The P’s of Life

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On the college student awesomeness spectrum, I landed somewhere shy of stellar. I chose actuarial science from an alphabetical list of majors and enrolled in the classes the student adviser suggested at registration. I put as much effort into my classes as I did into choosing them and by the end of my freshman year, my GPA left me one legal blood alcohol content limit away from getting kicked out of the business school. So, I changed my major to marketing. I still didn’t apply myself, but at least I could pass the tests. If you’re thinking I’m a spoiled millennial who wasn’t ready for college, you’re right, but remaining a student was the only way to continue receiving my dad’s death benefits from the state. I without a doubt wasn’t capable of adulting if I couldn’t even student.

Marketing it was. Turns out, marketing is ironically relevant to just about every possible career path one can venture down and I really should have paid more attention. Shoot! I do remember one thing though: the one thing my Marketing 101 professor told his students to remember from his class if we remembered just one thing. Being the overachiever that I am, I made it my takeaway from all my college “studies.” The 4 P’s of marketing: product, price, place, promotion. If you understand the 4 P’s, you understand marketing… more or less.

Several years later, as I stumbled down one of my daily soul-searching tangents, I realized I’d run into the P’s of life. Most of the topics I thought and journaled about started with the letter P. Passion, people, perspective, etc. Coincidence? Maybe. But maybe, if I can understand life’s P’s, I will be on the path to understanding life, or at least able to make peace with it.

I wrote some of the important P’s into a pineapple. Which P’s mean the most to you?

8 Weeks, 8 Quirks

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Time is the ultimate frenemy. It’s moving scary fast these days: Formula Rossa fast. Spare the Google search, it’s the world’s fastest roller coaster. Of course, that’s the thrill of time, isn’t it? Could the time of your life be anything but full speed ahead?

It’s been 8 weeks already. I said I’d journal everyday, so I wouldn’t forget anything important. I haven’t. How could I though? It’s all important. I’ve come to the peaceful realization that I don’t have to remember everything. I’ve always thought putting off experiences with children because they won’t remember as grown ups is a silly notion. Everything children experience shapes who they are. I’ve only now made the connection that the same thing applies to parenthood. As long as I do my best to fully experience each ever-fleeting moment with my baby, I won’t have any lack-of-journaling regrets, even if I don’t remember everything.

That said, I don’t want to forget everything. So in honor of his 8 weeks earth-side, here are 8 quirks worth remembering about tiny Tripp:

1. He is so weird. I freaking love it. He’s so much more of a person than everyone else’s babies. The eternal motherhood bias, I know.

2. His gummy smile is magic. It has the power to make everything okay. Better than okay. It can turn exhaustion into youthful energy and frustration into love-filled bliss.

3. He is so beautiful. He had newborn rash just after he was born, then baby acne, then cradle cap. Now I look at his perfect little defined features (no need to describe them like Shakespeare, I have an iPhone 7) and I feel like I can almost see his soul. I haven’t felt this phenomenon before.

4. He coos and grunts and moans with perfect comedic timing.

5. He fights sleep by whipping his head back and forth as fast as he can. If he had more hair, he’d give Willow Smith a run for her money.

6. He gets upset when he’s awake and swaddled and when he’s asleep and unswaddled, so we rock him to sleep and gently swaddle him without waking him up. You can’t half-ass it though, otherwise he’ll wake up and you’ll have to start all over. He’s about to outgrow the biggest Velcro swaddle Babies”R”Us makes, so I’ll report back on the transition. That’s probably a lie. I’ll forget.

7. In a recent Instagram post, I jokingly wondered whether he’ll be able to wear all of his 3-6 month outfits before he outgrows them. He decided to simultaneously help me make sure he wears them all and show me he’s actually the real jokester by blowing out three outfits today.

8. While we are on the topic of baby poo… it smells so good. I wish I could bottle it up and turn it into a candle to burn when he starts eating food. I thought selling baby poo scented candles might be a profitable side gig, but Rob shot me down. Considering he’s the only one making money at the moment, we’ll hold off on investing in my million dollar idea.

Maternity leave is moving too fast. I think I’ll break her legs so she has to crawl like the last 12 weeks of pregnancy did.

 

For Tripp: Birth Story

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Nothing like I’d planned or expected, but perfectly imperfect, messy, humbling, beautiful and just how it meant to happen. Your grand entrance was a splendid introduction to our new life with you.

On Monday morning, three days after your due date, I sat at my desk and wondered about you, wondered so hard I knew I needed to check on you, so your dad and I set up an ultrasound for that afternoon with your papa. About an hour later I started feeling Braxton Hicks, so I thought. Aren’t you not supposed to be hungry during labor? They were 3 minutes apart and pretty mild. I told your dad and he insisted your oma drive me to our appointment just in case.

You looked great on the Doppler. Your papa felt one of my contractions and confirmed it was the real deal. We didn’t know when, but you were coming soon!

My contractions got a bit more intense later on that night, but they were still 3 minutes apart and just 30 seconds long. So much for the 5-1-1 rule. You were throwing us for a loop already! I showered, we packed our bag, called your baba to come stay with Omaha, and headed to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital around 10 p.m. and left the bag in the car…so I could feel that much less embarrassed when we got sent home.

Well, I was only 3 centimeters dilated. Oops! The triage nurse told your dad and me to walk around the birthing unit for an hour to see if labor progressed. A short hour later I was up to 5 centimeters and we got admitted. Actually admitted, though I still wasn’t convinced we were staying. Your impending arrival was too incredible and overwhelming a concept to grasp.

Your dad and oma took turns walking the big square lap around the birthing unit with me for most of the night, pausing as I held onto the railing and breathed through each contraction.

Around 7 a.m., my plans of a natural birth quickly began looking lofty. I’d pictured bringing you into the world naturally and mentally prepared to go that route throughout my pregnancy. According to all I’d read and all I believed, a natural birth was safest for the baby and allowed the mom to be best connected to the experience. As it turns out, labor and delivery, much like parenting, aren’t quite as black and white as I thought. As it turns out, the safest way to bring you into the world was the safest way to bring you into the world, and any way of doing that allowed me, your mom, to be fully connected to the experience. A natural birth wasn’t in the cards, and that’s okay.

The sun rose and I was still only 6cm dilated. You were sunny side up, a pocket of amniotic fluid under your head was making it difficult for you to fully engage, and my back labor contractions, though painful (more painful than I’d anticipated), weren’t strong enough to keep labor progressing. I’d been in labor for 20 hours at that point and I was exhausted. Your dad and oma were tired, too. Our wonderful L&D nurse, Ashley, talked over options with us. She reminded me that whatever I chose, I’d still need the energy to push you out. I decided to accept medication. All the medication. Even that decision was a relief. I got a complete epidural, Ashley started Pitocin to get things moving, Dr. Austin broke my water, inserted a tube to flush out your meconium (there was a lot), and I began laboring with a giant peanut ball between my legs to try to get you to turn over. I got a few wonderful hours of sleep in my cocoon of pillows Ashley had set up for me.

Despite amping the Pitocin every hour, I was still just 6cm dilated at 12:30. I wasn’t worried though. I was comfortable, rested and your heartbeat was steady and strong. Around 2:30 or 3, I started to feel a pocket of pain in my left hip with each contraction. It wasn’t terrible, but it was there. Ashley called the anesthesiologist to do another starting dose of medication through the epidural. Shortly after, I spiked a small fever and got a bit nauseous. Ashley checked me and I was complete. 10cm and station +2. We were going to have a baby! I cried hard, happy tears. It finally sunk in. We were about to meet you. You were coming. You were going to be okay.

I pushed for just 25 minutes. I watched Dr. Austin pull you out and into the world through a mirror. It wasn’t nearly as gross as I thought it was going to be. I may be a little biased though, especially considering you were covered in poop. Your poop, not mine. Just to be clear, I didn’t poop. They had told me they’d need to wipe you off and suck the fluid out of your lungs before they gave you to me, but I forgot. I reached for you immediately, my perfect, ‘chocolate milk’ coated baby boy. 6lbs 13oz, 19.5”, born at 4:11 pm on January 30, 2018, the best day of my life.

You slept next to me on the couch as a wrote this story up and as if on cue, your eyes have opened, looking up to the ceiling fan. So you’ll have to excuse me for now, little love, it’s time to go be your mom.

Maternity Pants

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Being pregnant is a kick in the pants. A kick in the maternity pants, that is, in the elastic part that covers your entire ever-growing midsection. Many of them. Okay, this analogy might be a stretch…get it? Haha. Anyhow, I’m trying to say that the little human living inside me is the most incredible source of inspiration and motivation.

I find myself thanking my sweet baby when he kicks and wiggles inside me all day long. I guess I’m thanking him for the reminders that he’s okay in there. He’s okay, he’s real and he’s ours. Ours to love on, ours to provide for, ours to encourage, ours to celebrate, ours to teach, ours to learn from.  Maybe it’s a nesting phenomenon, I’m not sure, but feeling him move urges me to move and act on my own dreams while simultaneously immersing myself in the present completely, more so than I’ve ever been able to do before.  Our forever on this earth spans a number of todays and today is the most important day there has ever been or ever will be.

Happy Friday!

First Glimpse of Forever

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I’m not a great improv storyteller. “Not great” is generous. I most often miss important details, elaborate excessively on immaterial particulars, and obnoxiously jumble the order of events. Fortunately for all, I’m better able to recount my tales in writing. Someday, our kid(s) are going to wonder about our story, about how all they know came to be. I want to incorporate my favorite parts of our story into this blog before the years fade my memory so that when the time comes to share them with our children, I can do it right.

The story of our engagement is one of my favorites. I still pinch myself when I realize it’s ours. Rob didn’t just knock it out of the park, he cleared the stadium’s nosebleed seats. I’ll just spoil the ending from the get-go so I can order the events properly…I said yes.

Rob and I hopped on a plane on New Year’s Eve, waved goodbye to 2014 and said a gleeful ALOHA to 2015, Maui and my family. After a tonsillectomy a few weeks prior, my last day at my job the day before, and Rob’s first experience with a Barba style pre-vacation packing/cleaning all-nighter, we needed a stress-free week in paradise.

We strolled along Front Street in Lahaina the day after we arrived. Rob invited my sister to get gelato while I shoe shopped with my mom and unbeknownst to me, enlisted her help as his proposal photographer. A few days later, he convinced me to go get a manicure with my sister and while we got pampered, he walked the beach outside our hotel with my mom and asked her blessing.

On January 5th, we dressed up for dinner. Rob had made a reservation for the two of us just down the beach from Whaler’s Village. He suggested we walk to the restaurant in the sand. He held my hand and began saying wonderfully romantic and poetic things to me. Still oblivious and true to character, I dropped his hand to pull up my phone camera. The setting sun lit the water and the sky. It was quite literally picture-perfect. As calm and confident as ever, he continued. He said my full name, pulled a sparkly ring from his pocket, knelt and asked me to marry him.

My phone and the bag I held fell into the damp sand as my hands cupped my mouth and I jumped backward. My knees violently trembled. That whole weak in the knees nonsense…that actually happened. “Are you serious?” I asked. He smiled and said yes. And so did I, many times.

We hugged and kissed and the sun set behind us. Rob smiled again and pointed over to the bushes. My mom and sister stood up.

What a guy, right? I’ll say yes to this crazy life with Rob for the rest of forever. ❤ There are several details worth noting that don’t really fit with the flow of the story, but prove just how brilliant Rob is. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do 😊:

  • Rob changed our dinner reservation from the 6th to the 5th because he watched the weather and winds were supposed to pick up on the 6th.
  • Rob had told his parents he was going to propose before we left home, so they already knew the plan when they drove us to the airport and we all joked about the escapades the night before, when I’d bitched at Rob because his help in cleaning our apartment was not up to my standards.
  • Just before Rob proposed, I suggested we go say hi to my mom and sister as we walked by the bar where they were at happy hour. Rob shot that idea down. Hard. I thought it was weird and told him so of course, but didn’t press it…thankfully. I would try to start a fight minutes before my boyfriend was planning to propose. Haha. Turns out, my sister had texted Rob and told him not to come because my mom was crying.
  • Convincing me to get a manicure is a feat most would underestimate. I can be, ehem, frugal. Why would I pay for a manicure? It’s just going to chip.
  • Rob consoled my mom after he asked her blessing and graciously suggested she pull it together before my sister and I returned from our nail appointment. She was, you guessed it, crying.
  • Rob proposed on the beach at sunset because he timed it that way. I threw a wrench in his calculated timing a little earlier that evening when I said, “I’m ready now, let’s go.” He gracefully lead us through the shops in Whaler’s Village to kill the time. We even bought cards for friends.
  • Rob mentioned a month or so before we left for Hawaii that he’d probably propose that next summer. “You can’t be a bridesmaid and plan a wedding at the same time,” he’d said, “it would be too stressful.” He planted that seed to ensure my ignorance. It worked.

“Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails”

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Rob and I talked about our first baby long before that magic poppy seed started growing in my belly. We agreed we wouldn’t find out our baby’s gender before it was born because what grander surprise could life bring? But then we got pregnant and I just had to know. Not for the onesies or the nursery decorations or anything like that- I wanted to stop referring to my child as “it”. I couldn’t have predicted that would bother me when Rob and I playfully negotiated timing amongst the Hawaiian palms last year. Life’s surprises truly are hidden in plain sight everywhere we look. Each mother bonds with her unborn baby differently and I knew knowing my baby’s gender would help me create a deeper bond.

It’s a BOY! Being able to talk to him and about him and feel his little flutters and hear my husband ask how our son is doing by name with his hand on my belly… so SO special. We’ve had a blissful few days as a little family. It can be difficult to picture a life centered around a tiny human we haven’t met because the experience will be brand new to us. We don’t have a reference point. Silly as it sounds, giving our tiny human a name and identity helps bring our new reality into perspective and makes it that much more real to us in these moments before he is in our arms.

Our sweet friend hosted a gender reveal party for us this past weekend and another sweet friend (who happens to be a professional baker) visited all the way from Wisconsin and made us a gender reveal cake. I would have scoffed had you told my younger, 26-year-old self I’d have a gender reveal party… but I’m 27 now 😉 and I’m so happy to continue learning all I don’t know. Celebrating our baby boy with a party was a dream! I feel like the luckiest mama in the world to be surrounded by so many incredible goof balls who already love my son. We’re going to have a lot of little parties once he’s here because life should be celebrated. Mark your calendars for baby boy’s “I Lost My First Tooth” party in 2023!

Thank you Nellie and Steph and our family and friends. We love you all! ❤

Bittersweet 16

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The Colorado sun shines 300 days per year. It’s only gloomy about 1/6 of the time. Same goes for me.

It’s been nearly 16 years since my dad took his last breath and left this place. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. I miss him in every moment of every day, but most days, I don’t feel sad. Most days, I’m just thankful for the 11 years we had together. I wouldn’t trade those 11 years for 80 with any other dad. Most days, I’m just proud of the people my mom and sister have become since he left. He’d be proud of them, too. There are days when the sorrow is overwhelming, but they are few. I can always count on the sun to come out tomorrow.

I’m not so sure time heals us as they say, referring to the ever elusive they of course, but time does heal our perspective. I think so, anyway. The wounds are still there, but we learn to be okay again, just a different okay than we were before. 16 years have passed. It’s bittersweet.

Here’s a strange parallel. Rob and I will have our first child soon. One of my parents died when their first child was only 11. Our time with our loved ones is precious and unpredictable, too much so to do anything but treasure every moment. That really is the best way to live after all.

Happy birthday to my sweet daddio this weekend! If I ever figure out how to upload a file bigger than 2MB on here, I will share the awesome tribute slideshow a talented friend put together for my wedding.

 

Where Adventure Lives

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If the Carl and Ellie’s love story at the beginning of Up didn’t leave your eyes teary, your throat all choked up and your heart full and heavy, were you even watching?

“Adventure is out there!”

I’ve always been something of a nomad. I crave adventure, an escape from reality, and mostly just more. More experiences, more beauty, more culture, more depth, more life. When the everyday gets mundane, my mind wanders and naturally, my desire to wander with it burns fierce.

Rob is not a nomad. He’s a homebody, a homemaker, a stabilizer. All our recent adult behavior has been at his influence. I cried when we spent all our money on a down payment for a house. I cried when we got a dog…and once or twice or fifty times since. When we invest in home improvements instead of vacations, I usually cry.

I haven’t quite mastered this adulting gig. Thankfully, Rob is eternally patient. He consoles me through my weekly freak-outs (weekly is conservative). He understands my need to travel and though he’d rather stay home and save money, we take a lot of vacations.

Carl and Ellie’s love story hits home for us, ever so literally. I gave Rob “Our Adventure Book” on our wedding day, filled with memories from the years we’ve spent together. Ironically (for me), so many highlights happened right here, during our everyday life. I just finished adding our first year of marriage to our scrapbook and again, I’m reminded of what an adventure this life is, what a splendid adventure it is to be married to Robert Stettler.

Adventure is out there. And it’s also right here.

 

P.s. I really do love my dog. Promise. 😊

I Can Breathe

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My trainer became a runner by saying to herself over and over, “I can breathe.”

She was simply aiming to motivate my tired peers and myself during workout class when she told us, but being newly pregnant, I recognized those three words as the most coveted advice. Advice for everything.

I can breathe.

I’m 13 weeks pregnant (+3 days). I’m anxious. All the time. Not anxious in that I’m chomping at the bit to meet and hold my baby as soon as possible or I’ll pull my hair out, no, the time will pass, as it always does, and I have A LOT to do to prepare. My anxiety lives a little further below the surface, which makes sense, because that’s where my baby lives. I’m anxious for my baby to be okay. Pregnancy is scary. Babies are delicate. There are so many things beyond our control. Sometimes, bad things happen. Sometimes, babies aren’t okay.

I can breathe.

I’ve only recently made the connection that life is just like pregnancy. Life is scary. Humans are delicate. There are so many things beyond our control. Sometimes, bad things happen. Sometimes, the ones we love aren’t okay. Ironically though, that’s what makes the whole journey so dang beautiful. Because life is scary, it’s exhilarating. Because humans are delicate, they are the greatest treasure. Because so many things are beyond our control, we’re free. Because bad things happen, we don’t take the good for granted. There’s so much good. Because the ones we love aren’t going to be okay, we love them harder than we knew we could.

I can breathe.

Fear isn’t entirely negative. Discovering the beauty buried in fear has helped me breathe during my pregnancy thus far. When I intentionally breathe, I can feel my whole body wrapping itself around my baby. Hugging it. Embracing it. I won’t let fear of what could happen hinder me from fully embracing this astronomic little gift. I can’t. In all reality, my baby is already earth side, it just happens to live inside of me. Up until a few months ago, I never questioned people talking about the mothers pregnant women were going to be. Now though, I find it strange. Now I know. Pregnant women are already mothers. Anyone who has ever been pregnant already knows a love free from conditions, a love fiercer than any other. Motherhood started with my magical poppy seed and ends when I die, if then. I’m already more blessed than my mere human mind can comprehend. This journey is scary beautiful. And I can breathe.