Jack's turning one tomorrow. Yes, it's already been a whole year. Crazy, I know!  Over the past year I've occasionally thought ahead to Jack's birthday wondering what I would be feeling.  I want to be able to celebrate and have fun like I do with any of the kids' birthdays, but his birth day was different.  So different. There were so many other emotions felt surrounding the day of August 9th, 2011 that I'm not sure I can separate the joy of giving birth to my child and the pain of what our family went through watching Ty fight for life. Even just typing those words makes my stomach drop and my heart pound.  I remember how I sat by his side that first night in the ER, me in my hospital gown, and him hooked up to countless tubes and monitors.  I remember how his hair felt as I stroked it over and over, how his 7 year-old hand felt so little in mine, and how I wanted nothing more than just to be able to stay with him. I remember the next day, after being discharged from one hospital (mine), walking into the ICU of another (his), and right away noticing Ty's eyes looking at me over the oxygen mask, so tired and confused. He cried when he saw me.  I hadn't been there for him. When he needed me more than ever before I wasn't there.  Of course, I realize it was completely out of my control and so I can't feel guilty. Reas was there every step of the way. It just makes my heart break to think about how scared they must have been. The hurt becomes too real when I think about it too much. I try not to.  I don't want Jack's birthday and these painful memories to be so intertwined that I can't just be happy celebrating Jack. Tomorrow morning I'll wake up to Jack's birthday.  Tomorrow morning will be one year after one of the best and worst days of my life.  I'm not sure what I'm feeling.
It's gratitude, love, sadness, and maybe even a little fear - all at the same time.  Whatever it is, my heart feels     heavy and full.

In honor of Jack's 2 week birthday I'm posting his 1 week pictures. Any mom will understand. I'm still doing a little catching up from spending so much time on those last two posts.

My mom was kind enough to do a 1 week birthday photo shoot. She says she's still not quite sure of her baby picture taking ability - silly Grandma. They're absolutely perfect...and I could've posted about 30 more pictures just as amazing as these, but I thought I'd better not tempt anyone to keep coming back to look at a kazillion pictures of my baby over and over and over again. Your own kids might get jealous :)

The night before Jack was born.

Tuesday morning at 3:30 the contractions started waking me up. They weren't terribly uncomfortable, but they were consistent - about 8 minutes apart, but some as close as 5 minutes. At 4:30 I woke up Reas and told him we'd better go. I had already had two different episodes of very convincing false labor, but this time considering what the doctor had done the previous day, I was sure it was time. Lily had been born within an hour of arriving at the hospital and Ty was born only minutes after I found a bed to fall into, so not making it to the hospital in time was somewhat of a concern. By 5 AM, I was hooked up to all the monitors and we were ready.

Things didn't move along as quickly as I had hoped they would. By 6:30 the contractions weren't as close and weren't even feeling all that painful. By that point I was hoping I would've been holding my baby already, so I was looking for pain! The nurse came in and explained that Dr. Swainston had a procedure with another patient at 8:15 that could take a while, so my options were to let them break my water, start me on pitocin, and have my doctor there for the delivery before his other appointment OR let things keep progressing on their own (slowly), and risk not having my doctor there. For me it would usually be an obvious choice to just be patient and let things happen on their own. I've had babies without doctors present and even considered home birth (briefly... Reas didn't let that thought get very far), so I wasn't all that concerned about my doctor being there. It didn't make a whole lot of sense when I told the nurse to break my water, start the pitocin, and have my doctor come. I wasn't sure what I was doing because it seemed like I kept telling everyone to do all the "wrong" things. I wasn't following my own labor plan, but for some reason it felt right.

The pitocin worked fast. By 7:30 I was finally hurting. Soon it was really bad. That was good! Dr. Swainston was there and parked himself in a chair to wait right along with me. He was just sitting and watching which I thought was kind of strange because doctors don't do that. At least mine don't. Usually they just show up when the nurse tells them it's time. He never left. Except to make a phone call to cancel his 8:15 appointment. Later he told me he felt like he needed to be there with me. Everything was progressing normally and soon I felt the urge to start pushing. Two of my babies were born without epidurals, and that was my plan with Jack too. I know the "time to push" feeling. I know how to push, and I feel quite confident in my ability to get a baby out fast. But this time, I'd push and nothing would happen. I'd push harder and it felt like I was up against a brick wall. Nothing. The only change was that everytime I'd push, Jack's heart rate would drop drastically. After a while of working without much progress I could feel the tension growing in the room. Dr. Swainston is known for his quick thinking in tough situations and is an awesome doctor to have around when things don't go as planned. Even so, my mom said that even he was acting nervous and that his eyes never left the monitor showing Jack's vitals. By this time, I had been doing hard pushing for probably 20 minutes and I could tell I was losing strength. I was so tired and couldn't hold back tears, partly because of the pain and partly because I was scared. I was so scared that I just couldn't do it anymore. But it's truly nothing less than a miracle what a mother can do when she's doing it for someone else. Especially when it's her newborn child who she has been growing and loving for 9 months, and waiting a lifetime to meet. Dr. Swainston was saying things like, "Jack's not happy." "Jack does NOT like this." We have to get him out." That was horrible to hear, but for me that's exactly what I needed. It was enough to keep me going. I kept pushing for him.

Dr. Swainston wasn't sure what the problem was. He said maybe it was the cord, but he couldn't tell for sure. Finally, he apologized to me, warning me that what he was about to do was going to hurt, but he was reaching in. Honestly, I was already in so much pain that I don't really remember it feeling any worse. After that he could tell Jack was posterior. He tried turning him, but couldn't. My only option was to push harder.

After a lot of sweating, more screaming than I'd like to admit, and some help from a vaccuum, our little (big) 8 lb. 13 oz. Jack arrived safely into the world at 8:15 AM. For the first time in 45 minutes, the mood lightened in the room. Reas was able to regain feeling in his hand after I nearly cut off its circulation completely and my mom had permisssion to stop fanning me with a cold wash cloth. They were perfect labor companions for me. The tears and love were instant the second Jack was placed on my chest. There was cheering from the group of hospital staff who had come in. I don't hestitate to say that physically and mentally that was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and it was so worth it!

Dr. Swainston was so generous and sincere with his compliments about what I had just done. That felt good. He told me that when a baby is born posterior it feels like they are 1 1/2 lbs. bigger than they are. According to that I'd just worked to deliver a 10 1/2 lb. man...no wonder it hurt. He said had this been my first baby, it would have for sure ended in an emergency c-section because I wouldn't have been able to get him out. But the comment that stands out most in mind is when he said that he was so glad he had followed the prompting to stay with me and cancel his other appointment because the nurses could not have dealt with that labor on their own. Even though Dr. Swainston didn't end up doing anything that the nurses couldn't have done, he gave me time to keep trying which the nurses probably wouldn't have done. And I know his presence made me more confident and relaxed because he knew I could do it.

I felt so grateful, so blessed, and so watched over during those next few hours. I'm pretty sure I never stopped sending up little prayers of gratitude that whole day. I knew that from the beginning to the end Heavenly Father was watching over us, protecting Jack, and giving me the strength to do what had to be done.

I had my 39 week appointment today. Dr. Swainston informed me that I'm at a "loose 1," so as to make me feel like I had made some progress from the last two week's "one." Thanks. My appointment was fast, so I thought I'd stop by the hospital to pre-register for my delivery just to find out I had left my medical card AND driver's license at home. So then as to not completely waste my trip, I ran into Saver's to see if I could find any school clothes for the kids. I did! I loaded up the cart, went to check out, and my debit card had expired. No cash. Dang, I'm doing good.

Think I'd better stay home and eat an icecream sandwich. That doesn't take a whole lot of brains. I'm one distracted momma these days.

The end is so close I can taste it. I day dream about my labor breathing technique, kissing big boy over and over, and eye contact with ANYONE results in "you're getting close, aren't you?" That kind of makes me a teensy bit impatient too. It doesn't matter who it is...a neighbor, the cashier, a total stranger. Everyone feels an obligation to ask.

Last week at church I kind of felt like the huge circus lady on display. I could've been wearing a sign "Come see the PREGNANT LADY! But don't touch - she might pop!" This is not to be mean to the nice people at church. They were mostly just trying to show concern and interest in my ever growing belly. It's just the way it is. At 38 weeks people notice...and look...and can't help but send sympathetic smiles my way. And since conversation about anything besides me being pregnant seems to be impossible, I know what happens next. And I'm not proud of it. Soon it starts to bug me. Soon I don't want to go anywhere. Soon I just want to stay in my pajamas and wait and wait for a sign. Any sign that things are moving in the right direction. And between all the waiting and between the itty bitty contractions, I cry in the corner like a big baby, not because of pain. I've just learned by now that this is my super emotional time of pregnancy where a hug and smile from a friend, or a "how are you feeling?" from someone who really means it, is all it takes to turn me into a blubbery mess.

I hate it that my hormones are in overdrive and I feel like I'm not me. Right now I want to be soaking it all in. I want to be loving every flip, kick, hiccup, and bladder bust that this little guy makes because I know I'll forget the feeling and then I'll miss it. I know I will because I hear other women talking about missing it. But dang it, how do I treasure something that quite frankly is downright painful at times? And then there's that buzzing leg tingling thing that happens pretty much every time I stand up. I don't care what anyone says, that is not something to be enjoyed.


I don't mean to be a big whiner. I suppose it's actually a blessing that pregnancy ends so uncomfortably, or I might just wish I could stay pregnant forever since I don't think it's womanly possible to ever feel 100% ready and prepared for all the changes a new baby brings. All the discomforts just make me more ready, more anxious to hold him, and more grateful that no woman ever stayed pregnant forever!

I'm ready, world. I'm ready, baby. Let's get this party started. And in a month or two when I'm nearly dead due to sleep deprivation and screaming at the doctor to put him back, someone remind me to come back and read this post again!

I saw the clock at 2:30 AM, 3:30 AM, heard Reas' alarm at 4 something (poor guy). Now it's 7:30 and I'm feeling half zombie. I was awake partly due to the fact that I had baby toes in my ribs and a head against my bladder,but mostly because I'm going to be pushing out a baby sometime in the next 25 days and I've hit freak out time. I'm not worried about labor...that just kind of happens all on its own. I'm pretty much worried about everything else. I've always had a tendency to let things hit me all at once and then I get all stressed out.

Basically, for 3 hours I was tossing and turning thinking, "I need more diapers. I need to deep clean the entire house. I need to find a baby blessing outfit. Who's going to take the kids school clothes shopping? Remember to call the doctor to schedule Claire's last round of Kindergarten immunizations. Claire's starting school. CLAIRE is going to be in REAL school. Panic, sweat, cry. Who's going to be able to watch the kids while we're at the hospital? Why can't my family be closer? Reas' new job will be starting soon...Reas' new job! I haven't even posted about that yet. So much change all at once. Do I need anything else for the baby? The carseat still needs to be cleaned up. I better pack my hospital bag. Remember to tell my nurse not to give me Lortab. I need to get some meals in the freezer, or at least stock up on chicken nuggets and corndogs. Engorgement. If I can only just keep up on the dirty laundry...

And on and on and on. That's why I couldn't sleep. Dumb.

Sometimes I wish that life didn't have to be so complicated. The pioneer women just pulled the wagon over, found a nice shady rock to lean up against, and pushed the baby out. Done. Not that I'd really like the rock method, but it does sound easier in a way. No insurance nonsense or endless doctor's appointments, or worrying about whether or not your labor and delivery nurse will be normal. I could do without all of that.

I suppose I just need to make a list and start working through it. Somehow I've gone from having all the time in the world to being right around the corner from so much change and having so much to get done. I think that's a direct result of perfecting the art of procrastination. Dang it.

I'm not sure what the point of all this rambling is, but I do feel better now after getting it all out of my brain. Gotta love cheap therapy.

And just to show that I am actually getting something done, looky here at all this freshly washed baby cuteness. I am beyond excited to meet the little guy and put him in a pair of soft jammies. By the way, Claire and Lily think it is hysterical that he's going to come out naked. I say, doesn't it seem more weird to think of him coming out fully dressed??


And while we were in CA, my mom and sister helped me lengthen this $6 maternity dress with lovely satin fabric I found at JoAnn's. Now it's way more "mom" appropriate but not to "mom-ish" if you know what I mean. I can't figure out why the makers of maternity clothes all seem to think we want our tooshies hanging out...or that other people want to see our tooshies hanging out. Anyway, I know I'm a little short on time to be able to actually wear it a whole lot, but at least I'll go out with a bang. Besides, at this point in pregnancy a new outfit goes a long way emotionally. Yes, it sounds extremely shallow, but we all know it's true! Shelly taught me how to make these fun flowers for accessorizing.

Clothes are always a good distraction from real life :)

Pregnancy has begun to settle its pretty little self upon me...upon my butt, my thighs, my stamina, my patience. Guess I was lucky to have made it this long. 9 weeks to go. NINE weeks. Somehow that sounds like way too long and not long enough at the same time. Too long when I think of it in terms of climbing my stairs and fake smiling at the weirdo men who like to make comments, but not long enough when I think about how at the end of that time I'll be doing the whole newborn thing again. I love it - I do, but at this point in my mothering I can't help but think about all the challenges that come along with a new baby too. For now, I'm taking one day at a time. Today is the last Tuesday of the school year, tomorrow is the last Wednesday. You get the idea. And then I'm going to sit under the ceiling fan and grow a baby while our children run wild through the neighborhood. That's really what summer's all about anyway, right? No routine, no supervision, no bedtime, popsicles for breakfast. It will be a summer to remember.

Then by the end, our family will have a new baby to show for it...along with 4 other kids who might need a healthy dose of reality. But for now, here's to lazy days, day old juice mustaches, and possibly enormous quantities of Little Caesar's $5 pizza.