Tuesday's with Sara

Truth be told...I have never read "Tuesdays With Morrie." I'm always been skeptical of any book for sale next to the Starbucks counter, or anytime someone says, "you just have to read this!" So forgive the silly title. But it's Tuesday and I decided that I wanted to start doing a weekly book suggestion post and my husband is gone all night and my dog is snoring in my ear and sometimes the things we do in these moments don't make a lot of sense...so let's just move on, yes?

The first book I chose is really quite timely, as I just found out the movie version came out a month ago in "select" cities. I myself do NOT live in a select city, so I'm either going to have to road trip it or wait patiently for the DVD release. Let's be honest, it will probably be the latter. The book I'm talking about is my beloved "Jane Eyre." I re-read this book every year around Christmas time, and I don't really think there is a connection but something about my mood in that seasons draws me to this story.

For those of you who have not read this book I will not give away too much of the plot, but just know that it is about unrequited love, requited love, mystery, and scandal. Jane Eyre is a young woman who overcomes a loveless childhood with a courageous and faithful spirit, who embraces life and every experience that comes her way with a childlike frankness and faith. I LOVE her. There are a few books I have read in my life where I feel a kinship with the characters, that I feel like I somehow see their heart and that if I could meet them we would be friends. If I met Jane Eyre we would most certainly drink tea and have many conversations about love, loss, and faith. Hopefully this interaction would happen in her time period and not mine, however, because I would really like to be wearing a petticoat and a corset when it all went down.

To say Janey (yes, we are that close) is a page turner is an understatement. You literally have no idea what is going to happen when you start reading it and the twists and turns it sends you on will blow your mind. I know that people hear the last name "Bronte" and immediately start falling asleep. We have a local commercial here for a mattress store where the jingle comes on..."Mattress Land!!" and people drop on the spot into a deep slumber. Basically change the jingle to "Bronte!!!" and you get the image I've got in my head. This is not your average Victorian Age novel. The language is easily understood, the terms are simple to understand, and the story feels very current and very tangible.

To sum it up, go read the story about my friend Jane. She is really awesome. Oh, and I dare you to not swoon at least once before the book is over. Happy reading!

Too fast

I can't believe my little man is six months old! When I think about how long I dreamed about him, prayed for him, prepared for him, it is strange that I can barely remember what life felt like before he was mine. What comes with his bullet train of a life is that all the things I told myself I was going to do to document his life I've already missed out on. When was his first smile? Yeah, I don't know, I was too busy praying to God for sleep and sanity. When was his first laugh? ehh, I probably have a date on the video right?

That being said, I'm going to start posting monthly *fingers crossed* a little update about what he is doing right now. So here we go:

Everett is six months old. Right now he is so eager to be able to get somewhere, ANYWHERE, and start discovering the world around him. Gone are the days when we can leave him on the couch with a few toys around him and he will play contentedly. Now you look away for two seconds and he is lunging for the ground with no inhibition or care for his little body that I worked VERY hard on thank you very much.

He is teething so he is constantly chewing on anything he can get his hands on. My favorite thing he does right now is grab my face and suck on my cheeks with full abandon. I know it's not real, but I can't help but feel that these are his early "kisses." Sometimes he sucks and bites and grabs so hard it feels like he is going to hit jawbone. But I kind of love it. He also likes to give you little love pats on your arm while you are holding him. He is a sweet boy who is quick to smile, and absolutely LOVES dogs, particularly his own.

His first food was rice cereal, and he quickly passed that up for pears, peaches, apples, bananas, and peas. He is starting to grab the spoon out of my hand when I try and feed him and isn't happy unless I let him "help" me feed him. Oh boy. I love him. He is perfect and fun and happy and mine.

Crappy Crafters

This year for Valentine's Day I wanted to do something small but thoughtful for Cory. Since his love language is pie and I have made ONE pie our entire marriage (5 years in August), I decided to make him his mom's famous Crumb Apple Pie. It is SO good. Mine wasn't necessarily as good as hers, but it's the thought that counts right?

What I did discover, however, is that the crappiest of pies can be made to look like something special with a little thing called a mini-bunting. I'm pretty sure you could put a mini-bunting on a pile of poop and it will look like it's straight out of Martha Stewart Weddings.

The thing about me and crafts is that I love them. I love looking at them, and planning for them, but somehow the implementation somehow falls short of the vision. I am lucky to have good friends that I can collaborate with (me=vision, Gennie=making it happen), but since this was a V-day present that didn't seem appropriate. Part of the problem is that I am cheap and never seem to have the supplies around that I need. Like a glue gun but no glue sticks, etc.

To make this craft I found the 4 pieces of scrapbook paper I own (it took some work to hunt it down) and cut diamond shapes out of them. Lucky for me, the back side of one of the pieces I purchased God only knows when was covered in hearts. What is more Valentine's Day than hearts, yes? After cutting the diamonds out I realized that I didn't have any fancy crafter's glue. But, I did have some double sided photo sticky squares left over from another project I don't think I ever finished. So I slapped the little stickys in the middle of the diamonds, folded them over some twine (which I actually had!) and tied the two ends to some skewers left over from some kabobs and stuck them in the top of my kind-of-sad-looking pie. The result?



Holy cuteness, right? The trick to this kind of craft is not to look too closely. Here, since we're being honest, is a close-up...



Flawed? Yes. Still adorable? Oh yes.

The photo sticky squares may or may not have failed me, and the next day, the adorable little pennants may or may not have fallen off the twine. But who needs to know that part.

Everett's birth story

It took Cory and I over a year to conceive Everett. I know that doesn't seem like that long, but when you are in the middle of it and can't see the end date, it feels like forever. After trying and trying on our own, including acupuncture and some other random homeopathic remedies, I finally met with my doctor and was given a prescription for a fertility medicine. It was a hard decision to take it. For one, I was scared as heck that we would have twins. But I did take it, and got pregnant after the first round.

As happy as I was to be having a baby was how much I hated being pregnant. Of course I loved what everyone else loved; hearing the heartbeat for the first time, finding out the sex, feeling him kick...but the rest of it pretty much sucked. Heartburn, nausea, having random co-workers who I barely knew grabbing my love handles in the hallway and shaking them while telling me I looked thick (yes that really happened), all of that made the ten months go by very slowly.

I spent most of my pregnancy fixated on labor. Labor is crazy, right? I find the whole thing so fascinating. The idea that I would one day start feeling crampy-like feelings and then they would just keep getting worse and then I would realize it was labor and then God only knows how many hours later I would have a baby...now that is amazing. Unfortunately for me this is not how it all went down.

I promised myself early in my pregnancy that I would NOT expect to have him before my due date. I knew that if I did that I would spend the last few weeks of my pregnancy completely miserable because I thought I'd be done already, and I did not want to do that to myself. Apparently I forgot to give everyone else in my life the memo on that plan. Everyone thought I would have him early. Strangers would pass me in the aisle at the grocery store and tell me that I wasn't going to make in another week. People at work told me everyday from 36 weeks on that they couldn't believe he hadn't come yet. Even our childbirth class instructor told me that she had been doing this a long time and there was no way I was going to make it to my due date. Faced with all these well-intentioned opinions I became convinced they were right and waited expectantly for labor to start any second. The bag was packed, the toes were painted, the mama was ready. And I watched with my pretty toenails and my bag packed as my due date came and went with nothing to show for it.

Finally, I convinced my midwife TEN days after my due date to induce me. By this point I was ready by any means necessary to get him out. I was, however, bummed at the idea of being induced. From the very beginning I knew that I wanted to have a medication-free labor, and induction definitely did not fit in that plan.

Luckily for me, I had an amazing provider who completely supported and encouraged that goal. She gave me the option of being induced using a catheter instead of Pitocin right away. The hope in this method is that it is easier on the body to dilate slowly rather than using medication. Sounded good to me.

Cory and I checked in to the hospital at 8:00 on Tuesday, August 24th, 2010. We were a big ball of nerves and excitement and fear. They hooked me up to an IV and inserted the catheter. I spent the first few hours in anticipation of intense pain. They told me it wouldn't really hurt, and it didn't. It seemed to good to be true. I was supposed to have it in for 8 hours and then Lynn (my midwife) would come back and check on my progress. Now, the lack of pain was awesome, but because one associates pain with progress when talking about labor I had this fear I was going to sit around the hospital for 8 hours and find out that it didn't work and we had to start all over with a different method. The day went by pretty quickly. We ate some food, watched a lot of TV, and just kind of hung out together. 8 hours later Lynn came in to check me. Drum roll please....

I was at a 5! I could have kissed her! To be halfway to full dilation without an ounce of pain felt too good to be true. OK, now it was time to get down to business. They hooked me up to an IV and started me on a very low dose of Pitocin, which they would increase every half an hour until it reached an amount that was achieving results. It took about two hours for me to feel any painful contractions. At this point I was starting to think maybe, just maybe, I was one of those mysteries of modern medicine that have a completely pain free labor. And then she broke my water which was a sensation that is not similar to anything else I've felt. And then I felt my first contraction that felt like Everett was trying to burrow his way through my lower back out into the world. You're going the wrong way buddy! Yes, back labor. Painful, intense, excruciating back labor. The good thing about not feeling any pain up until that point was that the painful part of labor was relatively short. The bad thing was that I had no preparation for this kind of pain. There were no baby early contractions to prepare me for what I started to experience at that point. To be honest the next eight hours are a complete blur Here are some things I remember;

• Apologizing....a lot. Something about labor turned me into Miss Manners. I think I just felt so crazy, so out of control over my own body that my people pleaser nature kicked in and I felt like I must seem insane to everyone around me. So after every request, every contraction, I apologized profusely to my husband, my midwife, and my nurse. Cory told me to STOP apologizing but I couldn't.
  
• My amazing husband being there for me completely. I don't remember a point when he wasn't right there next to me trying to figure out what in GOD's NAME I wanted him to do in that particular moment, because it was constantly changing. Except for one time after a contraction was over when he told me he had to go eat something because he was going to pass out if he didn't. I think he grabbed some crackers out of the corner and scarfed them down quickly. Poor guy about fainted.
• OUCH
• The comedic nature of peeing during labor. Trying to get out of bed and into the bathroom while feeling intense pain and pressure in your nether regions, and while being hooked up to a million wires that all had to be untangled by your three helpers while you toddle to the bathroom. I think I came out of my haze just long enough to think about how funny it was.
  
• The awesomely bad idea it was to let my midwife try a fancy acupuncture technique of injecting saline water into my lower back to help with the back labor. Did it work? Yes. Was it the most pain I ever felt on top of the worst pain I had already been feeling for the last five hours? Why yes, yes it was. FAIL
• Throwing up many times
• Figuring out the particular circular motion of counter pressure and massage on my lower back that almost kind of a little bit helped with the pain and grabbing Cory's had and moving it over and over and over in that motion. And slapping his hand away if it deviated, even slightly, from that perfect motion.
• My dream angel nurse bringing me a rubber glove filled with ice water that somehow became my savior that I rubbed on my face over and over and if I dropped it I would grab desperately for the covers until I found it and when it turned warm I threw it and begged for another one.
  
• The sound I made. I wish I could repeat it for you. It was basically "wow wow wow whoa whoa whoa over and over. Cory and I repeat it to each other now and it feels hilarious but in the moment it somehow helped.
  

Finally, after all of that fun and excitement I finally heard those four magic words...it's time to push. The weirdest part was at that point I stopped feeling my contractions. She kept telling me to push when I felt a contraction, but I didn't. So I just waited until what seemed like an appropriate time and pushed. Who knows if I got it right, but I guess I must have because he was out after about an hour and a half of pushing, which seemed to me like ten minutes. Pushing was nothing compared to the pain of labor. I think it was because I knew it was almost over. Later, my husband told me that he had never seen that look on my face before...the look of sheer determination. I owned pushing. I have never felt more scared and powerful and capable in my life. I want to bottle up that feeling and pull it out whenever I need it.

When they pulled him up onto my chest he was heavy and warm and HUGE. The first thing I thought was how it was possible that such a big baby fit inside of my small 5'3" frame. He was (is) perfect. After they were done fixing me up and doing the initial vitals on him they gave him back to me. I had thought about that moment a lot while I was pregnant. I had a secret fear that I would hate my baby. You hear so many stories of women who don't immediately love their babies and I wanted so badly to feel that instant bond. They gave him to me and we looked at each other and I thought "now what the heck am I supposed to do with him?" It wasn't that I didn't love him, but I think I was just hit with the reality that he was ours. That is was MY choice what happened next and I didn't know what I was supposed to do.



I lost a lot of blood during labor, I found out later. I think I was in shock because shortly after he came out I was shaking violently and ended up fainting. I can remember looking up from the ground at my husband scared face and a handful of nurses and thinking "am I dying, is that what it feels like," (I wasn't obviously, just blood loss and exhaustion) and they made me lie flat on my back with oxygen for two hours. TWO hours!! At that point I was so tired, so OVER that room that I had just been laboring in for the last 17 hours that I just wanted out of there. As much as I needed that time of rest it felt a little bit like torture. I couldn't hold my baby and I honestly don't even remember where he was during that time. Which is more proof that I probably needed that time.

My experience having Everett was scary, beautiful, empowering, and magical. I knew as soon as I thought about having a baby that I wanted a natural childbirth, but I couldn't really say why. Yes, I thought it was best for the baby, and yes I knew it was my best chance of avoiding a c-section, but those didn't like MY reasons. Now that I experienced it I can tell you why. Every woman should have the opportunity to feel that power within herself, to see that wall of fear and self-doubt and hear the voices in her head saying that she isn't strong enough, isn't brave enough, to overcome it. And to give that voice the middle finger and literally push the fear out of her. I am not the same person I was before that night. Being a mother is scary, and is a weight that I don't think we even comprehend. I am glad that I know my power, my strength, and can use that knowledge in the scary times when I doubt my abilities to do what' s best for my child, my family. I know what I am capable of and it is a blessing.


*I keep writing and re-writing this post, mostly because there are an infinite number of details I want to capture and write down for my own sake, but it is impossible to hold them all long enough. So this is the best I got.

It's 6:30 in the morning and I have been up for an hour already. Anyone reading this who is a mommy is not surprised by this early morning. But if you knew me before baby, you would know that to see me this early in the morning would take an act of God. But that's just it. God did act. He made Everett. And everything since the moment he came into world has been a moment in a new life. I am different (both inside and out, if we want to get real. For instance, I can now TUCK my belly fat into my waistband, a feat I had not had the pleasure to accomplish before baby, but let's move on) The biggest change is that I realized who I was before Everett. Before Everett I was selfish, dare I say, lazy. Everything I did had a slant towards self interest, self preservation. And now, I look at this tiny human playing quietly and happily next to me, and I feel like moving mountains to make him happy, to make him healthy. And that newness has extended towards my marriage as well. Creating a child with my husband stretched my love for him into a new shape. I find myself thinking about how I can make his life easier, what I can do to show him I love him, that I am grateful for his hard work. When before baby I don't think I noticed, nor cared, about how hard he worked. But I see it, along with everything else in my life, through these new eyes.



All of this is why it is so hard for me to be a full-time working mom. I feel like I'm constantly trying to be the best mom I can be, the best wife I can be, and the best employee I can be. For some women I think this is possible. I thought I would be that woman before I had kids. But now I realize that I never really worked that hard at being a wife. I never tried to figure out what I can do to make my husband feel loved, to ease his burden. And I never realized how much of my self would go into being a mom. So there is just not any room left in my life, or heart, for work now that those things are there. There is no quick fix for this problem. But my husband and I are committed to me being able to be home full-time eventually. For now I will just try as hard as I can to fit it all in. And drink lots of coffee =)

I just got all kinds of sappy and reflective. But I took Nyquil last night so of course Ev woke up an hour earlier than normal, right? So this might be a Nyquil induced post that I read later and not know what I was talking about. But maybe not. Good morning, world.

I don't know what I want this space to be. I started it when I was struggling through infertility issues and I felt like I was on an island (an infertility island if you will) all by myself with no one who understood and no one who wanted to hear about it anymore.

Flash forward to right now....what has changed you ask? Well, I have this guy now



He has made life harder, more wonderful, and made the word love mean something completely different than it once did. His smile kills.

I've noticed in the last few months that when there is something I care about, I tend to want to keep it to myself. I think it has something to do with wanting everything to be all about me. If I love something I want to be the only one that loves it, whether it be a band, a book, an item of clothing....the list continues but I'll spare you. I don't want to be that person. I want to be the person that loves things and is inspired by things and shares them with the people she loves. And that is what I want this space to be about, everything I love. So to those reading this (which I don't think is anyone at this point) I hope you love what I love too.

Part 2

I am finding it so much harder to write regularly than I thought I would (isn't it always that way?)

So, let's go back to Sunday, December 6th 2009. I knew I was pregnant, Kelly knew I was pregnant...now I had to find a way to let Cory know. Since he works at a church, Sunday is obviously his big working day, so I had all day and all night to figure it out.

The weirdest part of this whole experience is that I actually figured out how I would tell him the night before, BEFORE I knew I was pregnant. As I was falling asleep I thought of it, and said to myself that if I EVER get pregnant I will tell him this way. I never thought that I would be putting it all together the next day!

So with shaking hands (I don't think I stopped shaking that day) I drove myself to Wal-Mart and got a big T-shirt and some iron-on letters and here is what I made...

(Isn't she cute? In case you can't read it because my hands were shaking while I made it and so the letters are disgustingly crooked, oh, and I suck at crafts, it says "Big Sister." Can you tell by the look on her face how excited she is about her new role?)

After I made the shirt I left for church, where I saw my husband and had to hug him and talk to him and pretend everything was normal when inside I was like "THERE'S A BABY IN HERE!!"

After church I ran home and tried to distract myself while I waited for him to come home. He still had one more church service to work before he would come home. Then, around the time he should be walking in the door, I get a phone call, "Hey Babe, I'm going to Bully's (a local bar) with some of the guys, is that OK?" Seriously? "I really wish you wouldn't," I said, practically hyperventilating.

Pause. Now, I had two choices here. I could be THAT wife who makes her husband come home and spend time with her when all he wants to do after working about 15 hours straight is go have a beer. Or, I could be the cool wife who lets him have his guy time. So of course, always the cool and understanding wife, I said that it was fine. What was one more hour, right?

An hour AND A HALF later, he walks through the door. I will always have this moment etched into my memory. He walks in like he always does and comes over to give me kiss. On his way to me he pauses because he realizes our dog is asleep on the couch wearing a T-shirt. He HATES dog clothes, so he barely acknowledges it and comes and gives me a kiss. "Do you like Bella's shirt?" I asked. "Yes," he said, in the most sarcastic tone possible. "Did you read it?" I asked. He walks over to her and pulls it a little to read the whole thing. As he realized what he was reading he looked back at me with a look on his face that will always bring tears to my eyes when I think of it. "Are you pregnant?" "YES!!!" I yelled, jumping up and pulling out that pee stick I had put in my pocket for just that very moment.

To say this was one of the best days of my life would be an understatement. To say I am excited would be the same. I am over JOYED. And as I relay how my pregnancy has gone so far in later posts (nausea, heartburn, generally feeling crappyness), please know that none of that has taken away that joy, the silent and constant sense of utter bliss I feel when I think about this little one I am carrying.