. It doesn't slow down. Pretty soon, I will be looking back on this phase of my life, and as hard as it seems right now, I may even catch myself missing it.

I'm a young girl, with two babies, and a husband in college. This is a phase of life I will never be able to relive. So I want to live it up now. With all the diapers, throw up, and messy toys... some days are harder than others. But then there's those times that Brody randomly comes up behind me and gives me a huge hug, right on my back as I sit on the floor cleaning up those messy toys. Those are the moments I need to focus on.

The day Bonnie finally got her name.

Dear Bonnie,

Your dad and I wanted you to have the perfect name. We always knew that our first girl would have the middle name of Catherine (since it was family tradition that you'd be named after your great-great-grandma), but as for your first name, we had no idea what we were going to do. For the twenty weeks before your due date, we discussed countless names, but nothing felt just right. People would ask us again and again what name we had chosen, and we had to explain that we hadn't agreed on anything quite yet. As your due date got nearer, we put together four possible names- Scarlett, Skyler, Paisley, and Eleanor. We felt comfortable with these options, however none of them stood out as "the name" yet. We hoped that when we set eyes on your pretty little face that one of the names would seem to fit.

You finally arrived. Your dad and I would hold you in the hospital room, looking at your perfect, petite little self and trying out the names on you. However, nothing stuck, and we were hesitant to start calling you anything specific because none of the names that we liked felt right for you.

As we were preparing to leave the hospital, we knew that we didn't want to go home without you having a name. I turned to your Daddy and said, "You know, I'm so tired to thinking about names. I'm starting to hate them all. I want you to name her. I got to choose Brody's middle name, so it is your turn." I remember your Daddy holding your tiny little self in his arms. You looked so small and his face looked so sweet as he stared into your little eyes. I sat across from him on the hospital bed nearby.

Finally, he said, while still staring at your perfect little face, "What about Bonnie?" He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes. I fell in love. Right when he said the name, I knew that was the sweet little name that you were meant to have. It was the first time we had considered this name, and I'm not sure why it hadn't come up sooner. I love old fashioned names for girls and I was looking high and low for one that would fit you.

Bonnie, you are named after your great grandma, and you should be so proud. She is one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met and many many people look up to her. Bonnie Catherine- the best part of your name is that both have meaning. You mean so much to us and it was so important to us that we find you the perfect name, just for you.

Bonnie couldn't fit you more. It means beautiful, and that is exactly what you are. Each day I find myself loving you more and more. I adore being your Mommy. You have the prettiest little lips- they are my favorite one of your features. When you get upset they make the saddest little pouty lip and it seriously is the cutest thing I have ever seen. And your nose.. it is perfect and allows you to have the most ideal profile I have ever seen. I could go on.. I think you are perfect, Bonnie Cait. I love you little girly girl.

I want to remember the story of your name. I think it is one of the sweetest stories. I love your Daddy and how much he loves being a parent. He loves his little girl so much.

Love,
Mommy

A moment in time over mac and cheese.

The past two days Bonnie has taken a 3 hour nap from 10-1. While I know that this may change, I'm hoping it doesn't. Brody's nap is 11:30-1:30, so that means that Brody and I get some individual time together from 10-11:30.

Today, during this time, while Jeff and Deb went to church, Brody and I were left alone while Bonnie slept. He sat in his highchair, eating some macaroni and veggies while I did the rest of the morning dishes. I looked over at him, eating so contently, and wondered wait, what was I doing? I stopped doing the dishes and pulled up the stool near his highchair. I asked him to give me a high five. He gladly did and soon we were both laughing and giving eachother high five after high five, even double high fives sometimes. It was so fun and I felt like things were more normal during this little moment together.

He just looked so happy- like he was so happy to have his momma back.

After having Bonnie, I'll admit, I've become obsessed with her. I have tried to find every spare moment to hold her, and feed her. Let's be honest though, newborns need to eat A LOT so this time hasn't been hard to find since it is so necessary. In the meantime though, Brody has been played with a little less by me, and has had a lot less momma time all together. Thank goodness for the family that has been here to fulfill that missing time. But I know it's not quite the same for him.

However, in this small moment over mac and cheese, I could feel how life will eventually become more normal. Bonnie won't always be my brand new little baby, and Brody won't always be my crankier child that I need more patience with. I could feel that eventually they will just be my two adorable children, both with their differences, but both here to be loved by me evenly. I could feel that eventually things won't be so complicated.

Loving Two Little Bees

Having a second child, for me, has been a different experience than I would have guessed. As much as I would love to say that it's been easy, that being a family of four feels perfect, that things haven't changed that much, that everyone is happy, and that life couldn't feel more complete, I can't. Because if I did, that would be lying. To be honest, this transition, that we are still trying to work through, has been a difficult one.

I came home from the hospital after only staying there one night. I remembered how good it felt after having Brody to finally be able to go home, to my own bed, and to my familiar life. This time though, it was different. I was sure I wanted to go home, but immediately after I sat on my couch, I could tell I should have chosen to stay that extra night. I felt overwhelmed. Brody was crying since it was at the time of day that he was most crankiest. I was hungry. I was sore. There wasn't a nurse there to ask for things from. My mom was there. But she knew she was most helpful if she took care of Brody by getting him fed, bathed, and ready for bed. I should have just stayed and enjoyed the quiet feel of the hospital for just a little longer. I should have stayed and enjoyed my little new baby alone for just a little longer. I will know this for next time.

I remember rocking Brody that first night home and wondering if I was ever going to be to handle this new life I had created for myself. I felt like I had took the nice life that I was used to and made it a million times harder for myself. It had nothing to do specifically about the baby. She was and is a little angel baby. I just couldn't believe that eventually, after family had left, that I would have to split my attention in half, for two kids. Two babies.

Each day has gotten a little bit better. I still am overwhelmed at the thought of facing days without my mom or mother in law here to help with Brody, but I feel myself gaining more confidence in this as the time goes by. I could not be more grateful that I have the awesome family that I do. My mom and mother in law are both so selfless as they have stayed here, helped in every way that they can think of, woken up at the crack of dawn with Brody each morning, let me take long naps during the day, and been there to talk to. I know that if they hadn't been willing to be here I wouldn't have been able to handle my new life situation so quickly- especially those first few days.

Brody has been affected by this change the most. And honestly, it breaks my heart if I think about it too much. I have to constantly remind myself that he is still a baby. He has been throwing tantrums more often whenever he doesn't get his way. He has made normal things so much more difficult such as sitting in his highchair, or letting us get him dressed, or not waking up in the middle of the night. I feel like so many things that I have worked so hard to enforce with him have immediately went backwards. I can tell he is confused. He now has to share his parents with a little sister that he barely knows or understands.

The worst part is how I feel like I've betrayed him. Normally I wouldn't feel this way, but his actions tell me that is the way he feels as well. He's always been a Daddy's Boy- but now it's worse. He never, and I mean never, comes to me if Jeff is anywhere is the house. When Jeff leaves he screams and screams like I'm just some horrible babysitter. Even if I'm away from him for an extended amount of time, he doesn't act excited to see me at all. However, every time Jeff returns he couldn't be more excited. He gets his most excited look on his face, runs over to him, and reaches up for him to carry him around. Me, he barely even looks at me. I'm not exaggerating this at all. I normally am the one who rocks him to sleep, but now he chooses Jeff. He won't even give me a hug or kiss goodnight- and he used to do that to Jeff when I would take him to bed.

The sad feeling I get when any of these things happen is indescribable. He's still my little baby, and just because I now have another baby doesn't mean that I love him any less. I wish I could explain these thoughts to him. He's just so little. He doesn't deserve to feel as though his mommy has replaced him. Everyone says that things will get better. They are probably right, since normally hard things in life eventually do get better. But really, that doesn't make the here and now any easier.

Bonnie Catherine: A Birth Story

First off, I want to say- I just love my little girl. She is like a little doll. The past week and two days that I have woken up, I open my eyes and see her laying there, quiet as can be. It just makes my heart happy. She's so innocent and I get an excited feeling knowing that she is here and is mine forever. My little Bonnie Catherine. I just love her so much.

On the morning of my induction, after writing my last blog post, I got ready for the day ahead. I took a nice, hot shower, and fixed my hair and makeup. I tried to be as quiet as possible since my mom and sister were both asleep on the couch. After saying goodbye to both of them, Jeff took my bags in his arms, and we walked our way to the hospital. It was one of those mornings that had a perfect brisk temperature. As I walked beside Jeff, we talked about the day ahead. We laughed a little and I really felt good that morning. This entire pregnancy actually had been really easy- no pains, no complications, no real side effects at all. So walking the half mile to the hospital that morning felt good. It just felt good to move around and walk off the thoughts that I had been thinking about that whole night before. Sleeping had been impossible. My mind was tired.

We filled out paperwork, and got escorted to our hospital room where we would be welcoming our baby into the world. At that point, I immediately became negative about everything. I was bitter that this hospital didn't allow tours, and therefore I was upset that this was the first time that I was able to see this room. I hated the curtains. I hated the way I could see storage hidden behind corners. I hate the uninviting feel the room gave me. I know that things like the curtains were really insignificant to everything bigger that would be happening that day, but this was how negative I had become. I couldn't see how this day was going to go well at all. We met our nurse. After answering what felt like a million questions, she left for a little and I fell apart. I just cried and I couldn't stop. I didn't like her. I didn't know why. And honestly, I really didn't want to have a baby that day.

Being induced was just something I didn't want to happen. I hated the feeling of anticipation of what was about to happen. As Jeff held my hand and tried to convince me that the nurse really wasn't that bad and that she was nice, I just laid on the bed feeling nervous and scared. The only thought that made me continue is knowing this all would be over by the end of the day and soon we would be holding our little baby. But to be honest, it was so difficult to stay focused on that fact.

Aside from all of this, there was another reason I was terrified to have this baby. It wasn't about the pain, and it wasn't about being induced. There was something else that had been on my mind for awhile now that was difficult for me to even think about. I just felt, with every part of me, that something was not normal with this pregnancy. I sat there, next to Jeff still holding my hand, and explained how scared I was to meet our little girl. At this moment I felt an urgency to tell him how strongly I felt that something was going to be wrong. I didn't know what was wrong exactly, but I knew that there was something different about this pregnancy in comparison to my last one. I also knew that what I was feeling was not normal. Up until this moment I had tried my best to ignore these thoughts. But knowing that we were going to find out the reason for these feelings, in this very room, was overwhelming me at that moment. Jeff assured me that everything was fine, but the guilt I was feeling that I hadn't told him this sooner made me so sad. Jeff is a baby lover for sure. He would do anything for his family. I realized now that I hadn't been including him during the last few months of pregnancy. How selfish could I be? This child was not only mine, but just as much his. I just looked at his face, trying to comfort me, and had a sinking feeling inside my entire body.

Throughout the end of my pregnancy, everyone that asked about how far I was along, or when I was due, became shocked at my response. They were so surprised that I was so small. This in itself made me nervous about how I was progressing. At the end of my pregnancy, I was losing weight, and while this is sometimes normal in pregnancies, it didn't feel normal to me. Throughout my entire pregnancy I had trouble eating. I knew that I needed to eat, after all I was pregnant, but I just never had an appetite. I knew I needed at least three meals a day, but each time I had to force myself to eat. Nothing sounded good to me, and nothing ended up tasting good either. These aren't normal feelings for me to have, and so while this lasted, I continued to do my best to eat well and to remember to take my prenatal vitamins. Also, I rarely felt the baby move. I remembered with my last pregnancy that I could feel Brody all day long and how he would get underneath my ribs and how badly that would hurt. This baby though, caused me absolutely no discomfort. I'd feel her move occasionally, which would assure me that she was still okay, but nothing like my last pregnancy experience. I did my best not to think about what was going on because I wanted so bad for there not to be anything wrong with this pregnancy. I also never felt any sort of contractions- even Braxton Hicks. I knew, with every part of me, that my body was not ready to have this baby. Therefore thinking about being induced and how long this may take my body to catch up, scared me so much.

I was an emotional mess as I sat in that hospital room next to Jeff. I just wanted this day to be over. As I sat there scrolling through Facebook, I read posts from my family and friends about how excited they were about the day ahead. I felt so unsettled that the only person not excited was me, the mother, the one who had to complete this great feat ahead. 

At 6:30am I was started on Pitocin. I laid there, waiting in anticipation, for the contractions to start, but I didn't feel a thing. At 8am my doctor arrived. After accessing my progress, which was nothing, he decided to break my water. However, no liquid came out. Nothing. My baby had been living in little to no fluid. My doctor was worried that the water really hadn't broken, so they decided to attach an internal monitor to the baby's head to assure that it really was broken. (Everything on my birth preferences list was not happening- not even close.) Again though, no water. The nurse, at this point, realized that my Pitocin was actually not even plugged in- which was why I hadn't started to feel the contractions. They officially started me on the Pitocin at 8am. I asked about the numbers on the Pitocin monitor and the nurse explained to me that they increased the dose by 4 every half hour, and if eventually my body started to go into labor by itself, that they would turn off the medicine all together and let me continue naturally. I hoped this would happen so bad. This, however, never happened. Eventually, the Pitocin number got to "20", which was the highest the hospital allowed. I laid there, in so much pain. The contractions were so strong, and I was trying so hard to not agree to an epidural. Each time they checked me though, there was barely any progress. I felt as though this day, and this pain, was going to last forever. The worst part was knowing that these contractions were probably a lot worse than they would be if they were the natural contractions that I had hoped to experience while attempting this natural birth. And while I wasn't positive that the contractions were worse because of the Pitocin, the thought still consumed me. It consumed me so much that I finally gave in. I wanted the epidural. I went into the hospital that morning with a horrible attitude. I was filled with stress and I was scared. And I just couldn't handle what was happening anymore.

Jeff and I discussed my decision and at 11:30am I got my epidural and my body relaxed. Chloe arrived at the hospital at noon, and while the three of us talked, things started to feel a lot better inside that hospital room. After the mood had lightened and I decided to try to take a nap, Jeff left and went downstairs to get some lunch. As I tried to go to sleep, I sudden became extremely cold. Chloe said that my body didn't feel cold, but my insides were seriously freezing. The nurse must have given me at least 5 heated blankets, which felt good at first, but I was so cold to the point that my teeth were chattering. I also started to feel dizzy and nauseous. It was an immediate change. Then, I felt the urgent need to that I needed to pee- so so bad. However, having an epidural, I couldn't walk. Plus, I also had a catheter, so I obviously didn't have to go pee.

Chloe pushed the nurse call button and once she got to the room I explained what all I was feeling. She helped me turn to my other side and that made me feel even more sick. She checked me, and from the time I got the epidural, I was at 3 cm, and now, about an hour and a half later, I was at 9 cm. The nurse began to move quickly around the hospital room and Chloe and I looked at eachother confused. She asked, "Uh, where's your husband? You're about to have this baby." My eyes widened and I felt completely unprepared and nervous. I wasn't ready yet! This wasn't supposed to happen so soon! Chloe texted and called Jeff, telling him to get upstairs as quickly as possible. (I guess he was pretty disappointed that he had only eaten half of his bacon burger he had ordered, and had to throw the other half away.) As he ran through the door, I saw how surprised his face became when he saw I had an oxygen mask on, the stirrups at the foot of the bed were out, and there were a few extra people inside the room getting ready for the delivery. Everyone was moving so fast, and I felt so sick, and the last thing I felt like I wanted to do was push for two and a half hours like I had to do with Brody. The nurse mentioned how she wasn't sure where Doctor Nance was. Oh no. This was not happening. But luckily, he entered the room, and took his position. The nurse explained that on the next contraction I was going to push for 10 seconds. "Ready, set, push," she said and I did just that, except I stopped when she got to 8 because I knew that this was going ot be a long process and I didn't want to tire myself out too early. The next thing the doctor said though, confused me. He said, "Oh wait, finish that last push, you're about to have your baby." Whhhhatttt???? I started to push again, and immediately he said, "Stop pushing!"

At 1:39pm, there she was. She immediately began to cry and I cannot tell you how happy and relieved I was to hear her little cry. I heard phrases like, "What a little peanut!!" and "She was staving inside of you!" and "She has to be no more than 6 pounds," and "Oh, poor baby, the cord was wrapped around her little neck." I wasn't exactly surprised to hear any of these things. I just laid there, shaking. I saw tears in both Jeff's and my sister's eyes, and I wondered why I wasn't very emotional. After all, crying for me seemed to have been the theme of the day. Instead, I was in shock. How did she get here so quickly? Was she healthy? Why was she staving inside of me? Why was she so skinny? How would caring for such a tiny baby be different than caring for Brody, who was 2 and a half pounds heavier? I felt scared and nervous. I felt sad that my suspicions that things weren't perfect inside of me had been true after all. I had hoped so badly that it was just my imagination and that I was overreacting. I know now though, mother's intuition is real.

They brought my little baby girl to me and I looked at her tiny face, as I continued to shake terribly. I was overwhelmed with feelings, but mostly feelings of love for this tiny little girl that I had held inside of me for the last nine months. I could see the same love shine in Jeff's face as he kissed us both with the proudest look on his face. He is such a good daddy. The three of us are so lucky to have him.

Once my placenta had been delivered, the doctor explained to me how he thought my placenta had stopped working near the end of my pregnancy. This would explain the baby's low birth weight. She was literally starving inside of me. I can not explain the sinking, sad feeling that this brought my heart. The fact that I had yearned to wait to have her later in order to have a natural birth seemed so silly to me now. (By the way, the nurse told me later that the doctor had been in the room for a total of 4 minutes for my delivery. Holy cow!)

Not many things on my Birth Preferences List ended up happening in the end. However, after letting things settle inside my mind and my heart, I realize now that they went exactly how they were supposed to. By doing the research I had taken the time to do before this baby came, I am able to understand my body so much better. Birth used to scared me before and after I had Brody. Now though, as my understanding has increased, I am able to face it with confidence, knowing that the woman's body is created in a way that is meant to have babies. I also understand that feelings during a pregnancy that things don't seem right, should not be ignored. The woman's body is amazing and more than not, it will tell you when things are going right or wrong. How grateful I am for this new understanding. I also am so happy that I had this baby girl when I did. Had I waited longer, while my placenta had not been working anymore, I'm scared to even think about what could have happened. I also had wanted so badly to not get an epidural. However, in the end, the epidural was just what my stressed out body needed. That morning was one of the most stressful mornings that I have even experienced. As soon as I got that epidural though, my body immediately went into action and my labor was so easy from that point on. The most important thing out of this whole story is that our baby is here, and she is safe. While she had a low birth weight, all the other tests turned out perfectly. She is the size of a premature baby, but since she was actually full term, she eats well, her muscles are strong, and she's just as alert as a full term sized baby would be.

I'm so glad that my Heavenly Father had been looking after her for the past 9 months. She definitely is a little blessing that was brought to us that day.

A date. A time. A place.

A few weeks ago, I decided to really start researching the birth process and how it all worked. I knew my due date was coming up fast, but the more I read, and the more I learned, the more I realized that I had really had no idea how my body worked. Eventually I came to decide that I really wanted to attempt an all natural birth, with little to no medication. Having not really had a preference of hospital before, this immediately changed once I realized what I big part the place that you have your baby can have on your birth experience. From the nurses, to your birth preferences, to the atmosphere... I started to wonder if the convenience of having my baby directly across the street could outweigh the whole experience that I might be able to choose at a different hospital. After talking to people about the hospitals in the area, finding out the choices of hospitals that my doctor delivered out, and touring a different one that was actually 20 minutes away, I felt so strongly that I needed to deliver at the hospital in Payson, UT. Jeff was a bit hesitant at first to give up the opportunity to deliver right across the street. I mean it was so close! I completely understood, especially while we would be leaving Brody with my mom and sister while we were gone and they could easily walk over anytime they wanted. Also, Jeff could come tuck Brody in at night if he even wanted. But, after touring this new hospital, we both knew that the distance outweighed those small advantaged. The Payson hospital was where we wanted to deliver at.

I went into my 40 week appointment completely nervous. Tears were already brimming in my eyes as I took the routine pee test in the bathroom. I wasn't sure why I felt so emotional, but as they took my blood pressure, it became clear. After testing my blood pressure on two different machine, multiple times, the doctor explained to me how my reading had risen to a point where, since I was already full term, he would highly suggest we get the baby out as soon as possible. This meant I would need an to have induction. Disappointment filled my entire body. While I had been trying to prepare myself for this natural birth, an induction was definitely not what I had had in mind. I left the hospital that day knowing that the very next day, at 11 am, I would be put on Pitocin and we would be having our baby.

This was more emotional for me that I would have guessed. Just a few short weeks ago I'm sure that this news would have brought me excitement, but now, after my research and thoughts about how I wanted this birth to play out, I couldn't stop crying at every thought that I would be having to attempt a natural birth, not so naturally anymore. The unknown consumed me.

After letting Jeff, my mom, and my sister in on the news, Brody and I got in the car and headed to Target to get my mind off what had just happened that day. Buying a few last minute girl items made me feel better, but my mind was definitely preoccupied thinking about what the next day was going to hold.

About 5 hours later, I got a call from the Payson hospital. They wanted to get my information in order to preregister me for my induction that following day. As I answered their questions, I could feel myself relax as the voice of the nurse on the other side of the phone sounded so friendly and so calm. I knew that at least I was delivering at a place that I had immediately felt so comfortable with. That is until they got to asking about my insurance. After finding out my plan, she explained to me that their hospital actually couldn't cover me on the insurance plan that I had. Tears filled my eyes as I said goodbye and she told me that she would page my doctor immediately and that he would be calling me.

My doctor explained the mistake that his office had made when they had overlooked my plan. I would now have to deliver at the hospital across the street. While to many people this might not seem like a huge deal, but the hospital across the street is smack dab in the the middle of Provo, UT. It is a huge hospital and is super busy. They want to have you in, out, and on to the next baby being born. While my doctor assured me that I would be on the priority list for the day I was to deliver, since I was not an elective induction, he also explained to me that they were extremely busy, so to not be surprised if they called to reschedule times with me because rooms were too filled. This, along with other comments he made during that short phone conversation, confirmed to me that this hospital was not going to create the experience that I had hoped for at the other, smaller, less busy, more personable hospital.

I got off the phone and cried. Everything was seeming to go wrong. And on top of it all, my induction was rescheduled for two days later, instead of the following day. Therefore I knew that I would now have even more time to think about all of things that were not going right and all of the things that I had once hoped for that were just not going to happen anymore. I don't think that I have ever felt more disappointment in such a short period of time.

Nothing anyone could say could make me feel better. This was just something that I needed to get through and accept on my own.

My mom had scheduled her flight for that night, in thoughts that I was going deliver that next day. My sister had got her work shifts covered, in thoughts that I was going to deliver that next day. And now, plans had changed, once again, and tomorrow wasn't even the day anymore. I just felt bad for having people schedule around me. While I knew no one thought that any of this was my fault, it just added to the horrible news that kept being added to the day.

October 30, 2013, at 6am, at the Utah Valley Hospital, I would be induced. And hopefully, by the end of that day, I would be holding my second child- a sweet baby girl. Who, by the way, we hadn't even picked a name out for. That in itself also added to my stress if I thought too much about the details.

Knowing a date, time, and place had an effect on me that I could have never predicted. It is such a weird feeling to know that right now I am pregnant, but after that time, I wouldn't be pregnant anymore. After carrying a baby around with you for 9 whole months, for me, it feels like she is a part of me. And instead of being surprised with going into labor by myself, running to the hospital, having a great rush of adrenaline, and having the experience of delivering a baby.. it is all planned now. I kept having little thoughts like, "Here, I am at Papa Murphys tonight. If I went here tomorrow, I could sit on this same bench, but I wouldn't be pregnant anymore." These thoughts are small, I know. But it still just feels weird. I have found that I am a person that really enjoys being pregnant. I honestly think that I enjoy the attention that comes from it. But I also like the feeling that I get knowing that I am holding such a precious thing inside of me. Therefore knowing when exactly the experience will be coming to an end made me kind of sad to think about. And while I know that the outcome, being able to actually meet and hold my sweet baby, will be so great and so wonderful, for some reason knowing a timeline to the end of this small chapter of my life just makes me feel strange. It is difficult for me to describe.

I got to spend a full day of relaxing with my mom the day following the day of bad news. As I took my shower, half way through the day, I started to cry thinking about what I would be doing the very next morning. My mind went to Brody, which made me cry harder. I thought about how little he is and how he had no idea what was about to take place. The whole thing was so planned now, and even with that being so, I had no way to explain to him anything. I felt a feeling of betrayal, like somehow I was planning to replace him. I know that this isn't what was really going on, but I was just so emotional, and a warm shower just brings that out for me.

I love my little Brody. I know that I am going to adore this little girl of mine as well. I get so excited to hold her and to love her at the times that I focus completely on the fact that I get to meet her so so soon. I am writing this at 5am on Oct 30. I can't sleep, even though I know that is exactly what I should be doing. In exactly an hour I will be entering the hospital and waiting to be induced to deliver this new little family member that we have talked about for so long. I am so thrilled. I know that the process may not be the experience that I had once hoped for, but I also know that the outcome is going to more than I could have ever hoped for. I can't wait to see the look on my little Brody's face when he sees his little sister for the first time. I am so excited to explain to him that this is our baby and that he is a big brother now. Gosh, I love that little guy.

I rocked him last night to sleep, and all I could think about was how this would be my last time rocking him as an only child. I kissed his little forehead and laid him down. While I closed his door, I said a little prayer for him to know that I loved him and that even though I wouldn't be there to get him out of bed the following morning, I would be back home soon and our lives would just be a little bit different- but in a very good way.

I don't think that I prefer to know the date, time, and place of my births, but after having hours to let everything soak in, I know that if I just focus on the end result- the fact that our family is about to grow- I know that things aren't all that horrible. Heavenly Father has a plan for me, and for my little family, and because of that, things don't always go the way that I may have wanted the plan to go. And you know what? That's okay. We'll be okay.

Well, off to go get ready for the big day ahead of us.

When I failed as a momma of one.

From 11-1, on most weekdays, I have office hours in the management office. It is connected to our apartment, so it is a perfect situation. (Especially when Brody's nap is at 11:30.) In the half hour he is awake during my office hours, he is usually busy playing with my car keys, pushing buttons on the calculator, trying to beg me for candy out of the candy jar, writing on sticky notes with pens, and running around in the lounge.

Yesterday's office hours weren't any different- until they took a turn for the worst.

Brody ran into the lounge (which is right outside the office) as the phone rang. I answered the phone, knowing Brody would probably go find the lounge remotes for the TV and bring them to me, or he would climb his way onto the piano bench and practice his tunes, or he would find something else to get into while I was on the phone. As I finished the conversation, I realized that I hadn't heard or seen Brody during that whole phone conversation. As I casually walked into the lounge to find out what he was up to, my heart sank..

Brody was no where to be seen inside of that room.

My eyes made their way across the room, to the unlatched door, on the far side of the room. My feet made their way there quicker. I opened the door and ran outside. I did not see my little blonde boy anywhere. I frantically ran to the nearest parking lot, calling his name, over and over, knowing he wouldn't come even if he could hear me. I didn't know what else to do though.

As my attempt to find him in that parking lot failed, I ran my pregnant self to the other parking lot. As I rounded the corner, relief spread through my body as I saw one of our tenants carrying my diaper wearing, barefoot, blue eyed, curious boy towards me. I could not thank him enough for bringing back my most precious little guy back to me. He told me, "When I saw this little guy by the Fed Ex truck, I figured you may not be aware of where he was..."

Yeah, no, I wasn't aware that he was in the parking lot, next to a Fed Ex truck, let alone a million other cars nearby. Not to mention near two extremely busy streets... Nope, I didn't know that. Now I do- thanks.

Thanks, upstairs neighbor, for saving my toddler's life. Okay, I am leaving now, to go punish myself.

I held him tight that day as we made our way back through the lounge, and to the office. I put a "Be back in 15 minutes" sign up, locked the door, and got Brody his baba of milk for his nap. I cuddled him in the rocking chair, and cuddled him some more. I tried my best not to think about all of the millions of awful things that could have happened to him while my eyes filled with tears. Brody's face was blurry as I held my little baby close and sang him his bedtime songs.

The fact that this situation could have turned out so much worse weighs heavy on my heart. I keep replaying what happened yesterday in my head over and over again. I was embarrassed to relay the story to Jeff later that day- the story if how I nearly lost his child to my lack of attentiveness.

And here I go, adding another baby to my responsibility the end of this short month. What am I thinking?

I just need to take some breaths. The end.

That one time the janitor unlocked the door, and I yelled, "Don't come in here!"

What is your most embarrassing moment? This is a question that seems to be asked on questionnaires so often. It is also a question that I have never really had a good, quality answer to... until about 7 months ago...

As I have mentioned on this blog before, I had set a goal when Brody was born that I was going to breastfeed him for a whole year. I knew that this was not going to be easy for me since I would be starting to do my student teaching when he turned about 4 months old. We purchased a quality, electric, double pump though, and I was set. So, during the 5 months that I worked full time at the school, I'd pump before my first class of the day, I'd pump during my lunch break, and I'd usually pump again after school. (I had about a 50 minute commute back home.) My life surrounded teaching and pumping.

Being a first time mom especially, I definitely was not super comfortable about talking about breastfeeding, and pumping, and anything else that goes along with that part of motherhood. I exited my shell a bit though when I asked the secretary at the Junior High office where the best place would be to pump. She gave me permission to just lock my classroom door, and pump in there.

My classroom had one of those bubbly windows on the door, that are difficult to see through. However, even though it is hard, you can still see through it if you put your face up close. So to decrease my fear of ever being witnessed in this very revealing position, I taped a school poster on the inside of the window.

I then took an extra chair and put it right next to the door. This was now my designated "pumping chair". I don't know if any of my seventh graders ever wondered why there was a random chair sitting next to the pencil sharpener or not, but it was always there.

So I'd sit there, with my back against the wall, and the door next to me. I always wanted to be in very close proximity to that door, because even though I made sure, and double made sure, that it was locked, I just never knew.

There were times I'd be pumping, shirt pulled all the way up (if I happened to be wearing a dress that day, my dress was definitely pulled up to my chin), and students would need to get into my room for some reason during lunch. I could hear them in the hall, approaching my door, and I'd hold my breath... "please pass by, please pass by," I'd think... The times they stopped, they would knock, they would jiggle the doorknob, they would knock again, they would jiggle the doorknob some more... and I would be right on the other side of the door praying, with my bare belly exposed, breasts exposed with a double pump attached to them, praying that they would just conclude that no one was inside the room and leave. They'd eventually leave, and I would start to breath again.

If only they knew what was actually going on inside the classroom. They might have died.

Anyway, one day, I was just minding my own little breast pumping business, and I hear the familiar sound of the garbage can on wheels rolling down the hall. I didn't think much of it... until it came to a stop in front of my classroom door. The next sound I hear is keys moving quickly to unlock it. I'm pretty sure at this moment my entire life flashed before my eyes. I immediately threw down my pump, my bottles full of milk, stood up as fast as I could, and grabbed onto that opening classroom door- the door that was about to lead to my deathbed- as fast as I could and yelled, "Don't come in here!!!!"

The janitor responded with a quick and confused, "Sorry!" and rolled his garbage can down the hallway with a little more speed than before. "What a freakin' weirdo," is what he was probably thinking. I recognized the voice though. It was the youngest janitor at the school- probably around my own age- which seriously made it so much worse.

I remember I just sat on the floor of my classroom, and just starred at the wall for a few minutes. It was the only thing I could get myself to do in order to come to grips with what had just happened. I took a lot of deep breaths too. That was definitely necessary for my survival.

After cleaning up the mess I had made of milk all over the classroom floor with my rag that I used for my overhead projector (don't worry, I threw the used rag away after that one), I got myself put together again and headed straight to the office. I HAD to tell someone what had just happened to me before I had to face the world again- teaching nonetheless.

I went and told the secretary what had happened and she just laughed. Her laugh made me feel SO much better. She had pumped the previous year for her baby and knew EXACTLY the alarming feeling I was having. Even though a close call (VERY close call) had never happened to her, it sure felt good to laugh about it with someone.

She agreed to talk to the young janitor about what had happened since I knew for sure he now though I was a screaming lunatic. I wonder what went through his head when I screamed for him to not enter the room. He must have thought I was sorting my drugs or something. Or seriously, it makes me scared when I try to think of the many possible conclusions that could have come into his head.

I thought this was a good plan (her talking to him about what had happened) until after school that day. I was walking down the staircase, which was near the office, and she was leaning on the propped open office door, explaining the situation to him RIGHT THERE. Oh. my. goodness. I could have died for the second time that day. Here I was, just trying to leave my job, and she coincidentally was talking to him right then. I could not have timed my exit any worse. I quickened my walk as fast as I could and left. I KNOW that they saw me though. I KNOW that they saw me WHILE they were talking about my pumping, and my milk, and my embarrassment, and my boobs. Well, maybe they weren't specifically talking about my boobs... but seriously, they may have well been!

The rest of the year, every time I saw that janitor in the hallway... let's just say I became really good at the no eye contact thing.

So yes, I do have a most embarrassing moment. And no, it probably won't be explained well on a questionnaire, but I thought I'd write it on this little blog so I don't forget about it. (Even though I don't know how I would.)

And now, after 7 months, I finally feel comfortable enough to share it with other people.

morning snuggles

For about two weeks Brody has been waking up at 5:30 or 6:00 every morning. His normal time to wake up was always 7:30 for quite a long time. During these weeks I had gotten into the habit of going in there with a bottle, changing his diaper, rocking him for a little until he was done drinking his milk, and then putting him back into his crib to snag an extra hour or so of sleep before he woke up for the day. Getting up and rocking him didn't necessarily bother me, however I recently became stressed about it when thinking that he might be waking up at this time out of habit because I chosen to feed him every time he does this. I have read online that babies, and adults for that matter, will naturally wake up in time for breakfast if they eat at the same time every morning. Therefore, this morning I decided I was going to break this cycle. I can't have him waking up earlier than he should every single morning, right?

So he woke at 5:30am this morning, and I let him whine a little to see if he would go back to sleep like he does in the middle of the night wakings. He didn't seem to be going back to sleep, so I went in there, changed his wet diaper, tried to rock him a little- but he just got more and more upset that I didn't have him bottle of milk for him. He kept reaching out his arms, trying to grab his bottle, but when it was no where to be found, he just got more upset.

I set him back in his crib and closed the door. I hoped he would realize that it wasn't time to wake up yet and just go back to sleep, but he didn't. After ten minutes, I just couldn't do it anymore. I caved, got his bottle for him, rocked him for ten minutes, and set him back into his crib. He turned over, like usual, and went straight back to sleep.

This morning made me realize something.

I need to remember that these times of change, when raising our children, go in phases. The harder, or unperfect, times never last forever, and before we know it they have stopped and we are onto the next trial. I always think I have learned this lesson, and then I get caught up in worrying that a certain behavior is going to last forever- it won't though- I just need to remember that.

Another thing that I have learned is that with being a momma comes learning to live life while thinking of others, and not just myself. While I am here worrying about getting more sleep in the morning, my baby in the other room needs me. Maybe he just wants to be held a little, maybe he's hungry (from what I've read, this isn't the case), maybe the sun is waking him up, or maybe his new molars that are growing are bothering him in the mornings... whatever it is, I can definitely take ten minutes to sit back in the rocking chair, feed him a bottle, and put him back to sleep contently.

I came across this quote a little while ago and saved it in my phone. It says:

"You will never remember the nights that you had a full night of sleep."

Luckily, Brody has been a pretty good sleeper once I figured out the sleep training, but there are always bumps along the road, especially when I feel like I have things perfect. I know that I will experience the same type of thing when I'm potty training him, or sending him off to school, or any of the other million transitions mothers go through with their kids.

When the new baby comes, I don't know what will change. I don't know how much cuddling time I will have with my little bee. All I know is that I have fifteen more weeks of being a momma-to-one, and I want to cuddle, and rock, and comfort my little guy as much as possible before our big change comes.

Maybe him waking in the morning is actually a gift- a gift of a little bit of extra, sweet time that I get to hold my growing little Brody in my arms. Before too long he won't want to be held by his momma as much as he does right now. So what am I worrying about? Things are exactly how they should be... and before I know it, this phase will be over, and maybe I'll look back and miss it after all.

Life is brillant.

 

My sweet little bee had his second 4th of July today. We got to take him to his first parade and it was so fun! He was so interested in the bright colorful floats, the loud, ground-shaking bands, and the all of the people around us. A few days ago I picked up a little fifty cent flag from Micheal's for him to play with today. It was probably one of my best purchases. Boy, did he love waving it! It rarely left his little hand all day long. Even at the end of the parade, when we were all hot, tired, and ready for a nap, Brody laid back in his stroller, and still grasped his little flag, all the way home. 

This photo is from last year:

 

Aside from this shot being one of my all time favorite pictures taken of Brody, it amazes me how much he has grown in just one year. I remember last year we took him to a 4th of July festival in Idaho Falls. We went with a bunch of friends and stayed until late, watching the fireworks. I remember Jeff and I being so worried that Brody was going to be scared of the loud bangs when the fireworks went off. We brought Jeff's huge, padded headphones, got him to go to sleep before they started, and delicately placed the headphones on his ears. It completely squished his little face and make him look 100 times chubbier than he already was. He peacefully slept through the whole show.

Here's the proof:

These recent years, since marrying Jeff, have brought with them so many changes. From moving, to switching schools, to graduating, to different jobs, to having a baby, to getting pregnant again, the list could go on and on. I feel like I am always looking forward to the next big event, and with that comes a lot of worrying, which usually leads to stressing. 

Today, I was thinking about how life will be different, again, come next 4th of July. We will be a family of four, with a 8 month old little girl, dressed in red, white, and blue. Brody will be bigger, once again, and he will hopefully understand how to "stay behind the white line" better at the parade. 

Thinking about how our life was last 4th of July compared to this one, it seemed like it was a lot easier. We were able to enjoy the fireworks with a sleeping baby right beside us. We could easily pick of up his car seat (where he laid sleeping), put it into the car, and let him continue sleeping through all of the busy firework traffic, all the way home. This year, as I type this blog post, Brody is asleep in the next room, and has been since 7:30. Jeff's at work, and I am planning to possibly go to sleep a bit early tonight since I'm exhausted from our day spent in the sun. I'm not sad about missing the fireworks this year. I am fully comfortable with the fact that this is how this stage of my life is right now.

People are constantly using "just wait until..." statements. I wish these would stop. For example, when a pregnant lady complains about not being able to feel comfortable enough in bed to get a full night's rest, many mothers will jump at the chance to say something like, "Just wait until the baby comes, that's when you won't get any sleep." Or when a mom of one child complains about being so busy with her little one and never being able to get anything done around the house, many other mothers might jump at the chance to say something like, "Just wait until you have more than one kid, that's when your house will really feel unorganized." Or when a newly married couple complains about the struggles of getting used to living with eachother, another married couple might jump at the chance to say something like, "Just wait until you guys have a baby, that's when the arguments and disagreements will really start." I see and think about these types of scenarios all of the time.

While I do think that the people that are saying these "just wait until..." statements are trying to make that other, complaining, person feel better about the stage of life they are in now, I think that these statements instead make the person struggling feel hopeless, and stressed. When I've heard these statements being said to me, I realize that maybe life isn't very hard at all. Maybe I am just overreacting. I start to feel as though I need to immediately pause and enjoy life right now, because soon life is about to get worse. Therefore I better just start preparing myself. I also better get good at living through whatever tough thing is going on now, because life is about to give me something much, much worse. 

This is what these statements do to my head. Stress, stress, stress. Wait, stop stressing Karli, you need to enjoy this challenge. Ahhh!

But really, at the time of whatever I might be complaining about, I am working through my own struggle. Whether this be with money, or babies, or marriage, or in my job- it is my own challenge, that seems important to me at the stage of life I am in right now. And whether or not someone else has already been through that struggle and is happy to tell me something worse that is about to happen in my near future, they should just stop and listen instead. 

Life is brilliant. 

Every stage gracefully prepares you for the next one. 

Going to college and having roommates prepares you for living with your future spouse. Being married and learning how to compromise your needs prepares you for being pregnant. Being pregnant and being accountable to taking care of a growing being inside of you prepares you to be a mother someday and take care of a little someone outside of you. Being a parent prepares you to be a parent again to another child. These life preparations go on and on. And while each stage brings their own various challenges, they are preparing you for the next stage.

Future stages usually seem harder than the present one, which is why many times people tend to be scared of what the future holds. But in my experience, once you get there, you are more ready than you ever thought you would be. And once you are there, you are already on your way to the next stage of life before you know it.

We need to remember that everyone is in a different stage of life. Each individual faces their own, unique, challenge that is difficult for them at that time. So rather than list off things to them that may be harder than what they are going through now, we should just listen. The best advice I am ever given is when someone can try to remember what their life was like at my stage of life and try their best to understand that even though their life might be harder right now, back then wasn't very easy either.

Today Brody was attempting, again and again, to balance his little bowl on the top of my head. He'd giggle every time it would fall off, bend down, pick it up, and try again. I loved having him be so close to my face. I just sat there and looked up at his little long eyelashes on his concentrating, careful eyes. His mouth was just a little bit open and he breathed just a little bit harder, while he made his body as still as possible. Sometimes, after the bowl would drop, I'd gasp as if it might break when it hit the floor. Brody would make eye contact with me, and know what was coming next. Then I'd take my little guy up into my arms and bury of face into his little tummy, allowing me to soak his giggles as I tickled him like crazy. These moments help me see how great life really is. I know that everyday isn't perfect, not even close. But if we can notice the little blessings that are within our days, or our weeks, or our months, those hard days will be a little easier to overcome. We are then able to move on because we can look forward to the next precious moment that keeps us going.

these sweet moments

I just love spending days like this with my little boy.
As much as I long to meet the little one inside of me, I am enjoying the alone time I get with Brody.
Today we went to the splash pad, which is one of his favorite things to do.
We meant to meet up with some friends, but plans fell through and it left just the two of us, spending some sweet moments at the park together.
He did some funny things- like how he kept insisting on licking the standing water off the cement bench,
or how he would walk as fast as he could across the hot concrete, until he couldn't stand it anymore- he'd start to whine until I wrapped him up in my arms and explained how it was hot again and again,
or how he would watch all of the older kids with his big, bright eyes playing in the water and he would try to follow them as best as he could,
or how he would sometimes get so filled with excitement he couldn't help but scream,
or how he'd make friends with the little 7 year old girls who wanted to pick him up and tickle his tummy- he'd get so excited when they'd come back to play with him again.

I love this little guy. I just love watching him be. When he is playing in the water, he gets so distracted by everything that is going on, I feel like he forgets that I'm right there with him at times. He is just so filled with wonder and excitement.

He plays for awhile and always, without a doubt, eventually looks around to make sure I'm still there- usually with a big grin on his face- like it is the happiest day ever. And then there are the times when everything just is too much and he'll turn, look up, and put his arms up- wanting me to hold him for a little so he can have a little break from the water adventures. I love these sweet moments.

We walk back to our two towels, laying side by side in the shade, eat our snack and watch as the other kids continue to play in the water. I love just sitting there, in the great Utah summer weather, next to my little guy. I just want to soak in the way he is right now. It makes me sad that life won't be like it is right now- when momma and Brody days are most days. I know the future will hold many great other types of days- but I sure do love these ones.

Brody's chubby little feet kill me when I see them running and splashing through the water.

His face just makes me want to squeeze him so tight when he gets brave and tries to taste the water- only ending in getting sprayed up the nose and in the eyes by cold water. It takes his breath away, and it is just so darn cute.

I have a tendency to become obsessed

I attribute my obsessive tendency to my father. He is known for becoming completely consumed in something for a good length of time, and buying every gadget, book, and magazine about the obsession. While obsessions aren't always a good thing, I've always admired my father's ability to have hobbies and interests. Because without those, life can sometimes become a little mundane at times.

After becoming a momma, I have developed some obsessions that are all about Brody. The first one that I can recall was his sleep habits. I read book after book, and blog after blog, trying to figure out how in the world do moms get their children to sleep- let alone on a timely schedule that works well for each individual family. After months of trying, I can finally say that I have it down! Brody is a wonderful sleeper, still taking a scheduled two naps at 15 months old, and sleeping 12 hours every night without waking. I am so proud of this because it wasn't easy for me at all. People sometimes say, "You are so lucky that your baby sleeps so well." I have to tell them though, it isn't luck. What it was is some very long nights, lots of tears, a ton of research, and a lot of hard work. But it has paid off, and hopefully with baby number two on the way, that road will be a little bit easier for both Jeff and me. I know that our little girl will bring her own challenges that Brody didn't prepared us for, but knowing that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and sleep training CAN be done, will be key to keeping us all going... during the day and the night.

My next obsession having to do with Brody came during his first year while I was breastfeeding. Within that year, there were seven months that I was going to be away, full-time, while I finished my student teaching and also taught my own classes. This was so hard, but I was so thankful that between Jeff and Auntie Q, they could work their school schedules around each other so I didn't have to leave Brody with anyone outside of the family. Aside from having to kiss Brody goodbye every morning at 6:00 am, and not seeing him again until 4:00 pm, the other hard thing about this situation was my determination to continue breastfeeding. I then became obsessed. We bought a good pump, a milk carrier, and containers, and I pumped in the morning, once at school, and once when I got home during Brody's nap. This, with the milk I was able to store during weekend, built up enough that Jeff and Auntie Q were able to feed him throughout the day, with the occasional formula supplement when we'd run out. My goal was still a year though, and I'm happy to say that my obsession paid off. I made it to 11 months, or until I got pregnant again, and my supply dropped drastically.

Right now, I have recently acquired a brand new obsession having to do with Brody- his eating habits. For the past 3 months he has fully refused to eat baby food anymore and only wants to feed himself. Months 6-12 felt so wonderful to me! He was still nursing and only eating baby foods (vegetables, fruits, meats, and rice cereal). Life felt good. I knew that Brody was getting the nutrients he needed, and I didn't have to try very hard at all- a simple pop of the baby food jar, and we were done. Introducing solid food has been a whole different story.

This past week Brody and I were gone on a trip back to Washington, and Jeff was left at home alone because of work. Which meant Jeff also had to grocery shop for himself. When Brody and I returned home, I looked through the kitchen and found chicken nuggets, frozen crinkle fries, ice cream sandwiches, nacho chips, Gatorade, and more items that were similar to these. I sat Brody down in his highchair and became frustrated. I didn't know what to feed him that would make me feel like I gave him a balanced meal. Sure, I could give him some nuggets with some mac and cheese on the side, and really, I am not against the moms that do feed this to their kids. (I'm one of them.) But not having vegetables or fruit to offer his as well made me think a lot about the responsibility I have to feed my growing little boy the right thing. It is so stressful to me when I think of how much control I have over Brody, including what he eats, which is so important. 

As you could probably guess from Jeff's grocery list, both Jeff and I don't eat the best. While I try to eat vegetables and fruits (especially when I'm pregnant), we prepare a lot of quick and easy things like frozen meals, pasta, and sandwiches. While these things are necessarily all bad, I've learned in just the past few days that there are many different variations of those things and alternatives that are a lot better for our bodies. My obsession has just started. Right now I'm in the research faze. I love talking to people who have done the same research and listening to what works for them and their families. I already feel like I've learned so much.

While this obsession started first with feeding Brody, I have come to find out that I really would like to fully change the way Jeff and I eat as well. I am currently researching the Paleo Diet. (A diet my dad actually has done a lot of research about awhile back as well.) I plan to read other books and gradually introduce different food into our kitchen. Now that I am an official "stay at home mom" I feel that healthy eating for my family is my responsibility. In the past I've groaned everytime I've thought about getting into cooking. But now that I am doing this research and learning about good foods for our bodies, cooking doesn't seem so bad, especially when I know I am doing something good for all of us in the long run. I've also realized that healthy eating doesn't have to be as hard as it sounds. It may not come out of a box, or a microwave, but you can prepare meals in advance and freeze them. This is definitely what I plan to do.