We used to walk 3.5 miles from Jefferson Junior High School to my house just to be together. Back then, we really didn't go on a lot of dates as we were both still pretty young (14 and 15), and neither of us could drive yet. The most we got to see each other was during passing time in the halls at school, exchanging notes and maybe a hug (I can't remember if we had taken the baby step towards hugging yet?), which normally occurred downstairs at Jefferson, me on my way to Home Ec. and Matt on his way to Science. Granted, my very first note to him was given to him a friend because I was too chicken to give it to him myself, but I'm sure glad I wrote that first note.
That was nearly 17 years ago.
On December 18, 2014, we will be married 10 years. A whole decade! Many people would shake their heads in amazement, thinking to themselves or out loud, "Where did the time go?" Not me. I know exactly where it went.
It "began" inside the temple as we vowed before family and God to love each other for the rest of forever. From there, many hours have passed vacationing up and down the Oregon Coast, even down into the big trees of California and up into Washington.
Even more time has been spent pouring over books, studying, writing, learning as we paved the way to getting our college degrees.
Countless moments have been spent together on road trips, laughing, joking, singing along to our favorite music (each of us relenting to the other's choice of artists, as Metallica wouldn't be my first choice, nor would Jewel be Matt's).
Many dates were spent wandering the aisles of Barnes and Noble, especially in the early days when there wasn't money to do much more. We could spend hours there, looking over book titles, piling books into our arms we hoped to purchase, then putting all but one or two back because we couldn't afford the $200 bill it would come to.
Too little time was spent overseas, taking a group of high school kids to France and Spain for a week and a half. Though the trip was short, for me it was the trip of a lifetime as I had never been out of the country, and there was no one else in the whole world I wanted to share that experience with. Even though we were busy with many teenagers and ran ourselves ragged across a small section of Europe, we still found time just the two of us to enjoy the wonders of a foreign country together. I certainly hope to do this again as time passes.
Two and a half years passed in a tiny apartment on Poplar Street, crammed together as newlyweds, trying to figure out how to survive those first few years together with too little space and too little money.
Yet another year was spent in a small 3-bedroom house on Teton, where we grew our love and learned we were expecting our first child, a daughter, to be born during the winter of 2008.
Several weeks were spent house hunting, looking for that perfect home to call our own and raise a family. Though we walked through many houses, I knew as soon as I entered the great space on Kipling that we would make that our home. So far, six years have been spent doing just that.
Eight days were spent at the local hospital, bringing new life into this world as we welcomed our three beautiful children into our lives through tears and open arms.
Ninety-one hours were spent crammed together in our Nissan Altima, making the trek together for the very first time down to Texas, with many spots along the way. We passed through Idaho, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Colorado. It was a looooong trip, but well worth it and one of the best trips I've ever been on.
More hours have passed happily celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, new jobs, degrees, good news, and just because.
And the rest of the time? Well, those quiet moments are reserved just for us, no one else. The moments sitting in our room, reading a novel and holding hands. Watching a movie cuddling on the couch. Making dinner together in the kitchen. Whispered conversations so to not wake our sleeping children. Just letting moments pass together where nothing particularly special is happening, except that we are within arm's reach of each other, right where we want to be. Kisses. Hugs. Slow-dancing to a song. A smile, a laugh. A quick glance to the other to share some unspoken words. Time saying I'm sorry. Time saying I love you. Time saying I forgive you, and there's no one else in the world I'd rather be with.
These are the moments that make up a decade.
Happy 10 year Anniversary to the love of my life. Let's shoot for another 100.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
One Day I will Conquer the Chocolate Chip Cookie (and No, This is Not About Dieting!)
Baking the perfect chocolate chip cookies is the bane of my entire existence. Okay, perhaps that's a bit melodramatic, but seriously! I cannot bake a good HOME-MADE chocolate chip cookie to save my life!
I consider myself to be a pretty decent cook. I love to try new things, cook new things, and peruse Pinterest for new and exotic recipes to try. I can bake a mean Perfectly Chocolate Chocolate Cake, for example, with home-made chocolate frosting and everything. It's one of my chocolate-loving husband's favorite desserts. I cannot, however, bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
I recently came across this picture of different chocolate chip cookies, all cooked with different amounts of each ingredient, along with a brief description of what went wrong. This is serious stuff - this article dives into the science of baking the perfect chocolate chip cookie, tailored to what YOU think the perfect chocolate chip cookie is.
Here is the graphic:
I have baked every chocolate chip cookie in this picture, with none of them turning out the way I want. If my family wants a really good chocolate chip cookie, I go to the store and purchase a family roll of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie dough (not the pre-cut kind, but the actual roll), roll the dough into little balls, and bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
Anyway, back to the home-made kind. I found this recipe on Pinterest called the Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookie. The name alone gave me hope, as this is exactly what I've been looking for my entire baking life! Looking over the recipe, it sounded pretty good, but needed a few tweaks.
With guidance from the website above, I once again set out to bake the perfect home-made Chocolate Chip Cookie, with the help of my little bakers-in-training. I followed the recipe for the most part, but added extra flour, a little extra vanilla to reduce the over-floury taste, and then refrigerated the dough before baking it.
Once the dough was mixed and well-chilled, I was a little worried because the dough was very flaky. But, still I held out hope. I like a round cookie, so I spooned dough into my hands, rolled it into little balls, and placed them on the baking pan. I knew the dough wouldn't spread much because the butter had set in the fridge, but I wasn't worried - I had this scientific website, dangit!
After baking my cookies for 10 minutes, I took them out of the oven. Well, they weren't exactly - perfect. They were still in the exact same little balls I had rolled the dough into. They hadn't spread at all! I took a metal spoon and smashed them out into a cookie shape, but in doing so, the chocolate chips smashed and spread all over the cookie.
Okay, so they weren't pretty, but I had hopes of them tasting great!
Audrey loved them of course! (Kellen doesn't like cookies much, so he didn't taste.) My main taste-tester - my husband - lovingly told me they tasted a little floury, but were much less cake-y than the last ones I baked. I agreed.
While the cookies tasted okay, they still weren't exactly what I was hoping for. They were alright, but not perfect.
I still have hopes of one day baking the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Until then, I'll continue to test, fail, and test again.
I WILL, ONE DAY, CONQUER THE HOME-MADE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE!
I consider myself to be a pretty decent cook. I love to try new things, cook new things, and peruse Pinterest for new and exotic recipes to try. I can bake a mean Perfectly Chocolate Chocolate Cake, for example, with home-made chocolate frosting and everything. It's one of my chocolate-loving husband's favorite desserts. I cannot, however, bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
I recently came across this picture of different chocolate chip cookies, all cooked with different amounts of each ingredient, along with a brief description of what went wrong. This is serious stuff - this article dives into the science of baking the perfect chocolate chip cookie, tailored to what YOU think the perfect chocolate chip cookie is.
Here is the graphic:
(www.ozy.com)
I have baked every chocolate chip cookie in this picture, with none of them turning out the way I want. If my family wants a really good chocolate chip cookie, I go to the store and purchase a family roll of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie dough (not the pre-cut kind, but the actual roll), roll the dough into little balls, and bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
Anyway, back to the home-made kind. I found this recipe on Pinterest called the Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookie. The name alone gave me hope, as this is exactly what I've been looking for my entire baking life! Looking over the recipe, it sounded pretty good, but needed a few tweaks.
With guidance from the website above, I once again set out to bake the perfect home-made Chocolate Chip Cookie, with the help of my little bakers-in-training. I followed the recipe for the most part, but added extra flour, a little extra vanilla to reduce the over-floury taste, and then refrigerated the dough before baking it.
Once the dough was mixed and well-chilled, I was a little worried because the dough was very flaky. But, still I held out hope. I like a round cookie, so I spooned dough into my hands, rolled it into little balls, and placed them on the baking pan. I knew the dough wouldn't spread much because the butter had set in the fridge, but I wasn't worried - I had this scientific website, dangit!
After baking my cookies for 10 minutes, I took them out of the oven. Well, they weren't exactly - perfect. They were still in the exact same little balls I had rolled the dough into. They hadn't spread at all! I took a metal spoon and smashed them out into a cookie shape, but in doing so, the chocolate chips smashed and spread all over the cookie.
Okay, so they weren't pretty, but I had hopes of them tasting great!
Audrey loved them of course! (Kellen doesn't like cookies much, so he didn't taste.) My main taste-tester - my husband - lovingly told me they tasted a little floury, but were much less cake-y than the last ones I baked. I agreed.
While the cookies tasted okay, they still weren't exactly what I was hoping for. They were alright, but not perfect.
I still have hopes of one day baking the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Until then, I'll continue to test, fail, and test again.
 |
| Yet another failed attempt at chocolate chip cookies. Do you think this qualifies as a Pinstrosity?? |
I WILL, ONE DAY, CONQUER THE HOME-MADE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE!
Monday, December 1, 2014
Life Lessons from a 4-Year-Old
God sent my middle child to test my patience - of this I am well aware. I have unlimited amounts of love for my children. Boatloads of hugs and kisses. I love snuggling and singing and reading with my munchkins. What I do not have copious amounts of is patience. Patience eludes me.
So today, yet again, I lost the patience I didn't have with my 4-year-old, but I also learned a valuable lesson. Well, maybe "learned" isn't the right word, because I was already aware. "Reminded" is a better one. I was reminded of a valuable lesson...
A few weeks ago I ordered an ornament kit for Christmas to bring Christ into our holiday season. It's called 25 Days of Christ (click to view the web page), and it's such a great idea! Basically you get 25 ornaments for your Christmas Tree, each symbolizing something from the Bible. Each day, beginning December 1, you pick an ornament, read the scripture that goes with it as a family, and talk about the story surrounding that symbol. It's an advent calendar of Christmas ornaments!
There are two ways you can order the kit - finished (all painted and ready to go), or unfinished. Since they were sold out of the finished kits, I purchased an unfinished kit, planning to paint the ornaments with my children as "Mommy/child" time (which I strive to do every day). Of course it would be messy, and of course the ornaments would look like they were painted by a small child, but that's perfectly fine. We'd be creating memories!
Finally, after about a week and a half, I got my kit in the mail. I couldn't WAIT to open it! I held off until after Thanksgiving to bust it out, so today was the day we would get started. After dropping Kellen off at morning preschool, Audrey and I started making preparations by gathering the needed materials to complete the ornaments. I talked to Audrey a little bit about what we were doing, and she was delighted to do this project with me. After all, painting is one of her favorite things to do.
We painted and glued and painted some more for about an hour, until time for her to get ready for school and go get her brother. I planned on working on it more in the afternoon with Kellen while Audrey was at Kindergarten.
A word about Kellen - he is a tornado. Literally. My house can be spotless, then enter Kellen: the room looks like a bomb went off. He runs from one thing to the next to the next wreaking havoc like a tornado. He reminds me of the little boy in the Family Circus comic strip who runs around like a whirling dervish and you can follow his crazy trail to see where he had been.
I love him to death, but he is a mess!
I knew the afternoon craft would be a challenge with him, but I was determined to make it fun. As soon as we walked in the door from taking Audrey to school, Kellen wanted a warm cup of milk and to lay on the couch for a few minutes. Ok - I would have a chance to feed and change Camden while he relaxed, then we could get to work. As I was warming up his milk, I heard a splash and a tiny voice say "uh oh Mommy." What this time? I turned around to see the cup of water I had been sipping (which was still mostly full) spilled all over my new ornament kit. The ornaments were wet, the instructions were soaked, the story book was dripping, the chair was covered in water. I lost it. I was SO MAD! Camden was screaming, I started yelling, and Kellen just stood there and stared at his crazy mother while I yelled at him for not being careful and ruining my new ornament set! I handed him his milk and told him to get out of the kitchen while I cleaned up HIS mess and everything he destroyed.
Like I said, I'm not very patient.
Kellen sauntered into the living room to drink his milk, half watching cartoons and half watching me. By this time my anger had dissipated some, but I was in tears. I was in tears over yelling at Kellen for his accident, I was in tears over my ornament kit, because I had been so excited to get it and start a fun and meaningful Christmas tradition with my family. I wasn't going to spend the money to replace the kit - they aren't super cheap.
As I mopped up the water from the floor, sopped up the water on the table, tried drying out the story book and instruction papers, and wiped off my wooden ornaments, I kept glancing at Kellen through my tears. He was watching me carefully, with a sad look on his face like he was really sorry but was afraid to tell me so because mommy might yell at him again.
After all the water was cleaned up, paper towels were placed between each page of the book to keep the pages from sticking, and the ornaments were dried off, I picked up Camden and went and sat down in the living room with Kellen. He was still watching me, and I was still trying to calm down and dry my tears.
I called him over to me. He came and stood by me and before I could say anything, he said, "Mommy, I'm really sorry for spilling the water. I didn't mean to." He is such a sweet boy, and sometimes in all his chaos, I forget that.
I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him. I told him that I get mad and yell sometimes, told him I was sorry for yelling, and that even when I get mad, I don't love him any less. I told him he really hadn't really ruined the stuff, just gotten it wet (and warped, but I didn't mention that part). I said "I love you Kellen, do you know that?"
"Yes Mommy, I know that," and he happily went on his way.
It was a bittersweet moment. I hate myself for not having patience, for yelling at my kids. I hate yelling. It's just bullying, and I really hate bullying.
Here's the lesson I learned today: I was so excited about this beautiful kit and starting this tradition. I wanted it to be flawless. Well, life with three children five and under is not flawless. That's just the way it is. I realized that even his spilling water all over my new kit could have been a funny memory. While I was making plans to email the company and ask for replacements, I figured out that the warped pages of the story book and water marks in the paint are part of the memories we created today. Rather than yell at Kellen, I should have laughed. I should have just said, "It's alright, don't worry. The stains are just reminders of the fun we had making these."
After his warm cup of milk was finished and baby was fed, Kellen and I sat down together and worked on finishing the ornaments. We had fun. We laughed. We painted and tied and glued. We had a good time together, and I soon forgot about the anger I had earlier over a spilled cup of water. I really hope Kellen forgot, too.
I've decided to keep all the water-stained, warped pieces to remind myself of this lesson. The Christmas Spirit is all about love and spending quality time with those we love, being thankful for what we have, and giving all that we can. Every year when we pull out the 25 Days of Christ kit, I'll be reminded that I spent that time with my children, painting and decorating, laughing, making mistakes, saying I love you. When I pull that kit out in 25 years after my children have all left home and perhaps have children of their own, I'll sit in my quiet house with Christmas music playing and remember the time that Kellen spilled the water all over everything before we even had a chance to use it. And I'll laugh about it, and I will desperately miss my 4 year old little boy and all his craziness.
So today, yet again, I lost the patience I didn't have with my 4-year-old, but I also learned a valuable lesson. Well, maybe "learned" isn't the right word, because I was already aware. "Reminded" is a better one. I was reminded of a valuable lesson...
A few weeks ago I ordered an ornament kit for Christmas to bring Christ into our holiday season. It's called 25 Days of Christ (click to view the web page), and it's such a great idea! Basically you get 25 ornaments for your Christmas Tree, each symbolizing something from the Bible. Each day, beginning December 1, you pick an ornament, read the scripture that goes with it as a family, and talk about the story surrounding that symbol. It's an advent calendar of Christmas ornaments!
There are two ways you can order the kit - finished (all painted and ready to go), or unfinished. Since they were sold out of the finished kits, I purchased an unfinished kit, planning to paint the ornaments with my children as "Mommy/child" time (which I strive to do every day). Of course it would be messy, and of course the ornaments would look like they were painted by a small child, but that's perfectly fine. We'd be creating memories!
Finally, after about a week and a half, I got my kit in the mail. I couldn't WAIT to open it! I held off until after Thanksgiving to bust it out, so today was the day we would get started. After dropping Kellen off at morning preschool, Audrey and I started making preparations by gathering the needed materials to complete the ornaments. I talked to Audrey a little bit about what we were doing, and she was delighted to do this project with me. After all, painting is one of her favorite things to do.
We painted and glued and painted some more for about an hour, until time for her to get ready for school and go get her brother. I planned on working on it more in the afternoon with Kellen while Audrey was at Kindergarten.
A word about Kellen - he is a tornado. Literally. My house can be spotless, then enter Kellen: the room looks like a bomb went off. He runs from one thing to the next to the next wreaking havoc like a tornado. He reminds me of the little boy in the Family Circus comic strip who runs around like a whirling dervish and you can follow his crazy trail to see where he had been.
I love him to death, but he is a mess!
I knew the afternoon craft would be a challenge with him, but I was determined to make it fun. As soon as we walked in the door from taking Audrey to school, Kellen wanted a warm cup of milk and to lay on the couch for a few minutes. Ok - I would have a chance to feed and change Camden while he relaxed, then we could get to work. As I was warming up his milk, I heard a splash and a tiny voice say "uh oh Mommy." What this time? I turned around to see the cup of water I had been sipping (which was still mostly full) spilled all over my new ornament kit. The ornaments were wet, the instructions were soaked, the story book was dripping, the chair was covered in water. I lost it. I was SO MAD! Camden was screaming, I started yelling, and Kellen just stood there and stared at his crazy mother while I yelled at him for not being careful and ruining my new ornament set! I handed him his milk and told him to get out of the kitchen while I cleaned up HIS mess and everything he destroyed.
Like I said, I'm not very patient.
Kellen sauntered into the living room to drink his milk, half watching cartoons and half watching me. By this time my anger had dissipated some, but I was in tears. I was in tears over yelling at Kellen for his accident, I was in tears over my ornament kit, because I had been so excited to get it and start a fun and meaningful Christmas tradition with my family. I wasn't going to spend the money to replace the kit - they aren't super cheap.
As I mopped up the water from the floor, sopped up the water on the table, tried drying out the story book and instruction papers, and wiped off my wooden ornaments, I kept glancing at Kellen through my tears. He was watching me carefully, with a sad look on his face like he was really sorry but was afraid to tell me so because mommy might yell at him again.
After all the water was cleaned up, paper towels were placed between each page of the book to keep the pages from sticking, and the ornaments were dried off, I picked up Camden and went and sat down in the living room with Kellen. He was still watching me, and I was still trying to calm down and dry my tears.
I called him over to me. He came and stood by me and before I could say anything, he said, "Mommy, I'm really sorry for spilling the water. I didn't mean to." He is such a sweet boy, and sometimes in all his chaos, I forget that.
I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him. I told him that I get mad and yell sometimes, told him I was sorry for yelling, and that even when I get mad, I don't love him any less. I told him he really hadn't really ruined the stuff, just gotten it wet (and warped, but I didn't mention that part). I said "I love you Kellen, do you know that?"
"Yes Mommy, I know that," and he happily went on his way.
It was a bittersweet moment. I hate myself for not having patience, for yelling at my kids. I hate yelling. It's just bullying, and I really hate bullying.
Here's the lesson I learned today: I was so excited about this beautiful kit and starting this tradition. I wanted it to be flawless. Well, life with three children five and under is not flawless. That's just the way it is. I realized that even his spilling water all over my new kit could have been a funny memory. While I was making plans to email the company and ask for replacements, I figured out that the warped pages of the story book and water marks in the paint are part of the memories we created today. Rather than yell at Kellen, I should have laughed. I should have just said, "It's alright, don't worry. The stains are just reminders of the fun we had making these."
After his warm cup of milk was finished and baby was fed, Kellen and I sat down together and worked on finishing the ornaments. We had fun. We laughed. We painted and tied and glued. We had a good time together, and I soon forgot about the anger I had earlier over a spilled cup of water. I really hope Kellen forgot, too.
I've decided to keep all the water-stained, warped pieces to remind myself of this lesson. The Christmas Spirit is all about love and spending quality time with those we love, being thankful for what we have, and giving all that we can. Every year when we pull out the 25 Days of Christ kit, I'll be reminded that I spent that time with my children, painting and decorating, laughing, making mistakes, saying I love you. When I pull that kit out in 25 years after my children have all left home and perhaps have children of their own, I'll sit in my quiet house with Christmas music playing and remember the time that Kellen spilled the water all over everything before we even had a chance to use it. And I'll laugh about it, and I will desperately miss my 4 year old little boy and all his craziness.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Ever Wondered What It's Like to Birth an 11-Pound Baby?
I never really had since the average baby weighs between 7 and 8 pounds. Apparently my births aren't typical, the first two weighing in at 6 lbs 11 oz and 9 lbs 10 oz, but even birthing my nearly 10 pound baby wasn't too bad. I got the shock of a lifetime, however, as I delivered my third child. Since I have been asked by several people to share my birth story with them, I thought I would write it out so more people can read it if interested.
Here is the birth story of Camden, my 11 pound third child...
After having Kellen in 2010, Matt and I both thought we were done having kids. We had a girl and a boy, the perfect American 4-family, and I was satisfied and happy. That was until I started having dreams about this little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy named Camden. Starting sometime in 2013, he entered my dreams often, and I just couldn't shake the feeling that I had one more child to bring into the world. Every time I denied that feeling, I'd have another dream about him. Eventually, a couple of family members who have passed away entered my dreams as well, each time talking about babies with me. I consider myself a religious person, and though I often keep my religious beliefs and experiences to myself, this experience really started to blow my mind, and I absolutely believe that it was a prompting from a higher power that there was another little child waiting for me. After many dreams, I knew I had to talk to Matt about another baby. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to agree to bring another child into the world. Not only was he not wild about the idea, but I very much dislike being pregnant, and the thought of going through another pregnancy made me want to cry and throw-up and scream all at the same time.
After lots of discussion and going back and forth a few times, we decided it was time, and after a couple of months we had a new little peanut on the way (I had actually decided to go back on the pill if I ended up not being pregnant, but, of course, I was...).
Fast forward to 20 weeks and the big ultrasound to find out what we were having, and I was quite nervous. What if it was a girl? I was supposed to be having a boy according to my dreams! What would I do? Would we have to try for #4, and hope he was a boy? I was so worried (even though I was 90% positive I was carrying a boy). All through the ultrasound the tech could not get a good gender shot as the umbilical cord was wrapped between the baby's legs, but right at the very end, he decided to shift in such a way that we were able to see his little boy parts, and VOILA! A BOY! I KNEW IT! That little boy who appeared so often in my dreams had become a reality.
The pregnancy was not an easy one. I kept having problems here and there with different things, and I kept growing larger and larger and LARGER. I started to express my worries about baby's size to my doctor, but there wasn't much we could tell about his size until right toward the end.
At the last few appointments we talked about baby boy's size - I was getting quite concerned about the exit strategy, especially since my last baby was nearly 10 pounds. I thought I could probably handle a 10 pound baby, but much more than that, well I just didn't want to think about it.
The day before I delivered we discussed doing an ultrasound to measure baby, but since they can be off by as much as a pound or two, I was really hesitant to do that and have an unwarranted C-Section. I really, really didn't want to have a C-Section, so I decided to take my chances. I told the doctor I'd try it on my own, and if baby boy got stuck or was in distress, we could do a C-Section then, but I wanted to give it my best effort. We decided to induce the next day, 1 day before my due date.
I was supposed to check in very early the next morning, and of course I couldn't sleep that night. I got up about 3 a.m. to soak in a bath for a while. While I was relaxing, I heard my phone start ringing (always a scary thing in the middle of the night!). Matt answered and it ended up being the hospital calling to ask if I would come in later in the day because they filled up with women in labor over night!
OK, a word here about putting off the induction of a hugely pregnant, grumpy woman: I wasn't happy. I knew it wasn't the hospital's fault, but I was miserable and ready to go. I couldn't WAIT to get that baby out of my body and into my arms. Ugh! Luckily, my induction was only put off by a couple of hours, and by noon I was in a room, in a gown, hooked up and ready to go. Yes! I was so miserable and uncomfortable that I didn't dread labor one iota. I just wanted that baby out by whatever means possible!!
Shortly after breaking my water, contractions really started to pick up, so I requested the epidural I was planning on all the way along. I tried to go drug-free with Kellen, but Pitocin is a you-know-what, and knowing this was going to be a big baby, I didn't even want to try it without drugs. There were several women ahead of me, further along in their labor than me, so I had to wait a bit for my epidural. By the time the nurse anesthetist got in there to get it started, my labor was in full swing and I was sweating and breathing hard, contractions coming less than a minute apart. I couldn't wait for some relief! Well, relief took a while. The first attempt at the epidural went into a vein, and the test doses put in sent my heart-rate sky high and I about passed out! It was crazy weird, so it had to be re-done. Attempt sticking a giant needle in my back part 2 - still didn't work out. The test dose wouldn't even go in.
Let me digress for a moment - the anesthetist was older, very experienced, and she started to sweat right along with me at the thought of having to try a third time. I trusted her, and I knew it wasn't her fault, but I really wanted to punch someone or something at that point. I was in SO much pain, plus I had just had not one but TWO needles stuck into my spine, and if you've ever had it done, you know it's not the most pleasant sensation.
Attempt #3 - SUCCESS!!! YES! No crazy heart-rate, no vein, no blockage of test dose going in - it worked! HALLELUJAH! Relief was finally on the way after over an hour and three spine-needles. Phew.
Once the epidural settled in, I got quite comfortable (except for my entire body starting to shake and shiver, which happened with each epidural and delivery). By this point it was about 4 pm, and I was progressing fairly quickly. Contractions really started to intensify, and the pressure was building. A little before 5:30 I told Matt to find the doctor - I was feeling "pushy", and I knew it was time. Here we go!
I'll avoid getting too much into detail, but I would like a word here about pressure during birth. It hurts, and it's uncomfortable, but I had never experienced this type of pressure with my other births. It was insane, and I didn't think I was going to be able to handle it, even with an epidural. At this point I knew the baby was bigger than we thought, and I knew I had my work cut out for me. Once baby boy was about halfway out, the doctor started commenting on how big he was. I was thinking to myself, "Yeah, I could have told you that." Lucky for me, I have never had to push very long with my babies, and after only 10 or 15 minutes, my healthy and quite large baby boy was born. Matt got to cut the umbilical cord, and baby boy was put on my chest for me to meet for the very first time. He was sweet and beautiful and HUGE! He had ROLLS already! And boy could he scream!
We didn't weigh him right away, and the doctors and nurses started throwing guesses around as to how much he would weigh. It was quite amusing listening to the number flying around. When they rolled the scale in and placed baby boy on it, we were all still blown away to see the numbers that showed up: 10 lbs 14 oz! Two tiny ounces shy of 11 pounds! I was in awe of my little chunky goober-smooch, and totally in love. I know Matt was, too. The look on his face was indescribable.
Needless to say, the experience was unforgettable (as any birth is, really). But it's not every day you give birth to an 11 pound baby. Every discomfort, every sleepless night, every cramp, every pain, every waddle, every tear shed in frustration at my discomfort, every contraction and labor pain was totally worth it. Though I was miserable at the time, and it was probably the longest 9 months of my life, it was ALL worth it. Would I do it again? No way. I made sure of that the next morning.... but my little "big" Camden Byron was worth it all.
Here is the birth story of Camden, my 11 pound third child...
After having Kellen in 2010, Matt and I both thought we were done having kids. We had a girl and a boy, the perfect American 4-family, and I was satisfied and happy. That was until I started having dreams about this little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy named Camden. Starting sometime in 2013, he entered my dreams often, and I just couldn't shake the feeling that I had one more child to bring into the world. Every time I denied that feeling, I'd have another dream about him. Eventually, a couple of family members who have passed away entered my dreams as well, each time talking about babies with me. I consider myself a religious person, and though I often keep my religious beliefs and experiences to myself, this experience really started to blow my mind, and I absolutely believe that it was a prompting from a higher power that there was another little child waiting for me. After many dreams, I knew I had to talk to Matt about another baby. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to agree to bring another child into the world. Not only was he not wild about the idea, but I very much dislike being pregnant, and the thought of going through another pregnancy made me want to cry and throw-up and scream all at the same time.
After lots of discussion and going back and forth a few times, we decided it was time, and after a couple of months we had a new little peanut on the way (I had actually decided to go back on the pill if I ended up not being pregnant, but, of course, I was...).
Fast forward to 20 weeks and the big ultrasound to find out what we were having, and I was quite nervous. What if it was a girl? I was supposed to be having a boy according to my dreams! What would I do? Would we have to try for #4, and hope he was a boy? I was so worried (even though I was 90% positive I was carrying a boy). All through the ultrasound the tech could not get a good gender shot as the umbilical cord was wrapped between the baby's legs, but right at the very end, he decided to shift in such a way that we were able to see his little boy parts, and VOILA! A BOY! I KNEW IT! That little boy who appeared so often in my dreams had become a reality.
The pregnancy was not an easy one. I kept having problems here and there with different things, and I kept growing larger and larger and LARGER. I started to express my worries about baby's size to my doctor, but there wasn't much we could tell about his size until right toward the end.
At the last few appointments we talked about baby boy's size - I was getting quite concerned about the exit strategy, especially since my last baby was nearly 10 pounds. I thought I could probably handle a 10 pound baby, but much more than that, well I just didn't want to think about it.
The day before I delivered we discussed doing an ultrasound to measure baby, but since they can be off by as much as a pound or two, I was really hesitant to do that and have an unwarranted C-Section. I really, really didn't want to have a C-Section, so I decided to take my chances. I told the doctor I'd try it on my own, and if baby boy got stuck or was in distress, we could do a C-Section then, but I wanted to give it my best effort. We decided to induce the next day, 1 day before my due date.
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| 15weeks |
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| 31 weeks |
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| 35ish weeks |
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| Delivery Day! |
OK, a word here about putting off the induction of a hugely pregnant, grumpy woman: I wasn't happy. I knew it wasn't the hospital's fault, but I was miserable and ready to go. I couldn't WAIT to get that baby out of my body and into my arms. Ugh! Luckily, my induction was only put off by a couple of hours, and by noon I was in a room, in a gown, hooked up and ready to go. Yes! I was so miserable and uncomfortable that I didn't dread labor one iota. I just wanted that baby out by whatever means possible!!
Shortly after breaking my water, contractions really started to pick up, so I requested the epidural I was planning on all the way along. I tried to go drug-free with Kellen, but Pitocin is a you-know-what, and knowing this was going to be a big baby, I didn't even want to try it without drugs. There were several women ahead of me, further along in their labor than me, so I had to wait a bit for my epidural. By the time the nurse anesthetist got in there to get it started, my labor was in full swing and I was sweating and breathing hard, contractions coming less than a minute apart. I couldn't wait for some relief! Well, relief took a while. The first attempt at the epidural went into a vein, and the test doses put in sent my heart-rate sky high and I about passed out! It was crazy weird, so it had to be re-done. Attempt sticking a giant needle in my back part 2 - still didn't work out. The test dose wouldn't even go in.
Let me digress for a moment - the anesthetist was older, very experienced, and she started to sweat right along with me at the thought of having to try a third time. I trusted her, and I knew it wasn't her fault, but I really wanted to punch someone or something at that point. I was in SO much pain, plus I had just had not one but TWO needles stuck into my spine, and if you've ever had it done, you know it's not the most pleasant sensation.
Attempt #3 - SUCCESS!!! YES! No crazy heart-rate, no vein, no blockage of test dose going in - it worked! HALLELUJAH! Relief was finally on the way after over an hour and three spine-needles. Phew.
Once the epidural settled in, I got quite comfortable (except for my entire body starting to shake and shiver, which happened with each epidural and delivery). By this point it was about 4 pm, and I was progressing fairly quickly. Contractions really started to intensify, and the pressure was building. A little before 5:30 I told Matt to find the doctor - I was feeling "pushy", and I knew it was time. Here we go!
I'll avoid getting too much into detail, but I would like a word here about pressure during birth. It hurts, and it's uncomfortable, but I had never experienced this type of pressure with my other births. It was insane, and I didn't think I was going to be able to handle it, even with an epidural. At this point I knew the baby was bigger than we thought, and I knew I had my work cut out for me. Once baby boy was about halfway out, the doctor started commenting on how big he was. I was thinking to myself, "Yeah, I could have told you that." Lucky for me, I have never had to push very long with my babies, and after only 10 or 15 minutes, my healthy and quite large baby boy was born. Matt got to cut the umbilical cord, and baby boy was put on my chest for me to meet for the very first time. He was sweet and beautiful and HUGE! He had ROLLS already! And boy could he scream!
We didn't weigh him right away, and the doctors and nurses started throwing guesses around as to how much he would weigh. It was quite amusing listening to the number flying around. When they rolled the scale in and placed baby boy on it, we were all still blown away to see the numbers that showed up: 10 lbs 14 oz! Two tiny ounces shy of 11 pounds! I was in awe of my little chunky goober-smooch, and totally in love. I know Matt was, too. The look on his face was indescribable.
Needless to say, the experience was unforgettable (as any birth is, really). But it's not every day you give birth to an 11 pound baby. Every discomfort, every sleepless night, every cramp, every pain, every waddle, every tear shed in frustration at my discomfort, every contraction and labor pain was totally worth it. Though I was miserable at the time, and it was probably the longest 9 months of my life, it was ALL worth it. Would I do it again? No way. I made sure of that the next morning.... but my little "big" Camden Byron was worth it all.
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| Finally in the hospital! |
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| Taking his first breaths of life! |
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| Meeting my sweet baby boy. His little face is right next to mine. |
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| Showing his weight! |
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| Pouty face. :) |
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| Starving already! |
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| You were worth it little one, you were worth it. |
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| Sweet baby boy. |
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| Karlin, Lundynn, and Gma Diane meeting Camden. |
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| Exhausted yet thrilled Mommy and Daddy. |
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| Grandma Joycie meeting Camden. |
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| Audrey and Kellen waiting to hold their baby brother! |
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| Mesmerized! |
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| Aunt Melyssa meeting Camden. |
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| McDaniel cousins. |
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| First official 5-family photo! |
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| Angel baby. |
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| Tiny little ears. |
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| Binky drunk. |
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| Sweet Daddy/Camden moment. |
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| Brothers. |
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| Audrey and Camden. |
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| Love this! |
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| All curled up in Daddy's arms. Look at the size of those feet! |
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| Sweet baby boy! |
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Some Recent Happenings
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| At the beach! |
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| Beautiful Oregon Coast. One of my favorite places. |
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| Our family at the beach. |
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| Beautiful evening on the beach. |
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| Walking the shore line. |
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| Loving the ocean! |
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| Wallabies! |
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| Petting the deer at the Wild Animal Park. |
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| Loving the animals. |
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| Here Kitty kitty...petting a Caracal. |
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| So excited! |
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| Pretty peacock! |
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| Tidepooling - found a mussel rock. |
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| Pathway down to the tidepools. |
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| TV Box! Making their own tv shows. |
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| Scout watching Audrey tv. |
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| Kellen's comedy channel. |
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| Dance! |
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| Beautiful ballerina. |
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| 21 weeks! I'm now 22...18 weeks to go! |
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