3 Time-Saving Tricks & A Pick-Me-Up

1. Water-proof mascara: Unless you're a crazy belly-sleeper, this stuff can last for days and days. I just apply on a day when I've got a little extra time to get ready, and then I'm good to go for the week, with just minor touch-ups each day. "Sleep in your mascara?! Isn't that bad for your eyelashes?" Most definitely yes, but I figure when they start falling out, there's always eyelash extensions, and then I can skip the mascara altogether...

2. Pajama Day: Make everyday a pajama day. Saves time on choosing what to wear, getting dressed and laundry. I especially love me some yoga pants which make me look like I've just finished at the gym or that I'm athletic. And no one pulls off the night to day look better than Ms. Jenna Rink...

3. Lather, rinse and repeat...but only twice a week. In fact, some girls are going 'poo-less altogether. I'm not that brave, so instead, I just wash my hair 2-3 times a week. Hair is more pliable when its dirty anyways. They've even got products to make your hair feel dirty so that it is easier to style. I'm ahead of the game and just skip the 'poo a few times a week. Save time washing. Save money on hair products. Hair grease is the new hair spray/gel/mousse. The greasy, wet-hair look is all the rage these days. Not really. But that's what I tell myself as I sleek it back into a tight, greasy bun. Glamorous. 

And now...nothing like a laughing baby to brighten your day. This kid thinks we're hilarious. Please ignore the crappy cave-lighting and the embarrassing/ridiculous things I'm saying.

London & Baby William

This is London with his cousin William. I am so happy that he has a boy cousin so close to his age that lives nearby! They are a few months apart. William was almost two pounds bigger than London was at birth. Its hard for me to remember London that small.

Best friends already. ;)

I hope this isn't a foreshadow of the future.

1st ASU Game

Last night was the first ASU football game of the season. London was excited for the game and wore his ASU jersey that Grandma Godard bought him. We headed over to the Cardon's to watch the game. It was a good time.

Mr. Sandman

London has been sleeping in a pac-n-play next to our bed at night since he was born. I have been reluctant to move him into his crib in his own room since he still isn't sleeping completely through the night and I like having him close so I can check on him easily. Last week, Scott asked (cautiously) if I had a plan for when we were going to move him into his own room. London is used to taking naps in his crib, so I didn't think it would be too difficult of a transition for him. The truth was, it would be harder for me.

Before London was born, I made up my mind to have him sleeping through the night, in his own room ASAP, but once he was born, I felt so much better about having him close to me throughout the night, not to mention the convenience of having him an arm's length away when he woke for night feedings. Plus the thought of him all alone, all the way in the other room (it's maybe four feet away from our bedroom, but it still seemed so far), made me sad. What if there was a fire or emergency? I couldn't bear the thought of him all alone in that room so far away.

Scott said that maybe London would sleep better in his own room, where he wouldn't be woken up by us moving in our sleep on our creaky bed. Plus, we both didn't want a situation where our kids are sleeping in our room until they are adults.

So, this rainy Friday night, I decided to put him to bed in his own room. And you know what? He slept better than he usually does. Go figure. And even though I get a little sad when I climb into bed next to an empty pac-n-play where my newborn baby used to sleep, the extra uninterrupted sleep makes it all worth it.

Being a Mom

I've written several posts about my experiences as a new mom and the challenges I've faced, but can't bring myself to post them for fear of sounding too negative or revealing my many imperfections. But, as I've taken much solace in the posts of other moms who are willing to admit and share their challenges, I thought that maybe I should add my voice to theirs.

Becoming a mother has definitely been a difficult transition for me. Being a mom is much harder and more time consuming than I ever imagined, despite the fact that as the oldest of seven, I have been babysitting for most of my life and have watched my mom raise lots of babies. Before I had London, I was in school full-time and working full-time. That was hard. But being a mom is much harder.

I was talking to another mom who recently had her second child. With a second baby, she no longer had time to work from home, and so I am taking over her job responsibilities. As she was training me, we were talking about how children are much more time consuming than we had thought. Talking about stay at home moms she said, "I used to judge them." I admitted that I did too. I used to think that all these stay-at-home moms were just chillin'. Then I had a baby and realized that boy, was I wrong. Who knew how physically and emotionally demanding children are?! I sure didn't.

Before I had London I read books and blogs and forums that talked about getting your baby on a schedule so that your family can have order and predictability, so your baby can sleep through the night early on, and so that you could have time for yourself and your spouse. I wanted all of that! So when London was born, I got started right away on sleep training and all that jazz. But what the books and blogs and forums didn't mention is that sometimes babies get sick and throw off your whole routine. Or sometimes, they get surgery and the routine goes out the window. Or sometimes they are teething early and refuse to eat a full meal and want to eat again 2 hours later. Or sometimes they have mouth problems that make it hard for them to eat and make them super gassy which prevents them from getting good sleep. Etc etc etc.

And then there is breastfeeding. London's mouth issues made it so that he just couldn't breast feed, and so I am pumping full time and feeding him exclusively breast milk via a bottle. But, as I learned about the benefits of breast feeding, beyond just getting the milk, I felt that it wasn't enough to just give him breast milk in a bottle. So, I kept trying to breast feed. I saw a lactation consultant, and a different pediatrician, and London got his tongue surgery, but he still can't nurse.

Now, instead of just realizing that every baby is different and just focusing on enjoying my baby, I just felt like a failure. Every time I admit to another mother that he still isn't sleeping through the night by four months, or that he can't breastfeed, I feel like they are judging me. I feel like they are thinking, "You must not have done it right or tried hard enough." For someone as insecure as I am, these unspoken perceived judgments, whether real or imaginary, add to my guilt and make me feel even more like a crummy mother.

And then there's all the other things...getting your baby to sleep in their own room at night, the immunization debate, eating healthy so your breast milk is top quality, exercising and getting back your pre-baby bod asap, keeping up with your church callings, keeping your house clean, making sure your baby gets plenty of tummy time even if he hates it, read to your baby every day, etc etc etc. There's so many things I should be doing and everybody has such strong, vocal opinions about the best way to parent.

But then, on the other hand, sometimes the books, blogs, forums or other parents don't have the answers for the challenges you face with your individual child, because let's face it, every baby is different. Sometimes, its a guessing game trying to figure out what will work best for your individual baby.

And sometimes, I just feel so inadequate and unworthy of parenthood. Why couldn't God have sent London to a perfect parent who already knows exactly what they are doing and already knows the best way to raise him? Why does London have to suffer from my imperfections and mistakes as a parent?

Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is that it has been hard for me to be a mother. But. I am learning a lot. I am learning how to be more confident in my own parenting style. I am learning about God's love and the atonement. I am learning about London, his likes, his dislikes, his personality. I am learning about the love a parent feels for their child. And I am learning how to just go with the flow and trying not to judge myself too harshly.

And, I am starting to have some fun and actually enjoy this experience. Seriously, a smile or a chuckle or a hug from London makes all the hard stuff worth it. Even with all my imperfections, he just loves and accepts me as his mother. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be his mom. We help and teach each other. I love this boy and I am so blessed to have him in my life, even though it is hard.

4 Months + 1 Day

3 months was rough on everybody. London had a minor surgical procedure on his tongue (a horrible experience plus a couple miserable weeks of recovery, I really feel for parents of kids that get bigger/multiple surgeries...no fun), then he got sick, then I got sick, plus our downstairs ceiling started leaking from some pipes upstairs, and our Air Conditioning went out...twice. With all the garbage of last month behind us, we are ready for good things to come in month #4. So far, so good.

3 Months and London's Birth Story

Now that London is three months old...I'm finally getting around to blogging the story of his birth. Before I had a baby, I always loved reading about other people's labor stories so that I would know what to expect for when I would have a baby someday. However, the more people I listened to, the more I realized that everyone's experience is different and decided to go into labor with no expectations. Nevertheless, I still found reading/listening to other people's birth stories very helpful in preparing for my own experience and interesting, so with that in mind, I am sharing this.  It is ridiculously long, but I am including every little detail for people like me who wanted to know play by play how labor goes.

After the preterm labor experience, I was sure that the minute they took me off of the medication a week later, I would go straight into labor. The doctor and nurses said that they would be very surprised if I made it to my due date and with the contractions I'd been having (even while on the medication), I tried to have everything ready for the baby by Tuesday, April 9th (the first day without medication) just in case he came.

Tuesday came and went. No baby. Wednesday and Thursday passed. Still no baby. I decided to try to just enjoy the time alone with Scott that weekend instead of getting anxious for the baby to come, even though I was extremely uncomfortable. We went on a couple dates and really just had fun with each other Friday and Saturday.  Still no baby.

Sunday morning, while trying to get ready for my friend's baby's blessing, I started to have contractions but this time they were especially painful. They were painful enough that every time I got a contraction, I had to stop what I was doing and wait for the contraction to pass. Scott started timing them-they were coming every 3-4 minutes. He excitedly put our hospital bags in the car and insisted that we leave for the hospital right away. Despite the pain, I didn't want to get to the hospital too early, so I refused to leave for the hospital until we had timed them for over an hour to make sure they were still consistent. I kept thinking that they would stop, like the other contractions I had been having the past two weeks, but this time, they kept coming, and they really hurt.

In between contractions, I was still trying to curl my hair because even if I didn't make it to the blessing, I was determined to look beautiful in the after-labor pics (didn't happen), but the contractions were so painful and frequent that I gave up, threw my hair in a pony and we left for the hospital.

Tears streamed down my face on the way to the hospital. It hurt so bad, but more than just physical pain, I was frustrated. I didn't want to go through labor. I knew it would hurt and I didn't want to do it. But, there was no way out of it. I couldn't stay pregnant for ever (nor did I want to!) and there was only one way this baby could come out - labor. Errr... Scott sung to me and hold my hand to try to comfort me, which helped a little, but I still hurt a lot.

In the Triage they checked me-I was now dilated to a 5. They hooked me up to the monitors to see how I was progressing to determine whether or not to admit me. Because I was still preterm, they couldn't give me anything to speed up the process until I was admitted. On the other hand, because I was 36 weeks, they wouldn't give me anything to slow down the process either. So we just sat and waited to see if they would admit me. They weren't the sweetest nurses ever and they were kind of condescending and they even thought about sending me home because I wasn't progressing very quickly. I was in so much pain that the thought of going home was ridiculous to me. I could barely walk in here, how did they expect me to walk out and go home? As they left the room, I couldn't stop crying. It hurt so bad and I wanted my mom, but she couldn't come because she had to teach Sunday school. When they came back in and saw how upset I was (thank goodness I am so good at crying), they decided to admit me.

A different nurse came to take me to the labor/delivery room. She was very sweet and seemed genuinely concerned about me. She took me and Scott to the room where I would deliver.  She started setting everything up - took my blood pressure/temp/etc, took a sample of blood since my blood pressure was a little high (probably because of the contractions, but they wanted to make sure it wasn't caused by anything else), set me up on an IV of fluids and an anti-biotic (since I tested positive for strep B).  The anti-biotic hurt my arm really bad at first until she was able to dilute it with water. The pain was similar to when you hit your funny bone, but very intense. Around this time, my mom called and said she was on her way.  Apparently, it was actually someone else's turn to teach this week, she had just gotten mixed up. I was so glad to have someone that has been through this before there with me along with my supportive husband. 

The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural. Before I was actually in labor, I had always said that I would just wait and see. I didn't have my heart set either way, I just wanted to see how it all would go first and then decide if I wanted an epidural or if I wanted to have a natural child birth. After feeling so many intense/painful contractions, when the labor and delivery nurse asked me if I wanted one, I told her I did. Once I was all set up with the IVs, etc, the anesthesiologist came and talked to me about the epidural. They told me to let the nurse know when I wanted it. The nurse reminded me that no one gets an award for the amount of pain they experience during labor, and recommended that I don't wait long to get it and feel the relief. I just didn't know how much I would enjoy being completely numb or if it would bug me or if I would get really itchy (a common side effect of epi-durals), so I told her that I wanted to wait a little bit longer to get one. 

We got a movie set up on the hospital TV. I breathed through the contractions. They were very intense. Less than an hour later, I called the nurse and requested the epidural.  She got me set up for it and then called in the anesthesiologist. My mom was sent out of the room. They had Scott sit right in front of me and hold my arms for support. I was nervous about getting the big needle in my back, but it wasn't that big of a deal, probably because I couldn't see it. The anesthesiologist warned me about the shot of Novocaine she was going to give me to numb the area, she said it would burn. I prepared myself for the burn, but after experiencing the fierce burn of the trib. shots two weeks prior, the Novocaine shot was cake. When she finally inserted the large epidural needle, there was a weird, kind of unsettling pressure, but other than that, it was no big deal. When she started giving me the Epidural medicine, I could feel a cool sensation run down my back. The epidural was magic for me. I could still feel the pressure of the contractions for the most part, but the pain was gone. I could still move my legs. Plus, it was pretty evenly distributed-my left side was the same amount of numb than the right. I loved the epidural! 

After I was all set up with the epidural, my mom was able to come back in. We waited for an hour or so, then the nurse came to check how I was progressing. I was still at a five, and the contractions were not progressing either. So, she had to put in a catheter. For some reason, I thought catheters were inserted via a needle into the stomach area. No sir. They are inserted down there. Talk about violating...  Next, the nurse added petocin to my IV to speed up the labor process. And then, we just had to wait.

We watched a lot of TV, mostly the Food Network channel.  The nurse would come in every hour or so to flip me to a different side, but other than that, it was all pretty boring. The worst part of it all was that I wasn't allowed to eat anything and I hadn't eaten since early that morning. I was starving! They gave me a Popsicle which helped a little, but not much. Eventually, I had to stop watching Food Network, and then stop watching TV altogether because the commercials were all food related and I was too hungry! Scott kept complaining how boring it was and made jokes about how if he knew how boring labor was going to be, he would have stayed home. But, despite his complaining, he really was a good sport and held my hand when I wanted and everything.

Waiting...He had to wear his ASU shirt, so London knew who to support.

After awhile, since I still wasn't really progressing, my mom headed home to grab a sweater. By the time she came back, my first nurse's shift had ended and I was assigned a new nurse. She was younger than the first, probably around my mom's age. I liked her a lot. My mom wanted to see if I had progressed at all and wanted them to check me (btw-checks without an epidural = torture, checks with an epidural = painless), but the nurse informed her that because I tested positive for strep B, they try to do as few checks as possible to avoid contaminating the baby with the strep B. By this point, I had had three doses of petocin and the screen monitoring my contractions showed that they were getting more intense.

They kept me on petocin, but the nurse started to turn it down since my contractions had finally picked up. They also had to come and refill the epidural, since my original bag of the medicine was running low. I could feel the pressure of the contractions more frequently and more intense. The monitor continued to show crazy waves of contractions-they looked pretty bad. I started to feel bad pains in my rib area every time I had a contraction because the epidural does not reach that high. Feeling that pain and watching the monitor made me very grateful for the epidural!  After awhile I started to feel pressure down there, like they said I would feel. I asked the nurse if I should push the epidural button to give me a boost of medicine. She told me not to and instead checked to see how far I was dilated.  I was dilated to 9.5 cm, 95% effaced. She said that my water looked like it was about to burst and that if I started pushing it would splatter all over her, so she started getting things ready for delivery. I got especially excited when she turned on the warmer where they would put the baby. 

She went out to call my doctor, Dr. Huish.  Luckily, he was already at the hospital for another patient, so he came right in.  He checked me and said that I was at a 10, 100% effaced. He broke my water and instructed the nurse to get me started on pushing.  My mom and Scott held my legs while we practiced pushing. They cheered me on. Each push is ten seconds and you do three pushes each contraction. You have to hold your breath through each push. It was tiring and my head felt like it would explode!  After pushing for about 10 minutes, or maybe less, the nurse said, "Oh, he's got a lot of hair!" I was so surprised that she could see him because I still thought I was "practice pushing." At that point, Scott, who had kept his gaze on my face, the TV or the contraction monitor while I was pushing, now turned and looked down to see the baby. From that point on, he watched the whole thing and didn't even get queasy! Scott told me that while I was pushing, the head would come down and they could see it, then when I stopped pushing, the head would move back up into the birth canal. The goal was to get his head to stay there, which we accomplished in less than twenty minutes of pushing.

After a few more minutes, Dr. Huish came back in the room. They put my legs up in the stirrups and I kept pushing while he and the other nurse got stuff ready. Scott and the nurse were helping me push and my mom was getting the camera ready for some post-birth pics.  

Finally, Dr. Huish was all ready for the delivery. He had me push a couple more times. Then, he said something to the effect of, "The only thing stopping his head from coming out is there isn't enough room. Either you can just keep pushing and you will tear badly, or I can make a little room." I opted for the episiotomy over tearing. Two light pushes later and the nurse shoved my head forward saying, "Look!" I watched as the doctor finished pulling London out of me. It was surreal. That baby must have come out of me...weird. Dr. Huish sucked the gunk out of his nose and mouth. I could hear him crying and right away they put London on my chest.

I looked at him. Covered in goop but still so cute and precious. He was crying so I just held him close and said a few times, "You're okay London. It's okay. Momma's here." He stopped crying and just looked at me with his big, dark, gunky eyes.  I will cherish that moment forever. Just thinking about it now gets me teary-eyed. 

Holding London for the first time.

Scott holding London for the first time. Melting...

London loves his dad.

The next hours and days after that, after my epidural wore off, were some of the most painful in my life. Maybe someday I'll write about all the pain and frustration and challenges of post-birth/recovery, but for now, I just want to focus on the best part of it all...London.

At 3 months old he is over 14 lbs, 24 inches long. He is already teething and has figured out how to get his fist to his mouth to gnaw on it. He HATES tummy time. He LOVES bath time. He is starting to be more vocal and opinionated. Some days, he is Mr. Independent and wants time to himself. He will freak until I put him down on the ground or in his monkey chair and then will coo, babble, and smile happily. But other days, he is content laying on my chest or in my arms and will peacefully fall asleep. I love those moments. For the most part, he is happy, talkative and smiley, but lately, teething has made him a little touchy. Poor guy. I LOVE when he smiles at me and I love watching him develop. I'm so grateful for this little guy. He is helping me to really grow and gives me new challenges everyday. I'm forced to be a little less selfish and a little more reliant on the Lord so that I, with all my imperfections and many flaws, can raise London the way God wants him to be raised.

I love this boy.