Holly's Birth Story

My last day of work was April 24^th (in which I was surprised with the sweetest little shower!). My due date was May 8^th. I set up the wiggle room so that I could spend at least a week with just my little Lierre—going to the park, getting her favorite foods, those kinds of things…. With hopefully a little extra time to clean and rest.

On April 30^th…well I can’t remember a thing that happened during the day. But that evening, I got Lierre all snuggled into her bed (her big girl bed since we transitioned her so we could reuse the crib). Tim had recently had a cold and was on the upswing—but was still resting on the couch. Jack our dog was dozing somewhere. All was peaceful and restful and quiet. What was I doing? Reading up on birthing message boards of course! J I was peaceful inside, but also felt a little buzz of adrenaline in my veins every now and then, knowing that (hopefully) within the next week I would be holding my second sweet little girl in my arms. I pulled up a few sites I had saved on Pinterest about good stretches to relax my back (which had been feeling tight) and tried a few. I also sat on the birthing ball and half-heartedly circled my hips, telling myself it relieved some of the intense pressure I had been feeling “down there” if nothing else (for those non-birth addicts, sitting on the ball is supposed to help open everything up).

I finally shook Tim awake on the couch and we made our way to bed at about 10:45-11:00ish. Later that night I woke up feeling a little uncomfortable in my lower stomach. I lay still, not paying much attention to them since I had been having Braxton Hicks on and off for weeks. A few minutes later, after I had dozed off again, I was awoken once more to a little more discomfort. I sighed inwardly, marking off another night of not sleeping well in my mind…. And decided that maybe if I got up to pee (again), I could come back and get more comfortable. I stood up and heard a very distinct POP! I stood still for a moment, but still didn’t think much of it since my lower back and hips had been popping a lot at night. I took about four steps towards the bathroom and felt a slight rush of liquid. I stopped, mouth open… no… there is NO WAY my water just broke? And isn’t it supposed to be like a huge gush?? I shut the bathroom door and hollered out…

“Hey Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Either my water just broke…. Or I peed in my pants!”

“….Really?!”……………. “Shouldn’t you know the difference?”

I sat down on the toilet and asked, “What time is it?”

It was exactly 1:00 a.m.

[Lemme just throw in here that I’m super proud of myself for remembering to ask what time it was and also looking to see the color to make sure it was clear and free of meconium.]

I will spare y’all some of those details (although, if you are pregnant and wondering, feel free to message me and I will be happy to discuss it!).

Tim was very, very calm. After we both Googled what it should be like, smell like, look like, etc, I called my doula, Kimberly. Given the hour of night, she was pretty much like “So are we having a baby tonight?” Haha. I explained what happened. She assured me that, while there was a slight possibility I peed, the better odds were that my water had broken.

[Seriously, there was hardly any liquid at all. Sometimes the baby’s head can block the leak. Plus only about 15% of women’s water breaks before they are in labor.]

Kimberly also reminded me that if I went to the hospital right then to have them check, there would be no leaving. We had talked pretty extensively about staying home as long as possible. (And no, it is not like the movies where you need to rush to the hospital as soon as your water breaks. You can have your water broken for at least 24 hours before you really have to worry about infection.) I had had exactly zero contractions at that point, unless you count the minor discomfort that had awoken me. She said that two things would probably happen. Either a.) my contractions would start picking up in about 45 minutes to an hour, or b.) nothing would happen and we’d head to the hospital in about 12 hours. We hung up, promising to call with contractions.

We also went ahead and called my parents, as they were coming to our house to watch Lierre whenever we went to the hospital. My side of the conversation went something like this “Yes…I think my water broke, but I’m not feeling any contractions yet. No need to rush. Just wanted to give y’all a heads up in case you need to get anything together. But really… I don’t see anything happening any time soon, so just go back to sleep and we will call you when something more is going on.” I seriously thought there was no rush since Lierre’s birth was about 18 hours.

Yeah…. Bad move on my part. But we will get to that.

Knowing that the hospital wouldn’t want me to eat when I got there (which I was fully planning on disregarding), I decided to eat a snack. I made a whole-wheat waffle with peanut butter and drank a glass of orange juice.

Sure enough, about 45 minutes later I started feeling contractions. I leaned over the birth ball and held on, swaying my hips and moaning “ow, ow, ow, shiiiit.” Over and over. But they were about 14 minutes apart, then slowly about 8-9 minutes apart. We checked in with Kimberly and I think Tim took over conversations with other people at this point. She reminded him to make me drink, drink, drink water and keep going to the bathroom as a full bladder can slow/stop the babe from coming down. Easy to do in the beginning…. Much harder to do when I was starting to feel nauseous. I went to the bathroom at some point with a very upset stomach. I returned constantly to my birthing ball (sometimes with Tim’s prompting as he said I seemed to handle contractions better when leaning over it). Everything gets a little fuzzy to me at this point, so here’s how our texts with Kimberly went.

3:46 a.m. “Shaking. Uhg.”

Kim: With contractions or in between?

Anna: So intense they make me shake when finished. Tapers off though.

Kim: *sent a screenshot talking about shaking in early labor

Kim: Your body is doing exactly what it should be! Slowly breathe through each contraction and try to stay focused.

3:53 a.m.

Anna: So intense making me feel like Heimlich wanna puke

Kim: The contractions?

Anna: Yes.

Kim: Are they getting closer together?

Anna: The last 3 were 6:00 min apart.

3:55

Kim: Ok I’m going to call you.

--no answer—

Call me when you can

[At this point I threw up and Tim was trying to take care of me and coordinate with my parents and Kimberly while also doing a last check of our bags.]

4:35

Tim via my phone: Parents coming. We will be leaving when they do.

Tim: 1-2 minutes apart

Kim: Meet u there. Call me if you need me sooner.

Anna: This is starting to feel impossible while having contractions.

4:42 .m.

Kim: You can do this!! One contraction at a time. I’ll see you very soon. Try not to think about how fast they are coming. Breathe slowly with each one. Get on your hands and knees and rock your hips. You felt comfortable doing that. You are working hard. Let your body do what it needs to do and try to relax in between so your body can bring your baby down.

4:49:

Kim: Hanging in there?

How close are your parents?

5:15 a.m.

Tim via my phone: Heading to hospital by EMS now.

Kim: Holy crap I’m on my way.

So during this time, my contractions jumped pretty quickly. They had been about 14 minutes apart, then 8, then 6, then very suddenly 1-2 minutes max in between.

Let me explain a little bit more about what was going on in my head and at our house that lead to an EMS ride.  Just to remind you in case you were just skimming… at 4:35 we sent a text saying we were going to leave soon. By 5:15 we were on the way to the hospital via the ambulance.

With Lierre, everything was a nice increase in contractions…. Getting closer about every half hour. We made it to the hospital in plenty of time. Contractions were slow and steady. I didn’t start feeling like “I can’t do this” until I was at least 6 cm about 10-12 hours later, at which point I asked for an epidural.

This time around… It really was making me panic that I was feeling the “I can’t do this anymore” feeling after “only” three to four hours. I thought I was weak. My mind was majorly playing tricks on me. While draped over the birthing ball I was thinking “I can’t do this. How is this contraction STILL HAPPENING?! This is awful. I’m going to die. I feel like I’m being ripped in half.”

At one point, I think after Tim called my parents to hurry up and come, I remember moving the ball to our bedroom, and literally pounding my fists on the ball screaming “I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!” and really, truly meaning it. It seemed like the greatest injustice in my brain that was being flooded with all kinds of labor cocktail hormones that I should HAVE to keep doing this…. And that I had no say over how fast or slow it would go. While yelling that phrase, I startled myself even further by the high-pitched, out of control sound of my voice. I reminded myself of when Lierre throws an extreme fit when she is just exhausted and beyond reason. I remained hunched over on the floor, on all fours, or on the ball because any other position seemed close to impossible…. It made every contraction much worse to be upright.

Finally, realizing how close they were and hoping my parents would be there soon, I decided to go to the bathroom one more time before we left. It took Herculean strength to move myself off the floor, walk to the bathroom, and sit down when contractions were coming about every minute, minute and a half…. Meaning by the time I left the floor, to sitting down on the toilet, I had likely already had another contraction. And by the time I was ready to stand? Another contraction. And another. And OH-MY-GOD-I-AM-NEVER-GOING-TO-THE-CAR because sitting upright is KILLING ME.

I heard Tim mumble outside the door that he was going to let my parents in.

I remember reaching one hand out to the toilet paper holder and squeezing, while the other hand reached out and grabbed the shower curtain.

I remember moaning loudly “I don’t know how to do this anymore.” I was wishing and regretting not asking my doula to come much sooner…. I literally was out of my “bag of tricks” to help myself through the pain I was feeling and my brain was eliminating all other kinds of thought besides getting through the next minute.

Then I felt it.

The beginnings of feeling “The Ring of Fire.” Looking back I still am unsure of how close she was at this point. The ring of fire is a pretty accurate term when you start to feel the baby’s head. I looked down too and the toilet was filled with blood.

Tim came back and tried to say we needed to go. Yeah, no. Nope. Nuh uh. No way. He tried again. Our exchange was something like this:

Tim: Come on! You HAVE to get up. You are NOT going to have a baby at our house.

Anna: I … oh my God…. Oh shiiiiiiiiit, oh no…. I think… Yeah, I think I am pushing. Oh man.

Tim: What??! What??? No. NO WAY. No. Get up RIGHT NOW.

Anna: I CAN’T!!! (I was so mad at him at that moment for not understanding why I couldn’t get up…. As if he was being unreasonable wanting me to go to the hospital).

Tim: Come on Anna. Come on. GET. UP. NOW.

Anna: I cannot get up. I can FEEL her down there. I can’t. stop. Pushing.

Tim: DAMNIT ANNA GET UP RIGHT NOW AND ME AND YOUR DAD WILL HELP CARRY YOU TO THE CAR. GET UP NOW OR I AM GOING TO CALL 911!!!

Anna: Yes. Do that. Do that. Call now. I cannot. (*push, push, push)

Tim called 911 and yelled at me until I very begrudgingly got down off the toilet (per their instructions) and onto all fours.

At this point my body was pushing with contractions. I didn’t have much control over it. It actually felt good to push… it gave purpose to the pain. It kept my head in the game. I remember frantically, disjointedly trying to prep myself for WHAT IF…. What if I did have this baby at home? I had read up on it just in case, but … reality is so much more terrifying than a what if.

You know how people say that modesty goes out the window in labor? Yeeeeah…. Maybe in a clinical hospital setting. Maybe. But when you still have your pants around your ankles, and are on all fours grunting and moaning and sounding like someone who is dry-heaving…. Knowing your parents are on the outside of the door…. And then in comes a team of EMS workers?....Yeeep. Still embarrassing. Especially when one peaks over and says “Not crowning yet.” (Oh my gosh, did he just … just look THERE? Oh man. Everyone is looking at me. Oh man this hurts so bad. Ah this is embarrassing). I was sweating and pushing and miserable.

They all just stood there. I was like “Why aren’t we going?!” They said they couldn’t take me…. They were actually firemen who were responding first. I was furious and getting so scared at that point. Then another team showed up. I asked them why we weren’t going… Nope, they were just a medical unit, not a transport unit.

(I get it, but I MEAN COME ON). Finally the transport unit came. They tried to give Tim some lip about why we didn’t leave right when my water broke, and Tim gave it right back. They tried to convince me to stand up, but at that point it felt like a bowling ball was in between my legs. They lifted me on to the stretcher. I remember, vaguely, seeing my dad’s face on the couch while they wheeled me out.

It was raining and cooler outside. I had worked up a sweat so the drizzle felt fantastic. Tim tried to say he would follow behind instead of coming in there. At that point it didn’t really matter to me as long as we all made it in time. I had never been in an ambulance before. They have little drawer/window type things to cover up their supplies. I lay on my side, squeezing the stretcher rails, pulling on them with all my might when a contraction would hit. I could see my reflection in the windows. I. Looked. Terrified. And zoned out. I focused on my own eyes to get through. The Paramedic in the ambulance inserted an IV (very skillfully I might add) just in case and tried to tell me not to push. At this point, all bets were off. I was hollering for pain medication. “Please. Anything. I want an epidural RIGHT WHEN I GET THERE. Can you tell them that? PLEASE?! Don’t you have anything on here?!” He explained they had morphine but since I’m allergic I couldn’t have it.

We made it to the hospital and the first face I saw was Kimberly. She hopped right up and walked next to me into the triage room (this is where they normally check you in, check blood pressure, make sure you are dilated enough to stay…. It looks similar to a room you might see at a normal doctor’s office, with the little plastic bed with the paper over it). I don’t remember anything about it, but apparently they got my clothes off, draped a hospital gown over me, and laid me down on the “bed.” The nurses bustled about and heard them ask to grab someone… a doctor? A midwife? Someone checked my dilation and as the midwife walked in, she stood there for just a moment (Tim said she deliberated for just a second) before saying “Ok, are you ready to push?” I was shocked. Even though I had already been semi pushing and also trying not to push, my mind was blown that this was REALLY about to happen. I was about to meet my daughter. I was also still in excruciating pain… and still begging for an epidural. I think every person in the room chuckled at me, which in the back of my mind, I got…but at that moment I was super peeved about.

There were no stirrups, no nothing on that little table so a handful of nurses and Tim held my legs. At this moment I was so thankful to have my doula with me. I got to focus my eyes on Tim while Kimberly stayed next to my head, holding my hands, brushing hair out of my face, telling me I was getting what I wanted—an unmedicated birth. Again, appreciated it later, but at the time I was just so frustrated!! Haha.

My midwife told me just a push or two and she would be out. I pushed about two times and they told me that one more good push and I would probably get to see her. That didn’t quite happen and when she said it again the next contraction, I called them liars and told them I didn’t believe them. I don’t think she appreciated it very much, but I heard Tim and some of the nurses laugh at me. I started to get emotional and Kim stepped in, literally “slapping” my face (not really slapping me, but tapping me hard on my cheeks with her palms) while telling me to not waste my energy on getting emotional because there was time for that later---just push the baby out. It kept me grounded. I pushed again and felt some progress, but was just so tired! Then I saw Tim’s face and the midwife’s drop a little bit. They hid it well, but when I was tunnel-visioned on Tim’s face I noticed everything. I had no idea what was going on, but I sure as heck was going to get my baby out NOW so that she would be safe. I found out later her heart rate was dropping a little and she also had the cord wrapped around her neck (again not wholly uncommon, just need to be a little careful). I PUSHED with all my might, back to back, no coaching, going beyond their coached pushes, and finally, cheers filled the room! The instantaneous relief my body felt was out of this world. I was honestly so shocked by what had just happened and the abrupt change in sensations that I could hardly comprehend that my daughter, Holly Ruth had arrived. My cord was short so she only made it to about mid-stomach, where I semi-patted her, looked at her, and just felt bewildered. They went to cut the cord and I asked them to wait because I wanted the cord to stop pulsating. I think I surprised everyone with that one, given the speed of everything else (and I think they literally snatched my midwife while she was about to walk out, done with her shift)… but dangit I was adamant my baby was going to get all the good stuff it could from it.

I tried to let Tim hold her once the cord was cut, but they told me I had to hold her for at least one hour before anyone could do anything else. After not getting to hold Lierre for 4 hours after birth, this was music to my ears and every bit of me sighed while I snuggled her, joyful she had arrived, elated she was mine, and amazed that my body---the body I had questioned for two and a half years, had finally birthed my baby. Just as God intended.

My water broke at 1:00 a.m. Holly Ruth was born at 6:03 a.m. and weighed 7 pounds 9 ounces, and was 19.5 inches long.

We spent the rest of the morning, unrushed, just the three of us in the hospital room we got moved to. We got to order breakfast and take turns holding Holly, marveling over her big bright eyes, her dark head of hair, and comparing her facial expressions to Lierre’s.

Even to this day, one day shy of three months, my mind can hardly wrap itself around how amazingly blessed we are. How incredible it was to birth my baby. How awe-inspiring it is to see a bond growing between Lierre and Holly already—with Lierre constantly bringing Holly blankets and pacifiers and Holly smiling when Lierre speaks to her, daydreaming about the friendship that will grow between them as they get older. My lap is full… my heart is overflowing. To God be the glory forever and ever.

Proud Daddy in our room

Our first visitor, Uncle Evan

Uncle Jerrold

Lierre meeting Holly for the first time

Mamaw & Lierre holding Holly

Lierre showering Holly with her toys when she got home

Going home!

Before the Beginning

So! After about a year hiatus, I hope to start writing here again—at least occasionally. So…what has happened since last year? Oh yeah, we got pregnant again and had another baby!

Let’s start before the beginning, so to speak.

You all remember my last birth story, right? Right—I’m sure you’ve been retelling it to all of your friends for the last (almost) 3 years. J Well. Despite the most precocious little gift that we got from that August day, the whole event of the c-section scarred me a little bit. Scratch that. It really messed with my head and fueled my need for information, clarification, answers, reasons unlike any other thing in my life.

After Lierre was probably two or three months old I started researching. Researching impacts of cesarean section on mothers. Impacts of cesarean section on the child. Researching Vaginal Birth After Cesareans (VBAC). Brushing up on doctors in our area. Asking around about doctors vs. midwives. Doulas---are they really that helpful during birth? What would happen with a second c-section if we were to ever get pregnant again? I also stumbled upon Birth Without Fear facebook page and blog (I highly recommend it for anyone who has had a baby, will have a baby, or even just kind of likes reading about babies). I talked about birth. I read about the birthing process. Over time, it changed from a frustrated, angry driving force to, well… just a really fun hobby for me that gave me confidence in moving towards having another little babe. And just for future reference—if you ever have any questions about my experience, birth, babies, anything, please reach out to me! I’m not saying I have answers, but having an outlet it so important and this stuff is like catnip to me—I really, really love it!

Any who… After some interviews with my old practice, and a new practice, I decided to switch to a midwife in our area who was part of a practice that included multiple midwives and doctors. What’s that saying from Einstein? “The definition of insanity is doing something over and over and expecting a different result.” I couldn’t confidently move forward with the same potential doctors and mindsets.

I also hired a doula. What is a doula? What is the difference between them and a midwife? A midwife is basically a doctor who handles your medical aspects of pregnancy and often are much more hands-off in the process---less ultrasounds, less scare tactics, and as my midwife said at our first meeting “I deal with what is actually happening, not what could maybe happen.” Doulas are there, mostly at birth (but available for meetings ahead of time to discuss birth plans, positions, etc) to help support the momma and daddy. They do not sway the parents in any medical decisions. “You want an epidural? Sure. Let me help you. You want all natural? Great, let me see what I can do to help.“

After having the doctors lower the boom about the c-section when Tim stepped out last time, AND after being left alone for about 4 hours after my last birth, I refused to be without information, an advocate, or support at any point in my birth.

Now, on to the good stuff. My birth plan included: a quiet, dimly lit room, music if I desired it, all natural (gulp) if I could swing it—but if I decided for an epidural later that could be discussed, and that everything a doctor or nurse did with or two me must be discussed---down to “I am going to touch your legs now” or “I will now be putting in an IV.” Remember when I said the c-section messed with me? Yeah… I can’t stand being touched or anything at the doctor now (well..much better since Holly’s birth, but I digress)...

My last picture while pregnant

Now, let's get on to the good stuff....

On my heart today

Today is a big, important, surreal day in the Bloch household.

See, today is Tim's last day as a full-time police officer. My fingers keep hovering over these keys and I am still unsure what to write, but I know something this big needs to be documented. These are thoughts from my perspective, not his, but I think there may be some threads of these thoughts that ring true for the both of us.

Six years ago, Tim became a police officer. It is actually how we met--he was in my brother's police academy. Tim was chosen to deliver the class speech at the graduation and as I laughed until I had tears in my eyes, even though I did not know him, there was something that.... pinged inside of me, something that jolted my thoughts to think "Oh this one.... this one is something special." I literally ran into him as I was opening a door to try to find my brother after graduation. Those of you that know me know that I am much more likely to have embarrassing word-vomit than become speechless, but that's what happened.

Tim and I began dating a few months later and I was there to witness some of his first days on the force. I was there to hear some of his embarrassing mishaps (and there were quite a few of those!), see the pride that came with actually knowing what to do (no longer guessing and asking others), feel his heartache as he began to encounter things that most people will never have to deal with--dead bodies, failed attempts at suicide, successful attempts of suicide, poverty, children in situations they should never be in. Tim took it all in, solved problems, handled crises, and damnit if he didn't do it well. At the end of that first year, among other awards, Tim was awarded Rookie of the Year. What has set him apart from many others, and what continues to set him apart, is his deep heart for others. He is a serious jokester, and can be so sarcastic at times you have no idea if he is kidding (kind of why we get along so well!)..... but all of his kidding aside, he shoulders the pain of others more than I think he would be willing to admit. He still keeps in touch with some individuals that he helped maybe his first year on the force. He still brings up situations that bother him even years later and wonders what happened to those people.

Tim has received a myriad of awards through the years, this one being no different. He saw a need for people who abuse prescription drugs. He sees what a slippery slope it can be from a small pain pill use in someone after surgery, an injury, what have you--to becoming a full-blown addict. The lack of knowledge and support out there drove him crazy. The thought of someone suffering from something that was once so minor poked, prodded, jabbed at him until he could sit back no longer. He came up with some ways for people to get rid of old prescriptions and went around to different neighborhoods to talk with community members to try to educate them and help them.

Throughout all of these years of police work, our home lives have shifted as well. We got married, starting living together, and found out we were pregnant all within 3 months. Lierre was born and Tim's loyalty, heart, and devotion shone again as he cared for her daily. He helped ease the transition back to work for me as best as he could, while simultaneously taking care of Lierre on his days off and getting her where she needed to be on his days on. He can match her clothes, pack her bag faster than even me, put a hairbow in without batting an eye. He knows her "stats" and how much medicine she should get and for what.... I could go on and on. We are the very most important people in his lives. I do not say that pridefully, but instead the same way I could say "The sky is blue." or "Two plus two is four." It is fact. He tells us daily. He showers us with words of affirmation and adoration. Given the choice between doing pretty much anything in the world alone, or being with us, 99.9% of the time he chooses us. I am thankful daily to have a husband who understands the importance of family.

With this unwavering devotion to Lierre and me.... there, of course, also has come a form of pain. Pain of having to miss parts of Lierre's everyday life while he works for four days at a time without seeing her. Frustration of having to miss parts of Thanksgiving or other holidays, trying to schedule this or that so that he could be around for our birthdays. Feeling locked-in and unable to be flexible to do what might be needed (or the "little extra") at her school. For a long time, this just WAS. It was our situation. We dealt with it. There were still days of happiness from work. Of him coming home feeling fulfilled that he helped someone. Pride in doing a job well. There were also days of "I can't believe I just dealt with all of that and have to go back again tomorrow. I can't believe I didn't see Lierre do x, y, z." But I consoled him, he focused on the positive at work, and we kept plugging along.

Over the last year or so, Tim has had the opportunity to start up a side job doing pressure washing and other small house-hold type jobs (cleaning gutters, painting, etc). He had experience this back in New York before moving down here and becoming an officer. Tim and his partner began getting more and more business and we started tossing around "What-ifs." What if they keep getting more business? What if they stay this busy? How are you going to juggle both?.... After months of noting progress, more business, and a growing since that with family is where he needed to be, Tim decided he wanted to go all in with his business and leave the police force. There were days and weeks of deliberation to make sure this would be the best choice, and just when he was about to leave back in the spring, Tim was involved in an incident that resulted in him having to shoot someone. Right when he was about to leave. Any fool who thinks it did not get to him, if they knew him at all, is just that--a fool. We have been grid-locked with the investigation, with questioning, with paperwork, with one horrible news article in the paper and on the news after another. We have been stopped by strangers to be told he did the right thing. He has had his moral integrity questioned. His name has been smeared through the mud. But through it all, he has kept his head up. We were betrayed by someone very close to the investigation, but he continued to keep his composure. Tim has made me proud in ways I didn't know where possible. I never thought that my very family would be attacked by the outside world. I never thought there would be days where I might feel uneasy being alone at home or stepping into certain crowds, or even reading Facebook newsfeed. But the last months have brought us closer than ever.

Through it all, the tightness of the police community, our other family, has made itself known time and time again. I don't think any of you all know (and you all know who you are), what it meant to Tim, and to me, and to my parents, and to his parents..... to know you all had our backs. That you cared. The flood of text messages, phone calls, voicemails, letters, and more have kept us going these last few months. I never had a single doubt, that if I needed it or Tim, help could be received within minutes from a handful of people, and given a few more minutes, multiple, multiple people would have been at our disposal. This kind of tight-knit group is something hard to describe or pin down. It comes from a common desire to protect, to serve, to help, to give, to do GOOD, .... and also from understanding that there are so many who would be glad to take that down and tear it apart. It comes from having one another's back, as well as their families.

While Tim and I were dating, I met floods of people through his work. Big, tough, often cocky (or is it confident? haha), burly guys (and sometimes girls) who scared me to death at times. Now, I consider them brothers, family. I know in a given moment if they needed it, we, too, would be there for them. And I think that right there is what I might miss, and what I am slightly mourning most of all today. I will miss being so closely involved with so many caring people who are family. We will of course keep in touch, and that thin blue line will never be severed completely.

Throughout it all, though, Tim has made me proud, and being SO brave to go out into business on his own makes me proud in a whole new way. I admire him, am thankful for him. I am thankful for the time he had with so many brave individuals through GPD. I love all of you and can't fully believe that he won't be going out to join you every day. But I am thankful that Tim loves his family. I am excited to see him more. I am thrilled Lierre won't cry herself to sleep saying "Daddy, daddy" because she hasn't seen him in days.

I ask now for your prayers, support, and encouragement as we move forward. We leave behind something great, but hope we are moving forward to something even greater. 

Thank you all for your support the last six years.

Thank you for the laughs.

Tim--I love you more than words can say.

You are so brave.

And.

I.

Am.

Proud.

Of. 

You.

18 month updates/life updates

There have been many times I've thought about writing on here. Like when I'm in the shower. Or half-way to work. Or when my head has touched my pillow and my eyes are slowly shutting as I head towards sleep. Yeah--times like that. Not very helpful. I seriously just uploaded pictures from July (JULY) on to my computer (just in case you have forgotten, it is February 8th).

"The Adults"
Tim: 
Tim is such a stellar dad. Like---I never, ever have to worry when he will be alone with Lierre or if he goes to the grocery store instead of me. He's got this, hands down. He had a terrible bout with the flu over all of my Christmas break (I luckily only had a fever for Christmas eve-a day or two after Christmas), but he still half-heartedly tried to help and apologized profusely for "ruining" my Christmas break. While having a fever and throwing up. Ha!

Tim is going to be facing some changes with work in the nearish future. I'm not going to say any more until things are finalized, but it will mean some changes for our family--ones we hope will be better for our family and will fulfill his need to be able to grow. He's such a good provider for us and is so much braver than I will ever be.

Me:
I'm itinerant this year instead of based at one school. It has been a pretty big change. Majority of my students this year do not use sign language, so I really miss that aspect, but overall I am loving the "flexibility" and room to move a little bit this year. Second year of teaching is SO much better than the first year (not having a brand spankin newborn helps, too). That being said, it is a lot of work to be covering so many skill levels and so many grades at once.

My passion for all things birth/pregnancy/child care has grown exponentially since having Lierre. I spend my free time reading birth stories, looking up statistics, feeling angry with sub-par health care and choices, and just lack of knowledge for most women. The more I read and learn, the more strongly I feel about certain aspects. Something is stirring in me and I am not quite sure what to do with it yet. I know that eventually I'd like to be able to do something (whether volunteer or a job or what I'm not sure) that can help with educating women about their pregnancies or labors or care for after delivery (both momma and baby....and families in general). Maybe I am to do something with this, maybe not.... but for now it is both exciting to have some passion, and unsettling to keep blindly stepping forward, not knowing what I am to do with this fire and knowledge. For now, I will be content to keep learning as much as I can.

The "baby"
Lierre is growing so big. Most of her clothes are heading into 24 months, despite the fact she will not be 18 months for another week. Her words include: dada, ack (Jack), ish (fish), and occasionally ew (shoe), and uh-oh. No "Momma" in there. Heart breaker. We actually had her evaluated recently because she isn't saying much, as well as having some eating issues still (she has some real texture aversions and will only eat crunchy foods + mandarin oranges consistently). Prayers are appreciated as we move forward with therapies--that they will be effective and that they will be so in a short time frame. It's nothing terrible, just mild delays in language--but since it is what I do pretty much all day at work, I'm extra aware of it. It would also be awesome to all eat a meal together.... with the same foods.

Beyond that, she has done amazingly well at her 2 day a week preschool. I don't know what kind of magic dust they sprinkle there, but she trucks through without a nap without too much complaint, whereas at home if that happened she would be a heap of tantrums (yes, we're already at lay-in-the-floor-and-"cry" stage). I LOVE her sweet little art work and the fact she seems excited to walk in each time.

She remains pretty serious with people she does not see very often, but is all laughs and silliness and fun with us and her grandparents these days.

Two weeks ago she had a fever that wouldn't go away and ended up having some bad wheezing and coughing that resulted in an ER trip for a breathing treatment. Aw.Ful. It took 3 of us to hold her down to keep the mask on her. She was sweating and crying and straight up screaming and looking at us like "WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME?!" But it did help. I also got many cuddles out of it since she couldn't breath well laying down. Still, for now we have an inhaler at home. Luckily, she is feeling much better.

She is doing incredible with routines and one day surprised me by finishing a snack pouch, walking over to our trash can, lifting the lid, throwing it away, and then going to sit back down and play. On her own. What?! Since then, we have made that a routine for her, are working on her helping to take off her socks and pants (shirts are tricky) before pajamas or bath and putting her clothes in her hamper. She gets caught up in the clothes sometimes, but is doing much better and always tries to get it in the hamper (about her eye level), even if it doesn't always make it in. She will bring me her shoes and jacket when she knows we are going to leave. She hands me things in the bath that she thinks I need (cup, soap, etc). She is one smart little cookie. She is extremely observant.... you can't pull one over on her.

While there are always challenges with each stage of parenting so far.... I've gotta say it is awesome that she is getting older and more independent. It is so fun to be able to do activities with her and have her really get enjoyment from specific events. This thing seems to get better and better. I love her so much and am starting to see little bits and pieces of who she may be one day.



That's it for now..... I hope to write a little bit more in the coming months. I've missed having some documentation. I need to take time to do more things that I actually enjoy. Cleaning can wait!

Photo Dump/18 month update/life update Continued

That blog post was gettin' a little long, so here is part 2 of our lives since September.

Tim's birthday "party!"

Our $6 high chair steal nestled in at dinner

My main squeeze

Happy, happy

Fancy knife among other things

The first birthday cake I've made! 

Here's to many, many more, my beloved.

Hope all those wishes come true!

Oh, hey brown eyes!

Getting 5 kids five years and younger to sit for a picture is no easy feat.

Cousin Ava

Cousin Briggs

Hahahaha

Pretty sure one of my only pictures with Lierre on Christmas. All 3 of us were sick.

A much needed date night

Sweet little "centerpiece" at Lindsey's baby "sprinkle" today

Cheesecake factory

Can't believe that perfect little tummy!

Photo Dump/18 month updates/Life updates

So.... in a somewhat unintentional/somewhat intentional way.... I haven't posted since Lierre's birthday post! She will be 18 months (a.k.a. a year and a half, a.k.a. 18months+1 day=closer to two years than to one?!) the Sunday after Valentine's Day (16th). Before I do a full update, here are pictures of what we have been doing since, oh, September.

Ok, so this is from July, but just go put on my computer today.

DIMPLES

Cousin fun in the driveway last summer.

Innocent baby faces

Lierre's FIRST DAY of (2 days, half days) preschool!

My heart was pretty broken that I couldn't make it. Mommy guilt.

Walking around in her first shoes (not shown--white stride rites) 

At our Pumpkin Patch

Being sad that my "baby" got so big and that they were almost out of pumpkins.

THISFACE

Tim's family came down to visit!

It is seriously not as easy with a squirmy one year old to take pictures as the year before!

Lierre was a bunny.

This is why her bunny ears are in no pictures. She HATED them.

Very first trick-or-treating house!

Hugs from grandma who came to see the bunny