(A Little Too Honest) Confessions of a Bad Mom

I’ve been in a slump.  Like, a big one.  It seems that my life is on repeat on an annoying song that makes me want to pull my hair out and ogre-scream in frustration.

A few weeks ago Josh was watching Groundhog Day. You remember that one.  Bill Murray is living Groundhog Day every day.  The same song wakes him every morning.  The same people greet him, unaware of the repetition of his life.  No matter what, it’s the same thing.  Every. Day. 

I sat watching the movie, mouth agape, at the reflection of my own life.  Every day the same thing.  The alarm goes off.  The kids are woken.  We all get dressed.  The big kids make their lunches as I wrangle the little kids.  We load up in the van and I drop kids off at their respective schools.  I spend the remainder of the day trying to catch up on housework.  This is impossible as I have three little kids home during the day and they are all very capable of undoing any chore I complete.  Laundry folded?  Not anymore. The baby decided to use the folded laundry as a nest envied by every mouse on Earth when my back was turned because the 2-year-old was quiet so I checked on him really quickly only to discover he had tried to get his own snack and was sitting on the floor of the kitchen surrounded by full and empty fruit snack pouches that were once on a high shelf in the pantry in a plastic box with a locking lid.  Not to mention the 3-year-old who keeps squealing at the top of her lungs because her little brother took her spot on the couch, or her book, or her toy, or her turn on the TV, or her breathing space.

And then 3 o’clock hits and the four big kids get home from school wanting food, a nap, TV time, a ride to Scouts or youth activities or a ride home from track or drama club or tutoring.

Within two hours I need to have dinner ready because Josh works nights and if I don’t have food for him he won’t eat until 2am.  Or, sometimes, I have food for him but he ended up sleeping later and doesn’t have time to eat and leaves without the nowhere-near-gourmet dinner I’ve prepared. 

After that it’s the nightly fights of dishes, picking up the toys, getting ready for bed, why didn’t you do your homework earlier?, you need WHAT for school tomorrow?, and just the typical teenage angst/toddler meltdown depending on the age of the kids.  Either way, it’s basically the same thing.

I’m burned out.  I don’t do anything for myself.  And I know why I don’t.  If I take time to do something I want to do, I’m not doing something I should do.  Therefore, I’m not a good mother.  Therefore, I’m selfish.  Or unfit.  Or a bad wife.  Or a horrible housekeeper.  Or a terrible cook/meal planner. 

Who am I even trying to prove myself to?  My husband?  Yes.  My kids? Yes.  My neighbor? Yes.  The girls from church (my only non-virtual social network)?  Yes.  Myself?  No.

No, I’m not trying to prove anything to myself.  Because I already know that I’m a horrible housekeeper.  I already know that I don’t like cooking.  I already know that my kids watch WAY too much TV.  I already know that it takes me a week to finish folding and putting away laundry even if it only takes a day to wash it.

I am not the ideal candidate for being a Pinterest-crafting, housework-loving, creative-playing stay-at-home mom. 

Then why do I even try?

Hence, my depressing dilemma.

I’ve often heard that if you have a question you can ask the Lord and He’ll answer you.  I know that happens.  I’ve experienced it before.  But I decided to see if maybe I’d get lucky at church on Sunday and get some insight as to why my life is so...ugh.

It was Easter Sunday.  Our ward has a new meeting time of 2pm.  It’s still new enough that I haven’t quite figured out how to make it work.  Despite my loathing of scrubbing toilets, I do enjoy creating a good strategy.  A plan.  Lists of all kinds are my friends.  But I don’t have this new meeting time down yet. 

Josh got home from work and we had our Easter egg hunts before he went off to bed.  Then the kids ate candy and played with the new games the Easter Bunny brought while I made dinner: BBQ pulled pork, potato salad, macaroni salad, fruit salad, deviled eggs.  We’d had ham the previous Sunday when family had been in town so I went a different way for dinner.  Specifically, I needed something that we could come home from church at 5:10pm and it would all be magically ready for us to eat since Josh’s shift started at 6pm and he needed to leave by 5:45.  If I stay at church the entire three-hour block I can’t plan to cook anything quickly enough for him to eat before heading out for the night. And I still had to get kids bathed, dressed, combed, and find church shoes.  This needed to be done close enough to church time that they can’t mess themselves up but not so late that we miss the first hour of church.  And somewhere in there I really needed to try to get a shower myself.

To make a long story short, Sunday afternoons are stressful.

Then there’s the whole taking seven kids to church by myself fiasco.  The arguments over who sits by mom and who sat by me last week and who can fit on my lap so the bigger kids can sit next to me and fussy kids because it’s naptime during Sacrament Meeting and I forgot the snacks to keep the little ones quiet.

I tried to focus on the purpose of Sacrament Meeting – partaking of the Sacrament, renewing my baptismal covenants.  My thoughts were quickly distracted from this sacred ordinance as I tried to balance two kids on my lap and make sure they each only took one piece of bread, not a handful, and later that the water they spill from the little cup gets mostly on me and not the floor.  What is supposed to be a spiritual time of meditation and prayer is spent shushing and balancing and grabbing little hands reaching for more “snack.”  I can’t even begin to tell you how unworthy of the Sacrament I feel just admitting all of this.

But I looked forward to the talks about the Savior.  About His sacrifice for us and His gift of resurrection for every person.  And then the thought entered my mind: We’re told Jesus knows each of our sorrows, our griefs.  He experienced all pain in the Garden of Gethsemane.  And the nagging, arrogant, rebellious voice in my head had the audacity to argue that He never experienced my life.  He never knew the monotony of 21^st century routines. He never had little kids that bombarded His every move and kept Him from accomplishing any of His goals or desires.  Of course, I know His life was much more difficult.  He suffered beyond anything I can understand.  But, how does he understand me?

And that’s when it happened. 

I wanted to prove God and His ability to answer my questions.

Despite my pride and self-importance, He sent me a realization.

There had been a special musical number by a young girl on the harp (it was pretty amazing).  Usually there’s only one musical number per meeting, but for some reason there were two that day.  The second musical break was a congregational hymn, Where Can I Turn for Peace?  There were phrases that stuck out to me:

Where is my solace?

Where, when my aching grows…where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?

And then the third verse stunned me into silence and burned tears in my eyes.

He answers privately,

Reaches my reaching

In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.

“In my Gethsemane”?  MY Gethsemane?  My quiet corner of the world (or just my mind) where I suffer alone.  My attempts to give everything I have to everyone else and leave nothing for myself.  My quiet pleadings for solace but not knowing when they will ever be answered, if they even can be.

I realized, this was what I was experiencing.  Not a slump.  Not a monotonous routine to be endured.  My own Gethsemane where I felt alone, wounded, overwhelmed.  Suffering.

But as the hymn explains, I am not alone.  My Savoir and Friend is there with me.  I have a hard job right now.  My job description includes many things I am not good at or don’t enjoy doing.  My husband works hard to provide for us and is often either at work or asleep.  I do a lot on my own.  But I am never alone.  He guides me when I know I need to intercede in my teenager’s life.  He inspires me with individual responses to each of my children.  He reminds me of my goals and my ability to accomplish them in the past.  He prompts me with motivation to make our home livable and meals edible so it’s a delight (or at least not a dread) for Josh to come home to.

Of course, there’s no immediate solution to any of my troubles.  It took me three days to finally sit down to write this out because I felt it necessary to do other chores before the “frivolousness” of writing my feelings.  And there are toys strewn across the floor, the kitchen needs a good scrubbing, and towels need to be washed.  But there seems to be a bit more perspective now.  What’s important?  A clean house?  Yes.  Is it the most important? Well, sometimes it is.  Right now, though, I need to remember what I need.  And right now I need to recognize the good in my life.  My family.  My Savior.  Easter Sunday can be buried by the expectations of the obligatory Easter Bunny, or egg hunts, or rushing to church on time.  But really, it’s about the Savior and His Gethsemane for us.  For me.  In His Gethsemane he suffered for me.  In my Gethsemane he suffers with me. He does understand me.

 And He loves me anyway.

Reviving the Dead... Blog

It's been a really long time since I blogged.  Really. long.  This is of no fault of my own, of course.  It's life's fault.  Life and pregnancy.  And kids.  And pretty much every other excuse possible.

My last entry was written while I was pregnant with Kid 6.  Now I'm pregnant with Kid 7.  Yeah, seven kids. 

This is actually the reason I decided to revive this old blog.  Even in my days of religiously blogging I never considered myself a Mommy-blogger.  In fact, the very title makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.  But, I am a mom.  I have mother-related happenings that could use some sharing.  I don't know that I could ever be a professional blogger.  I don't have words of wisdom to share with others.  I have no training, other than life, to share "The Four Things Ruining Your Marriage" or "Seven Things Every Child Needs to Hear."  Those types of blogs are all well and good, but that's not what I've got.

I've got years of mistakes.  Years.  I've got a short temper that I'm training to lengthen itself.  I've got sarcasm and just a little bit of anger here and there.  I've got guilt flowing out the wazoo.  I've got regrets with no rhyme or reason to them.  I've got no training in psychology, sociology, philosophy, or normalcy.

But I've got a big family that I love.  I've decided to take some time to devote this blog to focusing on what a big family is like.  We've had plenty of doubts about having a large family.  We've also had plenty of doubts that we'd even have a family at all.  Some days the chaos is ignorable.  Some days the quiet is nothing but trouble.  But it's something that I can share with anyone who will listen (or read).  Maybe someone out there will understand the need some of us have for having lots of kids. Maybe that someone will be me when I'm having a rough day and wondering what the heck I've gotten myself into.

I'm really hoping to get on here a few times a week.  It's not my New Year's resolution.  That would mean I'm setting myself up for failure because I have yet to accomplish any resolution I've ever made.  But it is a goal that happens to start toward the beginning of the year.  And I've completed goals.  After all, before we got married we said we wanted seven kids.  And we've been crazy enough to keep at it until it happened.  Although, you remain poor and have nothing to do long enough, seven kids is bound to happen eventually.

I'm looking forward to having some fun with this idea.

Top Ten Answers

We are expecting a new little bundle of joy sometime around the end of October.  We are so excited and happy to welcome this baby.   We've made it through the harrowing first trimester and even had a blood clot issue that scared us.  But all is well and we're looking forward to adding Baby 6 to the mix.

But I have to be honest.  I was nervous announcing this pregnancy.  Not because I didn't want or expect this baby (because I did want and hoped for him/her) but because I got so many comments when I was pregnant with Sarah.  Strangers saw me in Home Depot and offered their opinions of my sanity.  Friends or family made comments meant to be teasing, but after a while it kind of got under my skin.

In an effort to preemptively answer the questions I expect to receive over the next five or six months I figured I'd post on the blog.

SO... here we go. 

Top Ten Answers to Questions I Expect to Hear During This Pregnancy

 

10. Yes, we planned to have another baby.

 

9.  Yes, we outgrew our minivan.

 

8.  No, we didn't outgrow our house.

 

7.  Nope, there's just one baby in there.

 

6.  Yep, all these kids are mine.

 

5.  No, I didn't have all these kids so I could be on TV.

 

4.  Yes, I agree that people should be responsible and have the ability to financially care for their children.

 

3.  Nope, I don't know if we're done.

 

2.  Yes, I know how this happened.

 

And Number 1:

Well, yes, most days I am crazy but I don't think that has anything to do with this.

Close To Our Hearts

**Disclaimer: I wrote this to explain why this is such a big deal to our family but as I reread it I realized it sounds more like a commercial similiar to those of Sally Struthers or Sarah McLochlan.  I promise I'm not using guilt to encourage donations.  But I know there are those of our family and friends that will understand my need to share and express myself.  Seriously.  Not begging.  Just sharing.**

It's funny what nighttime does to our imaginations.  Sometimes a thought enters our brains as we close our eyes and vivid images swirl around, touching our emotions.  Those emotions can be comforting, exciting, or scary enough to keep us awake.

This has been happening for Matthew lately.  This summer he'll turn 9.  Not only will he one year away from double digits, but he'll be preparing for his next cardio MRI.  Insert long sigh here.

October 2005

Matt has always been a very quiet boy.  Quiet, but perceptive.  He knows that an MRI is necessary to plan and prepare for his next heart valve replacement.  And even though a catheter may be used instead of open heart surgeries when he gets bigger, he may be too small for a catheter next time.

And so, at night, Matt's mind begins racing and he thinks of his own mortality. 



I wish I were the type of person that is fine letting him believe there's nothing to worry about.  But I feel strongly that knowledge is power.  I don't want him waking up from anesthesia and panicking when he sees tubes draining blood and fluids out of his chest.  I want him to know that even though his heart condition is scary, lots of people love him and pray for him.  We have open and honest conversations several nights a week. 

March 2007

So when Matthew brought home a packet of information about his school participating in the American Heart Association's Jump Rope for Heart event, he was very interested.  He told me he wants to help raise money for other kids to have the help they need.  I explained to him that these fundraisers help kids like HIM.  Also, when we first learned about his heart condition we got a lot of information about it from the American Heart Association.  This is an organization that has helped our family.

November 2012

Matt and his sisters have now signed up to participate in the Jump Rope for Heart.  They have websites created for each of them to accept donations for their jump roping attempts.  Of course, I'm going to need to stop by the store and purchase a few more jump ropes so they can practice between now and February 15.  They are nervous that they won't be able to jump enough. 

I think the idea of this fundraiser has helped Matt feel a little more empowered.  He can't do anything to heal himself, but at least he can jump some rope and help an organization that helps "kids with special hearts" (as quoted from the flyer the kids brought home from school).  And I don't know anyone with more of a special heart than Matthew.

If you'd like to donate, please visit these links by February 15, 2013:
Matthew's page (Donation goal: $14)
Abby's page (Donation goal: $100)
Emma's page (Donation goal: $20)

Heart Update

This summer was filled with lots of different appointments.  I tried to schedule everything before school started up again to make life a little easier: well-child checks, dentist, orthodontist, eye doc.  But Matt's cardiologist couldn't get us in for a check up until today.  So, here it is the end of the third week of school and already Matt has missed half a day for a doctor's appointment.  Oh wait, I nearly forgot last week when I had to check him out early to get a cast on his arm.  Man.  There's nuthin like starting the year off just right, eh?

Matt and Josh on Matt's baptism day
July 2012

Today's appointment actually went pretty well.  If you don't remember, Matthew has Pulmonary Atresia and there's a pretty descriptive post about it you can find HERE.  Last summer Matt had an MRI and you can relive that adventure HERE and HERE.

First we had to do the obligatory EKG.  Matt got all the stickers all over his torso.  When the nurse went to pull them off, they all stuck a LOT.  Poor boy was stuck in that place between laughing at the absurdity of the situation and crying out in pain.  Luckily, he chose to laugh and the nurse said, "Just wait until you have your 'man hair.'"  I can only imagine how much more the EKG stickers will hurt in ten or fifteen years.  Yikes.

We went into the echocardiogram room and Matt and Millie happily watched Over the Hedge while I tried my best to read the echo myself.  Yeah.  That didn't happen.  I've seen many of those echoes over the years and still have no idea how to know what's going on.  I always come out of that room determined to go back to school to become an echo tech so I can be much less ignorant than I am.  Maybe when I have all the kids in school.  Eh, probably not, but it's a nice thought.

The doc came in with a medical student.  I love it when the students come in.  Matt's heartbeat is so unique that it's kind of fun to watch for that look of, "Holy cow, what was that?" when they listen to his heart.

The final verdict came back that Matt's heart seems to be as good as it was ten months ago at his last check up.  The next step is for another MRI next summer.  His pulmonary valve has significant enough leakage that his right ventricle is at risk for enlarging too much and causing permanent damage so that will be evaluated after the MRI.  That information alone could cause Matt to need his next valve replacement.  Or if he becomes too sleepy and lethargic.  Otherwise his heart is good enough to avoid surgery until at least next summer.

Once again the doctor mentioned that they are beginning to use catheters in lieu of open heart surgery for valve replacements.  Matt could be a candidate for that, especially if we can get him to hit a growth spurt of two before the next replacement.  The doctor's practice has already been a part of 15 or 20 replacements with that method.  They try the catheter first and then go to open heart as a last resort.  I can't tell you the relief that is to me.  No one can ever tell me that miracles don't happen in this day and age.  The use of this procedure is proof enough to me!

Recent Videos

I realized recently that I've begun to fall into the stereotypical "lots of pictures of the older kids and hardly any of the younger kids" trap.

So, I've been trying to take more pictures but also make some videos of the kids, particularly of the littler girls.

Here are the latest in the series:

Millie is meditating.  (I love Emma's near-teenage comment of being in a "Nerd-fest".)

And....

Can you name that movie?

I tried to upload the one of Sarah laughing.  If you haven't seen it, I'll try to upload it again sometime.  It's worth seeing, but might be too big for Blogger.  Darn it.  

But these girls keep me laughing!

The Daily Prophet: Off To Hogwarts!

The Daily Prophet

First Years Hie To Hogwarts

On July 31, Hogwarts welcomed the next generation of First Year students.

The students were playing at the park when their invitations to Hogwarts arrived.  They were delivered by a particularly handsome wizard who drove his enchanted motorcycle to the park.  A few minutes later the students were picked up by the Knight Bus and brought to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies.

First stop, Gringotts Bank.

The goblin that greeted them was dreadfully scary.

Next, they picked up their wizard robes from Madame Malkin's shop.

Finally, they stopped by Ollivander's Wand Shop to pick out their very own custom made wand.  They met Mr Ollivander's apprentice Rufus Ignacio Podmoore (or RIP as we call him) and had to try and test their wands to be sure they had the right one.  After all, "it's really the wand the chooses the wizard, of course."

After they got all their supplies, the students headed for Platform 9 3/4 in King's Cross and boarded the Hogwarts Express.

(There's no photo of the Hogwarts Express, but many Muggles refer to it as a Ford F250.)

They rode the train and finally arrived at Hogwarts!

Then the fun really began.  The Sorting Ceremony placed the students in their new Houses.

Somehow, a strange phenomenon occurred and all the new First Years were sorted into Gryffindor.  The Gryffindors' received their House Badge and gold and maroon scarves.

Then it was time for the first day of school.  The first class was Potions.

Professor Snape was absent, having been accused to terrifying too many First Years in years past.  So Tonks the Auror filled in, just as she had during the Sorting Ceremony and at Madame Malkin's Robe Shop.

The students were all shown how to make the Felix Felicis potion.  Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom had previously come and assisted Tonks in making the potion.  The clear, bubbling liquid was meant to turn gold.  It worked for everyone, but Emma, whose liquid turned green and must have been prepared by Neville.  Luckily, she didn't die when she drank it!

 The also learned how to take Mandrake root powder and make the Mandrake Restorative Draught.  Although the Mandrake root powder was white and the students added yellow dandelion powder, the draught itself turned to a purple state.

Cameras are not allowed in the Divination room, but the students headed up to the attic where they learned to read their futures.  Using unicorn milk, different colors of tea, and dragon saliva the students read their fortunes and many discovered apple shapes, signifying great feats of education in their near futures.

The final course of the day sent the students back to the lower levels of Hogwarts for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Professor "Mad-Eye" Moody taught the Gryffindors how to identify real dragon saliva from fake dragon saliva, a real problem in some areas of the world.  He showed them that rubbing the dried saliva on his fingers created smoke.

Afterwards, they went outside to learn what happens when you set Thestrel dung on fire.  The photographer was unable to capture that moment on film.

Finally, it was time to head to Hogsmead for a trip to Honeydukes Sweet Shop for lots of treats, The Hog's Head and The Three Broomsticks for butterbeer, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for Muggle magic tricks.

The day ended in the Great Hall with a feast and a private showing of Harry Potter and the Sorcerers' Stone.

The house elves had quite a task of cleaning to do after all was said and done.  But everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and are ready for the upcoming school year.



Where I got my ideas:

• Butterbeer labels
• Signs and Mandrake Restorative Draught
• Chocolate Frogs
• Gryffindor Scarves
• Wands
• Felix Felicis Draught
• Detect Real Dragon Saliva
• Divination Unicorn Milk 
• Gryffindor Badges
• Wizard robes: I can't find the link I used but I took 2XL men's black t-shirts, cut them down the front and put a piece of Velcro on the collar to keep the top closed.
• Sorting Hat: my awesome sister made that one.  I have no idea how she did it, which is why I asked her to do it in the first place.
• Acid pops: Blow Pops which were wet and dipped in Pop Rocks.
• Every Flavor Beans: Just a bunch of Jelly Bellies.
• Gringotts money: I used buttons and spray painted them gold.  I found some little bags at Walmart in the baby shower section.
• Invitations: I printed nearly word for word the letter Harry received in the first book on some parchment.  The Hogwarts symbol I found online.
• Muggle magic: Kits I found at the dollar store.

Dramaland, The Story

Once upon a time in a land not too far away, lived a woman named.... oh, for the sake of convenience let's call her .... Shelly.

Shelly was a mother with five kids.  Her children were good kids.  In fact, sometimes she'd get compliments from complete strangers over their wonderful behavior.

But sometimes something strange would happen.  It was a phenomenon that Shelly could never quite explain.

Sometimes, without warning, Shelly and her children would suddenly transport from their current location to a place she often called Dramaland.  All of their surroundings would remain the same.  The trees were still the same.  The weather was still the same.  The people were still the same.  But one thing was different.  One thing was very much not the same.

The drama.

The family drove down the street.  It seemed to be a typical evening.  The summer sun set behind them as they made their way home.  All seemed normal.  Until.... "Mom!" screamed a voice from the back row of the van, "that truck didn't turn on his blinker when he went to pass us!"

Oh no, thought Shelly, here we go.  Dramaland.

"They should get a ticket!" yelled Kid One.

"They should be arrested!" hollered Kid Two.

The Dramaland Police Force suddenly appeared out of nowhere equipped with their Tasers and beanbag shotguns to take down the criminal who didn't signal as he passed our vehicle.

And then all was back to normal.

A little while later, Shelly sat in her living room as Kid Three came running into the room.  "Mom!  Mom!" he yelled.  "She broke it!"  Shelly looked quickly at her son to discover what happened.  But before she could, she felt a little spin in the air around her as the TV continued to blare and Kid Five's baby swing continued to slightly rock.

Not again, Shelly thought.  Dramaland.

She saw the Lego car in Kid Three's right hand and a single Lego piece in his left.  Although Kid Four accidentally stepped on the car that had been left in the middle of the floor, all of the Legos in the house became Dramaland Legos and they disintegrated into fine bits of plastic that swept up into a colorful gust of wind and blew out the door only to be lost forever.

 Dinnertime finally arrived and Shelly set out the food for the children.  Kid Four reached out and grabbed a hot dog.  A siren-loud wail erupted from her.  "Mom! It too hot!"  She threw her head back and emitted another scream, calling upon the Powers of Dramaland.

It's going to happen, Shelly thought.  Dramaland is going to kill someone.  Someone is finally just going to explode.


And Shelly did.

Bless My Heart

There's this new phenomenon I've begun to experience.  My heart has been blessed.  A lot.  And not just by my children, but by total strangers.  The conversation usually goes something like this....

Stranger: Oh, your baby is so cute!  Is she your first?
Me: No, my fifth.
Stranger: Your fifth???  Bless your heart.

Sometimes I feel obligated to expound on this.  Yes, I have five kids.  Yes, by today's standards that's a big family.  Yes, we meant to.

A few weeks ago my mom helped me out by taking the four big kids to her house (two and a half hours away) and I spent five days with just Sarah (Josh was working each of those nights so I didn't see him for more than an hour each day).

I love my sweet baby Sarah.  She's so wonderful to be with and snuggle with.  She's just a great baby and I love that she's a part of our family.

But I discovered something.  I missed the chaos of my big family.  The quiet was so peaceful, but a bit creepy.  I have not had many moments of peace and quiet in my home.  And so it's no wonder I like having lots of people around.

I grew up with two sisters and two brothers.  I often had my friends over throughout high school and beyond.  The first apartment I ever moved into I shared with five other girls.  Josh and I lived in college housing... twice.  My major required a lot of people working together, often yelling and trying to out-do each other.

Our apartment window for Homecoming 2007.

And now I have four daughters and a son.  And we're pretty sure we're not done yet.

So thank you, strangers, for blessing my heart.  I am blessed.  And I'm glad for it.

Introducing.....

Sarah Rebekah Louise

It's been nearly a week since our world has expanded with utter perfection.  So it's definitely time for me to update the blog and get this angel's pictures out there for all to see.

We went to the hospital at the butt-crack of dawn (5:30 am) and began the wait.

Finally I got wheeled back to the OR and the fun began.  The nurses were impressed with the fact that Sarah was Baby 5.  In fact, I've spent the last five days telling people that she's not our first but our fifth and then listening to them mutter under their breaths, "Bless your heart!"

I think if they could've gotten away with it, the nurses would've had a pool going for Sarah's weight.  I told them that our other kids ranged from 7 lbs 9 oz to 8 lbs 4 oz.  So someone asked me what I thought she'd be.  I guessed the high 7's and then added, "But I swear she feels like she's 10 lbs!"  They all laughed and pretty soon Sarah made her debut into the world.

Matt says she looks like a zombie baby.

The doctor laughed as she announced that she thought Sarah was 8 lbs.  The baby team said they thought she was at least 8 lbs.  So when the announcement of her weight was made I thought they were all joking.  Bu they weren't.  Our Sweet Sarah weighed in at 9 lbs 0.1 oz and 20 3/4".

It was probably right around this point of the day that the reality of Sarah began to sink in.  For nearly two years I've struggled with actually getting a baby and keeping her.  But my pregnancy went smoothly, her birth went smoothly, and she's so wonderful that I couldn't be happier.

Josh and my mom convinced me to stay in the hospital for the full four days my insurance covered so I could relax and recover as much as possible.  Recovering from a third c-section is hard work and I'm so glad I stayed.  I got to come home on Mother's Day and spent the day with my feet up (literally.... they are swollen bigger than ever) and got to spend the day with my beautiful family and even my mom.

I couldn't be happier.  I love all my children and watching the miracle of life reminds me of how many blessings I truly have.  I'm hoping this moment of rejuvenation lasts for a while!

Birth Day and Personalities

It's very late at night, but sometimes the call to write won't wait.

As of this moment, the countdown to Baby is at 10 days.  A week and a half and our Sweet Sarah will make her way into the world.

Of course, she's laying sideways, it's fricken hot outside causing me to sweat profusely, I can't wear shoes because my feet are too swollen, and my temper-fuse has been shortened by another six inches.

But other than that, I'm so excited to see this baby.  I can't help but think of Emma, Abby, Matthew, and Millie as they all came into the world.  I've decided that the day the child is born indicates what the child is going to be like.

Let me give you a few (four) examples....

Emma

Emma was born six days late.  I was anxious for her to come, but a little relieved she didn't show up in the middle of the blizzard that hit us four days after her due date.  I was so worried about the road conditions, so I begged Josh to stay home with me the day after the blizzard.  We lived in the mountains, around 9000 feet in elevation on back roads behind Pikes Peak, so you can understand why I was a bit paranoid about the whole road-conditions-thing.  However, April 12th came and we lazily laid in bed talking about our OB appointment scheduled for that afternoon.  We were going to need to decide what day we wanted to schedule an induction since I was so late.  We both fell back asleep... until my water broke.  Josh and I went outside to get in the car when we realized that it was still buried from the blizzard two days ago.  I laughed as I held my knees together, trying to keep my broken water from making a huge mess so I could help dig the car out of the snow.  Luckily, a neighbor heard of our plight, took pity, and plowed the driveway for us.  Nine hours later, Emma graced us with her presence.

Emma and me

How does this equate to Emma today?  The girl has no problem being late.  To anything.  The day we left for Vegas to see Phantom of the Opera, she slept until it was nearly time for us to be out the door.  She loves the snow and the mountains.  It seems to take her forever to get things done, but she does them and she does them well.

Abby, however, was a different story.

Abby

On her due date (at 3am) my water broke.  Josh was at work so I called him to come home and take me to the hospital.  We lived in the same mountainous area, but a little further from the hospital.  I was a little worried when Josh came home and took a shower before driving me down the mountain.  We got to the Springs and I was already dilated to a 5.  Things progressed fairly quickly over the next few hours until 10am when they just stopped.  My OB was called to assist in a c-section and since I wasn't going anywhere he went to help.  Suddenly, Abby was coming.  She was coming and there was no stopping her.  We called for the nurse who called for the doc, but he was still in the OR.  Instead, she grabbed some kid from the hallway and put gloves on him.  I swear he looked like a kid, maybe he was an intern.  Or maybe a kid.  I don't know.  He didn't even get a chance to put his fingers in the glove properly before he began trying to keep Abby from falling out and onto the floor.  Everyone kept yelling for me to not push.  Hello?  Have you ever had a baby insist on being born before?  There was no stopping her!  Their pleas of, "Don't push, don't push!" were answered with my response of, "I can't help it, I can't help it!"  Luckily, my doctor did make it just in time to catch her.

Abby and me

And that was Abby.

And it still is Abby.  She's up on time every morning.  I don't think she knows how to sleep in.  She can be ready for anything on a moment's notice.  But more apparent and obvious is Abby's, how should I say it?, insistence on doing things the way she believes they should be done.  Obstinate, some might say.  Not me, of course, but other people might.

Matt was yet again a different story.

Matt

I was induced a week earlier to ensure he'd be born in Denver where his cardiologist could have immediate access to him after birth.  But the cord was wrapped around his body and every contraction strangled him.  I was rushed into an emergency c-section.  Unfortunately, the cord was so tight the doctor couldn't cut it, so he stuffed Matt back inside, turned him around to loosen the cord, and pulled him out a second time.  Matt was flat-lined and the OB handed him off to the NICU team saying, "Jump start this baby."  It took a while but Matt recovered and went on to spend 16 days in the NICU, undergoing two heart procedures to begin addressing his heart problems.

Matt and me (this was the closest I could be to him the first time I really got to see him)

Today, Matt has undergone more stress and fearful conditions than anyone else in our family, but he takes them in stride.  He hangs in there.  He does what needs to be done, but happily accepts the help of others around him.  He's sweet and laid back, regardless of the conditions around him which has its good and bad points.

Millie

Millie was a planned c-section.  I waddled down the hallway and hopped up on the bed in the OR.  Within a few minutes of medications all in place and Josh entering the OR, Millie was born and all was well.  No drama.  No blizzards, no boy-doctors from the hallway, no blood transfusions for me (Matt's birth was harrowing for him AND me).  Just a baby being born three days before Christmas on a day in Montana where the high temperature for the day was -5*.

Millie and me

Like her brother, Millie's a bit laid back.  She has no real concerns, even though she is only 3.  She will happily sit still and snuggle with me, dance around and sing, or color and draw pictures for hours.  Singing calms the soul, and Millie loves to sing.

This all makes me wonder: how will Birth Day go for Sarah?  Will we be able to gauge this little girl's personality on the hour(s) involved in her birth?  Hmm... I guess we'll see in ten days.