Swimming, smiling, and stuffy noses

(Sorry, I didn't flip this before posting, so it looks like Ian is dangling from the air. HEHE)

This week brought hot weather and the bub's first swimming lesson. After 4 ton of sand and 18,000 gallons of water, Papaw Graf finally got the pool up. Ian took to the water like a duck. He didn't even mind getting his head wet. In fact, he tries to turn his head to the side so he can drink the water. Mom is so relieved. She doesn't know what she would do with a boy who didn't like getting wet.

We don't have any pictures from the pool yet. Balancing a slippery, wiggly, wriggling thing and not completely soaking the camera is not something I have accomplished yet. The bub has also begun to really smile, and mom has yet to catch that elusive picture. It usually comes in the wee hours of the morning just after a good feed. He stares at me contently with those big blues and then cracks the hugest toothless grin.

With the heat, came an increased pollen count. So, the weekend brought sniffles all around. The bub thought I was killing him squirting saline up his nose only to suck it out again and then pounding on his back and chest. I had to keep reassuring him it would make him feel better.

Yeah right MOM!

Daddy didn't feel good either. I think the bub is telling him that Mommy will make it all better.

.

Growing like the weeds in our garden

I love these little feet!

They are the longest feet I have ever seen on a baby.

He also has the uncanny ability to spread out his toes

--just like his mommy and his aunt Sariah.

Though he enjoys sleeping in mommy and daddy's soft bed,

he has successfully slept through the night in his own cradle.

On July 5, 2009, Ian was given a name and a blessing by his father. Derick's parents, brother and family, and Grandma Goldena came to see. All of mommy's family that could make it were there too. It was a beautiful day. Ian was blessed with peace, a desire to follow the Lord, and the Spirit to be with him all his days. He was also blessed to be a light to those around him.

He is definitely that to his family.

The bub blew out the back of his diaper. Mommy calls it the "Tectonic Bum."

Derick's Mom and Dad

Just for your viewing pleasure.

He makes the funniest faces.

The Perfect Day

Yesterday was one of those perfect days where you just fall into bed sleepy and satisfied. Even the bub. The weather had been scorching hot for the end of June, but this week brought a relief in temperature. Derick is off for two whole weeks for Summer shutdown. With temperatures in the 50s we were able to get out and do some much needed yard work. A recent string of thunderstorms has caused our garden to blossom, both with vegetables and weeds. I converted the wagon into a bed for Ian and wheeled him around with me. We have a stroller, but he doesn't seem to like sitting in it too well. Possibly the enclosed sides or the straps bother him. He loved sitting in the soft wagon-bed under the shade of the tree. (The heavy-duty plastic Radio Flyer wagon was a $5 steal at a garage sale we found just before Ian was born.) There was a nice cool breeze and he dozed happily. Dad was able to clean out the garage, till up some flower beds, and remove an ugly fence post from the front yard. Mom was able to weed a little, prune the zucchini and tomato plants, and put up a trellis for the cucumbers. Our garden has grown wonderfully this year. We put in garlic, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, zucchini, corn, green beans, snap peas, melons, and an array of herbs. Everything is taking off. Later in the day Mom and the bub dozed together in the hammock. (Another great find for $20 at Goodwill.)

Other news this week:

Yes, I turned 30 on Monday. I spent it taking Derick to have his wisdom teeth removed and nursing him in his Vicoden induced stupor. He is healing well. A year or so ago, I was dreading turning 30. I had not yet accomplished any of the goals I had had for my twenties, namely, getting married, having children, and finishing my degree. Like the true procrastinator that I am, I got them all in just under the wire. Bring on the third decade!

Attempting to write this while the bub is filling his pants before he realizes he needs a change!

So, I have a new goal. We don't have the Internet at home (I know!! tragedy!!). Actually, we came to the conclusion that it was a nicety not a necessity and too much of a temptation for wasting time. So, my new goal is to take the bub out to the library once a week use the computers there. This will begin the habit of going to the library that I hope will also foster in the bub the love of books my family so much enjoys. I can catch up on my emails and keep everyone posted on our weekly happenings. It won't be artistic or literary or even spelled correctly, but it will put a smile on at least my mother's face.

The delivery in a nutshell:
I broke down and agreed to Induction 6 days overdue. The clincher was that Derick would already be off for Memorial day and the my OB would be on call that day. I ate a good dinner and traveled down to the hospital Sunday night. The Pitocin was started at 10 pm. Real contractions started at 11pm. I had three big ones and felt a pop. Really... A Pop! I got up to pee and realized my water had broken. I was a little horrified when it was green, but tried not to let it show on my face as not to worry Derick. I knew that babies sometimes pass meconium and that everything usually turns out alright. Still, it was GREEN!! The nurse assured me that a NICU team was standing by just in case. Well, I went back to bed and was determined to breath through those labor pains and push that little guy out. After breathing and moaning for the better part of an hour, I began weighing the option of that epidural. I thought to myself that if I could just get some space between contractions I would be really be able to do without. The nurse, mom, and Derick kept reassuring me and telling me what a good job I was doing. Then, the donning realization that the nurse was ramping up that Pit in order to have my contractions come steadily 1 1/2 minutes apart. There was going to be no relief. Even if I could do it without the epidural, I didn't want to and I didn't have to! Once I made the decision, the anesthesiologist couldn't come fast enough. AAH! Sweet relief!

Sometime shortly after midnight the baby was showing decelerations in his heart rate, so they took me off the Pit. Then, apparently I was forgotten about for the next 2 hours. I am sure I should have been really upset, but I slept so soundly, I lost whatever feeling was left in the left side of my body. When the apologetic nurse came in around 2pm to check me she and I were elated to find that I had spontaneously begun to labor on my own and would not need to be put back on the Pit. After emptying a liter out of my bladder, I progressed rapidly and felt like pushing sometime before 7am. Even though it was shift change, my nurse stayed with me and we pushed Ian out in half an hour. Mom held one leg, the nurse held the other, and Derick counted staying near my head the whole time.

Ian presented with the cord loosely around his neck which would explain the decelerations. Derick deferred cutting the cord, so my mom got to do it. The NICU team was able to safely suction Ian's airway, and he was fine. They put him on my chest, he popped up his little head, and stared me right in the face. I was in love all over again.

Since then:
We have survived one month of feedings, diaperings, rockings, wailings, and burpings. I have come to the conclusion that despite all the reading and preparing, I have no idea what I am doing and I am just happy to make it through another day. Ian is packing on the chub, so I must be doing something right. If anyone has any suggestions for getting him to sleep in his own bed, I would be grateful. Also, if anyone can explain why he seems to want to nurse voraciously only to pop off the breast howling inconsolably. I have considered that there is something wrong with my breast, my milk, his mouth, or his belly. I am thinking it might be gas, but the gas drops don't seem to be helping. This is not all day every day, but it is very vexing in the middle of the night. I hope the doctor can shed some light at his checkup next week.

I am drunk on the warm feeling that washes over me when I am nestled snugly between the two most important men in my life and they are both sleeping soundly. I also love that magic spark that passes when Ian stares at me with those baby blues.

pregnancy hormones

This is your brain. This is my brain.

I didn't really believe in "pregnancy brain." I figured it must just be stress or fatigue. No way hormones can make swiss cheese out of an otherwise able mind.

I have come around and these are the facts:

exhibit 1) last month
Lizzy: "Do you get to have recess in highschool?"
Ariana: "I am afraid not. They don't have..." (blank, all blank, all words gone) "...those things that children play on with swings and slides and stuff."
Lizzy: "A playground?"
Ariana: "Yeah, playgrounds. Highschools don't have playgrounds."
Lizzy looked at me incredulously, only slightly less dissappointed in high school that she was now in me.

Other words that have slipped my mind:
Bronchi
Tortilla
Dresser

exhibit 2) last Wednesday morning
Derick: "Wasn't it Enrichment meeting last night?"
Ariana: "Aw crap!"
Blah, Blah, Blah. The conversation moves to the tasks of the day.
In the middle of my to do list...
Derick: "Don't you have a doctor's appointment at 1:30?"
Ariana: "Aw crap!"

Other appointments that have slipped my mind:
A mandatory work meeting
A birthday

exhibit 3) yesterday
noon:
Ariana: "What should we have with the pot roast?"
Derick: "I don't care."
Ariana: "I could make some biscuits."
Derick: " That sounds good, but they are a lot of work. We still have those refrigerated ones. They probably need used."

dinner:
Derick: "Where are the biscuits?"
Ariana: "Still in the refrigerator."

for my personal protection

It's always wonderful when your husband tells you he thought of you today and bought you something...

well...wonderful, until he hands you pepper spray. I suppose on some morbid level the gesture is still romantic.

I am sure that if I ever were actually confronted by a knife weilding psychopath, I would more likely spray myself in the eye, than effectively thwart any attempt to steal our precious baby.

Worse, I will probably never encounter said psychopath, forget I carry pepper spray, and attempt to board a plane someday. I can just see it now. Our toddler will be screaming from his stroller as his mother is tackled to the ground by three hefty security officers.


Thanks honey.

Dear Babyboy,

Last night you were finally still.

Over the weeks since your first flutterings, I have gotten accustomed to dropping off as you gear up for your nightly acrobatics. (BTW, that is not a trampoline. That is my bladder. For real.) Your favorite move is the lap swim from one side of my uterus to the other.

But last night you were still, and I didn't sleep a wink.

I gently whispered and prodded for you to move so that I would know you were okay, and nothing. I wished you were out already so I could see the rise and fall of your chest to know that you were still breathing.

Then it occured to me that once you do arrive, I will worry about what you are putting in your mouth, whether or not you looked both ways before you crossed the street, whether you pick nice friends...don't even get my started on getting a driver's license!

I will try not to be one of those hovering mothers who peels the skin off your hands with so many applications of waterless handcleaner, but I already love you so much. Right now, you are the most protected I will ever be able to make you. I hope, at least occasionally, you will nestle into my warm belly a let me know you are still okay.

love,
mom


P.S. Today, you are definitely making up for lost time. GOOD GRIEF!