Real.

This is a picture that was taken moments before everything went crazy. I had a wonderful visit with my good friends Samantha and Dylan at a McDonalds that had a playland. While this picture was taken, Brody and Bonnie were playing great together in the playland, and had been for the last hour and a half. Therefore, in this picture, I am happy. I look tired, and I probably am, but it made my day to see them. 

Anyway, what I'm trying to say, is I posted this picture to Facebook, and for all anyone knew, I had a great day seeing my friends. The end. And while that is true, I did enjoy getting to talk to other adults and reminisce about the past, I had a whole afternoon to get through as well, and that happened to not be as lovely.  

Shortly after I said my goodbyes to Dylan and Samantha, Brody and Bonnie were still happily playing in the playland, so I took the opportunity to quickly feed Blaire before we headed home. Meanwhile, Brody was trying to wait patiently for his turn on the computer toys that two other boys were playing on. (Why they have those there, I'm not sure..) I was beginning to tell them to start getting their shoes on to get ready to go home, and Brody was becoming frantic because he reallyyyyy wanted to play on those things. We had already been there for over an hour and a half, so we weren't going to stick around to wait for the kids to be done playing so that Brody could have his turn. Both Bonnie and Blaire needed diaper changes. (Yes, Bonnie is officially back in diapers. She did so so well for like a month.) So I pull all three of them into the bathroom. I change Blaire, and Bonnie and Brody are touching the toilet and the sink, and everything else... There was not really anything I could do about it, so there they were, filling up Brody's water cup in the sink, and spilling it out in the toilet over and over again. 

Finally I'm done changing Blaire, and I realize I have no where to set her because I didn't think to bring her seat or carrier with me. I'm not used to having two in diapers. So, I lay Bonnie on the changing table, next to Blaire, which both Blaire and Bonnie hated. So that was that. They were both upset and Brody was yelling at me at the same time through all this that he still really wanted to play that game out there. 

I got Bonnie changed and put her on the ground. She then decides to take off her boots and she has no socks on, since she ditched those somewhere in the playland earlier. So I'm now holding Blaire, and fighting with her to get her shoes back on because we are in the bathroom on top of everything and she has bare feet! Gah!

I finally get her shoes on and get all the kids out of the bathroom. As we are getting our stuff together to head out to the car, Brody realizes he has forgotten his beloved water cup in the bathroom. After I tell him we can't go back to get it, he has a full blown melt down. He is screaming and he quickly progresses to the level that he isn't listening to anything I am saying. I know I need to just let him work it out, so here I am, standing with a two year old, a screaming 3 year old, and holding a baby in her car seat carrier. 

A lady passes by and says, "Wow, he's a bad one!" Thank you.

Brody calms down and we start to head out the door. But then, Brody remembers about the game he never got to play, so he breaks down again, however this time we are half way out the door. So as I'm holding the door, trying to get Brody to follow me, Bonnie is now starting to walk towards the car, and I'm still holding Blaire. I run and grab Bonnie with my other hand, and we all go back to get screaming Brody. I honestly don't know how we got to the car, but we did. I put Blaire into the car, then coax Brody and Bonnie to the other side to strap them in. Brody then gets upset that I touched him too much to get to the other side, and he would like to walk all by himself. He would actually like to go to the other side of the car, where we put Blaire in, and rewalk to his side of the car. I can't let him walk to the other side of the car alone, and I can't leave Bonnie, so I tell him he needs to get into the car now. He won't, so I put him in the car myself, and he is so upset. I buckle them both in and Brody is screaming, which has now made Blaire upset. So two out of three are upset beyond measure. 

As we pull out of the parking lot, I notice Brody has gotten out of his car seat because he was so upset that I had put them in there without letting him help. I then pull into the next parking area, and get him out of the car to explain how we need to always stay in our carseat. He also had taken off one of his shoes and socks in the short period of time that we had been in the car, so he is now with one barefoot, on the concrete, screaming his little head off about his terrible life and his cold foot. Finally, when he agrees to stay in his carseat, I switch him into Bonnie's carseat, and her into his, because I know he can't escape Bonnie's carseat. 

And we are on the road back home. Gas light. We need gas. We are 40 minutes away from home, so I am forced to stop. I turn off the car at the gas station, open my door to get out, and Bonnie freaks out. (She has been going through an attachment phase, so anytime I go somewhat out of her sight, she freaks out.) So as I am getting gas, as quickly as I can, Bonnie is screaming, and therefore Blaire is screaming more, and Brody is still screaming because he is not in "his" carseat. I finally ask him if I put him back into his carseat, will he stay there, and he agrees, so I switch them again into the opposite carseats. Brody is fine now. Bonnie calms down once I get back into the car, so now all we have is one screaming child in the backseat.

As I pray that Blaire quiets down as we get moving on the road, she doesn't. Therefore, I stop the car in a parking lot, get her out of her seat, and feed her until she falls asleep. As I'm feeding her, I look back in the backseat, and both Brody and Bonnie are fast asleep. So three sleeping babies for the win. Yes. 

& there was peace, and there was quiet, all the way back home. However, it always comes with a price. It is currently one and a half hours past Brody's bedtime right now, as I write this, and he is still awake. Eh, it is what it is. I needed that quiet drive home.

Anyway, back to the initial picture I posted on Facebook.. if that was all anyone say, no one would know that my day actually got super crazy if they didn't read this post. They probably would say, "Oh, how nice, Karli got to see her friends today." And while they are right, there is a lot more to the story. 

These types of crazy events happen to me nearly everyday.  However, it's a lot of effort to write about and explain, and frankly, after they are over, they leave me feeling exhausted and the last thing I want to do is relive the event by talking about them. Therefore, I rarely do. However, this time, as I drove the 40 minutes home, I felt like maybe someone else needed to hear this story. Maybe someone else, who is living a crazy life with crazy kids, could relate and say, "Hey, I am not alone."

You are not alone.

People frequently say to me "I don't know how you do it," when referring to having 3 young kids. And to be honest, I don't either. There are days that I get so frustrated with everything that I know this mom job is one I would have quit over and over again if that was an option. 

Thank goodness it is not an option. I know that my kids need me, and know that I chose to have them all so close in age. I wonder if that was a smart decision nearly everyday, but it is one that I can't change, so therefore I just do what I have to do to get through each day. And that is the truth. 

Pictures on Facebook don't tell everything. I mean, I post a TON on social media, and I know for a fact that what I post doesn't even come CLOSE to telling the full story. There are a LOT of ups, but probably even more downs, and while I try to be honest, it just isn't possible to be completely thorough with the entire truth. 

So, if you are reading this, and have felt that you are alone with feeling like life is really freaking hard sometimes, or hey, maybe all the time, you are not ever alone. This new year, I want to be more real. I want to be more real with the people around me. I have found that the more real I am with others, the more real they are back to me, and I like that so much better than the fake stuff we see all the time on social media. It's just not real.

On the other hand, I get it. I'm sure many enjoy posting the good stuff, because that is the stuff that is exciting to post about, or that is the stuff that we think to take pictures of. I get that too. But just keep in mind that those things are NEVER the full story, there is ALWAYS more because it is utterly impossible to tell everyone everything. 

Being Okay With Not Doing It All

I've never been very good at milestones or sentimental things when it comes to my kids, or really, at anytime in my life. Honestly, I never wrote down the date that each of them first walked, or their first word, or their weights and heights at different ages, or the first time they laughed and smiled. It just never seemed super important to me. To me, as long as they did end up walking at some point, that's what mattered. I never really cared to remember when exactly each of these things actually happened. 

I honestly believe that I'll never regret not saving their first hair cut curl, or their first hat they ever wore in the hospital. I throw things away, and I feel better after those things are gone. The real reason being that now I don't have to store them. 

A common phrase my mom used to always say to my sisters and me was, "Oh save that. You can put it in your scrapbook." Did I have a scrapbook? No. Did she have a scrapbook? No. I think my mom secretly has always felt a little guilty that she hasn't been a better scrapbooker, or a scrapbooker at all. She has a hope chest chalk full of things from our childhood. And there they sit, at the foot of my mom's bed, reminding her of the many things she never organized in a pretty fashion. And then there are the boxes and boxes of developed pictures that never were out nicely into photo books. And I know, because of the many times I've heard my mom comment about those boxes, that she feels guilty, and also overwhelmed at what a huge job it would be to ever get those organized or put into digital form. 

I feel myself settling in on my own amount of guilt for similar reasons. I want so badly to just let this go and be okay with the way I am.

However, I do have a worry. I worry that someday my own kids will wish I had documented certain things better or held onto more things of sentimental value. I'm conflicted. Because if that's the case, then maybe I should change my ways and start a collection of these items, but if no one will ever care about them (because I don't) then I really don't want to waste my time or storage space. 

But, do I hold anything like this against my own mom? No freaking way. Because honestly, I'm in the same boat. However, I believe that I am even worse. At least she keeps things, I just throw things away. My mom tried so much harder with so many things, that I fall short in so many ways when I compare myself to her. So my only hope is that my own kids will develop that sane understanding with me, and not be too disappointed with what I did end up doing. 

I do take comfort in knowing that I do a few things to attempt to save these memories.. I love taking pictures. I try to take pictures of ordinary events and moments that don't necessarily consist of holidays, trips, or other monumental experiences. I love writing down stories, even the smallest little memories. (Which is why most of you are super annoyed with seeing multiple posts from me each day.) I plan to someday print out my statuses on Facebook to keep them and allow my kids to sift through them later. I already print out my Instagram pictures, and I cherish those little books. To me, they are equivalent to the journal I have never written. I try to create a way that my kids can see how life really was, back in the day, from their own mom's perspective. 

These pictures and short stories are what I do to fill my need to make up for the other normal things that moms usually do-- like scrap booking and baby books. I will never have those for any of my kids and that is the way I know it is. 

I try to think of what is most interesting to me to look at from my past. I love seeing pictures of my sisters and I, and I love hearing little random stories of things that happened in the past that may explain why we are the way we are. So selfishly, I'm going off my single account of the things I consider valuable, and attempting to collect those things for my own kids.

I don't know how I'll feel if they tell me someday that they wish I would have done better at collecting items from their past, documenting dates of milestones, and creating things like books, shadow boxes, quilts, etc. of things from their past. I wish i could jump into the future and find out how they will feel about this subject, so badly. 

I hope that when they are old enough to care about their past, they know that I did care about them each individually, even if I didn't do everything, and even if I didn't keep a ton of sentiments. I want them to know that I loved kissing their tiny little hands, even though I didn't keep their tiny little hospital bracelets. I want them to know that I was so proud of the art they made at preschool, even though I didn't keep every piece. I want them to know that I was so excited with each new stage they arrived to, even though I don't remember the exact date that they each happened on. 

Especially during the holidays, I reflect on the traditions from my childhood and the traditions that I'd like to uphold with my own kids. I see moms that do so much, including my own, and wonder how they ever have the energy and motivation to do all that. I'm trying to be satisfied with what I do decide to do, and hope that my kids don't someday hold it against me that I didn't do it all. 

I'm thankful for you.

Dear Jeff,

We live a crazy life, don't we? It's nonstop, all day. From the moment we wake up, to the second we get the kids down at night, we are moving. And even then, we have a house to pick up, or heaven forbid, one of the kids wake up again.. Like I said, it's nonstop, with not many breaks in between. Our days are filled with cleaning up messes, wiping faces, buckling seat belts, breaking up fights, negotiating with toddlers, making snacks, giving baths... and on and on. Each day is similar, and each day is so hectic. 

There's something I want to tell you, that I know I don't tell you enough. It's two simple words, but I mean them a lot. Thank you. Thank you for working everyday with your family in mind. Thank you for jumping in and taking on the kids from the moment you walk in the door.  Thank you saying sorry when many times its me who should be saying sorry to you. Thank you for being patient with not only the kids, but also with me. Thank you for listening when my emotions run a little wild. Thank you for making us feel like a team. Thank you for caring for each of our kids as individuals with specific needs. Thank you for holding my hand when you know I'm stressed out. Thank you for waking up with the kids every morning and letting me sleep a little bit longer each day. 

I cherish that extra time you give me each morning. It gives me time to just lay with our Blaire, by myself, without distractions. She's growing so quickly, especially right now, and I'm so thankful to be able to enjoy this cuddle stage with her just a little bit extra, because I know this stage just won't last long. (I'm mourning the loss of it already.) It's a different experience, this time around, with three. I don't get much one on one time with the baby during the day. I feel guilty about it, to be honest, but these mornings help so much. 

I love you and I'm so glad I get to do this life with you. You just make things fun, even in stressful situations. 

This Thanksgiving I'm most thankful for you. I really am. I lucked out when I married you. I never could have known what a great husband, father, and teammate you'd be. You've reached all my expectations and much much more.  Happy Thanksgiving, babe. Here's to so many more. 

Love, Karli

Overwhelmed

Three weeks ago I had a baby. Did you know that I had to open up the calendar on my phone to count how many weeks ago that was? How sad is that? With Brody, I KNOW I knew the exact amount of days he'd been alive for many many days after his birth. I know this because I remember how much it bothered me when he was four weeks old, but not one month old yet. It bothered me like crazy, because I was so fixated on how old he was. With Blaire, there's a day, then there's another day. We have things to get done, babies to juggle, potties to race to, clothes to get on, baths to take, food to cook, messes to clean... And it's all just going so fast. 

A week ago, as I posted a picture of Bonnie for her birthday, I just cried my eyes out. I was riding in the front seat of the car, with my mother-in-law, on the way to visit family for her birthday, so I was trying to hide my tears, but it was very difficult. 

I don't really know why I was crying, except that I just felt, and still feel, so overwhelmed. I feel overwhelmed that I haven't taken enough pictures. I feel overwhelmed that I haven't taken enough videos. I feel overwhelmed that I never use my real camera to document my kids' lives. I feel overwhelmed that someday I am going to look back and realize that these were the best years of my life. Am I enjoying them enough? I feel overwhelmed that the baby I just had, sweet baby Blaire, could possibly be my last birth I ever experience. 

How is it possible that this phase of my life is already over? I don't feel relieved, as I thought I would. I feel sad. And I don't know where exactly that sadness is coming from. Is it because I feel we have more children in heaven waiting to come down to join our family? Is it because I'm scared to be forced to lose the baby weight even after I'm done nursing and won't have the excuse that I'm pregnant again? Is it because I love babies, and especially the newborn stage? Even though all these things are true, I think that the main reason I feel sad is because it has made me realize that life is passing. And it's passing quickly. I don't feel ready to be able to say, "We are done having kids." I don't feel ready to get rid of my newborn clothes. I don't feel ready to be okay with having one boy, and two girls, and no more mystery of what's to come. 

 

I didnt mourn the end of teenage years. I didn't mourn the end of high school days. I didn't mourn the end of college years. Those phases, and more, didn't seem as important as this phase I am in right now. Having the responsibility to raise these tiny spirits, and create their childhood, just seems so heavy. It's hard to know that someday it will be over and I won't be able to make any changes to what has already happened. 

A couple days ago, I dropped Brody off at preschool, and he hugged onto my leg as he said goodbye. He thought that was pretty funny, and he giggled as he said, "Bye, Momma!" and ran off to play with his friends. 

Each experience like this leaves me feeling a little more overwhelmed. How much longer will he feel like hugging his mom's leg at school is silly? I love being a mom to little kids. Will I enjoy being a mom to big kids? 

If Blaire is indeed our last baby, I am realizing now how much more I'm going to mourn her growing up. It's already starting. She's becoming more awake lately and instead of me being excited I get to see her eyes open more often, I'm sad that the sleepy newborn stage is slipping away already. 

Yesterday I tried to fit her in a footie pajama that was labeled "up to 7lbs" and I cried when it didn't fit. Now what do I do? Pack it up for my sisters' future babies, and be okay that there isn't even a possibility that any of my own kids will wear that footie pajama again? How do all the moms out there do that and just feel okay with that? 

Like I said, I'm overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed with my kids growing, with possibly being done with having kids, but mostly, I'm overwhelmed with life. It is beautiful. And I wouldn't want it any other way. But, at the same time, I'm finding that the ends of phases are pretty hard to take. 

Blaire Iris: A Birth Story

Jeff reassured me that we only had 8 more miles left. 8 more miles, 8 more miles, okay, so that is like 8 more minutes. I can do this, I can do this, I thought. Another contraction came, and I changed my mind. I could NOT do this. This baby was coming, and she was coming NOW. I had never experienced anything like this before. Labor was literally taking over my body, and it was completely out of my control. The baby was coming whether I was undressed or dressed, out or inside the car, speeding through the freeway or safely in a hospital bed... the baby was going to arrive any MINUTE now, and I am pretty sure that I was about to have a heart attack any minute now as well. How in the world was this real life? Minutes, which felt like hours later, Jeff let me know that we had 10 more minutes left. 10 more minutes?!!! You said 8 minutes ages ago! I AM NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO THIS FOR 10 MORE MINUTES!!!
...........................
Before I get ahead of myself, I should probably start at the beginning. It was 3 am on October 18, 2015. I started to experience contractions. They weren't that painful, but they sure were making me excited! This meant that the baby was going to come relatively soon! I would finally not have to be pregnant for many more days. I didn't sleep all that well the last couple weeks of this pregnancy anyway, so being awake through the contractions wasn't all that inconvenient. As I watched the clock, the contractions seemed to be 8-14 minutes apart.

With Brody and Bonnie, I was hooked up to Pitocin in order to get labor going. Therefore, Jeff and I were pretty laid back about these contractions that I was experiencing. "Eh, I don't think it's labor. I wouldn't worry about it," I'd tell Jeff when he asked what I thought. So we didn't worry. I didn't feel well, just kind of sick, and low energy. It was Stake Conference that day, so we stayed home from church, watched the Seahawks lose another game, and spent a lazy day at home as a family of four.

Around 5:00 PM, I called my mom. My contractions still hadn't stopped since that morning. They were 20-30 minutes apart, so Jeff and I really weren't worried at all, but they still were there. My mom told me to call the consulting nurse at the hospital, just to check in and make sure, and then to call her back to let her know if she should start driving out or not. I talked to the nurse and she assured me that since my contractions were 20-30 minutes apart, I was not in labor yet. She advised me to wait until the contractions were 5-6 minutes apart for at least 2 hours straight before I drove into the hospital. She said, "Now I don't mean 5-8 minutes apart, I mean 5-6 minutes apart. Don't drive in until you having timed them that way for 2 hours. Or, if your water breaks, come right away." Okay, that was straight forward enough. I could follow those directions.

I called my mom and we came up with a plan. Since I had been literally laying around all day, taking baths, watching TV on the couch, and letting Jeff take care of me, I was a little worried that my contractions would have been closer already if I was moving around like I would of on a normal day that Jeff wasn't off work. The next day was Monday, and I'd be left with the kids alone. I couldn't possibly take care of 2 kids while experiencing contractions all day long by myself. I needed to figure out if I was about to be in labor or not. So we decided that Jeff, the kids, and I would go on an evening walk, then report back to my mom. If my contractions were closer, then she would come. If I felt no difference, then she would wait until I gave her a call, even if was in the middle of the night.

So we ate dinner, got the kids dressed for bed, and started our walk. We walked, probably a mile and a half around Sunserra, the housing development we are living at. Jeff pushed the double stroller, and they would pause every time I had a contraction and wait. Brody kept asking, "Momma happy?" to make sure I was okay. "Yes, baby, Momma's happy." On the sidewalks, I would walk behind Jeff, and I kept seeing Brody and Bonnie's little heads poke out from the sides of the stroller to check on me and make sure I was still following them. It was getting dark, and it was starting to sprinkle rain, but I remember it just felt so good out there.

Our clothes, the kids pajamas, and our hair were all damp from the misty rain after we returned home. It was almost bedtime for Brody and Bonnie now, so we picked up the house, and I vacuumed. Now I was getting a little stressed. My house was NOT ready for company. "Jeff, we have to clean the bathrooms. We need to get the laundry done. We have so much to do." Annoyed, Jeff responded, "Karli, your mom isn't coming here for a vacation. She knows you are about to have a baby." That didn't make me feel any better.

I got Bonnie ready for bed, kissed Brody goodnight, and took her up to her bed. As she was sitting on my lap, I started to sing to her our regular bedtime songs. However, a contraction suddenly hit, and it was hard and painful. "Jeff! Jeff!" Jeff ran upstairs and opened the door. I just started crying. Jeff took Bonnie out of my arms. I really wanted to rock my Bonnie to sleep though. I kept thinking about how this was the probably the last time that I could put Bonnie to bed while she was still the baby of our family. "Do you want me to put her to bed?" Jeff asked. "No, I can do it. But give her to me now so I can get her down before the next contraction."

He set her in my arms and Bonnie gave me the biggest around-the-neck hug. She kept giving me kisses and it was making me cry more. Oh how I love my little Bonbon so much. Before too long, I could feel another contraction coming on. So I set her in her bed, even though normally we usually sing songs together a little longer. She somehow understood though. "Bye Momma. Love you!" "Love you, baby. Sleep good."

So to the bath I went. But first, I took one last pregnancy picture. I had the feeling that this pregnancy wasn't going to last much longer.

As you can see from the picture, I was worn out already. After making it through a day of contractions, I was just not feeling quite like myself. A bath though, that'd make me feel better.

This is when I found out that I really wasn't the water birth type of girl. Contractions felt pretty awful in the bath. There wasn't anything to bury my face in on the most painful ones. It's hard to explain, but I definitely wasn't comfortable. As I tried to allow myself to relax, I just started to sweat and become extra uncomfortable. So I just got out. 

I just laid on the bed, with my damp towel around me, feeling like I was dying. Contractions are no joke. They suck. 

The contractions were close now, but I knew I need to wait those two hours to be sure. It had been about 30 minutes of contractions that were 5 minutes apart at this point, some even less than 3 minutes apart. (Jeff was timing and he the closer they became, the more stressed he grew.) But they were so painful that each contraction made me more and more sure that this was the real deal. I called my mom and told her to start on her way. I called my Nana and asked her if she could come stay with the kids until my mom arrived. It was a little before 8:00 PM at this point. My Nana said she just had to get ready, put some things in a bag, and would be over as soon as she could. She lived an hour away, so I thought, Okay, that'll be good. Then I'll get to my 2 hours of close contractions and be able to go to the hospital. Everything is going to be fine.

Jeff was relieved when I told him that everyone was on their way. As I listed all the things he needed to add to my bag, he ran around the house and gathered my odds and ends. 

I mustered enough energy together to start getting myself dressed. I pulled on a pair of Jeff's sweats, got my bra on, and bam, another horrible contraction. I was down again. I just needed to lay down. That was all I could do to get through these at this point. I just laid on the bed, quiet, but suffering through these horrible pains. 

As another one hit, there was a burst of warm liquid. (Yep, you guessed right.) "Jeff!! Oh my gosh, I think my water just broke!" Jeff looked at the bed, and confirmed what I had felt. Jeff was now on the phone with my Nana asking how far away she was. I got up, and I was now determined to get ready to leave now. I changed into a different pair of sweatpants, pulled on a shirt, told Jeff to grab some towels for the seat of the car, and laid on the bed again. 

"Come on, Karli, let's at least go downstairs."

"No, I just want to lay here. No one is here yet. So I'm going to lay in my bed as long as I can."

No response. All I could hear was Jeff bustling around the room. Opening and closing our bags and double checking that we had everything. 

Since my water had broke, my thoughts became a lot more stressful. I knew we needed to get to the hospital quickly. Not only because the baby was coming soon, but because I had tested Strep-B positive, and I needed to get hooked up to an IV as soon as possible. I knew that this was important, and it stressed me out thinking of all of the things I read online that could happen if I didn't get that medicine.

I hadn't told Jeff about the Strep-B thing. He worries a lot, so I didn't think there was a need. I knew we would go to the hospital if my water broke anyway, so it wasn't worth causing him more stress. 

Jeff called my Nana around 9:15 PM and she said she was almost at our house. "Okay, Karli, your Nana is almost here, let's go get in the car and wait for her."

He had the car all set, waiting in front of our house. Thankfully we also had a full tank of gas. I sat on top of the folded towels, buckled my seat belt, and thought about how uncomfortable I was at that moment. I wasn't going to last. The contractions were so bad. I felt like I was literally on my deathbed. I remember that through every contraction I would just grab onto the shoulder strap of the seatbelt with both hands and just hold it, while putting my head to the right and closing my eyes. Then, between contractions, I felt pretty okay, but just braced myself for the next one that came just a couple minutes later.

The worst thing though was what I was feeling in my pelvic region. SO MUCH PRESSURE. It was like nothing I had felt before. The front of my pelvis just felt like it was on fire. This baby was for sure coming tonight. "Jeff, we need to go. Seriously."

At 9:27 PM, I sent a text to my sister-in-law and mother-in-law, in response to many questions they were asking me. I didn't have enough energy to respond to everything, so I just texted:

"Pray hard. I don't think we are going to make it."

I'm sure that must have made them freak out. But my phone fell down the side of the seat after that, I didn't text back any more than that. (Sorry guys.)

Jeff called the hospital and let them know that we were on our way there. He called my Nana and she was coming down the hill on the way to our house. That would have to do. We needed to leave now. With the kids sound asleep, we left them in the house, and drove off. We saw my Nana on our way out, and Jeff picked up the speed. 

Experiencing contractions in the passenger seat of a parked car was not fun. But experiencing contractions in the passenger seat of a speeding, jerking, bumping car is awful. AWFUL, I TELL YOU. Jeff put the hospital into his GPS and we had a 38 minute drive ahead of us. I could tell, Jeff was ready to make that shorter though.

Side Note: Jeff is annoying to ride with when you are late to something. He DOES NOT speed, ever. He is a VERY safe driver and ALWAYS stops at yellow lights. 

Jeff drove fast. Like seriously, so fast. At one point we were driving behind a guy with a trailer. I was certain that guy was going slow, I mean he was pulling a trailer, so I said, "Jeff, pass him!" So Jeff did. (Later, I found out that that guy was actually driving 80 already and we had to drive like 100 to get by him. Whoops.)

Jeff held my hand majority of the way there until I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO TOUCH ME AT ALL. The contractions were just crazy and I was feel so nauseous and feeling like this was the last day of my life. I kept quiet most of the way there. Well, aside from telling Jeff to drive faster, and the occasional moan to get through some really tough contractions, I was very very quiet. I just wanted to get to that dang hospital and end this nightmare of a trip.

"How are you feeling?" Jeff kept asking me, over and over and over through the trip. Finally, I replied, "Not good! Don't ask me that again."

So the drive was painful, the contractions were awful, the waiting to get to the hospital was unbearable, but the thing that was the worse was me feeling like I had to push. The baby was coming, and I could FEEL her coming. I tried to keep these details to myself. Jeff was already so stressed and I knew he was driving. I didn't want to get in a wreck. But near the end of the trip, I couldn't help myself. "Jeff, I can feel the baby coming." 

"Keep your legs together, babe, you're doing good." 

Yeah, right, my legs. Just keep them together. Why didn't I think of that? Ummm, NO! HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!! I thought, as I panicked to myself. I could feel the baby's head descending, and I was SURE of what was going on down there. I was terrified. I just kept thinking about the YouTube video I had watched with my sister. The girl is driving to the hospital, just as I was, and she literally delivers the baby herself. She grabs the baby and is HOLDING the baby in the passenger seat. I was convinced at this point that this would be me. These things happen in REAL LIFE. 

"Jeff, really, the baby is coming. What are we going to do??" 

Jeff sees the hospital signs at this point. However, every time we have driven to the hospital in the past, has been from the opposite direction, from my clinic. Since we were driving directly there this time, Jeff was a little turned around, and the Emergency Entrance signs were not very clear either. So we are spinning around hospital parking lot after hospital parking lot, until we finally make it to my clinic, and Jeff knows where we are again. He turns into the Emergency drop-off area, jumps out of the car, and says, "I'll be right back!" 

Before I know it, a nurse pops her head into the car and asks how I'm doing. I have nothing to say except, "The baby is coming out right now!" She yells that we need a stretcher and starts pulling down my pants and underwear. Thank goodness pregnancy diminishes all sense of modesty that you might have tried to have before. My naked butt is now breezing in the wind of the outdoors and this young ER doctor is checking to see how much time is left. They tell Jeff to lean the seat of the car back, and I scream. That did NOT feel good, and if anything it was making the baby come even FASTER! The doctor says something like, "We are close, but we have a couple minutes left." 

I somehow make it to the stretcher between contractions, and I need to tell you- that stretcher was AMAZING!! It literally felt like heaven to lay down on that thing. 

We flew. We flew through the hospital halls, through doors, and to an elevator. A different nurse introduced herself to me. "My name is Mandy. I'll be taking care of you." As I looked up at her, I asked, "Is it too late to get an epidural?" With a look of surprise, she replied, "Uh, yeah. Your baby is on it's way right now." Oh, yeah, duh. That's right. Wait. That means I'm having this baby natural. What does this MEAN? Ahhh!!!

Mandy told me to do short little breaths during each contraction and not to think about what was going on "down there." I definitely didn't follow her second instruction, but I was pretty good at the short breaths. I was wishing I had known about the short breath thing in the car. I was definitely taking huge breaths through the contractions on the way there. The short breaths was definitely a better way to go. 

As I worked through 2 contractions while a group of people (nurses, doctors, Jeff, people... I had no idea who or how many were running around me), I just closed my eyes, trying to avoid throwing up. I remember at one point one person was trying to push me head first, while the other person tried to push me feet first and they had to work out what way they were going to push me, and I was feeling so frantic. Just push me there already!!!!

"I'm so scared. I'm so scared. I'm so scared. Jeff, I'm so scared," I repeated as we entered into a room. 

They slid me onto a different bed, and someone said, "You don't need to be scared. Your doctor is here. You can push now."

A contraction came. And I pushed. I didn't have a choice. It wasn't like a "One, Two, Three" push thing like I was used to with an epidural. It was more a "Lean Back and Brace Yourself" push thing that my body just basically took over and pushed with all it's might, whether I wanted that to happen or not. "Babe! You're done! I see the baby!" Jeff exclaimed to my relief. 

And that was that.

One push, our baby girl was here. I was in shock. At 10:05 PM, 38 minutes after we left for our hospital that was supposedly 38 minutes away, our baby was here. We did it. Barely.

Somehow someone had removed my shirt and laid my baby on me for skin to skin. I remember she was crying and she was just in a tiny little ball, and all I could get myself to do was just hold her little sticky body with both of my hands on each side of her. I just held her and the nurses placed warmed blankets on top of us. My body was just shaking, but I felt such a sense of relief. It was the most overwhelming feeling I have ever experienced, and probably ever will experience. The rush of the trip, the stress of the time, and then to end up with a brand new baby in your arms? What the heck? Why is this real life? 

Eventually I pulled it together though, and I loved on that baby like I should. Oh man, she is perfect. My little Blair Iris. 

This picture was taken by a nurse in the room that I delivered the baby in, just a little after everything happened. We were one happy couple at that moment, let me tell you.

kids who are close in age

I always imagined I would have my kids close in age. But, half way through Bonnie's (my second) pregnancy, I began to get nervous. What the heck was I thinking? 4 months ago, I was convinced that Brody would be SO big by the time a new baby would arrive. However, he was not growing that fast, and he was still very much a baby himself. But, the deed was done, our second baby would be coming in 5 short months, whether we were ready or not.

I'm not going to lie, having an 18 month old and an infant wasn't super easy, but I found that I adjusted quickly (enough) and embraced being a momma of two babies shortly after. At the same time though, in those beginning weeks, I was sure that we would stop at two kids. It was a lot, and I felt like I was at my max.

Here we are, half way through our third pregnancy. I don't feel the anxiety that I did while pregnant with Bonnie. I know to expect things to feel crazy at first, but I also know that they will eventually calm down and things will seem to fall into place once again.

As I watch Brody and Bonnie grow up together, I become more and more thankful that we did decide to have them so close in age. Play dates with friends is great, but it is so hard to coordinate with other family's schedules, nap times, and more. But when you have at least two kids, play dates aren't as necessary (still wonderful, but not necessary all the time). You can go to the park, spur of the moment, and know that your kids will at least have one friend to play with.

I remember, and I still sometimes do, hoping that there would be a friend Brody's age that would add some excitement to our days at the park. Those times, when instant buddies are there, is wonderful, but when it doesn't work out that way, Brody and Bonnie always have each other.

The other cool thing I've noticed about this growing sibling relationship is that Brody really does fully enjoy Bonnie's company. He doesn't care so much for other kids that are Bonnie's age, really at all, but Bonnie truly is his very  best friend. It makes my heart melt. "Baby, want to go on the high slide?" "Baby, let's go play! Want to go play?" "Baby, come on!" And Bonnie follows, as fast as her little legs can take her. Brody walks at her pace and always makes sure that she's safe. "Baby, not that way, too high." "Baby, don't fall. Okay, baby? Careful!"

It's truly wonderful to be able to take the kids to the park, sit on the bench, and just watch them interact, play, and grow up together.

I know that there are probably many wonderful things about having kids further apart, and I know that those sibling relationships are just as special, in so many ways as well. But I am so happy with this life Jeff and I have chosen. This is our life, Brody and Bonnie's life, and it just feels right.

With another baby on the way, I'm anticipating the craziness. I am. But at the same time, this baby feels right. I know that Brody and Bonnie are going to love this one just as much as they love each other. Bonnie has been obsessed with babies lately and always wants to look at babies on my phone, aka my newsfeed. She gets big, excited eyes, each time another baby comes up, looks me straight in the face, and says, "Baby!! Baby! Momma, baby!" And I have to agree with her, that it is indeed a baby, before we can continue our browsing for more babies.

This momma-life, it really is a good life.

Two Words Worth of Potty Training Advice

So, I want to say, first off, I do not claim to be an expert on potty training. I have potty trained a total of ONE kid. Therefore, if you are looking for some actual, concrete, potty training advice, I advise you to stop reading this post, and look somewhere else.

That being said, I'm still going to continue this post. Why? Because a few of my mommy friends have messaged me ever since I potty trained my sweet, easy going, child, Brody **insert lots and lots of sarcasm into that last phrase** wondering how I did it, and if I had any tips.

I have learned, through my extensive time of parenting for three years, that all kids are different. But maybe, just maybe, my perspective and gained experience will help another first time momma out there that is trying to feel her way through the depths of potty training madness.

Potty Training Mommas out there: I have two words of advice for you.

Just wait.

Before Brody was deemed potty trained, I tried two times before. And when I say I tried, I really really tried. I tried salty snacks, lots of liquids, potty seat, potty chair, cool underwear, candy, different choices of candy, different flavors of candy, bribes, toys, ten minute intervals, stories on the potty, songs on the potty, music on the potty... standing in headstand position doing the potty dance for the little sweetie sitting on the potty, I tried lots and lots of utterly waste of time things, all having to do with the potty. And what did I get? Wet floor, wet couch, wet clothes, wet towels, poopy underwear, poopy hands, poopy poopy wet wet.... you get it.

It was gross. It was awful. And it honestly made me second guess my decision to ever become a parent in the first place.

Each time I attempted to potty train, I was ready to let go of those diapers. I was ready to save some money and I was definitely ready to end having to change huge, messy, toddler poops. I was so ready.

BUT after three days of potty training, on those first two trials, those diapers ended up becoming heaven sent. I would finally give in, stick that diaper back on Brody's little butt, and would literally feel like I could fly around the house and live my life once again. The weight that was lifted from me was simply incredible.

Oh diapers, they really do hold such a great purpose here on this earth.

A couple months before Brody turned three, I was ready to face the potty training trial once again. And actually, Brody had started wanting to be potty trained about a month before that. This time felt definitely different. I didn't question for a second whether he was ready. I knew he was ready.

Brody would do some things that just made me know. For example, many days I'd walk into his room and his floor would have little opened diapers all over it. After closer examination of these diapers, I would find that each would just be a little bit wet. Therefore, I knew that he must just not like the feeling of being wet anymore. So, he would pee, then go to his room, take his diaper off, and put a new one on, all by himself.

Other times, I would hear a. "Mommmaaaaa!!!!" I would enter the room that Brody was in, and see him laying on his back, legs in the air, diaper undone, with the poopiest little butt ready to be wiped. Yeah, gross. And yeah, this little scene made me urgently want potty training to happen. I'd exclaim, "Ah!!!! Brody! Don't move, keep your butt up!" And I'd run around the house, trying to find the closest box of wipes, to hopefully save my carpet's life.

Anyway, back to potty training. I knew he was ready. I know that the experiences that make you know your child is ready will be different than mine. (You probably are hoping this as well.) But my point is, just wait. Just wait until you know, without a doubt, that they are ready. If you are even questioning it a little bit, that means that you don't truly know.

I thought I knew on the first two tries. I would think to myself, spurred by things I had read and heard, "Oh, he can say the word potty now." That does not mean that they are ready. I would think to myself, "Oh, he tells me when he went potty." That does not mean that they are ready. I would think to myself, "Oh, he is two years old now." That does not mean that they are ready. I would think to myself, "Oh, he is kind of dry after his nap." That does not mean that they are ready.

Basically, nothing really means that they are ready until you just wait it out until you know that they are ready. No check list of things you read online is going to tell you if your child is ready. and honestly, if you are searching out those check lists, like I was, then your child is not ready.

The third time that we tried with Brody, when I knew he was ready, was.. dare I say it... easy. It was EASY! We went to storytime at the library on DAY ONE! I'm telling you. I didn't buy a single treat for that boy. He just started using the potty like a POTTY EXPERT. I'm serious guys. It was so easy. And all of those little tricks and schedules and programs are a waste of time, because if you just wait, it will be so easy.

Did he ever have an accident? Well, duh. He still does sometimes. But he gets it, and it was so freaking easy after we waited until he was ready.

Just wait. That's all I really have to say.

Potty Training Exhaustion