Are carrots better for your eyes...

...if you put them IN your eyes?

Apparently Millz thinks so.

Pray like you have never prayed before...

pic courtesy of natalie's blog

I have been watching this story unfold via twitter and facebook throughout the last week.

I met Natalie two years ago at the Film is Not Dead workshop in Hawaii.

I immediately liked Natalie, she and I had a lot in common.
I recall discussing adoption with her during that workshop...she and I were in similar boats and circumstances when it came to building our families.

Happily and miraculously, 8 weeks ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy whom she named Gavin after her brother who had passed away.

Baby Gavin is in the hospital at this moment fighting for his life.
He has Pertussis.
Also known as whooping cough.

What Natalie doesn't know is that as I have been reading her tweets and facebook, part of me has wanted to turn away...reliving too well the moments my nine day old Memms was admitted to Primary Children's Hospital at the tiny age of nine days...she also had RSV and they were throwing around all sorts of things at me like Pertussis...and Whooping cough.
(luckily for Memms the incubation period of Pertussis was before her birth...so she only had RSV to deal with.)

This baby Gavin has much more on his tiny shoulders.

Will you PLEASE...PLEASE...PLEASE pray for him?

Pray like you never have before.

I cannot bear to watch my friend go through this alone, but if we all can pray, she can feel our love for her and this little boy can pull through.

Thanks you guys.

All my love Natalie.

ALL. OF. IT.

"The 'breastfast' of champions."

A story of weaning.

5 months

That is it. It is all I can do. It is the farthest I have gotten with any of my babies.

I feel kind of 'meh'.

I want my body back.

Selfish I know.

Part of it probably has something to do with the fact I am flying with my sweet baby in about two weeks, and I really, REALLY don't feel comfortable nursing while I sit in the middle of two complete strangers.

Really? I know teeth are coming and I am afraid.

Also? I am really fat.

Like, REALLY.

Like, I have never been so big in my ENTIRE life.

This makes me sad.

My body holds onto every gram of fat I put into it, like a squirrel gathering nuts for winter, my body thinks that it must not let any of it go for fear it can't produce enough milk for this little one.



Do I feel guilty? A tiny bit.

JUST a tiny bit.

(I feel more guilt about the day we pierced her ears...now that is a tragedy.)

I do know however that I am going to be a MUCH better mom when I am not so stressed about whether or not she is getting enough, or that I have to be home within three hours from the exact time I leave the house. A little excited that maybe I can sleep through the night one of these weekends when my husband doesn't work, as this sweet face STILL wakes up every three hours at night. I am a zombie.

Love this sweet tiny thing. She brings me so much joy. Thank you Millz for not making me feel guilty when I gave you that bottle of formula for the first time in your little life today.

Thank you for drinking it right down and
smiling
through it all.

Just what I needed, you are definitely a champ.

This is Familiar

The instant I held Millz in my arms for the first time,
she was familiar.



At first, I wasn't sure if it was because she looked so much like her brother and sister,
or if it was because
SHE herself was familiar.

Of course, it was because she was familiar.

The first few days and weeks that she was a part of our home, a part of our lives,
she brought an
air of familiarity
to our hearts.



This tiny girl was the reason, the push, the drive of the previous three years. She was the one standing behind the veil SCREAMING for us to not give up on her. It was her spirit begging for us to not give up hope for another child to come to our home. It was her. She wanted so badly to come to us...and when she was finally here, it was with the simple, sweet, enduring ways of a baby that I realized as her mother that I already knew her inside and out.

I KNEW HER.

She. Was. Familiar.



As I look back on the almost five months since she came to us, I am in awe of her spirit. Her happy face, and the sweet love that she has for us.

She was worth Every tear. Every heartache. Every loss.

Every. Single. One.

I would do it all again for her.

To my friends still 'waiting' or still 'finding' or still 'hoping'...
don't give up.

Your 'Familiar' is waiting, standing behind an unseen veil,
waiting and hoping just as hard as you are!

She is proof:

Baby 'Grande' and Toes are WAY more exciting than me.

When J-dawg was a little tiny man, he got this baby doll for Christmas.
(Incidentally she is like half the price now...geez.)

My hope in getting him his own little doll (and I am obviously using that term loosely) was to prepare him for the eventuality of a little brother or sister one day, hoping that it would ease the transition.

The problem? The first words out of his mouth the instant he held it were, and I quote:

"Ooooooh! Bebe muito grande!"

(said like gah-ran-jee)

Basically my tiny boy was telling me that this doll was TOO freaking huge for him to handle,
it was seriously SOOOO big!

So, the name stuck.
To this very day, having been played with by J-dawg, and Memms, and one day soon, Millz...this doll is still called,

"Baby Grande".

Meet Baby Grande...
who may or may not have once been a "boy" to ease Hubbs into the idea of his son having a doll...and who somehow has blossomed into a yellow polka dot wearing baby girl.
Who knew?

Note Millz with Baby Grande just this week.
Please consider that Millz is now three months old:

Hilariousness.

Do you see Millie in that last picture?
My other dilemma.

She is in LOVE with her feet.

She just discovered them.

While I dearly love her in every way possible,
as a mother, it is hard for me to accept that she no longer wants to look at my face,
and as a photographer she no longer eagerly looks at my camera either.

Instead she would rather look at her toes.
Another sign that she is getting bigger.
Pause while I shed a tear.

Just don't tell her that I love her toes as much as she does,
if. not. more.

Finally, a story that ends WITH a baby.

I am extremely teary right now.

This post needs to be written.
I hate that it has taken so long.
It is so sacred, and so special that it needed me to have the time to put it down.

I will preface with the fact that I have an EXTREME case of
"pregnant brain" combined with sleep deprivation.

It is my hope I can remember the minutes of this day like they happened, and recall with full heart how I felt.

The Monday prior to Millz birth, I had an appointment with my doctor where he
"stretched my cervix".

Let's just leave it at this: That it hurt like a mother. And I left with his words ringing in my mind, "60-70% of women will begin labor within 48 hours."

On the way home I texted one of my besties.
She said, "You'll prolly be in the 30% that don't start labor huh?" She knew what I was thinking.
I went home that night uncomfortable, but with no signs that I would have this baby before my doctor was scheduled to leave for his vacation on Friday.

Tears.

I wanted nothing more than to have HIM there to deliver this sweet girl. I prayed hard, I cleaned my house,
I MOWED THE LAWN.
NADA.

So, the night before Millz was born, I was out photographing a beautiful friend of mine, Crystalyn.
Yes, nine months pregnant I was still shooting, but at that point, one only hopes and prays that any sort of physical activity will activate full blown labor.

It didn't.

I went home and had a hard time falling asleep.
I felt like CRAP.

I woke up the next morning still feeling just all around yucky, but not in "labor". Sure, I had contractions...just like the weeks before, every 3-30 minutes. Crystalyn called me that morning, just to say,
"I felt like I needed to call you and see how you are doing."

Because of her sweet call, and her urging me to go to the doctor, I started to think,
"Huh, maybe I am in labor?"

She proceeded to tell me,
"You know you feel like crap because: YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!"

I still laugh at that sentence.
Hindsight: She was right. At the moment: I was in denial.

I told her that I would indeed go into the hospital if I didn't start feeling better. The contractions kept coming and coming, but inconsistently, and I still felt like crapola.

I ran some errands with Hubbs, we got some lunch, then dropped the older kiddos off on the in-laws and we were off to the hospital, just to see what the heck was up and why I was feeling so icky.

We got to the hospital at 4:00 p.m.

It took what felt like forever to get to the L&D room for monitoring. Here, I was informed they would monitor me for an hour...see if I was progressing, if not then they would send me home.

BOO.

I was dilated to a 2+ when I came in. I could have cried (remember all the cervix stretching? A fancy term for "stripping of the membranes") Well when the nurse, Kathleen told me that I hadn't progressed since then...I CRIED. I knew the hour would be pointless...I felt dumb for even going into the hospital. I just wanted to turn around and leave. But I didn't...I stayed for the entire hour.

Kathleen came back in, checked me and I dilated 1/2 a centimeter. YES a half. They want you to dilate 1 centimeter an hour in order to keep you. Kathleen was SO sweet, and SO kind that she said,

"Well, how about if we keep you for one more hour? But if you don't dilate I will have to send you home because we are SUPER FULL."

Me: "Okay." All the time hoping and praying that SOMETHING would happen.

I took a few laps around the L&D floor. Hubbs was at a closing during this hour...so I was alone.
I had a lot of time to contemplate about this sweet baby girl. How I wanted to meet her, how I longed to have our Dr. Lloyd be there to deliver her, how I wanted Jon to be able to come and photograph her first perfect moments of life...
I prayed a lot that week...that things would line up and all would go perfectly, like I wanted it to.

After the second hour I went back to the room, and Kathleen checked me again. Dilated to a 3.5. BLAST. Only another 1/2 a centimeter? Things were happening but UBER slow. Kathleen said she was off to get some meds to send me home...assuring me I would be back within the day to have the baby.

She left the room, and there I was alone with baby in my belly, teary, praying.

I prayed and prayed and prayed.

The monitors were still on. Kathleen didn't come back.
She didn't come back for almost 45 minutes.

When she did come back in, she said,
"Well, I called the Doctor on call (not my doctor...frowny face) and he wants to keep you."

Me: "WHAT?!"

Kathleen had been monitoring me and apparently in the 45 minutes since she had gone my blood pressure had sky-rocketed. (As did the pain level of the contractions which were now coming every 3 minutes).
Dr. Barton wanted to keep me for fear I was becoming preeclamptic.

Even though I felt like garbage...I was having a baby...soon!

Remember when I said Heavenly Father loved me?
Well, He does. A LOT.

I was admitted at 7:00 p.m.







Got my epidural at 9:00 p.m. Alone. Had sent Hubbs home to shower and change
(hello these pictures were going to be eternally shot on FILM...he had to look good.)
Needless to say, big mistake and my contractions went crazy painful after they broke my water (just seconds BEFORE he left.)

I am a wuss but a thankful wuss that there is such wonderful things as epidurals.

Mmm, epidural.

At 10:00 p.m. dilated to a five. Had Hubbs call Jon.
(Even though Hubbs and Kathleen thought I was crazy...they both thought baby wouldn't come for 'quite some time'".)

Jon arrives within the hour:



Don't I look freaking hott for being 9 months pregnant?
(I meant that...really!)



The pitocin, combined with the epidural really sped things along.
Wanna know the cool part? Who ordered the pitocin?

Dr. Lloyd.

Yep, Dr. Barton called him and HE CAME IN!

To deliver Millz.

Tears.

Miracles.



Oh the hilarity when Dr. Lloyd came into check me and I introduced him to our friend Jon.
Dr. was like, "Uhm, do you want him to LEAVE?!"

Funny.
Recall the "hooha" dilemma?

Who cares?
Really?

Anyway, he checks me and I am like at a six. Feeling TOTALLY dumb for calling Jon.
So Hubbs, Jon and I talk for the next hour.



Here I am texting mrs. r so she can give the world the play by play via twitter and facebook.

Thanks Linds.

Also, making Leisha spend tons of money by sending her texts. Get a new plan already okay Leish?





As we are sitting there, the new nurse comes in and I tell her:
"I am feeling a lot of pressure...I think the baby is ready."

So she checks me, and YEP...Millz was ready.

10.













I pushed once.

The world stopped for a moment and the room went silent when we hear,
"The cord is around her neck."

(Okay...)

Apparently all is well, when I push once more and Dr. Lloyd proclaims:
"Baby is out."

11:58 p.m.

Two minutes before my Step-dad's birthday.

What can I say, she wanted her own day.





She is beautiful, everything I imagined her to be and more.

She looks like her big sister, only with slightly smaller cheeks and lips.

Her head is perfectly round.

I bawl.

Hubbs bawls.



I think originally that her mouth is REALLY small, until I get these pictures back from Jon and see this one:



She has the same mouth as her brother and sister.

It is trademarked.



Dark hair. Tiny hands.

I hear her weight: 7lbs 9 ounces.

I proclaim: "She is so small."

Dr. Lloyd informs me that she is not small.

I insist: "Small for ME, she is TINY".

And the following photo which makes me cry to this day and is the entire reason I wanted Jon there to capture this moment, and why everyone needs someone there to capture this moment:



My sweetheart and eternal companion. I love him.
The best daddy ever.

He adores her already.







She is perfect in every way.
Teary.

I still do nothing but hold her.

I am the luckiest girl.

THE LUCKIEST.

All of my dreams have come true.

So will yours.

Keep hoping.

Never, never, never give up hope.

Never.

Trying to get it together...

...so I can blog the UH-Mazing pictures from this man.

...so I can tell you about Millz's BEAUTIFUL birth story.

...so I can show you the pictures of her blessing day, and the dress that I made for her.
(and why I will NEVER make another one.)

...but for now, I don't have it together at all, for various reasons most of which even I don't understand.

So hold out, I am making my way slowly around blog world too, because I am just missing TOO much, and missing my blog friends.

And also for now, these:











They are the best of friends.

How truly lucky my girls are to have such a wonderful big brother like J-Man.

He is HILARIOUS to the max, and caring to the core, and loving to the moon and back again.

He says, "Jeepers".

He loves them when they are hurting.

He "babysits".

He is my shining star.

He fell out of the car the other day, and my heart skipped a beat, he was okay, but I realized again at that moment that I would do ANYTHING in the world for him.
I don't know what I would do without him.

I am in love.

Newborn Poo, er uh, "Pooh"

Last Wednesday marked two milestones in our house.

The first:





Using the last newborn diaper.

The second:





Smiling...for real, and often.

Both have caused large amounts of weeping from me.

Love her more than words.