The Best 4-Second Video You'll Ever See

Don't be afraid to turn up the volume...

Rewind to September 21st...

Earlier this fall, on September 21st, our very good friends M&C tied the knot. It was a Sunday evening wedding, sweet & short (emphasis very much on the sweet), with a helluva good party to boot. I was honored to make the wedding cake for them, and I do believe it's the best looking and tasting wedding cake I've done to date. I also made a sheet cake...three layers of almond poppyseed cake with raspberry filling. The wedding cake was layer upon layer of vanilla bean white cake (the vanilla specks were beautiful, but lost to the dim mood lighting in the theater) with homemade plum jam filling. I need to make that cake again. It was really damn good.

Here you see me with M (bride) and C (groom).

Here is the first slice oh-so-gracefully tipping onto the plate,
about to be consumed by the happy couple... But what I really
want you to notice is the striking beauty of the plum jam filling
against the cake. Yeah, baby. I did that.

And here is a nice arty shot. I love this angle. I'd like to take
this opportunity to point out that the bottom tier contains 4 layers of
cake...and the middle and top tiers each contain 5 layers of deliciousness.

I'm done tooting my own horn for now. Soon enough it will be Thanksgiving, the desserts of which I have become the maker (except apple pie...sister Mary can have that, and she does a wonderful job...so good I don't even want to compete). I heard from Dad today that 23 people are expected. Ha! Bring it on.

For Grandma C.

We spent last weekend back home in northern MN. We got to see Nana L. and G'pa M., plus all the aunts and uncles and cousins from BK's side of the family. Little E. obviously had a great time. As a bonus, we also got to spend a little time with my sisters, Alice and Mary, as well as with Grandpa Lindy. Alice's daughter ZeeZee (my nickname for her...) turned ONE last weekend and Ellie and I attended the fun birthday party and brought auntie Marnie and cousin Nat-O along.

For all the fun we had, we missed out on one very important visit. We had made plans with Grandma C. (my mom) to spend Sunday afternoon/evening at her house in the woods, but sadly Grandma C. came down with a bad cold (after clearly overextending herself to prepare for an art show, but then kicking ass and taking names at said show...wait...that's probably not the right lingo to describe such a sophisticated event, but I'm sure Mom will appreciate the props I'm trying to give). Our separate, but related, mothering instincts told us we should bag the visit and aim for Thanksgiving.

Which brings us to this presentation, solely dedicated to Grandma C. from Ellie. I must fully disclose that I actually filmed this a couple weeks ago, but the sentiment remains.

We love you, Grandma, and we can't wait to give you big kisses!
MMMMWWWWAAAHH!

p.s. I'd like to point out that the wall behind Ellie has since been painted in full with that greenish color, a Behr paint called "Garden Path." Gotta thank Mom for that inspiration.

p.p.s. Yes, I'm patting myself on the back for my first successful video post.

The Fleeting Moment...

I know it's been awhile since our last post, but I think our single reader is most likely too busy to notice (Hi Marnie!). If we have other readers, please leave us a note. Otherwise it is much too easy to ignore this blog.

My purpose for logging on this fine, blustery, overcast October afternoon is to report that my not-so-little baby fell asleep in my arms today. We offered her a nap a couple hours ago, sure she would take the opportunity (I peeked in and she was still, and thus I assumed, asleep). But noooo. I had to rescue her from the apparent hell that is her crib. After some time in front of the football game and a snack of apple slices and tiny little teddy grahams (mmmm, those little bears are tasty), I perched her on my lap in order to put on her sweater and jacket for a fun foray out to the yard. Instead of reaching her little arm out to help me get the sweater on, she simply laid her head on my chest and relaxed. Awwww! So I wrapped my arms around her and we rocked gently for a few minutes on the sofa. I figure it's always better to err on the side of an attempted nap, so we cruised down to her room where I offered her a binky and the blankie, plopped into the rocker, and there she fell asleep.

What came to me, after the initial thought that I better just sit there for a few minutes and soak it in, was how this was so unlike the little baby that used to fall asleep in my arms. Nursing to sleep was always the precedent, and that's several months past. This 15-month old girl was facing me, straddling my lap like little kids will do, with her cheek to my chest. We cuddled for some time, and as I was rearranging her (and me) in order to stand up and lay her down in the crib, I caught a glimpse of her face. Sweet, relaxed, innocent, protected, loved...all the things I saw would take days to scribe. But what I saw most was something I haven't seen for a long time, because we've been busy watching her grow and change, and those are things that are easy to get caught up in as the days go by and we are in a constant state of amazement and wonder. What I saw was my baby girl, as a baby again. Any mother understands the slight tug and yearn backwards to when your baby was really a baby. I'm happy to say that I have a picture from when my baby was really a baby, and it's a perfect representation of the face I saw within her 15-month old face just a few minutes ago. She was about 10 weeks old when I took this picture:

Weekend Extravaganza

We made it through the big one-year birthday and the ensuing weekend of family time. My dad, my sister Mary, my sister Alice and her husband Mitch and their daughter Azalea, all joined us for a much-too-quick weekend of non-stop kid-a-licious fun. I even got to go out with my sisters for an evening (we chose the quietest, farthest away table at a bar next to the bar we really wanted to go to, but it was closed for a private party, and my sister Mary immediately got hit on by a drunken college-y, greasy, short guy, hence the quietest, farthest away table).

So here we go with some pictures to document the weekend!

First, we must clean up for our guests!

Then, we must share snuggles and sippies with our guests.

It is of utmost importance to let your guests have the run of the house,
even if that means allowing them to get their hand stuck,
over and over and over, in the handle of a step stool.
(Good thing Grandpa Lindy was there to rescue Azalea time and again.)

We must also warm up to and play with the guests. I'm happy to announce that it only took Elliea few hours, rather than a few days. This is Ellie and her aunt Alice (Z's mom).

Of course, there must also be a parade-of-babies...
(make note that usually Z is the naked one; E is scantily clad due to her high fever possibly from one hand-foot-mouth virus...we must admit she wasn't a constant barrel of fun but she did pretty well, considering the 103.2 temp she had Saturday).

And then, right before our guests leave, we take a quiet morning walk with Grandpa and cousin Z to the park for some good old fashioned swinging. Ahhh, we love swinging, and now we
especially love swinging with Grandpa.

Here is a super cute close-up of cousin Z...

And one more to demonstrate the fun the two girls have together...
I mean, just look at the smile on E's face!

All in all it was a great weekend, but it didn't last long enough. They arrived Friday night around 10 and were gone by 1 pm Sunday. But at least AMZ are no longer in Miami! For the time being they are a quick 8-hr drive away. The kids are the #1 reason to try to spend more time together, but unfortunately it's the kids that make the trip hard. Anyone that's traveled for more than 20 minutes with a small child knows what I'm talking about. Of course, it's well worth the effort, I will never argue with that.

Actual Birthday Day

Happy Birthday to our little monkey!

We've been busy so far! She slept in a little (to 6:30; woke up with a huge smile and a huge diaper full of poo), snuggled with Daddy for the bottle, had breakfast with mama, and then we went to the park for some swingin'. It's a beautiful day here in southern Wisconsin, with wispy clouds, a light breeze, low humidity, and not too hot. If I had been able to shave my legs this morning I think we'd head to a pool. Maybe tomorrow.

365 days? How can that be?

Today is July 23rd, which means that tomorrow is July 24th. Ellie's first birthday.

Let's have a little look-see in the memory files...

After E. was born, the two days in the hospital flew by. I have just a few sharp memories from within that blur: the nurse that held E. in the middle of the night so BK and I could get just a little bit of actual sleep; sitting up straight out of slumber at E.'s tiny little cry and realizing BK had done the same; nursing for the first time; how piercingly gray her eyes were, like slate; her funny little cone head... OK, more than a few memories.

The day we went home, about 20 steps from the entrance to the hospital, with E. in her infant carseat carried by one of the fantastic Meriter nurses, and me shuffling along stealing glances down at my baby girl, I lost it. The tears started and didn't stop for nearly an hour. This wonderful nurse, who's face I still remember but who's name is lost in the blur, stopped walking and gave me a minute to compose myself before she asked if I was alright. I nodded yes, unable to speak. (If you know me, when I cry I can't talk, and once I start crying it can take awhile to calm down. This poor nurse had no clue.) I took a couple big, shaky, sobby breaths. She looked right in my eyes, and firmly asked me if I was scared to go home, if it was safe to go home. OH GOD, of course it's safe to go home! How sweet of you to make sure me and my baby girl aren't returning to an abusive home! That was a weird moment. I managed to eek out that, you know, it's just... a lot. A big change. She nodded. And we started walking again.

And you know how this part of the story goes: I cried all the way home. I sat in the back with E. while daddy drove. I don't think I've ever had a more nerve wracking drive; man, was I scared someone was going to run a stopsign or something. All I could do, though, was watch her through my tears. I think maybe my sister called. And the whole time, E. was oblivious to her first ride in a car. Her first time outdoors, even! I think she slept most of the ride? So I was still crying when we pulled into the garage, where my mom greeted us, first with a big smile and then through a forced smile as she searched my face for the reason I was crying. I sort of smiled and waved it off. She gave me her patented head to the side, half-smile look, the one that says, yeah, I know, and it'll get better.

Nobody let me carry anything (an unknown perk of the new mama, and once I'd figured it out, I didn't carry anything except my daughter). We walked into the house and BK set the car seat down in the living room. Maybe I adjusted E.'s blanket... But what I clearly remember was walking into the kitchen, standing next to my mom, and whispering: "There's a baby in the house."

And from there the blur kicks in again, as any new parent knows. Greatly contributed to by an amazing lack of sleep! I remember my milk coming in, quite clearly. I remember crying myself to sleep, more than once. I remember my dad visiting and holding E. with his oh-so-special stiff smile, which I think he uses to protect himself from tears. I remember my mom leaving. And I remember smiling and being tremendously happy. I still am.

About the crying, my body was really thrown for a loop. I even cried looking at my maternity clothes, thinking, crazily, that I wanted to still be pregnant. It wasn't for a couple more months that I figured out that I missed the attention on me, now that all the attention was on E. (exactly where it should be, of course). The thing about post-birth is that you kind of go crazy. You had 9 months to slowly adapt to your changing body, and then SLAM that baby is out and your body is missing something huge, and it quickly changes back to what it was pre-pregnancy. Well, maybe it doesn't physically change that quickly, but the emotions and the hormone changes are intense. It got to the point, during those first few weeks, where BK would walk in and I'd be crying. Just standing there crying. He'd gently ask if I was OK, I'd say yes, and we'd go on our way.

My first crying jag was at dinner, with BK, E., and my mom. Out of nowhere, the tears started to silently flow and meander down my cheeks. I was as baffled as everyone else. It took a few minutes for Mom and BK to realize I was spilling over. Mom was all over it, she knew exactly what was going on. She very simply asked if I was alright; I nodded; and then two beats later BK says "These are really good burgers."

Enough about the crying. We had so many great times over the last year. We took 1848 pictures of E. 1848! And that does not count the super-blurry ones we deleted straight from the camera. I will put up pictures tomorrow (or at least soon). I am too tired to pick them out and transfer them from iPhoto and futz with them.

Things I have learned this year (warning: rambling, awkward prose ahead): That babies go through lots of phases. Nothing with them ever stays the same. As soon as you think you've got it figured out, they change. Babies are relatively simple: feed them, change their diaper, smile at and play with them, and help them fall asleep. Easy! I also learned it's easier to play with your own baby, as a parent, then as a childless babysitter of someone else's kid. So if you think you might be bored as a parent, think again. Your body adapts to the change in sleep (at least mine did; BK never quite adjusted but then again he never got up to breastfeed). Plus, you don't really have a choice. Someone has to take care of your baby, and really, ultimately, you want to do it. Taking your baby to daycare sucks. It really, really sucks the first few times, and then it sucks a little less, but it never stops sucking. Right now Monday mornings are the toughest. Breastfeeding is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. I had no idea how impacted I would be by what I had originally perceived as a relatively simple choice. I loved breastfeeding. Regretfully, we didn't make it to the one-year mark, but we were close. I really loved it. But I started to get really dragged down by pumping at work. I would do it all again in an instant, though. Babies love to be cuddled and people love to cuddle them. Ignore that pile of dishes, or the laundry, or the email, and just hold your baby. This is cliche, I know, but the day comes when they don't want to be cuddled, or they are simply too busy to sit still on your lap. So get in the cuddles when you can: close your eyes, take a deep breath from the top of their soft little head, and commit that moment to memory before it's gone.

Elliebelly is a wonderful girl. We love her so much and she loves us right back. She does this wonderful thing where she pats us on the back when we hug her. She's also started leaping towards us, from wherever she may be: apparently she has all the faith in the world that we'll catch her, and no idea that injury is possible. Her first tooth came in April 11; the second shortly after that; and we're still waiting for more! Her first word was daddy, right around Father's Day. Then kitty. And I swear she says Ted, referring to the neighbor's dog. A couple days ago she started saying mama, but I'm not convinced she's addressing me as much as she's just trying out the sound. They love her at daycare, and she's started the transition from the infant room to the toddler room. Oh, and she'll give kisses to us or a doll if we demonstrate first. She's an expert cruiser on the furniture. I saw her stand up by herself today. She stayed up for about two seconds before plopping down onto her butt. And she talks. Jabber, jabber, jabber. I love her. We love her. We love each other. We're a happy, happy family.

8 months

Eeeeeesh. Little Ellie turned 8 months old yesterday. And BK and I definitely feel like the parents of an 8-month old: struggling to interpret her new nighttime crying; struggling to keep her from leaping out of our arms toward the neat-o, super interesting pot of boiling water on the stove; struggling with the guilt of not spending every single moment with her. Maybe that last one is just me, dealing with being a working mom.

The last few weeks have been cray-zee. A few days after my dad and sister visited, we welcomed BK's folks for a nice, long weekend, sharing them with Marnie's family. We all went to breakfast at a popular place on the East side of Madison one morning, and lo and behold I recognize a fellow customer. Except I can't place her. After the awkward moment when she catches me staring at her, I open my mouth and bluntly ask how I know her. Her answer seems to happen in slow motion: Kate (and my mind races, thinking I know her through my good friend Kate) Sample (OMG! It's DR KATE SAMPLE!!!). Dr Kate Sample is the ob/gyn who delivered A) the exciting news that our baby was going to be born and B) baby Ellie! It was really fun that she got to see Ellie. Dr Kate Sample was there with her family, including her young son, who serenaded us and the rest of the patrons for the rest of the meal from his perch on the second floor. Now I wish I had reminded her of a couple moments from the birth, that maybe she would actually remember us. Because of course our birth story is unforgettable. Well, I did tell her that she was in our blog, so maybe she'll google herself and have the unmatchable thrill of finding her name on some weirdo's website. At least we have only good things to say.

Back to our crazy month. We traded one batch of Minnesotans for another and had a great weekend with BK's brothers. They came down for the cinematic debut of our friend Tommy's movie, Darkness. Even sister Marnie got into it, and followed up the movie with some gently worded questions about how in the world I can stand BK's sportbike riding, as well as some technical questions which I could only half (or less) answer about things like hanging off the bike, sparkies and darkies.

We had some great babysitters chipping in to allow us to attend the movie and then the after party. I had a fantastic time at the party. It felt superb, even kind of elating, to spend those hours with friends, laughing at their jokes, having them laugh at my jokes. The 5 hours of sleep I managed after falling into bed around 1 am were well worth an evening with friends.

Well, now that I've blogged to my heart's content, it's time for new pics of our cutie.

Man. It only takes a glimpse of this beautiful little person to make the
aforementioned nighttime struggles just ... poof ...

Time Changes

So, we're dealing with the time change again. Little E. took it pretty hard last night when she had to go to sleep while it was still light. Tonight BK hung a dark blanket over the window and she settled down much more quickly this evening. A trip to Linens-N-Things is in order, A) for a dark curtain for her room, B) because I have a 25% off coupon. Yessssss.

The other thing this time change does is make me kind of hyper. It's still light out when it should be dark, and my body basically goes a little berserk. I got E. down to sleep and in quick fashion I washed all the dishes and bottles, moved on to wiping down the inside of the fridge and finished with wiping the fronts of all the cabinets. I can see, right now, that it's 9:01. I really should be moseying towards the general idea of bedtime, but I...just...can't. I know I'll regret staying up, but what's a girl to do? I know: strip the guest bed wash the sheets put away the dishes have a snack send digital photos to walgreens to get printed post in the blog and then maaaaaaybe think about brushing my teeth. After I have another cookie.

We had visitors this weekend! Grandpa Lindy (Baby E. gets her middle name from her Grandpa, my dad) and Auntie Mary (my sister) spent three nights with us. It was filled with adventure, as Grandpa's car broke down on 94 in Minneapolis, just a few miles from Mary's house. They were two hours late leaving and made it here sometime after midnight. Saturday was lots of fun, and then early Sunday morning Mary got sick. We're not sure if it was something she ate, or some yucky stomach bug, but they wound up staying until Monday morning. Mary hunkered down in the guest room, cozied up and suffering. E. and I had lots more fun with Grandpa while Mary dealt with her tummy demons. So far the three of us don't have any symptoms, and hopefully it will stay that way because BK's parents are headed down in two days for a nice long weekend visit.

Here's a couple pics to illustrate how this weekend went.

First, here's Mary helping E. bounce on our bed. It's an action shot!

Then, the other end of the spectrum. It's self-explanatory, except for the paper bag. No, she's not using it to act out "bum on bench in park." She just likes bags.

spammy in our blog

We have been the victim of spam. Someone left a comment for the previous post which is spammy mcspamalot spamerstein. "Kazahn." Spambomb. Don't click on it. I did. BK gave me a lecture.

I'm posting this public service announcement because I can't figure out how to delete that spamalicious comment.

BTW, it's raining here. In Wisconsin. On March 2. On top of all our snow and icy chunks which we call streets. Lightning, too. Brrrrzap.

And just because no one should miss out:

7 months

So, our little Ellie celebrated her 7 month birthday last weekend! Here is a pic that I took on her actual birthday. (I need to brag about that accomplishment, as I'm rarely so on-the-ball.) Of course, I still failed to post the photos on her actual birthday, but let's accentuate the positive here.


She has started really rolling around, which is a lot of fun to watch, but is an obvious distraction when she should be napping. "Object permanence" is developing, particularly when she drops something from her chair or exersaucer onto the floor; now instead of immediately moving on to another toy, she peers over the edge, trying to spot the dropped object. As of now, she does not scream to have it returned.

As I was sitting down to download the pictures from the camera, I remembered how I used to freak myself out using the laptop while I was pregnant. I would balance the computer on my big tummy and I worried that I was transferring some sort of weird electronic wave into the growing baby. To a lesser degree I also worried about carrying my cellphone in the pocket of my hoodie sweatshirt, right on my tum.

Anyway. Thanks to Marnie for turning me on to The Pioneer Woman. Marnie recommended The Pioneer Woman Cooks, which in turn led me to Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. I am one of the people who is, for better or worse, hooked on this woman's periodic recollection of meeting and marrying a cowboy.

This leads me to my own cowboy, who is actually in no way, shape, or form a cowboy. We've had a rough couple of weeks with all of us being sick, dealing with the winter blahs and blues, feeling our own ruts at work, and generally not having much energy left over for ourselves every day. I think I'm not too far off base when I say that we both feel somewhat under-appreciated by each other lately. With that said, here's a short (not at all exhaustive!) list of why I love BK: He does all the shoveling, whenever it needs to be done. This includes nearly every square inch of our driveway, which is pretty extensive as compared to other suburban driveways due to it wrapping around the garage into the back yard, where it meets up with the shop. Shoveling also happens on the deck, and most recently on the roof. Here is proof.
As you can see in the following photos, first he slogs through the knee-high snow on the deck to clear a portion of the roof. Next, he starts to shovel himself out. Then, he works on clearing the deck. This is the form of manly which my man takes on. Suits me just fine!






Other reasons I love BK: He's been working tirelessly to fix up an old snowblower given to us (sweet success just last night!). He stays relatively calm, most of the time. He's supportive of me and Ellie jetting to Miami to see Al, Mitch and new baby Azalea. He vacuums. He vacuums the rugs in 'my' bathroom. He works a second job at night, but always takes a break to watch LOST with me. He looks hot when he throws sparkies and lays darkies (you may not know what that means, but BK does, and I better get a nice little neck nuzzle for having it on the list!). He's getting more and more into feeding Ellie, now that mama is not her sole source of nourishment. He's a good daddy. I love you, BK!

Back into the swing

It's been a long time. Heavens, our beautiful baby girl is closing in on seven months! She's everything we hoped she'd be, and so many things we could never have expected.
The neighbor dude used to chuckle and tell me I wouldn't be able to wait to get home after work...just to see our sweetheart. The sweaty man holding a garden rake, resting his free hand upon his beer belly was absolutely right. He'd been through the four births of his children, and had plenty of stories to share with me prior to ELK entering our world. Looking back on that, I'm glad I took the time to turn off the lawnmower and pick his brain a bit about what to expect.
I love that she has my eyes. Well, not the cruddy, blood-shot and red-rimmed part of my eyes...the beautiful clear blue. Her cousin has electric blue eyes that will put you in a trance, but hers are more subdued, begging you to look closer to see what else they'll tell you.
My brother was right, baby farts are one of life's sacred pleasures. I can't wait to teach her to laugh at those!

JULY 24, 2007

On July 24, 2007, our lives changed forever. Beautiful little Elizabeth Lindy squeezed her way into this world. To put it bluntly, we are smitten.

To catch up a little bit since the last post on July 18, 2007... Life was just clicking along. There are remnants of those feelings of excitement, wondering what day my water would break, or when I might start to feel real contractions. I remember spending a lot of time online, trying to look for clues to the puzzle of the birthing process. I dragged information out of other moms and dads, comparing my pregnancy to others, grasping at similarities and tossing out anything that might mean our little girl would wait more than another few days to appear in the flesh.

Let me tell you a little story. I think it's a good one. On Friday, July 20, BK and I hooked up with some of our good friends and stormed the Dane County fair. I did a lot of watching and eating, as might be expected of a responsible pregnant woman at the fair. BK and the rest had a good time on the "Shocker" (jokes aplenty were made, trust me), until some stupid kids started yelling for a second go, and the Shocker Jockey obliged. After that it wasn't much fun. BK squealed, tried to keep the smile on his face, and then eventually gave up and just looked blank. The rest of the gang fared better. Next was a 22-second ride through what they described as the most lame spookhouse in the whole big world. Then some more food. Then Tommy and BK irritated a carnie by speaking loudly about how the basketball hoops were slightly oval, therefore preventing the round basketball from swishing through. More food. And one more ride. The "Tornado" or something. This one made Tommy sick. He was pretty quiet for the rest of the night. It would have the the optimal moment for the carnie to exact some revenge. Then somebody won a little orange goldfish, which just so happens to still be alive and loved at Tommy's house; their three cats have not eaten him yet. I think we finished off the night with some ice cream. As a collective, we noshed miniature donuts, frybread, popcorn, corn on the cob on a stick dipped into a glorious vat of melted butter, sno-cones, soda soda soda, and the ice cream. I love the fact that I went to the fair 9 months pregnant.

I don't remember Saturday. (Hopefully we didn't do something totally fab and I've chucked it into the garbage bin section of my memory.) BK and his gang of motorcycle beasties spent Sunday the 22nd cruising (ha) around, obeying all speed limits and other state highway laws. I remember that Emily and I had talked about going shopping, and by 10 am I was hoping she had forgotten because I was so tired. By 11, I was set on staying home. By noon, I had been on the couch for two hours, and had very consciously decided that I was going to spend the rest of the day on the couch reading or snoozing or both, based on the fact that it may very well be the last Sunday where I get to lay around and do nothing. I heard from several moms that they did things like go crazy and clean the whole house, and their baby was born the next day. Or they finished up a project at work and BOOM: baby time. I love the fact that my omen manifested itself as a conscientious decision to be lazy, that my baby time radar said "Hey, you, hobbit foot, take it easy today. You're gonna need your rest."

On the ride to work the next day, Monday, July 23, I kindly asked BK to stay home from his Sunday rides until after the baby's born. I mean, here I am, 9 months preg, and he's out tearing it up. We had a whole plan that involved texting and leaving voicemails, and what those messages would say if it was urgent (water breaking) or not so (light contractions), and who I would call in case of emergency (I had a mental map plotted out of which friend lived closest versus who was the most likely to be home to drive me to the hospital). Anyway, BK's response was that of course he was done riding until after the baby was born.

Warning: graphic pregnant woman/the beauty of the weird things a woman's body does to get ready for the baby scene ahead.

7:30 am: conversation as described above about BK laying off the Sunday fun for awhile.
8:00 am: arrive at work. go to bathroom. notice something a little weird, but decide to ignore it.
9:00 am: go to bathroom (yes, again, shut up). notice weird thing is still occurring. hmm. decide to ignore it for one more hour.
9:15 am: talk to my mom. she says to not go into labor until she finishes her laundry. i don't tell her about the weird thing.
9:30 am: talk to BK, probably. don't tell him about the weird thing.
10:00 am: go to bathroom. ok, weird thing still occurring. tell myself that i've been calm for most of my pregnancy, maybe now it's ok to wonder if maybe i'm leaking amniotic fluid.
10:05 am: sneak into conference room to call nurse. describe wetness to nurse. nurse confers with my regular nurse that based on my description and the fact that i'm 9 days from my due date, i might as well come in and have fluid tested. can i be there at 12:30? oh, for sure. see you then.
10:10 am: call BK. his voice trips. i can hear a definite flinch through the phone line. and then he's ok. see you at 12:15.
12:00 noon: tell my boss what's up. excited! will keep in touch.
12:15 pm: pick up BK. he's a little crazy-eyed, but overall calm.
12:30 pm: arrive at clinic, get weighed (ugh), get blood pressure checked (great!), talk to nurse some more.
12:45 pm: see dr kate sample, the ob/gyn on call that day. nice doc; we like her. she checks the fluid three ways: the consistency, visual observation, and a ph test. based on consistency and visual, she states that she thinks it's just discharge and not my water. BK and i sigh. she announces that she will run the sample down to the lab and will be back shortly. BK and i stare at each other for a few minutes, then relax and get chatty and talk about what to have for lunch before we return to our respective offices.
1 pm: dr sample returns with the results from the sample. it's my water. i say "holy shit." BK and i smile crazy smiles and i for one don't know how to process the fact that we'll be birthing a baby within the next 24 hours. dr sample asks when i noticed the fluid, as the baby should be born within 24 hours of a leak. i say 8 am. that means we'll be birthing a baby within the next 19 hours. gulp.
2 pm: we leave the clinic after having some little tests done, like counting heart rate and kicks, etc. i call mom and ask if her laundry is done. she freaks out. we call everybody else, then go home and pack our bags.
6 pm: arrive at hospital. go right to our birthing suite. talk to nice nurses.
8 pm: am hooked up to pitocin, as there have been no real contractions.
8:15 pm: feel real contractions. fun.
8:30: water breaks. yahoo!
9:00: lots of real contractions. less fun now.
the next few hours consist of walking, bouncing, and requesting whatever narcotic they can give me to help ease the pain. the narcotic wears off. the sucky thing about the narcotic wearing off, is that while you are enjoying the narcotic, the contractions are getting worse. only you don't know they're getting worse. but then you find out just how bad they've gotten when the narcotic wears off. i can't remember when i asked for the epidural, but i do remember that it took the anesthesiologist 4 tries. 4 pokes. 40 minutes later, the epidural is placed.

my mom arrives. we take a 20 minute break, and then start pushing. i don't remember how long i pushed, but it's not as long as many women push. throughout the pushing, i would suddenly become aware of my surroundings because everybody starts moving and talking and rushing around. the baby is in distress. page the doctor for fetal heart tones. move the monitor. move back to your left side. alright. let's push. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. quick breath in 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. whewwwww. wait for next contraction. do it all again. page the doctor for fetal heart tones. i turn my head and ask BK what's going on. "they're trying to find the baby's heartbeat" he tells me. ok, there it is. on and on, more pushing, breathing, existing in this floaty, cloudy space where i'm not asleep but i'm not awake. not until the next contraction, and the next, and the next, and too many times they page the doctor for fetal heart tones, and then they check and the baby is not out far enough. dr kate sample tells me that we need to make a choice between the forceps and the vacuum. i insist on no vacuum (remember that i see malpractice cases for a living, and that's all i'll say about that). i ask dr kate sample if she's ever used the forceps (it's the best i can do to credential this physician on-the-spot). she gives me a gentle smile and says "many times." the forceps team is called. the forceps team arrives, excited to be needed. they rearrange me from my left side to my back and scoot me to the bottom of the table. WHOA. the baby's head is suddenly very far out, like most of her forehead is showing. stop pushing, dr kate sample quickly tells me. i didn't do anything, i say. i get to feel the top of the baby's head. i'm awake now! the forceps team leaves the room, obviously dejected. everybody in the ready position. two more easy pushes and baby girl is in my arms. she looks right at me. right at me. me. her mom. i'm now a mom, and my baby is in my arms.


It's 4:55 am on Tuesday, July 24th, 2007. The day our lives changed forever.

That's the beginning of the story. There's much more to come. Now I'm crying. Not now, as in now in the story, although it's true I was crying at this point of the story. I'm crying right now, as I type this. I love her so much. Every day my love grows exponentially. Parents talk about how hard it is, how tired they are, how much work it is or how scary it is. No one tells you that your heart will be filled to the brim with nothing but the purest love you've ever felt, love you never understood you could feel, love you never knew existed. But you know now, and you will never let go, ever.