Fall is in the Air!

Jackets for the first time this season this morning! Liam was excited to put on his new football jacket. It also means that mommy has to go pajama shopping today. No more sleeping in T-shirts and diapers when it's 50 degrees out!

On another note, my little side venture of hand-painting wall lettering, jewelry boxes, and other assorted things is going pretty well. I've managed to make a little extra money! YAY!

Also, Happy Birthday to my beautiful "niece" Millie! A BIG 2 YEARS! Time has gone by so fast!

John is also changing positions at work. Some longer hours and a little more work, but hopefully it will make a big difference in the  money department. He has worked so hard that I hope this gives him the opportunity to get his boat or his ATV this year. I am also hoping that it gives us the chance to build a house in the next few years. I love our little farm house. I spent many hours in  it as a kid, and now to be there everyday is kind of sentimental. But it's small, and the bigger Liam gets the smaller it seems. 

But I'm also not convinced that we are alone. I'm not saying I believe in ghosts, but some strange things happen around our house. When we first moved in, I was washing dishes and a glass flew out of the dish rack and landed in the floor. A few months later I came home from work and all of the cabinet doors were open (even the ones I have to get a chair to reach). Then this summer I was cooking dinner and drew some water to boil some corn on the cob. I turned off the water, took the pot to the stove, and the water turned back on. I walked over, turned it off, put the biscuits in the oven, and the water turned on again. At this point I went outside with the boys for a few minutes, after which I came back inside only to have the handle on the door turn and open by itself. 

It spooked me at first, but now I think little things like that are just Mamaw making sure that we know she's always with us. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Happiness and Hard Decisions

Liam's winding down. I can still hear him jabbering to daddy as he falls asleep. We've been taking turns laying down with him in 20-30 minute shifts until he falls asleep. I'm not quite sure why. He ends up in our bed by 2 am anyway...

He's never been a good sleeper. Even the nurses said he was the most alert newborn they've ever seen. Which means mommy and daddy have not gotten a full night of sleep (except for the occasional night for Liam at Mamaw and Papa's) in going on 2 1/2 years. 

Now that he is getting older, we keep getting asked when we are going to have the next one. I used to say "not yet". Now, when I say "we're probably not," the shocked look I often get makes me feel uneasy. My mother always said I couldn't have just one, but why? She did. Sheesh.

When did it become such a crime to only have one child? Does that make us selfish? Does he need a sibling? Who says they would even be close in the future? So many thoughts spin around in my head about this. I loved being pregnant, I would do it again in a heartbeat. But raising a baby is tough....and exhausting....and frightening. I had a hard time when he was little. He barely slept, so I  barely slept. He was demanding and stubborn. Not to mention my postpartum depression was difficult, especially with a manic-depressive disorder. 

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade being a mom for the world. Every moment truly is a gift. I realize that. Having that little boy is like having my heart walking around outside my body. I love the time I spend with him, and I think that's a big factor in why we are choosing an only child family. I want to be able to give him everything. I want to be at all his ball games, all his school plays, help with all his homework, and enjoy doing it. We just don't have the room, or the financial stability. I want to do what is fair, and what is good for all of us.

So why is it so hard? Is it that this part of our life is coming to an end? Maybe. I may never be sure, and I may never get over the guilt. I want another child, but I won't sacrifice my own happiness or my family's to have one. I was not a good person for some of Liam's early days, I think. Call it right, call it wrong, call it what you will. But as long as I have my husband's and little boy's love, I have all I could ever need. And maybe one day this decision won't ache so bad.

I Wish I Didn't Know Now

12 stitches, many sleepless nights, and 6 weeks later, I was back in the office for a post-baby check-up. Already back down to my normal weight (which is nothing to brag about), having attempted breast feeding for 4 weeks with minimal success, but with a healthy baby, I was in good spirits. Until I heard the words that would shake any mother to their core...."He could have died." 

I froze. Here was my doctor, sitting across from me and telling me my son could have died. WHAT?

I knew that I did not get to hold him immediately because he had aspirated meconium and I needed stitches, but where does dying come into this? I half-halfheartedly listened as he explained it to me. Liam's cord was too short. During my contractions, his heartbeat should have dropped because of the strain. It could have ruptured. At the very least, I should have had an emergency C-section. He told me he was sorry he had waited, and he was glad that my instincts to deliver a little early had persisted. 

But he was strong. I was strong. We were both strong. And I said a little prayer. 

I drove home more grateful than ever. I snuggled him a little closer, got a little more anxious about his first day of daycare, and didn't mind so much that I was up with him most of the night. If he was crying, he was alive, and that was enough for me!

The Miracle

By 7:00 am on Thursday, May 28th, I was hooked up to an IV with a little demon called Pitocin surging through my veins. It didn't take long. By 10:30, I was asking for an epidural and I was 5cm. The Novocaine shots to numb me for my epidural were the first curse words I have uttered. But 10 minutes later it was in...but I wasn't numb. The anesthesiologist came in an stabbed me in the toe with his pen...and I jumped. This led to 10 minutes and 2 doctors standing around trying to figure out why I was only numb from the mid-thigh down on my right side. "This would be perfect if we could make him come out your knee cap." <----That was my nurse, Maureen. Always the kidder. So my other nurse Nikki, who had never walked a patient through an epidural, patiently walked me through 2 more, while I almost killed her on several occasions.

Long story short, 3 epidurals, 2 1/2 hours, and 3 anesthesiologists later, I told them NO MORE! This is when the nurse kindly informed me that it was too late to have any pain meds in my IV. EXCUSE ME? Luckily, the wonderful head of anesthesia was there and was able to order some Fentanyl in my drip. Didn't help the pain much, but it sure was relaxing....

Nursing shift change came at 3, during which I was continually contracting, high as a kite, and being introduced to my new ward clerk....a man. Lovely. But Maureen and Nikki both stayed because I was so close. This is when I found out that they had lost my internal monitor and could not tell when I was having contractions. I would have to tell them when I needed to push. How the hell was I supposed to know?! 

Half an hour later, I knew. 4 sets of pushes (about 15 minutes) later, Liam Andrew Milbourn entered the world!

May 28th, 2009. 3:46 pm. 7lbs, 3 oz. 19 1/2 inches.

Waiting is the Hardest Part

20 weeks into my pregnancy, we found out our little apple had a stem. We were having a boy! So mommy carefully prepared a jungle-themed nursery, attended baby showers adorned in blue, and bounced names off of Daddy. My due date was June 1, 2009.

At my 37-week checkup, I was 3 cm, 90%, having Braxton-Hicks contractions, and my doctor was pretty sure I would not see my next appointment and told me to pack a bag. A week later, I was back for another check-up, and still no baby. Still 3 cm. Still 90%. Still contracting. They put me on a monitor for an hour, told me my contractions were getting regular, and not to make any plans for the weekend (this was on a Wednesday).

The weekend came and went. Except for a quick visit to triage because of bad cramps on Sunday night. By Monday afternoon I was having contractions 7-9 minutes apart, but I went to work. Tuesday, May 26th, I had an appointment, which Mom took me to in case I had to stay. They checked me, told me I was fine, but would be going any minute, but I decided i couldn't sit around the house, so I went to work (After all, I work in a hospital, right?). 20 minutes after I sat down, trickle of fluid went down my leg, and I knew my water had broken. I called my mom, who took my back to the doctor, and I put John on alert. The verdict: leaky bladder.....REALLY?!

But I was 3 1/2 cm and having contractions 6-7 minutes apart. My doctor said not to worry. I would be going any time and to go home and get some rest and to come in for a check the next day if he didn't see me before then. One long sleepless night and long morning later, I was back in the office. I was sitting in the office of another doctor in the practice, sitting sideways in the chair, trying not to yelp as I continued to have contractions, but no progress. 

"You're miserable, aren't you?" she asked. I nodded. 

She pulled out a piece of paper and began writing. "I'm sending you over to be induced tonight," she said. I looked at my phone. It was 4:30. Wow, no sleep tonight I guess. So we got the stuff out of the car and walked over to the waiting room, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Come to find out it was the busiest night they had experienced in months. The nurse finally came out and talked to us. She told us to go home that night, get a good night's sleep, and be back early in the morning, where they would have a room ready. So that's what we did. And I slept like a rock.

Preparing for Parenthood and Saying Goodbye

We decided in August of 2008 to start trying for our first child. It didn't take long. I found out I was pregnant September 25, 2008. I woke up that morning and knew I was pregnant, but I didn't say a word. I stopped at the drug store on the way to work and bought a $3 pregnancy test which I took at work in the bathroom (lovely, I know....). The (+) showed up immediately and I almost fainted. I went to the gift shop and packed John a little surprise goody bag, complete with baby rattle and lovingly wrapped pregnancy test.

He opened the bag when we got home and was so excited. At that moment I began to sob...and I couldn't stop. I wasn't ready to be a mom. Can we stop right here and just wait a while? Nope. It doesn't work like that. So what to do.....

I went to mom's. The only logical next step. Two hours later I was fine. This was going to be good stuff. And I was stoked. Until 3 weeks later when the morning sickness hit. Morning sickness, by the way, is a misnomer. They should call it "all day sickness". The smell of my own house made me puke, let alone the smell of anything fried or smoky. It was going to be a long 7 more months. 

A week later, tragedy struck. I got a call from my husband. He was crying. I had never heard John cry. "Brandi overdosed," he said. "She's at the hospital and it doesn't look good.". Brandi was his baby sister. She had been battling drug addiction for several years. I called my boss, snatched up my stuff, and flew like a bat out of hell down the interstate. By the time I got there, she was gone. She was only 28. After the memorials and the goodbyes, and explaining to 4 precious children that their mommy was in Heaven, we tried to get our lives back to normal and prepare for our own little one. 

After that, pregnancy was smooth. I should have known that it wouldn't be that easy!

The Beginning!

Welcome to my Blog! I have decided that I need an outlet for life's little ups and downs that just cannot be achieved by complaining to a husband or jabbering with a toddler. So here it is. I thought I would begin with how we got to this point...who we are, what we're about, life in general at this moment, and raising a 2-year old while switching between feeling like I have always done this and feeling like a new mom every second of every day.

My husband John and I met in January 2003. A mere 14 months later we were engaged. I was only 19. Fresh faced, college-engrossed, and not knowing how the real world would eventually slap me in the face. Only 7 months later my grandmother died unexpectedly and sent my fragile little family world askew. But John was right there...through the "celebration of life", and he helped me keep it together. 

We married June 10, 2006, exactly 2 weeks after I graduated college with a degree in biology and chemistry. 

Life was peachy. My other grandmother passed away after a long battle with dementia, and we inherited the little farm house next door to my parents, so I got to move back home, the place where my heart had always been. But the curve balls still came. 9 months later, John lost his job, and we struggled to make ends meet. But eventually we got it back on track, and the next year we started thinking about a family.

I'm not sure if anyone is ever truly ready for what it really means when you say "It's the right time to have a baby." Is it ever really the right time? I kind of feel like if we all waited for exactly the right time, we would never have children. We would just fade away into dust. I guess God really does know what he's doing!  Move on to the next post for our son's birth story.