The Final Steps Toward Motherhood

Four years ago today (it was a Saturday that year), I was sitting at home with my big belly wondering when my baby would come. The day before was my due date, and my doctor said it could be a while before the baby came. I wasn't dilated, I wasn't effaced, nothing. I did have a "funny feeling" that evening, and began to wonder if something was starting.

This is the last belly shot I took a few weeks before baby was born.

Back to Saturday: my belly was getting hard throughout the day, but it didn't hurt at all, it wasn't even a little uncomfortable, I could just tell that it was happening on and off. Then in the evening, it started to hurt - a lot! Seeing as it was my first time experiencing contractions, I still wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not (note to self: if it really, really hurts it's most likely the real thing - duh!) because I was trying to time them but they were very random. I had Joel call the birthing unit and talk to them and they said to bring me in because they could check me. We grabbed the bags and the car seat (just in case!) and hopped in the car. When we got to the hospital and got checked in, the nurse checked me - still not dilated! I remember thinking, how is that possible when it hurts so much?


She had me walk around for a while and rechecked me after an hour, and still, nothing. So they gave me a pill "to help me relax" and sent me home. Who sends a pregnant lady in obvious pain home?! I thought it must have been some sort of cruel joke! I called my parents to update them, and as soon as my dad answered the phone I started crying! I think I freaked him out pretty badly!

We got back home and I tried to eat some dinner and take a bath, hoping the warm water would help. It didn't. So I tried laying down to get some rest, but every time I fell asleep I would have another contraction that would wake me up, and they seemed to be getting worse, so Joel called the birthing unit again, and they said I could come in again and get re-checked.

God was on my side that time, because I was now dilated between a 1 and 2 - hooray - that meant I could stay and get my epidural! (God's gift to women, after giving us this punishment of pain - thanks to Eve! ;) ) After that, I don't remember much...nurses coming in to check my progress and flip me, my sister and parents coming in to see how I was doing, Joel sleeping on the fold out chair, me in and out of sleep myself. Then morning came, and so did my doctor. She came in to check on me and break my water (a little over 12 hours in labor, and my water still hadn't broken yet!). I think that was around 8:00 or 8:30 in the morning. I remember her saying "Well, it's taken you this long to get this far, so I'd say we'll be having a baby around 4:00." - Remember that, it will come up again! After that, it was more of the same, people coming in and checking me, flipping me, more sleeping, etc.

Then, around 2:00 in the afternoon, the nurse finally told me that I was ready to start pushing. It was at this moment that it finally hit me that I was going to be a mommy (kinda late, I know!). It was at that moment that I had a mini panic attack in my head - How was I going to know what to do? I had never taken care of a baby before - I really didn't even know how to change a diaper! Was I really going to be a mother? And a good one? But those thoughts were fleeting and insignificant. And so I began to push.

During the two hours, Joel was being so supportive, he was whispering positive comments in my ear and encouraging me. Unfortunately, I didn't hear any of it. In between contractions I was trying to fall asleep. I knew it wouldn't actually happen, but I was just trying to zone out so that I could make it through. I remember at one point I was ready to give up. I was shaking my head and saying, "I can't do it. I'm done, I can't do it." Eventually, I pushed hard enough and long enough.

Do you remember what my doctor had told me that morning? Refresh your memory, because my beautiful baby girl entered the world at 4:07 in the afternoon! My doctor had nailed it! :) I remember my doctor putting the baby on my belly, and I said, "What is it?" They told me to look, but I couldn't see. Finally someone said "It's a girl!"

After almost 24 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing, on Sunday, December 16, 2007, my beautiful little 7 pound 11 ounce, 21 1/4 inch long Lily Grace had entered the world. I was officially a mom. I immediately said, "Hello, Lily," and then turned to Joel and said, "She looks just like you!" And she did. Everything about her was Joel, even the hairline!

Tomorrow, that beautiful little girl will turn 4. I can't believe how quickly the time has passed and it seems that each year goes faster than the previous one. Lily is now a very spunky and sassy (sometimes I swear she is 16 inside!), energetic, talkative, curious, bright young girl who started preschool this year. Her smile lights up my world and I love being her mommy. She is one of the greatest blessings God has ever given me. As much as I can teach her as her mother, she teaches me so much more. She teaches me how to enjoy every moment, take each day as it comes, and most of all, patience! I love to watch her grow, learn new things and see the wonder of the world.

Some days she drives me absolutely crazy and I think I may pull out my own hair, but the good moments far outweigh the bad. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

Happy Birthday, Lily Grace! 

Lily's preschool picture

Picking out our Christmas tree

My Promise

Why is it so difficult to stay calm while talking to children sometimes? Looking back over the last few weeks (and months), I have not been the good mom that I always wanted to be. I've lost my patience, gotten angry, and yelled, a lot.


With Emmy it is easy to stay calm. She doesn't understand things yet, and she is really just a baby still. You can't yell at a baby.


But Lily is my "baby" too. She may be a "big girl," but she's only 3! Three-year-olds don't understand everything yet either.


This morning Lily wasn't listening, and I was getting upset. I will admit that, as much as I hate the fact that I've done, I have spanked her in the past. When I get to the point where I have completely lost control of my feelings and my anger. Just a swift swat on the bottom. When I was getting upset this morning, I looked in her eyes and she looked scared. I'm sure she thought I was going to hit her. How terrible is that?! My daughter, in that moment, was afraid of me. It broke my heart. A child should never be afraid of her mother. So right then and there, in that moment, I made a promise to Lily. I apologized for getting angry with her, and I promised her that I would never ever hit her, and that I would try really hard not to get so angry.




Is yelling at my child going to get her to listen and understand? Probably not. Is spanking her going to get her to listen and understand? Definitely not.


So today, I'm making a change, or at least trying really hard to make a change. Because I made a promise that I intend to keep, and this beautiful little girl is worth it and deserves it:

Say Hey!

Wow! A 5K! For some, it's an easy task, but for me it was a challenge. A challenge that I gave myself on the road to health and fitness.


About five years ago, Joel and I were in a 5K training class. About halfway through the program, we found out I was pregnant. We stuck with it and finished out the course. But, we never got around to actually running a 5K. Though, by the end of the program we were probably running the equivalent of a 5K. It's probably needless to say that I did not strap my running shoes back on again for a long time!


A few years (and one baby later) I decided it was time to strap on those running shoes again. The school had started an after school run club, and needed adults to be out running with the kids. I thought it would be a good way to get back into running. I had obviously forgotten that little kids run full speed ahead, and don't have to stop to catch their breath! So, that round of running lasted for the few weeks that the run club did.


Another couple of years (and another baby) later, I joined Weight Watchers and they had a 5K challenge. All you had to do was walk a 5K, and you would get a charm for your keychain. (I am addicted to getting awards at WW meetings - it's my little moment to shine.) So, I decided that I was going to get back on the running bandwagon. This time I was not only going to train for a 5K, I was going to run it!


So, how did the race go? It was great! I knew I would be able to finish the 3 miles, even if I had to walk it, so my goal for myself was to run more than I walked. Well, I was able to "run" the whole time. A very slow, 12+ minutes per mile run, but I did it! I was the last of the runners to come in, at 40:48, the walkers started coming in about a minute later. So, I was slow, but I don't care. I did this for me and only me. The cool things about this race are that it was the day after my 29th birthday, and it was the first annual Say Hey 5K in downtown Chaska. I think I may have to start doing this one every year!


My new goal is to continue running and do the Warrior Dash next year. Crazy? Yes! Difficult? Definitely! Rewarding? For sure! I can't wait!










Note: I did another 5K a few months later (without any training runs), and pushing Emmy in the stroller. At this one, I did walk a bit, but came in a second faster than I did at the first one! And the funny thing about this one is it was the day after Emmy's first birthday. I guess I will have to find a 5K for everybody's birthday now!  :)

The Different Levels of "Tired"

This one was started back in mid-June.


This past week's lack of sleep has left me tired. It also left me thinking of the different levels of "tired." Any parent out there can probably relate to this...


Growing up I would always complain about waking up early and having to get to school (I loved school, just not the waking up part). Throughout the day, my friends and I would complain, "I'm sooo tired! I was up so late last night!" Back then, "so late" probably meant 10:00. That kind of tired is barely anything. On a tired scale of 0-10, that would have been a -5.


In college, I would pull all-nighters. I was tired, but could still function. On the tired scale, this would have been a 6.


Then, I became a parent. Not just a parent though, a nursing mother. In my opinion, you don't know tired until you've have been up multiple times a night with an infant literally sucking life out of you! (Note: I love my children and they are worth every sleepless night and middle-of-the-night nursing session I ever had! But, it literally does suck the life out of you!) On the same 1 to 10 scale, this is about a 20.


Being tired when you are a parent is a whole different ball game. There is no chance to sleep in, take a nap, or go to bed early; there is just more and more tired. 


When I was pregnant with my oldest, people told me "sleep when the baby sleeps." It's great advice, really, because in the beginning, your body is recovering and you need that rest. I didn't follow that advice. I took that time to do things that I couldn't do while she was awake. I learned my lesson - or so I thought. When I was pregnant with my second, I told myself "sleep when the baby sleeps." But, again, I took that time to get laundry and cleaning done. Would I have still been tired? Yes! Would I have found time to get those other things done? Yes! But, it was a little bit of time that I had in my day when I could just be with myself and my thoughts. That, I can't do when I'm sleeping.


Somehow, some day, I know that I will catch up on sleep, but for now, bring on the tired because it means I am there for my children when I need them and that I do everything I can to provide clean clothes, meals, and decent home to live in!

It's been a while....

I haven't updated in a long time. Today I am trying to catch-up on my posts, including a few that I started but never had the chance to finish. Hopefully I can get it done today, even though I'm "single-parenting" for the day.

Trying to Lose the Guilt

To breastfeed or not? A question that many mothers face when they are having a baby. For some, the decision is made for them (whether adopting, medical concerns, etc.). It seems that more and more women are choosing to breastfeed their babies. This is the choice that I made for my children. Both times, my goal/hope was to make it to a year. It shouldn't be that difficult, right? Whip a boob out when the baby is hungry? I can do that! It turns out there is so much more to it than just that. With Lily, I only made it six months breastfeeding, and I was working from home so that I could be with her. I think this happened for two reasons: 1) my doctor put me back on "the pill," which I think negatively affected my milk supply,and 2) my lack of knowledge and experience. (Did you know that even if you aren't getting engorged, you're still producing enough milk for your baby?! The things you learn....)

This week I decided to stop pumping for Emmy. I made it nine and a half months nursing/pumping with her, and I went back to work when she was six weeks old. I think eight months of pumping at work is an amazing feat in and of itself. And I will still continue to nurse her when I am with her, so she will still be getting the benefits of breastmilk.

This isn't a decision that I took lightly. I didn't wake up one day and say Ok, I'm done. She's had enough breastmilk. It took me a long time to come to this decision - a few months of thinking. In fact, there was a period of time a couple months ago that Emmy went on a little nursing strike. (I think she got a little frightened when I yelped after she bit me a couple times.) During that time period, my milk supply suffered - a pump can only do so much! The first time that we had to supplement with formula, I literally cried when I told our daycare provider that I didn't have enough milk for Emmy. (But she has been so good about keeping me positive and not feeling guilty about having to give Emmy formula!) Somehow, I powered through and was able to get my milk supply back up, but not quite to where it was before.

So why do I feel guilty about quitting? I feel guilty because I could keep going, I could keep trying, I could still provide breastmilk for my baby while I'm away from her (even if it's not enough for the whole day - daycare was supplementing with some formula already), but I quit pumping any way. It seems like a selfish act. I'm sure there are some people that would judge me for quitting when I'm still able to produce - after all, there are so many people out there that would love to be able to give breastmilk to their babies. This is where my guilty feelings come in to play. (I did have someone offer to donate some breastmilk for Emmy, but I declined the offer. Why? I just felt that it should go to a baby that truly needed it. My baby has had the benefits of breastmilk for the past nine and a half months. There are babies out there that are newborns and preemies that need the life-giving, life-saving benefits of a mother's milk.)

But, it still comes down to the fact that I am only one person. I have many tasks to complete, and many balls in the air. This is just one more ball that I can take out of my juggling act. In addition to pumping three times a day at my full-time job, I occasionally work on weekends, and sometimes trying to pump at events can prove to be quite a challenge! I also have another child at home to take care of, a husband, a house to clean, laundry to do, dinners to make, and a dog. Some people can handle all of that and pumping on top of it, others can't and choose to quit much earlier than I did. I finally came to the realization that I have tried to be SuperWoman for too long.  Since I made this decision, Emmy has consistently slept through the night (hopefully I'm not jinxing myself here!), and I hope that soon my guilt will completely wear off and I can be more upbeat - the sleeping through the night should help with that too!

Will my baby survive without breastmilk? Of course! Will she thrive? Indeed! And, if she doesn't have a mommy that is constantly wondering Will I have enough milk for her tomorrow?, she will probably feel the positive energy coming from me and will thrive even more than she did before. That is why I try not to feel guilty.

Everyone needs to choose to do what is best for their family. This is my choice. Some people would probably judge me, but I think I did a pretty darn good job for the past nine and a half months, and I'm proud of myself for going as long as I have!

Powering Through My Disappointment

This past week, I have made an effort to get good runs in every other day, and have been pretty good about my diet. I'm going to blame my trip to the drive-in theater on Saturday for sabotaging my weight loss this week - though it was completely worth it! And even though I try so hard and work so hard, I didn't get what I was expecting at my Weight Watchers meeting this week. This is why consistently tracking is so important. I eat the same breakfast and lunch every day, but I have a horrible, out-of-control sweet tooth. It's not as bad as it once was, but there is still plenty of room for improvement. 

When I got back from my meeting, disappointed and on the verge of tears, I grabbed a mini cinnamon roll that was sitting at the front desk - I know, not the best idea if I want the scale to go in the down direction, but I'm weak! Then, I sat down at my desk and decided to get a little bit of perspective. So, I had a co-worker take a picture of me. I put that picture side-by-side with a picture of me from October. Funny thing about weight loss: you see yourself every single day, so you tend to not notice the difference. Add to that the fact that I'm very unobservant, (as my husband likes to point out!) and I really don't realize the difference the weight loss has made on my body. But when I look at the two pictures, I can't help but see the difference. This gives me confidence and motivation to stick with it, as hard as it may be some days:

I have found that the accountability that I have by going to meetings is better than what I ever had when I did WW online. One plus of the meetings is that you get awards for different milestones in your weight loss journey. I find these to be great motivation (much like a little kid hoping to get a "gold star" on a chart) because I like the attention that I get when given an award at a meeting. It's nice to have other people see that I'm succeeding - which I'll attribute to being the middle child in my family. But, having sat down and compared these pictures side by side, this is my new motivation. I still really want that 25 pound charm for my keychain though! Maybe next week....

This Crazy Little Thing Called Life

I never thought that I would start a blog. But lately I have had a lot of thoughts running around in my head and feelings that need a way to escape my crazy brain, so I decided to just go for it. Who knows how often I'll be able to actually sit down in front of a computer to write anything, but I figured it is worth a try. Plus, most thoughts just don't fit in a facebook status update. Life just doesn't exist in 250 characters!

My life is busy (but whose isn't?). I'm a wife, mother, daughter, sister, full-time youth minister; the list doesn't seem that big, but all these things take up large amounts of time. How is anyone supposed to balance everything? I wake up, get myself and my two girls ready, get out the door (eating breakfast in the car), drop the girls off at day care, go to work for 8 hours, pick up the girls from day care, get home, make dinner, eat dinner, spend some time with my kids (maybe an hour if I'm lucky), put the girls to bed, and by that time I'm exhausted so I usually head to bed without taking care of the dishes, my relationship with my husband, or even myself. Most days I feel inadequate as a housekeeper, wife, or mother. But I know that I am doing the best I can. My kids have a good life. They are well taken care of (though I may lose my temper or my patience and raise my voice from time to time) and know that they are loved. And I hope that my husband feels the same way too.

In the midst of it all, I joined Weight Watchers (another thing to add to my already busy plate!) and started running (what am I, Crazy?!). I think it has helped to calm me down a little though. It's the little bit of "me time" that I get. It may not be every day, but it's a start!

My faith and my family help me get through all of the craziness that life has to offer, and somehow I manage to thrive! :)