8 Weeks

Firecracker has made it to eight weeks. People with kids talk a lot about "well, when she's six weeks or eight weeks...", and then they have words of wisdom about some big transition they'll experience. But her transitions haven't been that cut-and-dry to me, and I certainly can't equate them with a particular week. The first couple of weeks were the most different of all, just like "they" say. She slept all the time to the point where I had to wake her every two-three hours to eat. And she slept pretty much anywhere you'd let her. All of that is different now, starting with the fact that she won't sleep anywhere but right next to us or literally on us.

Now she takes short little naps throughout the day, and I'd say longer "naps" at night. Now she wakes up like clockwork every 2-3 hours to eat and be changed, and in the middle of the night, I can mostly get her to nuzzle-in and go back to sleep after she eats. Sometimes she starts her day at 6am, and sometimes we can go back down for an hour or two. And if it's been a really long night, sometimes we go back down yet again and stay asleep until 11am. These are the nights when she doesn't go back down as easily between feedings and we are up for longer periods. Mind you, I am always up for longer periods between feedings because once she starts to drift off, my job is to pat, kiss and rock until she's in a deeper sleep so that I can then sleep myself. Otherwise, she wakes up right away and we have to start over.

Something else that changed right after two weeks were our quiet evenings with a sleepy baby. Not only did she start to wake up a lot more than when she was first born (totally expected), but she spends most of her time between 5pm and midnight crying. At first, I thought this might be kind of a normal new baby-thing. But soon we learned to better read her cues and could tell that she was agitated, grimacing and very unhappy. I remember yelling out to Erik one night over her cries, "Is this what colic is???!" Sure enough, I think we have a "colickie" baby. When I ask and observe other mommy friends with babies the same age, they say their babies don't do this. They happily make dinner and watch movies together at night while their baby coos on a nearby blanket or in a swing. Not only does Firecracker not let us put her down, but she would never hangout cooing in a swing long enough for us to watch a movie and eat dinner!

After several straight days of it starting at 5pm and going all night, I started a typical Google adventure for diagnosis, and I read many posts from other mom's that called this the "witching hour" - basically when your baby screams from 5-midnight for "no reason". I think she is one of "these" babies, but I don't think it's for no reason. We can hear lots of activity in her belly, and she seems to find relief when we massage her belly and keep her in upright positions. She absolutely will not tolerate a cradle hold (the most precious hold that everyone wants to share with their baby...), and I think it's because of residual reflux and/or burning from spitting up and having general baby indigestion. She has a pediatrician appointment in a few days, so we will revisit the issue. Their advice last time was to try Gripe Water.

Let me tell you a little story about how we almost killed our baby with Gripe Water.

Gripe Water is a supposed remedy for babies with colic. "Sounds good. Whatever - we'll try it". So one night Erik is giving her a dose of it when she spits it all out. He asks me to go refill the eye dropper with more from the bottle on the counter. So once I give it to him, I go back to the bottle to double-check the directions and close it up when I realize that it's not Gripe Water - it's cod liver oil. I ask you, how many small cobalt blue glass bottles do you have in your refrigerator? Well, we apparently have two.

After a mini freakout, we calmly call the pediatrician after-hours line, and the nurse is nice enough to do a three-way call with us to Poison Control. While cod liver oil sounds harmless enough, it is toxic if given over a certain amount because of the high levels of Vitamin A and D, things a baby can't handle in high doses. Because we hadn't given it to her two days in a row (and she spit-up the first batch), they assumed she'd be OK, and they gave us a list of things for which to watch out - otherwise it would have been off to the ER to have a tube put down her throat into her belly! As we were on the phone with them and she was lying on the bed, she drifted off to asleep, and Erik asked in his panicy voice, "Is it OK if she goes to sleep??". They said yes. But since she NEVER just goes to sleep like that, we were freaked. I'm wondering how old she has to be to have another dose of it... :)

So nights are hard to say the least. We spend the evening trading her off, back and forth, trying all of our tricks and then handing her off to the other parent when our tricks fail. We spend A LOT of time walking up and down the street (the hot and sticky night air sometimes distracts her). Once she finally goes down, that is usually my cue to go down too so that I get a head start on the sleep I won't get later. So essentially, there's not a lot of time for us as a couple, but we still steal kisses and smiles in between the cries, and we always eat dinner together, even if one of us is pacing around with the baby while the other cuts up the foods and feeds us both.

There is one exception to all of this, however. Company. If we have a house full of company or if we are at a party or something, she will sit in the sling or the Moby Wrap and sleep for hours. "What a good baby you have!", people gasp. "Thank you", we say politely.

It breaks our hearts that she struggles at night - it really does hurt to watch your child go through this. So we're particularly happy when she enjoys her days (though she struggles with gas a lot then, too). Hopefully we'll see some of this "8 week" magic about which we keep hearing, when their intestines start to settle down and develop more fully. Until then, we'll comfort her cries and adore the rest.

Oh, did I mention she started smiling on purpose (not just in her sleep)?? Soooo sweet.

"I like to scratch myself."

An anomoly - she's sleeping somewhere other than on us...

Her usual place in the bed, right next to Mama.

Rise and shine, Rosebud :)

Sportin' our sling. She loves it...NOT! Look at that face!

The expression of tolerance.

Except when Daddy does it (show off).

But we love the Moby - that's for sure.

See?

But nothin' beats sleepin' on the parental units.

New Website

Thank you to everyone that sent me helpful advice and suggestions after my last post. Since I did not tackle it this week, my goal is to get on top of some of the suggestions next week when Erik can accompany me to an appointment or two so that he can hold the ever-squirming Stella!

In other news, my brilliant husband quickly created a website for us to post our pictures (since we don't use Shutterfly or anything like that). We aren't that great at updating it yet, but we're working on it - check it out (but read the next paragraph first)!

http://thesummerfields.org/

It's an RSS feed, so you can receive it, and there are a couple of options as to what you can receive. If you click on the RSS tab, that's where you can choose. If you pick "Everything RSS", you will get both our blogs and all the pics from the website. If you are already subscribed to our blogs and would rather just see the pics, you can do "This Site Only RSS". Or you can just come view it the old fashioned way :)

http://thesummerfields.org/

Pain

While motherhood has been the joy of my life, I'm quietly suffering from pain that is compromising my sanity at times.

From the day Stella was born, I've had a dull, low-grade headache that doesn't go away and gets 100 times worse when I nurse. Is it dehydration? Am I having lactation headaches? I don't know, but I traded in the unbearable nipple pain at the beginning of our nursing career together for a forever-headache.

And now my hip pain has also returned. I have had chronic hip pain for around 10 years now, something that no one is able to figure out. I've seen Dr's, I've had physical therapy several times a week for long stretches, and I even gave up gluten (and other things) for almost the entire year before Stella was born. While the pain may have lessoned during my gluten-free time, it's hard to know why because I was also exercising a lot less due to house hunting at night, etc. It's also hard to tell if my next assessment is accurate due to all the things going on in my life at the time, but it seems that my hip pain was drastically less during pregnancy. While it was still very much there, I could "tailor sit" and handle other positions that I could never do before. During a time when all my other joints ached and moaned with the ever growing weight of the baby, my hips endured like champs.

Unfortunately it's time to start over with the exploration of its cause. I once thought it was the asthma medication I was on, but I gave that up when I went gluten-free. I started eating gluten again when I got pregnant (because it's in everything you want when you're pregnant), and I can't fully say I noticed the difference. And to give up GLUTEN, I need to notice the difference - it's just too much work for a "maybe". After $100's in fees for consultations with nutritionists to handle it the natural way, I am back at square one, disappointed, discouraged and most of all, in pain. I still want to handle this the natural way. I've been on miracle arthritis and anti-inflammatory drugs that made me sing with joy, but they also covered up a pain that I knew was getting worse under all of the meds. I don't want to trade in my hip pain for a heart attack one day from these crazy drugs! I want to know what the problem is.

Where to start. Do I go see my GP so that she can refer me to have X-rays and then tell me to take drugs I don't want (paying for all of this stuff in the meantime)? Do I go see a naturopath and begin to invest in a long process of herbal and homeopathic remedies? Do I try acupuncture just to find out that it works but that I have to go every week and pay almost $100 a pop? Or do a see a chiropractor?

I'm incredibly fortunate that I have health insurance unlike millions of people in this country - I'm fortunate to have a choice at all. I never lose site of that. But the years of pain sometimes converge on me in the middle of the night when I'm lying on my side (my hips), nursing, sleep deprived and with a headache, and I just want it to go away. Thankfully, I have accepted that I at least need to take something for my headaches - there is now a big bottle of Tylenol next to my bed. As for the hips...

Mainly, I want to be able to easily get down on the floor and play with my daughter. I don't want to wince every time I lower my body or when I get up out of a chair. At this point, my grimaces go unnoticed by me, but other people can't help but ask if I'm OK because I look worse than their grandmother. The long journey of questions will begin again so that I'm not in a wheelchair at 50.

In other news, the joy of my life:

("Thanks, Beth and Brock, for my favorite (and only) floor-time toy"!)

Holy $@%! It's already been 1 month...

As the days pass so fast, things happen that I feel should be noted "for the record" (or the baby book), but I completely forget to write them down and then I completely forget what they are. For the sake of keeping a very embarrassing record of Stella's first weeks, I'll at least share the few things that stick out.

Projectile Poop. I am totally not exaggerating. I've heard about the geyser-like pee that baby boys can often deliver, but I've never seen poop shoot out of a human being like this. Erik and I could both win awards for the looks we give each other when it happens. On many occasions, Stella has shot poo straight into the air and has successfully hit one of us with it. Then we look at each other in disbelief, and suddenly...we hear the noise again...and we barely move in time to watch it go flying by. This kid has quite the aim. Our friends witnessed the same thing the other day but with her projectile spit-up. No kidding, folks - 2 inches into the air! We change clothes a lot around here...

I hear two descriptions the most when people talk about life with a new born. Either they describe it as a "cake walk" because newborns sleep so much, or it's "very challenging" because newborns don't sleep at night. But I think many would agree that it's probably a strong combination of both.

Stella has passed that first-two-week period where all she did was sleep and I was literally waking her up every 2-3 hours to eat, even all night. But then, as babies do after two weeks, she started to wake up much more, and that's when the guessing game really began. Before, not sleeping and breastfeeding were the biggest challenges. But blissed-out hormones somehow carried me through. Those same challenges stuck around, but little things were added to it everyday. For instance, as she started to wake up more, she also cried more about...?? That's the challenge - we never know. We go through the list of things that could possibly be wrong, and when we don't figure it out, we start all over again and pray that something's changed. Is she hungry? Dirty diaper? Gas? Diaper too tight? Does she need a change of scenery? Is something poking her? Is she cold? Too hot? "No" to all of those? OK...well... Is she hungry now...?

Also, as she is now more awake, she really only wants to be close to us, and by "close", I mean "on" us. She likes the warmth of our bodies, she likes hearing/feeling our heartbeats. And really, I'd have it no other way. We ALWAYS hold her with the slight exception of putting her in the "bouncy chair". But she screams anytime we put her down, and she is no longer sleeping well anywhere but right next to me (like touching me). I dare not complain about this precious time in our lives because I know it won't last. But I'm also trying to keep an accurate record of what life is really like right now.

Mainly, it's hard sometimes when, say, you have to pee, or do dishes, or make food, put clothes on, or any of the stuff you once did without thinking about it. So I've learned to do those things in half the time it used to take. I put her in the bouncy seat for a few minutes and brush my teeth and pee in record time, finishing just as she starts to fuss or spit-up. Or I bring the bouncy seat from it's place in the bathroom to it's second home in the kitchen while I rush to throw a sandwich together for Erik, hoping I can finish mine, as well. The real plan was to be able to wear her in a sling for these things, but so far, she won't do the sling for more than 5 minutes. I think that might have to do with our (the parents) learning curve... But I will never give up trying - the sling is truly my ticket to staying productive and being the kind of parent I want to be (one that responds to every cry).

Erik has again proven how amazing he is. He doesn't hesitate to help me at night, waking up at all hours to change diapers and maybe start a load of laundry while he's at it (yes, at like 3am!). He offers to take her in the evening after work so that I can catch a nap. Even though he's working, if he sees that she's sleeping and I am getting some much needed housework done, he'll make lunch for both of us. Erik is an amazing dad. He carries Stella around as she screams out and fusses, singing every song he knows, doing the footwork of our swingdance moves. Sometimes she'll relent, resolving to be quietly alert while staring at the Daddyman, or drifting off to sleep. And sometimes hours of trying to console her just ends in a disappointing hand-off to me for the boob. I only say disappointing because he feels bad when he can't console her. But even though she may have cried all the while, I know she was consoled and conforted on her dad's chest. We may not always know what's wrong, but we'll always listen and try to figure it out, never leaving her alone to deal with it.

When I have her in my arms (and even when I don't), I can't stop gazing at her, studying every detail. Every sound she makes pulls huge emotion out of me. Her funny faces create genuine belly laughs, and her grimaces and screams make tears form in my eyes. She purses her lips together and makes faces that resemble a turtle or little bird, and I think I can't hold back the hardest squeeze I've ever given anyone - just too cute. When we lay in bed awake when most everyone else is sleeping, I sing to her as she nurses, and I smooth her eyebrows to relax her forehead. I adore her feet with my free hand, I savor every breath I can feel her taking as she lays on me, and I smell her sweet baby breath (and it smells so sweet - literally like sweet air).

While the romance between us never stops, sometimes I am a little less "romantic" on the nights where we are up a lot more. I summon the help from my bedside latenight radio show, I play Sudoku on my phone...in fact, I do everything on my phone: check email (though I can't reply because I only have one hand), search for things on the Internet (like is it safe to take stool softeners for 4 weeks straight...?), and now I'm on the search for a book light so that I can read treasured fiction again. After a year of reading only pregnancy and baby books, I am finally ready to lose myself in a novel. My goal is to be excited about waking up 40 times during the night to read vs. being anxious about how little sleep I'm getting and how nuts I feel. I am immersed in a great novel now, something I've missed.

Mostly this time of life has been magical. Honestly, the adjustment has not been as hard as I thought it would be...I'm trying to have perspective - I know much harder days are coming! Sure I'm not back in the saddle, flying around town doing errands like I used to (actually, I haven't left the house at all by myself because her head still flops around in the car seat). And there's a lot more dirt on my floor and dishes in my sink than there has ever been. But I'm learning to be Zen about what I can't control, and to just embrace the new pace, the new list of priorities that top the ever-growing old list (yard work, organizing the garage, painting the house, etc.). Nowadays, I'm lucky to drip salsa on the floor and then be able to actually bend down and clean it up...

But the trade-off is completely worth it. I am happier than I've ever been. Even in my sleep-deprived state, I never fail to realize how fortunate I am to have my family and the opportunities I have. It is the greatest blessing for me to be able to stay at home with my daughter, not having to rush her to daycare in the morning on a routine that is completely not hers. Instead, we enjoy sleepy mornings together and take our time through the day with no other real plans but to clean-up and keep fed. I can't thank Erik enough for helping to make my dreams come true. Together, we raise this little girl without the stress of schedules or commutes, without pumping or bottle feeding, all because we are blessed with the opportunity to do so. I am fortunate, and I cherish every second.

All in a month:

Stop it, Mama...!

Middle of the night...sleepin' with Daddy

She is known for her funny faces...

Freeze...put your hands up!

Hands up!

OK, foot up, too!

"Excellent..."

First pediatrician visit...we didn't like that too much...

Take you drivin' in my car, car...

Big foot comin' at ya!

And big cheeks!

Middle of the night...again :)

"Tummy time on my special quilt made just for me!"

Keep those hands up!

Up!

Keep 'em up!

Amazing Daddy (and he bought ME flowers for being a good mommy... :)

Nappin' while Daddy works

First visit with Great Grandma Fahrenthold!

And today...one month old. Happy Birthday, Beautiful.

Steve

On Saturday, standing in one of my favorite Austin bakery/coffee shops, I received some terrible news that I was not expecting.

Dave, who still works at Quacks after all these years (10+), told me that my beloved ex-boyfriend, Steve, had hung himself in May. Unaware, I was in the middle of telling Dave that the last time I saw Steve was a year ago when I came to Austin to look for a place to live. I called Steve up to see if he wanted to grab a beer and hang out after not having seen him since I moved away from Austin (like 8 years ago). We spent the evening on South Congress, shared some beers at the Continental Club and walked for hours back in the neighborhood in the middle of the night, philosophizing and talking about everything, critiquing recent books and movies, just like we used to do. We talked in low voices that seemed to hang in the heavy night air like a timeless period - as if we had gone back in time to the "good old days".

Except there was a difference: I had never seen him happier than he was that night. Things were going really well for him. He had an amazing apprenticeship doing tattoos and he had finally found a way to express himself after years of searching. He'd traveled, he'd been in and out of school, he'd worked at all the coffee shops, he painted and drew and wrote poetry, but now he knew what he wanted. While I still sensed hints of depression, and while he still referred to being lost and feeling out of sorts, I saw something in his eyes I hadn't seen before: Hope. Security. Confidence.

For the first time in years, I finally had his permanent number in my phone (I always had to call his family to track him down in the past while he was moving around so much). And I told him I would call him when I got back to Austin. Of course, I got pregnant the day I got here and lost my mom a couple months later, but I always intended to call him to have coffee, but "something" always came up. I am painfully learning the lesson that I need to call people when I think of them or I may never again have the chance.

I wanted to see his portfolio. I wanted to hear about the progress he was making. I wanted to catch-up on any drama-filled relationships he was having. I wanted to see his gentle smile and hear his deep and friendly voice. While he was an ex-boyfriend from long ago, he always meant so much to me. I knew I would always care very deeply about him and would always want to stay in touch. He was one of the most passionate people I had ever known, someone I was always proud to say that I knew. I am devastated that I never really told him that as a friend. He was a beautiful person. I can't believe he's gone.

Now I can't escape the flashbacks of our time together, back to the days I spent trying to catch his attention. I'd study in that coffee shop day after day, hoping he'd notice me as more than just a college girl that drinks too much coffee and studies too much (at the same place). I would coolly order my coffee from him (a cortado which I had learned to drink on my recent visit to Spain), and I would absorb the music he was playing and watch him banter with his coworker (Dave) behind the counter. All my friends knew where to find me: I'd be quietly chasing the hottest guy in town. Then one day, I got back to my table with my coffee and noticed it had a heart drawn into the foam. Then I looked up to find him standing there next to me, and he asked in his deep and amazing voice, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

From there, we shared some of the best days of my life. A young and passionate love affair that I will never forget. In our youngness, we discovered so much together and developed small pieces of ourselves that would either stay apart of us forever or vanish. He introduced me to so much that is still such a strong part of me to this day. I will always associate some things that I still love with him and our time together. I wish I could have told him that, too.

Steve, I was late to the game. I'm so sorry I missed you. I should have called. I wish I would have told you how special you are to me. You're one of the most talented people I've ever met. Your art leaves me without words. People are honored to wear your creations on their bodies until they die. Much like when I met you, I never stopped admiring you from afar. Your smile and gentle spirit will never, ever escape me. I will never forget it. I never have. I wish you could have seen the beauty inside of yourself. I hope you've found the peace for which you've been searching. Your beauty still lives on as you do in so many ways. You live on in the hearts of many, and on their bodies, too. And you will never leave my heart.

Video of Steve:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zrhu9ELIyzI

A Guest Book for Steve:
http://www.legacy.com/gb2/default.aspx?bookID=3625079481784

His Art:
http://www.stevegrosskopf.com/tattooalbum/index.html

Stella...and all of Her Admirers

Stella is just over a week old and she has had many visitors since coming home.

Nana (Erik's mom) meets Stella

Aunt Michele

Nana (who is staying with us)

Aunt Lala and Uncle Steve

Uncle Faris


Aunt Ravyn


"Maga" (Francine) and Charles

The Star

Sunbath (to prevent jaundic)

Her admirers...doting parents

Birth Story

First of all, I just want to thank you all for adding to our amazing experience by sending all of your thoughts and well wishes, and for so actively participating in our birth story. Thank you all for being a part of it! I will be making keepsakes out of the posts and emails and saving them in the baby book for Firecracker to read one day.

As you all know, we chose to have a home birth for many reasons, and I still feel that I enjoyed most of the beauty that comes with a home birth. For around 37 hours (actually longer but who's counting), I labored in our home (around 44 hours labor total), free as a bird to roam from room to room, to eat what I wanted, to rest when I could, to shower for as long as the hot water heater could take it. I peeled clothes on and off, I knelt, squatted, laid and bounced wherever a contraction hit me. All be it very slowly...my body was allowed to do the work that it needed to do to bring Firecracker into this world. The contrast with the hospital is often that you are hooked-up to a fetal monitor and not allowed to move around with each contraction or to even eat or drink anything at all! Instead of being hooked up to a monitor or confined to a bed that whole time, I joyfully experienced the beauty, pain and emotion of labor at home and with Erik there for every breath.



While it's still a little unclear what happened, essentially I dialated all the way to 7-8cm (need to dialate to 10 for birth), but then when I was checked next, I had gone back down to 5cm and my cervix had significant swelling (bad news as my midwife put it). The choices were few given that we were exhausted and the contractions were intensifying. Intense contractions are usually a sign that you're close, but in my case, they had been that way for the last 12 hours. It was becoming increasingly hard to eat (and I was throwing up everything I touched), and the midwife's exams revealed that the baby was pretty tired after so many hours of contractions (not good that neither of us were getting calories). So laboring at home much longer was not really an option. Upon hearing the news, Erik and I had a very emotional moment of surrendering to what needed to be done. He bathed me in affection as we cried and he told me I had been strong and it was ok. At the suggestion of my midwife, we labored another 45 minutes at home at many different "stations" she had set up for us to try out different positions. And then after no change, we accepted the next step.

So then it was time to prepare for a "transport" to the hospital. We ran around gathering the things we needed, blowing candles out and preparing the house to be empty for a couple of days. People had shown up that I didn't even know where in the house, and they were just in time! We needed all the support and help we could get and they were amazing. The rest was just like the movies. I had a very painful car ride to the hospital, and for all I knew, Jesus was driving and we were headed for New York City - in other words, I was OUT of it. As I slowly neglected my home birthing pain techniques (to basically meditate through contractions and relax the body), I began to tense up with every contraction, feeling helpless and like there was no mercy. Oh, and did I mention that I had extreme back labor this whole time? I still have bruises and dry patches on my back from begging Erik to pound my back. "MY BACK!", I would yell. Anyway, once we got to the hospital, I seem to remember being wheeled up to labor and delivery on someone's desk chair...? And then I remember being tranpsorted to a wheel chair and rushed off to my room. I'm telling you, it was just like the movies. There really was no emergency at that point (nor had there been for 37 hours), but I guess that's how they react to people in intense pain, and I guess they handle it like that in case there is an emergency (but we had called them in advance and told them the situation - they were expecting us).

Then I was checked into a room, put in a hospital gown and hooked up to a monitor. At this point, my contractions were so intense I thought they were lasting 20 mins at a time. For the first time through the whole labor, I was literally screaming out in pain, not trying to control it anymore. It's funny how much will power one can lose when they know the pain could be relieved at any moment (which was not an option at home). My sisters supported my weight as my knees buckled and they swayed my hips from side to side. Later I learned that the contractions seemed 20 minutes long because they were only 1 min apart - the first regulated contractions I had the whole time (the others were less consistent). With that news, we hoped that I was dialating faster now, but an exam revealed that I was still a mere 5 cm. In my weakness, I was posed with my options. Basically I could have a shot of pitocin, which is a synthetic hormone that makes your contractions come quicker and stronger - generally not something you can handle without an epidural. I could still try to deliver naturally, but most likely the pitocin would make it completely unbearable and I would end up exhausted and with a C-section. OR, I could take the most likely route to a vaginal birth: have a shot of pitocin, have an epidural to deal with the expressed dialation, and then deliver vaginally.



I did the latter. I was administered an epidural after about an hour (it only worked on half my body...), and then the pitocin. The lack of food and all the drugs made me sick to my stomach. I dry-heaved into mauve plastic bedpans as I shook violently from the exhaustion. But I was very happy inside, knowing that Firecracker was close. Michael Jackson's memorial service played silently on the TV above as I braced through the contractions I felt on half of my body. The next exam revealed I had dialated to 6cm, and then to a 7cm. Not long after that exam, I told Erik to go get the nurse because I felt a tremendous amount of pressure "coming down". When she came back and did the exam, she surprised me by saying that it was time to have the baby! So after around 7 hours of labor in the hospital (and around 37 at home), it was finally time to push. I had heard that women with epidurals sometimes had to push for hours, so I half-seriously asked if there was time for a nap first, but the arrival of the delivery table told me no.

Little Stella (full name Cathey Estelle) was born at 10:16pm after just a short time of pushing. The gender was a surprise all the way up to delivery at which point the Dr. held her up in front of me and said something like, "Well, you didn't want me to tell you what it was - do you have a guess?" Our family and friends were soon let into the delivery room even as I was being sewn up (I had an internal laceration, but no episiotomy!), and it was so joyous to share this event with them right away.

Erik never left her side.

The rest of our hospital stay was really lovely with lots of care and support pouring in from family and friends that visited daily, bringing us food and comfort. Before I even transferred to my recovery room, it was filled with flowers, comfortable pillows and bedding for Erik and delicious snacks for in between hospital meals. Thank you Michele, Lara and Ravyn for all of that!








Thank you to all that worried on our behalf and anxiously waited for updates - we didn't mean to stress anyone out :) Our laboring at home was incredibly safe and we were in excellent hands and care the whole time. There is really no explanation as to why my cervix got "hung up", so I feel we did what we had to and I really loved every minute of our experience. It's almost like we had the best of both worlds.

Now we are enjoying getting to know our little girl at home. She has a very sweet disposition and is nothing but precious all day and night. I have never been filled with so much joy. Now I understand the love of a parent - an emotion so strong it brings tears to your eyes for no reason at all. With every little wince of pain she has, my heart breaks in two, and with every little happy noise, my heart breaks in two. We just adore her and feel incredibly fortunate to have her and to have each other.

Thanks again for the love and support. I loved hearing the updates through labor that our friends and family on the list were sending love and supportive messages the whole time! It really makes a difference to have that kind of support.

We love you all and can't wait for you to meet her!