Survival Mode

This photo popped up on my memories recently. It was taken three years ago. My son was using a breathing treatment. Again. Because his oxygen levels were low. Again. I had just given him a steroid pill to help with said oxygen levels and he threw it up. Again. While I was cleaning that up, he drew all over his legs with a marker.

Three years ago, I was surviving. That was it.

Gather around, friends, there’s something I want you to know.

You are amazing. And, what you’re being asked to do right now is bullshit. Your survival mode isn’t endless. It’s essential, but not endless. So, when we are done surviving, we must care for ourselves properly in order to thrive.

18 months after this photo was taken, I stopped sleeping. I had not healed what my family had gone through. And it caught up with me.

Today, with proper self-care. Sleep. Writing. And therapy. I’m healing. I’m less in overdrive.

But, I’m worried about the state of parents right now, and what we will experience on the other side of this pandemic. I’m concerned we will all wake up at 3 am wondering what the hell just happened to our collective families.

Keep surviving, yes. But, let’s lean on each other to heal. If you need to chat, I have coffee. Looking for a therapist? I’ll hook you up with the name of a good one. If you want to run, my legs are strong. And if you need someone to truly hear how hard it is, I will listen.

So, stop on over. The boy might still be covered in marker but he’s probably not puking.

Cheers, my friends!

Polar Bears

Several months ago, my husband picked my daughter up from school and asked her how her day was. She replied, “Terrible!” Surprised, he dug a little to better understand what was so terrible. She told him she’d explain when we were all home together.

Without warning of that interaction, I got home and saw my daughter lying on the couch looking exhausted. I asked her; “Nora, are you ok?”

She sat up. Slowly. And announced she could now explain why her day was terrible.

She then educated us on the danger the polar bears of the world are experiencing through climate change. She had tears in her eyes as she asked me what we could do.

We talked about the ways our family could make a difference and set out to do so. She reminded her brother constantly that leaving the lights on when we weren’t in a room would hurt the polar bears. I even caught her telling a character in a movie that their situation wasn’t “as bad as the polar bears'!”

This girl was feeling this pain deeply.

A few weeks later as the snow began to melt outside our Iowa windows Nora showed up in the bathroom announcing there was an emergency outside. We had litter in our yard. Stuck under the melting snow and what would this do to the polar bears?!?

***

A few weeks ago, I completely lost control of all my emotions. Alone in my car.

I was listening to Glennon Doyle’s new book, Untamed, and couldn’t believe my ears when a chapter in her book told an identical story about her daughter. In kindergarten. Learning about the polar bears.

It hit me. All at once. I’m watching my daughter grow into herself and admittedly have had the urge to tame her.

My girl is unapologetically sensitive to the world’s issues. She's Untamed. And, we need her to be.

As her mama, I need to respond. So, our family has gotten more involved with Indian Creek Nature Center. We do what we can to support them with our time, talent and treasure. Today, they need our support more than ever!

Because...

"First, it’s the polar bears.

Then, it’s us."

Lane Assist

I bought a Subaru Outback just over a year ago. With it, came this amazing feature “lane assist.” If you’re not familiar, this feature maps your lanes and gives you a gentle nudge if your vehicle veers out of said lanes. I'm not a girl who gets too excited about cars. In fact, I was was once on SR22 insurance due to too many accidents. However, I find this feature to be quite literally a life saver.

It’s also a reminder each day of my role as a parent.

I remember telling a co-worker just after Nora was born that I always thought parenting was about making our kids into the best versions of themselves. But, once Nora was born, I knew she was already her best self. As a baby, I could see it in her eyes. I knew, through her eyes, my job was to map the lanes for her, and gently nudge her each time she was veering out of the them.

But, my job has gotten so much harder these last few months. My dear Nora is driving on roads that are unfamiliar to both of us. Kindergarten is in full swing. For us, this means her brain is going faster than a Subaru can drive. The lanes she has grown accustomed to staying in are expanding. She is seeking more control. She is falling apart and wanting to put the pieces back together herself. For God’s sake, her teeth are falling out of her mouth! Ha!

So, each morning I look into those sweet eyes and remember that my job is the gentle nudge. The lane assist. It’s not to drive the car for her (no matter how tempting). And while lane assist doesn’t prevent accidents, it helps keep us aware of the boundaries.

In short, kindergarten is hard.

And we can do hard things.

Cheers, my friends!

To the Woman Who Bought My Jogging Stroller...

I cried thinking about selling you this stroller. Tears of joy and a bit of sadness.

My husband and I struggled with infertility for two years before finally finding out we were expecting our daughter. In those two years, I dreamed about being the kind of mama who ran with my kiddos. I’d get stronger on those runs. Mentally and physically. I’d teach my daughter to love her body and all that it can accomplish.

I ran once with my daughter when she was eight months old. Days later, I found out I was pregnant again.

My son, who was born seventeen months after my daughter, brought with him more sleepless nights than I can count. I found solace on runs with him. I would run so he’d sleep. I’d run so I could release the tension I felt far too often with a baby and a toddler.

Today, my two little miracles are far too large to run with (and they may be faster than me). So, I pass this stroller to you! I hope you enjoy being “the mama who runs” as much I do.

Your miles with this stroller may be slower than the ones you had before it but I promise you they pass quickly.

Happy running, mama!

"Mom, I'm mad at you!"

“Mom, I’m mad at you!”

I didn’t know these words could bring me so much comfort.

You see, I’m raising a boy.

A boy who instinctively wants to tackle. Who is drawn to motors, wheels, and super heroes in a way that feels unfamiliar to me.

And, I feel a responsibility that is also unfamiliar.

I feel responsible for creating an environment that makes it safe for him to explore his natural interests. And instincts. Because while his interests include a whole bunch of things that are classically masculine by our society’s standard - that is not him in his entirety. His instincts, they include being sad when a friend is not nice. And angry with big expressions when things don’t go his way. And kind in subtle and gentle ways. 

It feels important to embrace all these facets of his little soul at the impressionable age of three.

Because, our boys. I don't think they're okay.

While the roles of women have evolved {with a long journey still ahead}, the roles our boys play in our society have been slower to evolve. I believe my son can be his full self if we create an environment that is welcoming. And, somehow, this feels at the root of where we are as a country.

So, I’m trying hard to do my part.

To tell my son to share his feelings.

All of them.

The big ones that want to erupt as punches.

And the little ones that stop a friend in the hall to tell her she looks beautiful.

Even the ones that come out in the succinct phrase of; “Mom, I’m mad at you!”

I simply thank him for telling me.

Reassuring him that we all get mad.

The After

It’s been a little over a year since we discovered Weston’s coconut allergy. And, not quite a year since we eliminated dairy from his diet. To say we’ve seen vast improvements in his sleep, well-being and behavior, is an understatement.

When I share the story of Weston’s health challenges for the first two years of his life, I’m always met with the comment; “did everything get so much better after you figured it out?”

And, the answer is; “yes!”

But also; “no!”

You see, after the hundreds of up-all-nights, the thousands of questions to the doctor, husband, friends and family, after we started sleeping again, after Weston started smiling more than he coughs, and after everything didn’t seem so hard, I realized I was changed.  

The After. Thankful our little guy is happier and healthier. Photo by Studio K Squared

And change is hard.

Last year, around my birthday, I woke up after only a couple hours of sleep, and I stayed awake for almost four hours. For no reason. Just awake. In a panic about how I would feel the next day with so little sleep. I’d been there {exhausted} before. Hundreds of times. For good reason. Because I was up all night with a sick child. But this wasn’t for a good reason. I just couldn’t sleep.

Then, it happened again a few months later. And, again, a few months after that. Then, once a week for many months. And, finally, many nights in a row.

So, I began to do an inventory on my life.

I noticed an electricity in my body at the mere sound of a cough. A physical reaction to a noise that had caused myself, and my family, so much pain.

I noticed relationships I once took for granted. Cracked. Strained. Not what they once were but not something evolved either.

And I noticed myself still in overdrive. Still regimented in my activities. Trying to control the uncontrollable.

Did life get so much better after we figured out what was causing Weston so much pain, and our family such heartache?

Yes!

But also, no!

Because, I’m learning, my friends, in the after, you’re left with the remnants of the trauma you’ve experienced. These remnants, they're gifts. But, it's up to you to find their place with the new you. 

Getting Holes in Our Pants

Dear Nora,

The other day your cousin and brother ran outside to play. Their hair was wild from an all-too-short night of sleep, and their little bodies were still cozy in their pajamas.  

You stood back.

In judgment.

“They will get dirty!” you said.

“I know,” I replied. Lacking concern.

---

I came into your room quickly the other night after a long day.

I craved your smell and a brief conversation with your wise eyes before you drifted off to sleep. But those eyes were filling up with tears. You had gotten a hole in your pants earlier in the day.

“I was playing puppy, Mom, but then I got the hole, so I sat in the corner!”

Photo by Studio K Photography

My girl, please let your wild curls stay wild. Your spirit too. Let go of the rules (and the straightener you’ll someday discover) and explore your way off the beaten path.

Those gold stars you crave, they won’t define you. The reward you seek lies in the dirt and the holes.

I want to whisper. So you’ll hear. Those disapproving looks you receive for not fitting a mold won’t define you either. That mold says you should hug and smile and be pleasant at the beck and call of our society. I say, “screw the mold!”

I want to bottle up your anger. Your frustration. Because sometimes I have to keep you safe when you know exactly what you want and can’t capture it on your own. I’ve seen that anger and frustration tear you apart over the tiny details you crave for each of your imaginative ideas.

I’d give that strong-will back to you at 25, my girl, and let you put it to good use as you find your way on a dirty path. Your wild curls blowing in the breeze. A fresh hole in your pants.

Five Years

This photo showed up on my phone the other day as a memory

It reminded me that I took it five years ago.

Five years ago.

I remember placing a whole bunch of personal information in that envelope with a little bit of hope and mailed it down Interstate 380. I was scared. Nervous about needles and medication and hormones and failure.

Thankfully, we got pregnant before the needles and medication. The hormones and failures inevitably followed.

Today I have a four-year-old and an almost three-year-old. I don’t think the girl placing that envelope in the mailbox could even fathom that as a possibility. She seems like a completely different person. If I could go back in time and tell her something, I’d say…

Girl, you’re going to grow. You’re going to grow by 30 pounds with each pregnancy and immeasurable patience. You’re going to grow to the point of almost breaking. Your skin is going to stretch, and your brain is going to stretch, and your heart is going to stretch too. And just when you think coconut oil is the answer to all that stretching, you’ll learn it’s not. 

Take a nap. A long one. And, when you wake up, binge watch Netflix. Time is a finite resource and in five years you’re never going to have enough.

Breathe deeply. The challenges you’re facing today are preparing you for what’s to come. Go for a run. Do some yoga. Exercise those skills that make you stronger. You’re going to need that strength soon.

The only thing constant is change. The minute you think you have the baby thing figured out, the second one will come along. He will turn your world upside down. You won’t sleep. And that you job you love? Yeah, you’re going to quit it. You’re going to get burnt-out. You’re going to cry and scream and clean up so much throw-up in the middle of the night you’ll literally be able to do it in the pitch-black dark. You’re going to feel like you hate your husband in the darkest moments and appreciate him in a way you never have before. It will be confusing.

Ultimately, love will be what takes over in the next five years. Your love for those two little surprises will get you through the worst of times. That love will ask what’s wrong with the baby more times than you can count. And that love will eventually figure it out.

You’ll wake up (yes, you’ll sleep again) one day and realize it wasn’t hate that you felt. It was the strongest kind of love. Your husband will come to define the word partner in the next five years.

You’ll come out the other side loving yourself even more completely too. You’ll be driven to champion more women. Your judgments will slide away more easily. Your legs will get stronger. And those legs will carry you forward.

These five years, girl, they’re going to be a hell of a ride!

What I Learned When I Quit My Job

I've been sitting on some writing the last few months.

Sometimes it's best to write. And think.

And then share.

I quit my job.

Yup, you know that job I’ve loved for over six years? I stopped loving it. Slowly. It started with some cracks and continued until it was a full fracture. If I’m honest, I was a little broken too. I stopped being my best self. I got burnt out. I lost some confidence along the way.

And, sometimes, when something is fractured, you just need to break it in order to put it back together. So, I broke it. I made the decision to leap without knowing exactly where I'd land.

And I learned some stuff. 

We are not our careers.

I sit on the board of a local non-profit and shortly after I quit my job, I attended a board meeting. There were new members of the board present so we all went around the room and introduced ourselves, saying what we do. Jobless, I froze. Without the title of Marketing Director, what am I? And, why am I here?

The truth is, we are not our careers. They are a part of us, but not the totality. What outlasts a job or a career path are the relationships gained along the way. We build these relationships by helping others to grow, doing work that inspires and investing in each other. These relationships define the person; not the job itself. And, frankly, I did a great job building and maintaining some of the relationships gained during the past few years of my career. And other relationships I did a piss-poor job of establishing and growing. We live and we learn.

I am not meant to be a stay-at-home mom.

I adore my children. Anyone who has only had brief contact with me since having kids knows this to be true. I’m borderline obsessed. I’m also an achiever. I like to set goals and accomplish them. And, every parent knows that any day home with kiddos means you’re simultaneously doing so much while getting nothing done!

And, yes, you’re doing the most important work. I believe that to my core. But, I also know that my mental health can’t take the feeling of coming up empty every day. I always thought this to be true, but the experience of being home with my kiddos with no job to attend to each day, made me know this to be true.

I so admire all the stay-at-home mamas I know. I am absolutely in awe of them. I know I don’t have it in me to do this important work so I’m proud to have found a good village. And I’m happy to know myself well enough to know this is best for our family.

Pausing is important.

I’ve heard the power of meditating comes from lengthening the time between thoughts. Embracing the pause. Lingering in the pause.

We go from singlehood to marriage with little pause. Just the two of us to a family of three with absolutely no pause. And, typically, job to job with no pause. The problem with this is that each new phase of our life is going to expect a new us. To figure out the parts of our selves needed for each new phase takes a pause. It takes a moment to identify what strengths we need to focus on and what areas we need to improve upon to bring our best selves to this next challenge.

I was blessed with a pause. I know this time was a gift. I was fortunate to end up with options for my next career path and I understand this isn’t the case for all. But, whether that pause is taken by quitting a job or just taking a few days off, I believe it’s important.

So, more to come about what's next in my professional life. 

Cheers!

I Ran Into Myself

I think I was fifteen when I started running consistently. This means, for over half my life running has been an outlet for me. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that running is more for my emotional health than it is for my physical health. This is exactly why I was so excited to lace up my shoes and head out the door shortly after Weston was born.

I was prepared for it to be a rough road back, but was ready to have something that was mine again. I was ready to find the quiet that exists when out on a good run. Unfortunately, that quiet didn’t quickly return. Instead running became another area of frustration. Every time I’d head out the door, I felt wobbly. Slow. Unsteady. I couldn’t clear my head. I’d remember how tired I was. Physically and emotionally. I’d beat myself up for lacking the endurance to run. This ineptitude was a reminder of all the other areas in my life in which I seemed to be lacking endurance.

I desperately wanted to see a glimpse of my old self out on the pavement. To find my stride there even if I couldn’t find it anywhere else. But for seventeen months, I felt clumsy instead. Then one day, with Eric Church in my ear, I ran right into myself. I looked down at the app I use to track my distance and speed, and realized I had run two miles with ease.

Mom or not, I think we women put a lot of pressure on ourselves to be all things to all people – including ourselves. I thought I’d run right back into my old self quickly after having my babies but the truth is that woman is gone. In her shoes instead is someone who is a little more patient. She laughs a lot more often, sleeps a lot less, and runs fewer miles. Her body – the one that once endured a marathon – has grown two people and learned to carry both a baby and toddler while simultaneously wearing heels (equally important feats).

I finally feel – nineteen months later – like I can call myself a runner again. But, admittedly, my running has changed too. I now find my quiet more quickly, but I’m more often pushing a stroller. I take out my headphones these days, and zone out to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” sung by my three year old who anticipates our running dates as much as I do.

My Biggest Struggle as a Mom

My house is a disaster as I sit here and type this. I don’t mean a little messy, I mean I see a banana caked to the floor right below my feet. In addition to the banana, there is a stack of bills that need some attention and work that I missed on Friday afternoon when I was unexpectedly called to daycare to pick up a little man with a fever. In short, there’s always something that needs my attention.

You know who cares about none of these things? Two little people. And this is my biggest struggle as a mom. How do I embrace all the clichés – it goes by too fast, enjoy every moment, they’re only little once, the dishes can wait, etc. – while maintaining my status as a productive member of society?!

I’ve noticed my best, most enjoyable days as a mom are the days when I lower my expectations. I forget about the banana, bills and work, and surrender to the little people who care about none of that. We play at their whim and go on epic family adventures. But I wake up the next day, and all of those items continue to pile up.

What’s the right balance between getting things done and getting in quality time with our littles?

 

I’m asking because I don’t know. But, I’ve found that routine helps. That fitting in picking the house up after the kids go to bed helps. And, choosing a task a day spreads the workload. Ultimately, there’s no perfect solution but we keep getting better.

What’s your top struggle and how do you find time to get it all done?

A version of this post previously appeared on St. Luke's Birth Care Center

Mom Olympics

With the Olympic Games kicking off this week, it got me thinking about the idea of a “Mom Olympics.” We all deserve a medal for merely getting through the days. Some days are certainly worth a gold while others barely deserve a bronze! But, there are some events that would be entertaining to see play out in an Olympic format. I’ve outlined a few of these events below!

Event #1: The Diaper Sprint

You know this one, get one diaper off while simultaneously adjusting the new one so your little darling doesn’t have a chance to relieve him or herself all over!

Event #2: The Bedroom Sneak

This one is no joke in our house! How can babies sleep in their stroller while planes are overhead and yet wake up to the slightest door creak? You deserve a medal every time you slither out of the room without the baby alarm sounding!

Event #3: Toddler Translating

I’m positive that my toddler often sounds like this to the average person… “Fadiblyabentruepeese?!” to which I always know she is requesting to go on a family adventure…please! Toddler translating at its best!

Event #4: Simultaneous Napping

Want to know how I’m able to find the time to type these words right now? Simultaneous naps! They don’t happen often. They are so rare when they do occur I sometimes get overly excited, and can’t decide what to do with my time. Then, the next thing I know, someone is awake again and all I did was get lost in the Facebook abyss. Seize your 20 minutes, mamas!

Event #5: Pumping and ­­­_____

Insert every awkward place you’ve ever pumped in the above blank and give yourself a medal. Breastfeeding is hard and is made even more difficult when you have to find time to pump in between all the other Mom Olympic Events!

Event #6: Wine Dance

A glass of wine at the end of the day is often the reward for completing so many monumental events. The real challenge is determining how many glasses is too many glasses to remain productive the following day!

Event #7: The Family Photo Session
I like a good candid photo that shows "real life." But, for two seconds can real life not include the baby barfing on himself while his sister plugs his nose? When you capture all members of the family looking at the camera, it's time to reward yourself!

Worthy of at least a bronze, yes?

What events have I missed? And, what event would you medal in? Admittedly, I might have the wine dance down! 

A version of this post previously at Today Parents.

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good ,Very Bad Day in Parenting

It was 2:00 in the morning (I think?) and the two littles were crying in what can only be described as “rounds.” You know, like how you sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat? One person starts and the other joins in? Yea, it was like that! Anyway, I finally lost it. I said things I shouldn’t have and put the two year old in her bed before my husband calmly came in from the baby’s room (after FINALLY getting him to sleep) and became the voice of reason. 

Ultimately, we eventually got the two year old to sleep, the baby started crying again and everyone was up – for the day – by 6:00 am.

We decided to head to the farmer’s market because “if we push both kids in strollers, they’ll sleep!” We were excited to treat ourselves to our favorite coffee! 

They didn’t fall asleep. 

And, the coffee shop wasn’t open for this particular farmer’s market. 

We cut our losses and headed back to the car because “if we drive around, the kids will sleep!” We were excited to get coffee at Starbucks in this new scenario because it has a drive-thru. 

When we arrived back to the car there was a flat tire. (I’m certain this was my karmic retribution for the lack of grace I showed in the wee hours of the morning.) 

And, the day was just getting started. From there we encountered technical issues with the bad tire that required tow truck dispatch, a friend picked us up, and we left a trail of Cheerios in her clean vehicle as a thank-you for her kind heart.

I write all of this down so I can laugh in a few years when I’m looking back at this time in our lives that can only be described as chaos. We’ll forget. This post will remind us! And, it will be funny. But only in retrospect because the day ended with a black cat running in front of our car. Mama said there’d be days like this, right?

To my girl...

Dear Nora James,

Tears overwhelm me as I write this. You see, you’re going to get a baby brother soon. Within weeks, for sure, and days, if your mama is lucky! This means I'm very emotional - and that your whole world is going to change. I swear it will change for the better in the long run, but in the short-term, it’s going to be confusing. You’re going to wonder why I can’t pick you up every time you mutter the syllables “up-pees.” You’re not going to understand why I’m not as quick to jump out of bed and wish you a good morning or why your dad is doing the “night, night” routine with you more often.

Believe me when I tell you that I’ve gulped in every look at your cute, chubby face the last few weeks. I have given you more kisses on those squishy cheeks than you or I could possible count. I have savored all the moments that have been just the three of us. From you spilling milk all over the table to you pulling off a somersault with your dad in the middle of the living room floor. I’ve done this because I know as soon as your brother gets here, you’re no longer going to look like the baby I remember. You’re going to look like a big girl, and we’ll then be treasuring our party of four.

And, like most things, I’ll be feeling all of your emotions with you. I’ll be excited, don’t get me wrong, but I’ll be confused too. We’ll find our way – much as we’ve done for the past 17 months.

What I know for sure is; above the sweater I received one year from American Eagle (that I desperately wanted), and far above those True Religion jeans I got on a separate year, the greatest gift my parents ever gave me is my siblings. And, I’m excited to give you a comrade to play with, commiserate with, and, ultimately, probably complain about me with!

From confusion, little lady, we’ll get to a new normal. And, I promise, we’ll do it together!

Love you!

Mom

Dear Nora

It’s almost your first birthday and that means this first-time, pregnant-again mama is getting emotional. It’s hard to believe that you’ve been in our family for a year.  And, yet, you have fit in with us so seamlessly that it’s easy to know you’ve always been in our hearts.  There are a few things I want you to know now that I’m an expert mom {ha!}. I’m writing them down as a reminder to both you and me when our future selves are doubting.

• Being a mom is hard, but not really as hard as some people will want you to believe. If you choose to become a mom one day, know that people will make parenting sound scary and intimidating. And, it is, but you have it in you to be the person you need to be no matter the challenge you are facing – parenting or other.
• Sorry for… accidentally biting your finger when we were playing, pinching you when putting your pajamas on, not realizing you had thrown up in your crib soon enough, forgetting to change your diaper on a long car ride, dropping food on your head during the days that you stayed content in the Baby K’Tan, your dad pinching your finger in the rock and play (we’re lucky your fingers are all still intact), and everything I’ll do in the future that isn’t quite right. You deserve better and I’m getting better all the time.
• Your name means “light.” And, I described you as full of light long before I knew that. Don’t let anyone dull that light.
• I wet down your cowlick every morning. I think the spirited curl that sprouts on top of your head because of it might calm down once your hair gets longer. Truthfully, I hope it doesn’t, because I love it.  Regardless, I hope you’re always confident in the beauty you were born with. From the curl on top of your head to your curious spirit to the freckle on your knee to the seriousness in which you make your point to those killer eyes, you’re beautiful.
• You have a really good dad. You know that today. Your light is brightest when he’s around. Don’t forget it in 11 years or in 24 years. Keep talking to him. Keep reading with him. Keep building that relationship.
• You are skeptical and slow to trust others. I get it. So am I! But, girl, you have a lot of great people who love you, so go ahead, and let them in!
•  Keep sharing things you love {Gerald} with others.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

But, most of all, always know that we love you. We cut your bananas up into tiny little pieces for fear you might inhale them too quickly. I have more awkward “pumping” stories than I have time to tell. You didn’t get a blanket in your crib for a ridiculously long time. Your dad still gets scared when you walk on tile. Remember these things when you’re frustrated with us. They may be strange ways to show it, but we love you more than you know right now.

Love, Mom

Month One

Month one with our little peanut has no doubt had its ups and downs.  We are so lucky to have a fairly laid-back baby, but even with that, the first month has been a blur.  Anyone who has a child can probably relate to what a blur the nights are.  Two hour stretches of sleep give way to nursing which fades into rocking which quickly becomes diaper changing and then paranoia.  The paranoia inevitably leads to a quick check to ensure the baby is still alive because the room has become quiet (which means you should be asleep) before you finally fade into another two hours (if you’re lucky) of sleep, and the cycle repeats.  

Realistically the days are not much different.  In between the actions that become robotic there are quiet moments of gratification.  A small grin (gas) or a look that undeniably means “hey, I know you’re my parents and I love you guys too.”  That’s when the sleep deprivation that has caused you to look for your phone while you’re on it or run your car into the garage and knock the side mirror off (yup, those things have happened) become worth it.

So, as month one draws to a close we still have no idea what we’re doing.  But, she’s growing so we think something is going right and we’re all learning.  We’re learning that we’re no longer in charge and that side mirrors can be replaced, but those quiet moments cannot.  They fade in quickly and out just as fast.  The blur that is parenthood has just begun, and more than anything we’re soaking it all in.

Happy One Month Birthday, Nora!

And, a little housekeeping.  I’ve added a page to the blog about our road to baby.  I’ve had a number of people reach out to me about infertility so I compiled all the posts that were on a previous blog in this spot.  Feel free to visit if you’d like to learn more (or not if you’re not interested!). 

Nora James Wendling's Birthday

I used to read birth stories and always found them interesting from an ok, now I better understand what to expect standpoint.  I like to hear how long it lasted for people and how bad they truly thought it was, but I have to admit, I’d skip over the parts about how amazing an experience it is because I just didn’t understand. 

Here is the story of Nora’s birth.  It includes the parts about how long it lasted and what the worst parts were, but now I understand.  I can’t help but cry every time I think about our experience of welcoming her – it truly was amazing.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

After being told that our lil peanut would more than likely arrive around 35-36 weeks gestation, it was safe to say that I felt well over-due as I hit the 38 week mark.  We were so happy that our girl was healthy and comfy in the womb, but mama was getting more uncomfortable by the day. 

Looking back, there were small signs that should have told me that Andy and I were both getting ready for our little to join our family.  As he came to bed the night before she was born he put his hands on my belly as he fell asleep.  I remember pausing to think; “this may be the last time for this!” 

1:00 am

I began feeling some cramping at about 1:00 am that woke me up.  Although it was nothing terribly painful – I was able to sleep through most of it – I decided to relocate to the guest bedroom just in case this was the real thing.  I wanted Andy to have as much rest as he could because I knew I would need him later.  

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

5:45 am

I was able to sleep through early labor for the most part.  I crawled back into our bed to update Andy at around 5:45 am.  At this point contractions had gotten closer together, but I still questioned whether it was the “real thing!”  Andy had a dentist appointment that morning so he decided to go to that and call me when it was over to see how things were progressing.  About the time he called to see if he should head into work or not, the contractions were coming closer together (about seven minutes) and getting increasingly uncomfortable.  I still hesitated to ask him to come home (I had a serious fear of being the false alarm girl and was in labor denial), but I went ahead and told him that I thought he should come home to walk with me and see if things continued.

8:30 am

As soon as Andy got home we headed out for a walk.  At this point the contractions were hard to walk through so our walk was relatively short (just around the block).  As we inched closer to our house – about two houses away and extremely close to a garage sale that was going on that morning – Andy’s back started to tighten up.  Andy indicated that he had sympathy symptoms for much of my pregnancy – eating, cravings, sleeping, etc. – so it shouldn’t have surprised me when he started talking about how he thought he was having sympathy contractions.  We both stopped walking as we laughed, and to keep things interesting, my water broke right there – in front of the garage sale.  Luckily, it started raining almost simultaneously so I don’t think anyone noticed the extremely pregnant lady with wet pants as it was camouflaged by rain.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

I had hoped for a natural birth long before I became pregnant.  Once we found out that our little was head-down, Andy and I prepared to welcome the peanut into the world with as few medical interventions as possible.  So, once my water broke, I had hoped to labor at home for at least a little while longer.  We already notified our doula about the progress, and Andy called the hospital to ensure we didn’t need to come in immediately.  With contractions now coming pretty quickly (five minutes or less apart) and intensely, Andy began loading up our car for the hospital as I mainly labored in our bed for as long as I could.

10:30 am

As the contractions grew in intensity, we headed to the hospital.  We called Melissa – our doula – and had her meet us there rather than our house as it was pretty clear that things were happening relatively quickly.  Once at the hospital, we were checked-in to a triage room so they could assess my labor.  The first time a nurse checked me – in triage – I was already almost five centimeters dilated (this was probably around 11:00 – 11:30).  So, they quickly got us to a labor and delivery room and it wasn’t long before contractions began to come one on top of another.  

2:00 pm

I had envisioned my birth playlist echoing in the background while Andy massaged my back as I labored through, but as things progressed quickly, I mainly just stayed focused on each contraction as Andy stayed close by.  We were so blessed to have an amazing nurse – Cindy – who was supportive of my birth plan, and of course our doula – Melissa – in the wing to help as things got more intense.  Luckily, labor stayed pretty calm and there was never a time that I wanted to give up and ask for pain medicine.  And, I was fully dilated and ready to push by 2:00! 

As they prepared me to begin pushing, I remember looking up at Andy in anticipation.  I was certain we would be meeting our daughter shortly.  Pushing was a journey all its own and extremely tough.  We’re not sure if she changed positions a few times as she worked her way out but all signs indicate that she did.  I am so thankful for the amazing team at St. Luke’s.  Because we were consistently making progress during the two hours and forty-five minutes that I pushed, no one ever mentioned additional interventions, and Nurse Cindy did an amazing job at keeping me motivated.

But, no one did a better job than my husband.  He never left my side and seemed to constantly say the things I needed to hear.  I searched his eyes multiple times for motivation and found it each time.  I also kept some of my favorite words in my head as I inched closer to meeting our daughter.  I find running analogies everywhere, so as I reached the end of my rope I kept thinking about the last .2 miles in the marathon we ran a few years ago.  Because as Kristin Armstrong says…

".2 is the metaphorical distance between you and any finish line in your life, anything you have ever dreamed of doing or becoming.  It's what's separating you from your truest, most authentic self and your most actualized life.  It's what's worth thinking about, strategizing about, planning for, training for, and going for. 

.2 is simultaneously the end and the beginning.  Because when we cross one finish line, we arrive at the next start line, carrying with us everything we learned from prior distance."

Our race was long and at times extremely hilly.  But, I knew, while pushing, that this was our finish line and our start line.  And, Andy and I were going to cross this one together.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

4:46 pm

Our little peanut was born at 4:46 pm on April 24, 2014.  She weighed in at 7 lbs, 12 oz and was 21 ½ inches long.  In her pediatrician’s words (not mine, of course), she is perfect!  I was able to push her out with no medical interventions – they never even placed an IV port in me!  And, Andy and I were able to experience the rush of joy as they placed her in my arms, together.  Thirty-one months after we started trying for our family, Nora James Wendling was welcomed into a room full of love.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

Lucky

I cried as we left the hospital.  Not because I was scared or anxious but because I knew that we were leaving behind an experience that we were so lucky to have.  Although Nora’s birth was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, I left the hospital feeling like we were leaving a great vacation behind.  We were so lucky to deliver a full-term, healthy baby and to be going home with her.  We were lucky my labor progressed the way it did, and that we were able to have the birth we had hoped for.  But, more than anything, we are lucky to have her.  

Photo by Heart Shot Photo