Happy One Month

Blake,

It's hard to believe that we have had you in our arms for an entire month. Laying on my chest for naptime, in your pack-n-play downstairs, in your very pink car seat, and in our hearts. 

You and I have pretty much mastered the breastfeeding thing.  The only element that we could work on (and I say "we" but really mean "you") is sleeping more at night and possibly a little less during the day.  During the day, I'd love to hold you and be able to look into your sweet eyes a little bit more.  Or maybe you could watch your big brother (who LOVES you, by the way) or big sister, Echo, as they run through the house.  And at night, you are very good at reminding me every three hours - pretty much on the dot - that you are hungry.  And you want to be fed.  Pronto. 

Weighing in at 10 lbs and 3 oz's at a check up last week, I am glad that you are a growing girl.  And, you are only one month old, so maybe I shouldn't expect too much in the way of sleeping right now, anyway.   

When I was pregnant, I told your Dad that you were very active.  I'm not saying he didn't believe me then, but I am sure he believes me now.  Those little legs of yours are constantly kicking, your arms moving around and you are determined to strengthen your neck so that you can hold your head up on your own.  Getting you into your swaddling blanket every night is no easy task.  Those arms move quick!

I love, love, love your dark hair.  And that you have so much of it.  It's absolutely beautiful. 

There will be a day that I won't smell like sour milk, won't change what feels like 100 diapers a day, and will feel very rested.  But I'm in no rush to get to that part of my life again.  I love being at home with you and I love our time together. 

Thank you for your sweet toothless smiles in your sleep, your high level of energy (when awake), and for just being you.  For one little girl, you have brought an immense amount of joy and fun into our lives.

I love you, B. 

Love,

Mom

And...She's Here.

Connor arrived in early June and his due date was late May.  Blake wanted to show him up, I guess, so she decided to arrive in mid-August instead of early September.  If this is a sign of things to come, I am concerned about what the kids (it's still weird using the plural form of that word) have in store for Mom and Dad down the line.  If they are already on their own schedule and not listening to how Mom and Dad have it planned out, we are surely in trouble...

Because, if you haven't noticed, I am a planner.   A scheduled c-section for Blake's birthday meant that (1) I didn't have to go through painful contractions or the scare we had when Connor was born, (2) it would be a controlled, and timely process, and (3) I could be organized and have everything ready in plenty of time for her debut. 

Nope, it didn't work out that way.  Of course not.  And I should've expected as much.  I actually should've expected something was going to happen when our AC unit stopped working Thursday afternoon.  And my parents were on an Alaskan cruise; Dennis' parents were at the beach.

I didn't seem to suffer as much as Dennis did in the heat, so I slept upstairs in our bedroom Thursday night while Dennis got comfortable on the couch downstairs.  I didn't sleep well, but attributed that to the lack of AC and me being a pregnant woman that was super ready to pop.

Dennis came upstairs to shower to see me holding my abdomen.

"Are you OK?  Are you going into labor?"

"No, I'm fine.  I think I just have bad cramps."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure.  I am getting these cramps every 4-5 minutes, though. And my water might've broke(n).  I am leaky."

"These could really be contractions, Krista.  I should take Connor to school right now and we'll get you to the doctor."

"I'll call the nurse but I'm sure that these aren't contractions.  Blake's due date isn't for 3 more weeks.  I don't deliver kids early."

Dennis took Connor to school and called me as soon as he dropped him off.  I had to get off of the phone quickly because the pain of my 'cramps' was causing me to throw up.  I was starting to believe that these might be contractions that I was feeling.

Dennis came home, I threw some things in a bag (of course, we hadn't packed yet because we had 2 more weeks until the scheduled c-section), grabbed a container for me to use as a "puke bucket" and we were off.  Well, we tried to be "off" but rush hour on Friday morning had other ideas.  As you can imagine, I had a few choice words for those cars in our way. 

I called the doctor to see if I still needed to come in to see them or if I could straight to the hospital.  The nurse encouraged me to come in to be checked out and then they could send me to the hospital if necessary.  I asked the nurse if she had pain medication or if I'd have to wait until I got to the hospital to get it.  She said that they can only give me pain medication at the hospital, so my decision was made.  We were going straight to Northside Hospital. 

I filled out a few forms at the front desk as Dennis parked the car.  The nice lady behind the desk got me in to a room immediately.  My tears and frequent use of the puke bucket might've helped my cause, too. 

Our check in time was 9AM and Blake arrived right before noon by c-section despite the on-call physicians attempts to talk me into doing a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarian).  And man-oh-man am I glad that I refused to change our plans.  Blake was not a small baby at all; she tipped the scales at 8 lbs, 15 oz's on August 19th. 

Dennis will undoubtedly agree that Blake's arrival was much more smooth than Connor's entrance into the world.  Besides my pain, puking, and frequent request for pain medications, this time was not nearly as stressful for either of us.  Or for Blake.

Even though she is a far cry size-wise from what you'd expect of a "preemie", she is still considered to be premature because she was born at 37 weeks.  A big, healthy, beautiful baby girl.  And, HAVE YOU SEEN THE HAIR ON THIS KID?

We are so thrilled that Blake is here and that we've had her for over two weeks.  Her 'due date' is September 9th and I'm glad that she helped me escape a few of the worst weeks of pregnancy by arriving so early. 

I love looking at her and holding her.  Especially when Connor, Dennis, and Echo are all on the couch with me. 

It's crazy to think... one wonderful husband. Two kids.  One pooch. 

And our family is now complete. 

A Little Bit Out of Order

Sorry for my blogging hiatus.  There is just so much to catch you up on!  Every time that I sit down to type up a post, my brain goes to this overwhelmed place and I just stop.  There are too many things to write about and my interest just goes elsewhere.

So, this post is coming to you from a non-overwhelmed place.  Just letting you know that I am still alive and that I'll catch you up on the arrival of our beautiful little girl, Blake Elizabeth, in the very, very near future.  And my time off on "bed rest", the emotional rollercoasters I've been riding on, and update you on my progress in the coaching world.  I will.  Promise.  I will even Pinky swear.

And just in case I haven't made it abundantly clear, Dennis is the best husband.  Ever.  And he just scored a few bonus points for making me my first margarita in 10 months. 

So, I'm alive.  All is well.  All is GREAT, actually, with my tasty drink in hand. 

The more things change, the more things stay the same...

Emergency Room

Emergency Room familiarity is not a goal of mine, nor of Dennis'.  But, with a rambunctious little boy like ours, I have a bad feeling that we are going to be quite familiar with the interior of Children's Healthcare of Atlanta.  After all, we had our first introduction yesterday.

It's a nice hospital, don't get me wrong, but I hope to never have reason to visit there again.  At least not for a very, very long time. 

We were enjoying a lazy day around the house and Connor was being his usual, jovial, self.  It was almost nap time so Dennis and I were looking forward a little siesta of our own.  As I've mentioned before, Connor sees very little (if any) purpose to walking through the house because you can always get from point A to point B much more quickly if you run, skip, or gallop.  So Connor was going back and forth in our entryway between Dennis and myself, showing off a backpack that he was (maybe not anymore) going to start using for school.  He looked adorable. 

He ran past me, as he often does, but tripped.  And there wasn't a lot of room between me and the corner of the wall.  Yep, you guessed it - - he fell and somehow managed to hit his sweet little forehead right on the corner of the wall.  Based on his scream and the dent left in the wall, I was very nervous.  Then I picked him up and saw his face.  Very nervous doesn't even begin to explain how I felt once I saw the blood running down his face. 

Dennis grabbed him from me and I grabbed Nunu, his back pack (because he was asking for it), some frozen peas and carrots from the freezer, a juice box, a kitchen towel and we're in the car and off to the Emergency Room.  Oh, his cut looked SO deep and there was just SO much blood.  And he was just crying and crying and crying and I was trying to keep the ice pack of frozen veggies on his head but he obviously didn't want me to do that.  Luckily for Connor, his Dad was keeping it together much better than I was. 

Half way to the Emergency Room (it's probably about 12 miles away), I asked Dennis if he would mind to please turn up the air conditioning.  He turned it up one notch.  A few minutes later I asked him if he could please REALLY turn up the AC because I felt sick.  After surveying the items in the car, the lucky backpack was my best bet.  I took the towel and veggies off of Connors head and revisited my lunch. 

It was pretty quick and painless.  At least for me.  As I had my head in the backpack, Connor kept saying, "oh no, Mommy!" over and over.

I asked Dennis if he was OK and if me being sick made him feel sick, too.  He said that, "well, let's just say it didn't really make me feel any better." 

We show up at the ER, blood over all of us, Dennis grabs Connor and I dump out the bag of puke.  What else was I supposed to do?  Leave it in the car? 

He was so nice and back to his cheery self while we waited for him to be taken care of that you would have never guessed what he had just been through.  Truly amazing, that kid. 

And...four short hours later, we leave the Emergency Room.  I didn't get the final count for the number of stitches that he received, but he was all sewn up and we were on our way to the land of recovery.  Connor was stir crazy, to say the least, so Dennis took him to car while I waited for the injury care instructions from the MD.  You would think that they could do that quickly, wouldn't you? 

I sent Dennis a text saying that I was still waiting and I was going to hurry to the car as quickly as I could and his text response was, "we're going to run to the gas station.  Your car says 0 miles to empty." Oh crap.  There were a lot of stop lights between the hospital and the nearest gas station.  Luckily, Dennis made it there on fumes, I guess.  God was really pulling for us yesterday afternoon even though I hadn't done the basics of car maintenance (get gas!) to ensure our survival through the event. 

It's amazing how much worse it is when you child gets sick, hurt, or is danger.  I am so glad Dennis had his head on straight because I was a total wreck and I still cringe as I replay Connors fall into the corner in my head over and over and over...  I love that little man and I'm seriously considering bubble tape and a helmet to prevent him from future injuries.  He's 200% boy and that scares me to death! 

I don't care if he looks nerdy in helmets and bubbletape.  At least he'll be safe(r).  No football or contact sports ...

My Thighs Ate...What?

Miserable is the best word that I can think of to describe how I feel right now.  Emotional - - check.  Been down that road many times before (and can't even really blame it on being pregnant but I'm taking the high road and blaming everything that I don't like on this pregnancy) so there is nothing new there.  Back pain - - check.  Had that with Connor and I swear that Blake has lodged herself in the exact same spot on my right side that Connor did when I was pregnant with him.  It hurts on the top of my rib cage and if you put a spear through me (which sometimes sounds preferable), the exit spot is where I ache on my backside. 

Swollen feet.  Now this is new.  And, the word 'swollen' really does very little justice to the situation that I'm in.  Flinstone feet from the bottom of my toes all the way to my hips.  Apparently women can get "leaky veins" on a 2nd or 3rd pregnancy and that is one contributor to the phenomenon of being swollen waist-down.  Leaky veins, and a leaky bladder and then leaky boobs after the baby arrives.  The joys are just endless.  And...we did this on purpose? 

The phrase, "barefoot and pregnant" meant very little to me until this past Friday.  I am now not only wearing flats (gasp!) but I am wearing my slippers.  Leopard print slippers.  And they make quite the statement when coupled with my work attire.  Or, any attire outside of the house, actually.  They are brown AND black, so I guess my purse will match my shoes regardless of which one I grab.  And, being 100% honest here, if I grabbed a purple purse on the way out of the house, I wouldn't even notice.  Nor would I care.  Things like that don't even register for me anymore. 

What HAS started to register for me, though, is jealousy.  I am jealous of almost everyone I see.  Especially people that can bend over and pick things up or that can move quickly.  Have you seen them? They are everywhere. 

I've even overhead people say that they can eat full meals and no one kicks it back up immediately thereafter.  It's weird - all of these strangers doing things that I can only dream about.  I bet they sleep comfortably through the night, too.  Unbelieveable!  Now, I hope you are sitting down for this one because it is really out in left field.  I've heard people talk about having a little too much to drink the night before AND I AM FRIGGIN JEALOUS of the headache they have the next day. 

And then I remember:  I only have 7 weeks left.  Oh, that's not so bad.  But it is.  I imagine this huge, oversized countdown clock... it's a humongus kitchen timer   s l o w l y   moving along.  Moving so slowly, in fact, that the movement is not detectable.  It might as well be moving backwards.  I need a seconds hand or a minute hand.  I don't care if we're measuring months, here, people, I need to know that we're getting closer to this little one's arrival.  I NEED to know.

I love her and cannot wait to meet her.  I also cannot wait to be re-introduced to the tendons on my feet, to realize that my thighs may not have actually eaten my knees, and being able to bend over on a whim.  All of these sound glorious.  GLOR-I-OUS.  So c'mon, Blake, let's go. 

Some people claim to just l-o-v-e being pregnant and you must be very mindful of those people.  I mean it.  They aren't real.  Aliens of some sort.  And they can't be trusted.  Throw these people in the same basket as those who don't drink (EVER), and be on your way.  There is something so not-right about them that you are best to avoid them at all costs. 

An equally dangerous person is the incredibly emotional and hormonal pregnant woman.  Especially those wearing leopard slippers and holding a purple purse.  If one waddles over to you and catches your attention, the best method of escape is to pretend that everything is OK and that you are not fearing your life.  Wait just a few minutes.  She will inevitably make a dash to the bathroom.  Take this opportunity to flee.  YOU MUST SAVE YOURSELF.  If her thinghs ate her knees, there's no telling what they may eat next....

Having a Blast on the 4th of July

The beginning of July is always a busy time for us.  Stephen's birthday is July 3rd, then we have the usual 4th of July festivities and my dad's birthday is on the 5th.  Connor calls both my dad and Stephen "Papa" so this video brought a smile to each of their faces. 

Neither Dennis nor I was up to the 2011 Peachtree Road Race which is a real bummer because the shirts actually looked pretty decent this year. The running while I'm 30 weeks (feels like MONTHS) pregnant thing wasn't exactly appealing to me.  Not sure why but it just wasn't on my short list of things that I want to do this summer.  Connor DID make another video to say "Happy 4th of July" to all of his friends, though....

The rain put a little bit of a damper on our plans for the afternoon so we decided to come up with our own 4th of July celebration.  Since I don't cook but like to pretend that I will someday, I get daily emails on easy, healthy, and fewer than 10 ingredient recipes.  One of them caught my eye today.  And yes, it is a dessert.  It's not like I would consider wasting the few minutes a month that I choose to cook on something lame like a main course or meat or side dish. 

So, here is the photo that caught my attention:

Connor and my dish didn't turn out quite as pretty but we couldn't find red or blue sprinkles at the grocery store and popsicle sticks must've been hiding in one of those invisible isles that houses most of the items that I go searching for. 

Ok, so it might not have turned out quite as pretty but it we definitely had more fun than the people who made these picture perfect star shaped rice krispy treats. 

And yes, that's icing.  We improvised a little.  What recipe ISN'T made better by a little icing??  And, it should be noted that we did not make star shaped treats.  Connor said that they are "star fish" treats.  "MY star fish", to be exact. 

Our sugar high had subsided a little bit by the time we took this photo and it was off to bath time...

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

We won't ever give up our favorite drink (margaritas) but we are in the process of selling Margarentals.  I know in my heart of hearts that we just don't have the time to dedicate to it, but it's still a hard thing to do.  It's been a fun - albeit short - ride and we've learned a lot.  We've had a lot of fun but we must move forward. 

They (those random, smart people out there that say things that are true) say that "timing is everything" and they are absolutely right. 

I'm still sad.  I love that company.  It will always have a special place in my heart.  Right next to those frozen tequila drinks.  (Is it September yet?!?!)

What's in a name

Picking out a name for our little girl was a much more simple process than it was when we chose Connor's name.  Everything seemed harder the first time.  Or maybe we just had more time and energy the first time we circled the moon.  Or perhaps we just fell upon the right choices sooner for baby #2. 

Connor's middle name is Dennis.  That was an easy one for us to choose because we wanted to follow what Dennis' dad, his dad's dad, (and so on) had done.  The fathers name becomes the son's middle name.  We went back and forth between several first names but came up with a reason why each one wouldn't work. We either knew someone (or someone's dog) with that name, remembered a booger picker at school with that name, or just plain didn't like the majority of the names on our short list after considering them for some time.  Except for Connor.  It was just right in every way.  And I couldn't imagine him with any other name.   

Sweet.  Meaningful.  Individual.  And perfect.  That's all we want for our little girls name.

With all of those requirements in place, we decided to name her Blake Elizabeth Martin.  The last name was the easiest to come up with.  It's nice having her name chosen and it's so much better to say, "Blake's room", or "Blake needs to hurry up and get here!" rather than "that-random-kid-in-my-belly needs to make her debut.  Duh."

The name "Blake" just came to us one day.  We tossed it around, talked about it, and after a few weeks decided that Blake is it.  Elizabeth, on the other hand, has more than one bagillion family ties.  Elizabeth Henrietta Coleman Peyton is Bettyann's mom (also known as Mema to Dennis).  My grandma on my mom's side is Elizabeth Earlene Schlotzhauer Loesing.  On my Dad's side, his mom's name was Margaret Elizabeth Aggeler Lang.  And her mom's name was Anna Elizabeth Stanfield Aggeler.  Now if Elizabeth isn't any obvious choice for Blake's middle name then I don't know what is.  It's very feminine and a strong compliment to her first name.

I'm in love with her already and cannot wait to meet Blake in 12 weeks!  Or a little less.  My c-section is scheduled for September 2nd so the countdown has officially begun...

I hope you like Blake's name as much as we do.  And, well, if you don't...then too bad for you. 

Surrounded By Vaginas

I'm in my OB's office this morning.  As I wait, and look around at the glorious surroundings, I notice one thing:  I am surrounded by vaginas.  Sectional views, schematic sectional views, external, internal, you name it and it's here.  Over the years, I've become accustomed to this but I can't help but remember how uncomfortable Dennis looked when he entered the OB office with me for this first time several years ago.  He smiled at me, sweetly, and looked incredibly uneasy when his eyes strayed anywhere but the sink, me, or the magazines placed so neatly beside him. 

Feeling exhausted at my almost-28 week-checkup, I plopped on the exam table a few minutes ago and then noticed a very uplifting (if you can call it that) poster.  The poster has pictures of different mammals and their gestation periods. 

As you are well aware, the human gestation period is approximately 260 days.  Ten months, 40 weeks, a very long time.  Apparently size plays a large role in determining the gestation period of all mammals.  So, I'm not so excited to see that cow's have a very similar gestation period to humans with theirs lasting 280-290 days.  I do often feel like a cow being pregnant in this summer heat ... but that's a topic for another post. 

Elephants are pregnant for almost 2 years!  Six-hundred and sixteen days is the average gestation period for that very unfortunately mammal.  I hope the female elephants tell their male counterparts that this is a one-time deal.  Two years is an insane amount of time to be with child.  And here are several words that I never thought would come out of my mouth:  I wish that I was a hamster.  They are only pregnant for 15-18 days.  Can you imagine?  That would be awesome.  But then, after you have the baby hamsters it might not be so great because then you'd just be back to being only a hamster.  And I don't think that I'd do well in a cage.  And hamster food has never appealed to me. 

So, anyway, these are my random thoughts.  I guess that's what happens to you when you are surrounded with medical textbook type photos and views of vaginas.  And lots of them.  Probably at least 10 in the patient room that I am sitting in right now.  I've become immune to the strangeness of it all and I'm starting to get a little wacky...

Dog Days of Summer are here ... ALREADY

There are a million great things about being pregnant during the suffocating Atlanta summer heat.  I mean there HAS to be at least that many, right?   I just haven't uncovered many (or any) of them yet.   

While working yesterday, I did see a sign that made me smile.  And it gave me priority parking with a very short walk to the customer that I was visiting. 

Booyah.  I might have just uncovered the first great thing about being pregnant in the summer heat.