Category: Parenthood

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.

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!

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! ❤

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.