Funny Face.

Not much going on around these parts except the following: snuggling my baby girl, nursing, (sometimes) napping, snapping thousands (literally!) of pictures. Just wanted to let you know we're alive, and things are going so much differently (and better) than I had pictured. The days are not void of tears or a bit of frustration at not knowing how to do everything all at once...but when I sit back, breathe and snuggle up with this tiny lady, I am reminded of how quick time is passing. I am reminded to just rest. Just breathe. Just be quiet and learn her. And let her learn me.

Loving this. Truly.

So, I shall leave you with a few of the funny faces we've been able to capture in the last few days...

Love this squishy faced baby!!!

:)

Birth Day.

Friday, March 5:

My husband and I went in for my weekly OB appointment, hoping to hear that I'd progressed even a small amount from the appointment the week before. After checking me, my doctor told us that I'd dilated to a three--yippee! Progress! She said that things were looking good, and she hoped that I'd go into labor that weekend, because she would be the doctor on-call for weekend deliveries at our local hospital. Jokingly, I told her that I would be having this baby a week early (My original due date was March 12...the next weekend). We left the appointment, and we grabbed some lunch (I loved taking off half-days for my weekly appointments, because it gave my husband and I an excuse for a middle-of-the-day date!)

(39 weeks...the last belly pic!)

After lunch, I headed back to work to finish teaching the rest of the day. I had been having some light contractions for about three weeks, but after this appointment, I noticed they were getting a bit more uncomfortable...and a bit closer together. I managed to teach the last three hours of the day, and I headed home to take a nap. When my husband got home from class, we took a nice mile walk around the neighborhood, timing contractions the entire way. By the time we made it back home, I'd been contracting every 5 minutes for about an hour---this was it!

Or so we thought.

Remembering a tip from our childbirth class, I promptly drank a large glass of water and rested on my side for an hour, continuing to time the contractions. They slowed down and almost stopped. Bummer.

Saturday, March 6:

I had plans with a good friend to meet for coffee and a Target stroll, so at around 10ish, I headed out. We chatted for a bit, and then we walked the aisles of Target...mostly hanging around the baby girl section, trying our hardest not to buy more clothes for our little-girls-on-the-way. ;) After a few hours of strolling, it was time to head home. I did a few loads of laundry, cleaned up the house, played with the dogs and waited for my hubby to get home from work.

That afternoon, we took a TWO mile walk around the neighborhood (I was getting serious!), and I was sure huffing and puffing by the time we made it home. We decided not to time the continuous yet randomly disbursed contractions I'd been having all day, and instead we chose to enjoy the walk, enjoy the dinner we cooked together, and enjoy the few episodes of "Everybody Loves Raymond" that we were watching in bed together, when...

...my water broke! WOWZA!

Those random, only slightly painful contractions picked up speed and intensity immediately after I felt my water break--OUCH. (And ladies, I made it to the restroom before the floodgates opened...TMI? Oh well. It is a birth story, after all...!) My husband surprised us both with his calm demeanor and peaceful preparations as he scurried around the house to tie up loose ends, put up the pups, grab the few items left out of our hospital bag, and finally usher me to the car. (And what was I doing that entire 30 minutes, you ask? Drying and straightening my hair. I would have to pause about every four minutes to grunt and moan during the increasingly painful contractions, but, by golly, I was NOT going to have my first picture with my baby with rumpled, just-air-dried-from-the-shower hair! I skipped the make-up, but we must keep our priorities straight.) ;)

At around 10:30pm, we made the 10 minute drive to the hospital. Wow. I was in major pain by this point. The contractions were coming every 3 minutes, and I could no longer talk (or hardly breathe!) through them any longer. My husband was amazing, and he just let me sort of go into myself and try to hold on till we got to the hospital. On the way, he called the ER to let them know we were coming and needed a wheelchair (we had to enter through the ER since it was after hours).

We arrived at the hospital's ER entrance, and there was a moment of light comedy. My husband left me in the car to run in for the wheelchair, and at the same time, two nurses came out another door with said wheelchair! They just missed each other, and, for just a moment, I had a little laugh at how much like a scene from a typical pregnancy-related comedy this moment actually was. Anyway, we all reunited at the wheelchair, and they took me up to the maternity floor, all the while with me grunting, "Ep...i...dur...al." ;)

The kind and patient nurses took me into the exam room to check and make sure I was there to stay. I STRONGLY assured them that I was, they checked me quickly (I was at a six by this point), and, before I knew it, I was admitted to a labor and delivery room. My contractions were so unbelievably painful at this point, and my husband later told me he had never seen anything like it when a contraction would come upon me. He sure didn't show any signs of fear though, and he held my hand and whispered encouragement like a seasoned pro.

The minute I was admitted, the head nurse called for the anesthesiologist to head on up to the hospital. My biggest fear at this point (after now experiencing the real deal contractions for about an hour) was that he wouldn't make it in time. I'd been told in our classes that once you pass dilation of around a seven, the epidural wouldn't have time to give you much relief anyway. Yikes! Luckily, the anesthesiologist made a quick trip in from Tulsa, got me plugged in and going, and the contractions finally subsided. Relief. AND by the time the intense pain was slaked by the epidural, I was already at a NINE. Good grief! I'd gone from a three to a nine in about 2 hours! Good thing I hadn't opted to stay home for a full face of make-up, huh?!? ;)

Sunday, March 7:

After the epidural was in place, my doctor let me rest for about an hour as I progressed to a ten before it was time to push. The family made it in time to come in and visit for just a bit. But then, the real work began. Pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing.

And pushing.

I had told my doctor that I really did not want to have a C-section if everything was looking stable for the baby, so she let me push for quite a while at my request. The baby's heart rate was very stable the entire time, so I ended up pushing for a good three hours. Using 'the mirror' was such a source of encouragement to me as I worked toward the goal of seeing our little girl. The nurses were truly gifts from God as they matched my personality perfectly: when I'm hurting, I like quiet, and I like to be left alone to work through the pain. They were so calm and still, and they very quietly encouraged me through each phase and position of pushing. My husband, too, was the best coach and partner, and, even though his hand was quite sore after all that squeezing as I pushed, he was perfection, relief and assurance embodied.

After what seemed like minutes and days all at once, our little Emery Mae finally made her appearance at 5:21am on Sunday, March 7, 2010. She looked so differently than what I'd imagined--perfectly pink with no gooey mess or blue skin. I was prepared for what I'd seen on "A Baby Story" on TLC, but she was so different than I'd expected. So beautiful. So feminine. So perfect. Her eyes were blinking from the bright lights of the delivery room, and her low, hoarse cry began. Such sweet music after all that anticipation. As the proud Dad cut the umbilical cord, they placed her on my chest, and I can not describe how right that felt. We were meeting for the first time, and yet we'd known each other for many months. It was such a special few moments together...finally together.

The nurses cleaned and weighed our little one (actually, not so little...almost NINE stinkin' pounds!), while my doctor worked on me for awhile. Things on my end were not pretty, but I can attest that it was all worth it in the end. Seriously worth it all. We were taken to the recovery room, and so many family and friends came for visits. The nursing staff were unbelievably helpful and encouraging, and I found myself not wanting to leave the safety of our little hospital cocoon. We stayed for two full days, and, since we were the only ones on the floor at the time (small-ish hospital--I highly recommend!), the nurses spoiled little Emery the entire time...and Mommy, too!

Finally, it was time to venture home. Many tears were shed as the three of us got into the car to make the drive home. Talk about overwhelming in so many ways. Our family had increased by one...and the hospital was actually letting us walk out of there with a baby!! What a teary, blissful, frightening, exciting drive home it was.

We arrived at the hospital as two and left as three.

A happy birth day, indeed.

(And, I TOLD my doctor I would have her that weekend...!)

;)

Newborn Photo Shoot.

(Amazing) pictures by Katie Baskins Photography.

She is so beautiful.

We are in love with her!

Heart.

Sweet birthmark in the shape of a heart.

Had to capture it before her hair grows in.

I love that we'll always know it is there.

Okay. I will.

:)

Can't. Stop. Snuggling.

After a few (happy and pleasingly overwhelmed) tears from Mommy,

a good family snuggle and nap was just what I needed.

My mom had the camera ready as we three started to wake up.

This moment is one of my favorites so far.

Looking forward to more like this.

:)

A Lovely Mess.

My house is kind of a mess.

I am for sure a mess.

Our schedule is a mess.

And I am loving every single second of it.

(More details to come...after we finish snuggling.

Could be awhile...)

;)

Welcome Emery Mae!

Our little one decided to come a bit early!

Born March 7, 2010 at 5:21am

8lbs and 11 oz.

20.5 inches.

Welcome, my sweet daughter.

I'll Keep Him.

Be forewarned: this is a sappy post about my husband. If you choose to continue reading, there shall be no rolling of your eyes. ;)

I must admit, last night was not my finest of moments. After an exhausting day at work filled with hundreds of questions from the mouths of impatient, inattentive teens mixed with a few unthoughtful/judge-y comments from coworkers, I came home with swollen feet, Braxton Hicks that were painful enough to be inconvenient, a headache, clogged nostrils, and a general feeling of annoyance towards the world. I could feel this annoyance growing and growing and growing all night long (for no apparent reason, mind you), and, wouldn't you know, it all spilled over onto my husband. I ranted and pouted about how tired I was of being pregnant, how I just wanted to feel like myself again, that I was sick of being hovered over, how I had no idea what the crap I've gotten myself into, that I just wanted to be left alone to pout, etc. etc. etc. I've not had many hormonal meltdowns during this pregnancy, so I was sure feeling justified as I huffed and puffed last night.

Like I said, not my finest moment.

My husband sat quietly. He let me tear around the house, angrily flinging laundry into the hamper, whipping my hair back and forth in a real effort towards dramatic flair, and he just waited. He sat in the bathroom with me while I showered as angrily as I could, shaving my legs with gusto (well, as much gusto as is available to a nine-months pregnant crazy person), and he waited patiently while I griped at the dogs, tossed random (and helpless) hair products into the trash can, and slathered "pregnancy" lotion on my bulging belly. He just let me vent. For a long time. And there were tears. And grunts. And immature eye-rolls. (All coming from yours truly, of course.)

When I had said my piece (and what a large piece it was...), I flopped into bed, annoyed that I had to lay on my side, groaning as I tried to get comfortable amidst the sea of pillows I now employ each night, a few tears still streaming down my cheeks...and then, I felt hands rubbing my back. Softly and quietly, he rubbed my aching back without saying a word until I finally fell asleep.

This morning was a rushed frenzy as we both tried to get out of the door on time, so there was little chance to discuss my crazed preggo tirade of the night before. Then, the Internet was down at work today, so our usual hourly emails couldn't happen either.

Needless to say, I was just bummed all day long. I hate nights like those. Especially when, well, I was the crazy one griping about something as wonderful as the gift of pregnancy.

When I got home from work today, I found a bouquet of flowers waiting for me with a note including dinner instructions. My kind husband had ordered my favorite pizza so I wouldn't have to worry about making dinner. In the fridge waiting for discovery was a giant slice of chocolate cake from the bakery. On the computer, a video message from him telling me how proud he was of me, how beautiful I am to him, and how he knows I can handle all these things and then some.

Yep. You guessed it. I felt about 2 inches tall.

All this to say, my husband is a wonderful, patient and super-humanly kind man. There are many stories I could tell of his support, his humor, his wisdom and his devotion. In Ephesians 5, it says:

²⁵Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her ²⁶to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, ²⁷and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. ²⁸In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.

I feel like, in these small ways, my husband loved me as Christ loves His church in the way that he handled the situation last night. He gave up his own right to protest my complaints; he gave up the chance to correct and humble me in the midst of my ridiculous outburst; he helped me to feel cleansed and renewed by the simplest yet sweetest of actions: rubbing my back, getting me a pizza, etc.

This may seem like a minor or insignificant instance in comparison to the true hardships of daily life, but it really showed me a picture of quiet, cleansing, patient love.

Even when I'm nutty.

Even when I'm rude.

Even when I'm a grunting mess of flying laundry and hair-tossing.

And, you know, I couldn't do a thing without this man.

I'll keep him.

:)

Turning Inward...just for a bit.

On Animal Planet, I saw a special one time on pregnant dogs and their habits as they get closer to giving birth. Some of the signs that their time is drawing near include their belly size (obviously), a spaced-out look in their eye, lack of sleep, and the desire to be private and separate from others. They will dig around in blankets or in the grass outside to carve out a little nest in which to eventually give birth, and they are very private about this process.

I feel that I can relate these days.

Over the last week or so, I've noticed a big desire to just be at my home. It isn't that I don't want to see my friends or do things with my family, and, actually, other people aren't even factors in this strange equation. I simply want to be at home. I'm not running around frantically cleaning or folding or reorganizing as some would think when one enters the so-called "nesting" phase of pregnancy. Rather, I just want to sit in the quiet, turn off the TV, close the books, put the phone on vibrate and just...be still. Rest. Relax. Breathe.

Don't get me wrong. I've still kept up with most of my social commitments, I am continuing to work up to my due date, and I have spent time with both family and friends. But the underlying desire is always there for private, alone, quiet, restful time spent at home. (My husband is invited, of course.) ;)

This phase of counting-down-to-baby will not last forever, nor will this longing for privacy and quiet. Things are going to change FAST in the next few days (only 10 left till my due date!), so I think I will just allow myself to walk through this phase. I wonder if it isn't God's way of keeping me to Himself for just a little bit right before my life is utter chaos (when He might not be given the amount of time He deserves for a few sleepless weeks...!) Maybe He is giving me a chance to breathe and rest and be quiet, because He knows what is just around the corner.

Maybe?

Anyone else feel like this close to the end of pregnancy, or perhaps before? Not anti-social or anti-friends/family time, but my preference these days is just the quiet solitude of my quiet home, quietly reflecting on what is to come.

And, boy, is it coming soon.

;)