Nerves...

I've known this day was coming for nearly 10 months now. And yet here I am, unable to sleep with butterflies in my stomach. Going in to have a baby is like Christmas morning regardless of whether or not you know the gender. What's he going to look like? Will he have hair? How long is it going to take? Will he sleep well? How big will he be? Will he look like me? Daddy? Both of us?  And then there's the more technically questions floating around... Will they tell me all the beds are taken and turn me away? Will I progress fast or slow? Will it be easy? Should I get an epidural?

So here we are, it's Baby morning and I'm a nervous wreck.

May God grant me peace and serenity and the strength to make it through what most likely will be a ridiculously long day of waiting and watching Red Box movies.

Nesting...

I know every time that I'm pregnant it is inevitable, the nesting... But I never imagined how insane I could possibly get with this last one. My poor husband. I have so many more projects in my head and only have the ability to do about 20% of them myself. I've cleaned and organized nearly every inch of this house and as I do I keep adding to the "honey do" list. It's not like any of the projects I have can't get done AFTER the baby is born, but it's that insane overwhelming need to get it all done NOW. Why does that happen? It's not like life stops after you have a baby. It's quite insane really. I know you're down for the count for a little while, and you're sleep deprived, and your house never gets clean and you don't have the ability to do much other than stare at the new little life you created... Oh wait, I just answered my own question.

It's been a long pregnancy, but I honestly haven't felt like I'm really pregnant. Let me explain. I have felt more like a chronically ill, obese, miserable person that has the inability to bend over, get up off of the floor, or hold my bladder for more than 30 minutes at a time. My back hurts all the time and so does my crotch. Sorry for the vulgarity, but it's true. I still don't feel like this misery will end in a baby in my arms. Perhaps this is God's way of telling me that I really am done. I know we decided that this is our last baby and I've tried so desperately to appreciate the pregnancy because of it, but the opposite has happened. It's made me realize that I would rather not physically or emotionally go through another pregnancy. Obviously, if God has other plans, then I can't stop them and will gladly accept whatever miracle he gives me. BUT it's been a rough road. I guess I just can't wait to meet this new little man of mine and know in my heart that our family is complete.

Disclaimer: Please don't take this post the wrong way. I am SO VERY GRATEFUL for being pregnant and being blessed with the ability to create life. I can see this post being misconstrued. I will reiterate: I am so very blessed. And despite all of the pain and emotional turmoil, I would absolutely NEVER trade any of it in because it means I will get to hold this beautiful baby in my arms in the end.

Slurpee Baby is TWO!

I can't believe it's been two years since we've met our little Lucy. She came into this world so easily. One push and she was out. She didn't look like anyone other than herself with that full head of dark brown hair. She was so smelly from the leftover vernix that I could hardly think of much else, other than, when does she get her first bath? She's been a little stinker ever since.

I can't complain though, she's a perfect little recreation of me in nearly every way but one... She snores... Just like her daddy. She wants what she wants when she wants it and it's always now.

I can relate.

And I wouldn't want her any other way. She thinks she's a 6 year old and doesn't like Tatum telling her what to do but has no problem asking Spencer for help, which makes perfect sense right?

She will never give you a kiss or hug when you ask her to, but when she does give them, it's on her own terms, when you least expect it, and it is the sweetest most honest love you'll ever receive.

I am so grateful for my little Lulu Bean and couldn't see our little family functioning without her. I cannot wait to see what a great big sister she is going to be. I have a feeling she is going to really come into her own and step up to the challenge. Now I have to go give her hugs & kisses while I she will let me... She's sleeping.

My miracle turned 4.

As a lot of you know, Tatum is my miracle baby. I lost 2 babies before her, thinking that I was never going to be able to have another child. BUT fortunately for me and for this world, God had other plans. And now, the way I see it, as sad as it may sound, had I NOT lost those babies, I wouldn't have the sweet, dimple-faced, emotional, loving little girl that I have now.

It is so hard to believe that she's no longer the "Baby Tatum" Spencer so sweetly called her when she was teensy. She's tall for her age and every time she asks me to straighten her hair, it makes me a little sad inside because I can see a glimmer of the teenager she's going to be in what will seem like no time at all. But despite the sadness that she's no longer my little baby girl and she is inevitably growing up, I am so very proud of her. You definitely can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do until she is absolutely ready, which has been evident since she was a tot and didn't walk til 17 months old-when she knew she could do it without falling... But just the other day, after an hour of sitting at the McDonald's play structure, she finally, in her own time, went and played with the other kids. I was so proud. That's something she never would've done, even a few short months ago.

She and Lucy recently moved into one room together and I was curious to see how everything would work out and I am pleased to say that Tatum is such a sweet little mama to her little sister. When Lucy cries, she calms her down, when she loses her pacifier she brings it to her. I love her to death and am so excited to see what God has in store for her as she maneuver's through this next year and the years ahead.

God is good.

It's been a long three weeks but our prayers have been answered.

3 weeks ago, after our mid pregnancy ultrasound, we received news that our baby boy had choroid plexus cysts on his brain. The doc scheduled us to be seen with the perinatologist from OHSU to do a more detailed level 2 ultrasound.

I was terrified. Worst case scenario if they found any other markers: our baby had Trisomy 18 - a chromosomal defect where there are 3 number 18 chromosomes instead of two... Not compatible with life and would most likely die in utero or soon after birth.

A bit scary, no? Words cannot explain the fear I felt. I turned to God. I prayed. I let Him have this little boy knowing that He would take care of my little man. I can't say there weren't nights when I cried myself to sleep begging God for the health of my unborn son.

But here I am with proof in my belly that prayer works. We had our ultrasound today and the cysts are completely gone and our baby is absolutely healthy and NORMAL... Exactly what we wanted. Thank you Jesus. And thank you friends and family that prayed on our behalf.

A tough one to swallow...

I don't even know where to begin with this post. In fact, I've debated, more than once, to not even write it. On more than a few occasions I have sat at my computer ready to write only to be driven away by fear. And now my fear is that I may have not completely dealt with what has happened. So here I am, opening my heart up about something so very private in hopes that someone will know of his or her existence. Because that IS a huge fear of mine, that this baby will go unnoticed.

Most of you know by now that I am pregnant! I am 18 weeks tomorrow and we find out the gender next Friday. I am so very excited to see what this baby will be and if we will be an even team or a house full of estrogen!

That same "most" also don't know the journey I've gone through with this pregnancy. It began on December 15th, 2011, when I saw that 2nd line. Tony and I knew that we wanted one more baby and we figured why not sooner rather than later? So as I sat there for those 3 minutes that seemed like 3 hours, I prayed. I poured my heart out to the only one that was listening, God. I wanted another child and I knew eventually he would give me one, so if I wasn't pregnant this time, I'd be okay. But I REALLY was ready for that baby.

He heard me.

A couple of weeks later, I was just DYING to get to my first doctor's appointment because I knew that it meant an ultrasound and I could see that wee bebe on the screen for the first time. It never gets old. It never gets less exciting. I am always nervous. Our appointment wasn't for another week but I made up some excuse about thinking I " might have an infection..." so they squeezed me in. After finding out there was no infection, duh... I asked if there was any way that we could just take a peek to make sure I wasn't crazy and that I was indeed pregnant... Seeing as they have a roaming ultrasound machine, the doctor obliged.

What I saw on that screen came as a complete and utter shock. TWINS. How could this have happened! They don't run in my family, the don't run in Tony's family. What? Are you serious? Feelings of complete terror mixed with overjoyed excitement literally made my body shake. I could not wait to get home and tell Tony!

Much to my surprise, he was nothing but ecstatic! Not even a worried look. That guy's like a rock. My nervousness quickly turned to excitement. We could do this! Sure going from 3 kids to 5 wasn't in our plans, but it seemed to be in God's. And there's one thing that Tony said that I still can't get out of my head... When I had lost my first baby after having Spencer, the ultrasound tech told me that not only was my uterus tilted (which made it harder to conceive) but that it hadn't fully fused together when I was in my mother's womb and the result was a heart shaped uterus... So back to present day, Tony turned to me and said, "maybe that's why God gave you a heart shaped uterus, one side for each baby."

We started researching what to expect with twin pregnancies, carseats and everything in between.

At our next appointment we waited in anticipation to see those 2 sweet babies. But where the second one was supposed to be there was just an empty sac.

"I'm sorry, but that baby didn't seem to continue to develop."

I can still feel my heart sinking to my stomach and the lump in the my throat restricting my ability to breathe.

I remember how I felt when I had my previous miscarriages. The loss, the pain, the emotional turmoil, wondering how this could happen... This time was... different. I was still pregnant. There was still a little healthy baby growing inside me that needed me. How could I get past the grief and move on to the happiness? I still don't know how to answer that.

And then there's the comments meant to cheer you up but do the exact opposite... "You wouldn't want twins anyway. They're so hard." But that's what I had. And I would have managed. I was already in love with BOTH of those babies.

"God only gives you what you can handle." Are you saying I couldn't handle having twins? Because I could have. I would have. I would have loved those babies. I did love those babies.

Maybe that baby is just hiding. At the next ultrasound we'll see them both! That happens! "Please God... I CAN handle it. I CAN do this. Please. But Tony said that's why my uterus is shaped like a heart. Why is this happening again? I'm healthy..." I pleaded with God.

Every time I hear about someone having twins, my heart beats faster, I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Every time someone asks, "you're so big, are you sure you're not having twins?" I bite my tongue. I try not to lash out. To scream "YES, yes I was having twins. But now I'm not. Thanks for the reminder."

I like to think that when this baby is born that all these feelings of hurt, pain, anger and frustration will be washed away. When I had Tatum, after losing 2 babies, the joy that I felt was indescribable. I had finally gotten the blessing that I so longed and prayed for... my sweet perfect baby. I pray each day that this is how I'll feel. That I will be so excited and overjoyed for the blessing that is this baby. But my deepest fear is that I will feel something entirely different... disappointment that there should have been another baby. That there should be 2. That if or when my child comes to me and says, "Mom, I wish I were a twin," that I don't break down and completely lose it.

My heart is broken and I pray that this baby will mend it.

A bittersweet anniversary.

A year ago, yesterday, my life took a turn for the worse. Our family began on what I would consider the scariest time in my life. It was a Wednesday and Lucy was sick. 

Not only was my baby girl sick, but she hadn't eaten in 2 days. She was only 7 months old and had no interest in solid foods so I was at a loss of what to do. I called the nurse and they had me take her in to see the doc on call. I had Spencer and Tatum with me and I had promised them (both of which were sick, Spencer had pneumonia and Tatum had the awful cold that started it all) an ice cream cone if they were good at the doctor's. 

So we sat there while they checked Lu over, checked her oxygen levels, and gave her a breathing treatment. The kids were getting ance and I was getting zero answers. Finally, the doctor came back in.  

You need to take her to the hospital and have her admitted so we can get a handle on this.

One of the worst phrases a mother can hear. 

With all 3 in tow, we headed to the hospital and began on a 10 day journey of ups and downs, prayers, nurses saying that they couldn't do anything more for her and she was getting worse... Moments that nightmares are made of. 

After 5 days in the Salem hospital with empty promises from doctors that were never fulfilled, we were sent to Doernbechers Children's Hospital. 

 

After 7 days without eating, they gave Lu a feeding tube. And instead of treating her with more steroids and medications that were doing more harm than good, they treated her with oxygen. After a mere 5 day stay, she was back to eating and ready to go home.

 

Looking back, there were so many middle of the night scares when we thought she might just give up and stop breathing. The nurses told me most babies would have given up by then. But knowing who she is now, the hardheaded, strongwilled, feisty little girl that she is... God made her that way for a reason. He knew the struggle she would have to go through and created her to endure it. And I am so grateful to Him- for making her so strong and for helping her and us through that terrible time in our lives.

For the whole story, head to my archives and read all about her journey...

My Bucket dilemma.

I have a bit of a dilemma and I'm asking for advice... 

My sweet little boy, Spencer, came up to Tony & I today and asked if he could be baptized. I was a little more than taken aback by his request. He's 6 years old. SIX YEARS OLD. How can a six year old boy even begin to  understand the magnitude of this request? I suppose I shouldn't be this surprised. It was last year at this time that he asked Jesus to come live in his heart. This little boy is wise beyond his years and has a heart the size of Texas.

"Do you know what it means to be baptized?"

That I believe that Jesus died for me and He loves me.  

"Why do you want to be baptized?"

So that all of my sins are washed away.

"Did you know that your sins were washed away when you first asked Jesus to live in your heart?"

They were!?

"Yep... Do you still want to get baptized?"

Yes.

"Why?"

Because I want to live the way Jesus wants me to and I want everyone to know I love Him.

So here I am with this problem. I want to grant him his request, but is he old enough? Does he fully understand what he's asking? Am I holding him back by saying no? Am I forcing him into something he may not fully "get" if I say yes? I would love ANY and all feedback on this one... I don't want to break his little heart, but I'm not sure he's ready and I want him to be fully aware of his decision and to do it for the right reasons. 

This little man of mine just has a heart for Jesus and I don't want to disappoint him.

6 years ago my life changed forever...

Spencer asked me last night, "how was I born?"And this is what I told him:

6 years ago today, in the middle of the night my belly started to hurt. Every 5 minutes it would hurt. When Daddy finally woke up at 5 in the morning I told him it was time to go to the hospital. I walked around the hospital with Daddy for 8 hours to try to get you to come out, but it didn't work. You wouldn't listen! Surprise surprise. ;) So the doctors gave me some medicine to help you come out and you STILL wouldn't listen. Then the doctor popped the bubble of water around you with a big crochet hook to try and get you to come out and you finally said okay. So I pushed REAL hard and I pooped (insert an insane amount of 6 year old little boy laughter).

Then I pushed again and out you came! And you were HUGE! The doctor put you on my tummy and I said, "He's an angel. An angel sent straight from heaven." (insert said little boy's sweet little "awe") And that is how I became a mommy for the very first time.

Your face was so red and swollen and you didn't have a chin (insert giggle) and you had dark black hair and looked like a little eskimo baby. Scratch that, a BIG eskimo baby. And the whole time we were at the hospital the nurses would pop their heads in and say, "I just wanted to come see the 10 pound baby! Oh my goodness! He's so huge!" 

And here you are 6 years later, even HUGER. So grown up, so sweet, so smart and so loving. It's hard to remember you were ever so "little." Sometimes when I am feeling nostalgic, I'll pick up a 10 pound bag of sugar in the grocery store and think about my baby boy. I am so proud of the little boy with the HUGE heart that you have become. I love you Spencer, Happy Birthday!

Grateful.

I decided to organize the "office." I know, to most of you that have been to my house, it seems like quite the feat! BUT, after 2 1/2 days of gutting and purging, I can finally say that it is ALMOST done. :)

So last night, as I was going through some paper work, I came across this:

I know this piece of paper and 3 pieces of card stock wouldn't mean much to most, but to me, they represent an extremely depressed time in my life full of disappointment and pain.

If you look closely, you can see the date: 3/16/07, the day I found out I was pregnant with baby number 2. I had bought Spencer a shirt and painted the words "big brother" on it, took pictures of him in it, and added a page to his scrap book so we could always remember how happy we were at that moment in time.

I was so excited.

But that excitement soon turned to sadness when we ended up losing the baby. I remember being so angry, feeling so hurt and confused. I took out the pages from the scrap book and tore up the pictures. I never wanted to be reminded of the hurt again. I guess I forgot to discard the page itself and tucked it away somewhere, not ready to let go of what had happened. A couple months later, I was pregnant again. This time would be different, this time I would have a healthy baby in the end. But this time was the same, but even more painful. How could this happen? I was healthy. I had a healthy first baby. Why? Still confused, a couple months later, yet again, I was pregnant, but this time I was terrified. I spent my entire pregnancy scared that this too would end in pain. But it didn't. It ended in Tatum.

So here I am, over 4 years later, looking at this piece of paper, this physical reminder of pain, and yet I feel so overwhelmingly happy.

I can honestly say that 2007 was one of the hardest years of my life. There was a point I truly believed God was punishing me for something and I was only going to be able to have one baby. But here I am 2 babies later. God had a plan for me. I am not in control, I never was. I think God wanted me to learn that so that I could truly let go and embrace the plan he has for my life. I would never want to ever experience the loss and disappointment I experienced that year ever again, but I also think that I wouldn't be where I am with three beautiful babies if it weren't for that loss. I am so very grateful for my children. And who knows, maybe I'd still have 3 babies, had I not lost those 2, but I wouldn't have TATAUM. I wouldn't have LUCY. And I wouldn't know and feel deep down in my gut how truly blessed I am to have them.

Sleeping through the night.

I don't know about you mamas, but since the day my first was born, I have NEVER slept through the night.

A typical night for this mother of 3:

The kids go to bed around 8:30. I say "go" because they don't necessarily sleep. Tatum and Lucy will fall asleep within a matter of minutes. Spencer, however, will stay up, look at books, play in his room, until around 10 or 10:30. So when he's fallen asleep, I'll finally make my rounds to check on everyone before going to bed myself around 11. I, like Spencer, have a hard time falling asleep. So, I will turn on my Pzizz app and listen to the melodious music and some strange man tell me that "it is time for sleeping..."

I'll fall asleep around midnight.

Around 3:30 I ALWAYS wake up and have to use the leu. Ask my mom, I've NEVER been able to hold it through the night and have ALWAYS had to wake up to tinkle in the middle of the night. Thank you Mother for always putting my bedroom directly across the hall from the bathroom growing up. ;) I use this time to check on my babies another time. I start at the bedroom farthest away and I put Tatum back on her pillow and cover her up, whispering "I love you sweetie pea, sweet dreams" in her ear. On to Spencer. As I get closer to his bed to lean over and give him a kiss, I step in something. Awesome. He had to pee and thought his bedroom was the bathroom again. Poor guy. He has mama's bladder and was so asleep he didn't realize he wasn't peeing in the toilet. SO, I get the cleaner, clean it up, check to see if he got it on his bed or himself and clean up accordingly. This time I had to wake him up and have him change. But for some reason he didn't want me to leave so I spent another 10 minutes praying with him and singing to him so he'd fall back asleep. Finally I make it to Lu's room and I cover her back up and tell her how much I love her.

I make it back to bed around 4 and spend another 30 minutes (with Pzizz back on) trying to fall back asleep, intermittently kicking my husband to get him to stop snoring. Tony will make it into the shower between 6 & 7 and I'll usually get up again to use the bathroom. If I keep one eye closed I can usually fall back asleep in a matter of minutes before being awoken by Spencer around 8am.

So I'm curious. To all those mamas whose babies are sleeping through the night... Does sleeping through the night for your babies mean you as well? Because I'm pretty sure this is my nightly routine for the rest of my life.

A day like any other...

Maybe I'm having a pity party, maybe not. Okay fine, I'm totally having a pity party. But do you ever have one of those days that feels pretty normal, but just isn't quite right? I mean, there really wasn't anything bad that happened today.

I woke up at 8 when my 5 year old alarm woke me, fed him breakfast, fed the baby breakfast, fed the 3 year old breakfast, gave each one a bath, then finally sat down for breakfast and a cup of coffee at 10am after getting the baby down for a nap. Maybe that was the problem, delayed caffeine consumption...

Time out. 3 year old is melting down.

Time in. So she's screaming because while she and the 5 year old were playing in her room, he moved her high chair. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? This is what sets a 3 year old off? I don't get it. I don't get it at all. Try paying bills, having a mortgage, fight over real things kid.

Anyway. It's been a pretty normal day... Feed kids, bathe kids, clothe kids, feed kids, get one kid to nap, feed kids some more, make sure no one kills anyone, etc...

Tony comes home, starts talking about his day at work.

Time out.

Sorry, had to go lock myself in the bathroom. 3 year old is screaming again, and 5 year old wants to talk Pokemon and I'm just done with noise today.

Time in.

So my husband, Mr. Important, comes home. He has a new job, if you didn't already know. He's pretty important. He is now a Senior Manager at Waggener Edstrom (a PR firm in Portland). He's big time. Whatever. Don't get me wrong, I'm super proud of him. I really am. But here comes the pity party... He's telling me about his day, he's telling me about how he went to lunch with some other important people at work and this is what gets me... He says, "... and they all said they really want to meet the kids. That I should bring them in sometime."

Now let that marinate.

Maybe I'm crazy. Shoot. I know I am. But I am now sitting in the bathroom writing this post feeling like my part: carrying, birthing, feeding, and making sure they don't kill each other, is ridiculous and unimportant. Tony doesn't get it. I mean really. I feel completely disregarded, like I'm some inconsequential middle man. No one really cares about the spouse who doesn't have a "real" job who stays home with the kids. Let's just skip right over her and meet the children.

Funny side story, I was at Costco just this afternoon with the kids eating lunch and I invited this super nice elderly woman to join us since there wasn't much room elsewhere. We had a really nice time and I enjoyed our conversation. When we got up to leave, she looked at me and told me straight faced "you're a good mother."

Do you know how often that happens? Not nearly as much as it should. Not just to me, but to any mother. It makes the dirty diapers, the screaming, the fighting, the poop & pee NOT in the toilet, the mess, the feeling of little to no self-worth so much easier to swallow.

Later on, we got home and I was unloading the van when I picked up the 10 pound bag of sugar I bought. I thought to myself, this sure is heavy. Then I realized, I gave birth naturally to a baby slightly bigger than that. How cool is that? I did that. ALL by myself.

And here I am, sitting on the bathroom floor, almost 6 years later, wondering, how did this happen? I should feel empowered. But I don't.

And now my computer is saying "you are now running on reserve battery power."

Ain't that the truth buddy, ain't that the truth.

Where's My Slurpee!?

Oh Lulu Bell. One year ago, little did I know what a spunky yet sweet little lady I was about to meet. Last year, at 7am, your Daddy & I headed over to the hospital and got hooked up to some nice labor inducing drugs. A few hours later, I got me my epidural, and life was good. At 6:46pm I started to shake and cry (that was always my indicator with your brother and sister that I was ready to push) and your Daddy told the nurse it was time. Much like your sister's birth, the doctor was busy eating dinner. So... we waited. 10 minutes later, she came in and told me to push and I told her to sit down first. Good thing I did, because I sat up, asked for a refresher course on how exactly I was supposed to do this... and, what must've been a push later, you were here. You were a SMELLY 9 pound 7 ounce and 22 inch baby COVERED in vernix. BUT, you were absolutely beautiful and with so much dark hair, your father questioned his part in your arrival.

Such a sweet and quiet little baby you were. Those first few days, we would just cuddle and your brother and sister would ooh and ahh over you, until you pooped. Then they'd leave.

I was so grateful that all I needed to do in order to put you to sleep was to rub your sweet smelling, soft hair.

You were such a cuddler, still are. I love how you still lay your head on my shoulder when you know it's time for bed.

Such a strong little lady. You had your head up only days after you were born

.

At 6 months old you were quite the little chunk. And to everyone's surprise, your hair didn't fall out! It grew... and grew... and started to grow in blonde! What? I just tell everyone that you went through a goth phase while you were in my tummy. ;)

And then, at 7 months old, you gave your mommy and daddy a run for their money and got the sickest any of my babies has ever been. You and I spent many nights together in the hospital while I rocked and prayed over you. Despite your exhaustion, you were a fighter. And with God's help, you were healed. You lost a chunk or two, but it didn't take long for you to gain it back.

And now, you are the most beautiful, crazy curly, two-toned hair colored, feisty, stubborn, warm, loving, curious, attached, Ba of a Lulu Bell and I will always adore you my little mini-me. Happy Birthday Lucy Olivia! Slow down... you're growing up far too fast for your mama.

Holy snap my baby girl is 3.

3 years ago today I laid in bed wide awake. I laid there deathly afraid of what was to come the next morning. I knew tomorrow I would have a baby girl. You see, after the monstrosity that was baby Spencer, my doctor thought it might be best if I were induced in my subsequent pregnancies. So here I was, baby number 2... ready to be induced the next day... May 6th, 2008.

I won't lie. I was a ball of nerves. Spencer was such a hard baby that cried all the time, was sick all the time, a horrendous nurser, didn't sleep until he was one and when he finally did sleep he had night terrors and would wake up screaming. I was terrified of having another baby like that. Lord knows I MUST have REALLY wanted another baby after that debacle.

So there I was, in bed, completely awake with my thoughts, and fearful of the inevitable. This baby had to come out... tomorrow.

With your first baby, every thing is new, so the absolute horrific pain and terror that is natural birth is a lot more real the second time around. All I could think of was pain. Absolute pain. So that morning when I went in I knew without a doubt that this time Mama was getting herself an epidural!

So I got to the hospital, got hooked up to some pitocin and took it like a man... Until the doc decided to break my water, then I got me my epidural. And let me tell you... It was a night and day difference. Such a peaceful experience. I'd even go so far as to say it was blissful... in comparison to my previous experience.

So when it finally came time to push, what did I do? Completely freak out. Duh. Doesn't everyone? I was terrified. How was I going to take care of two babies?! I'd totally be outnumbered. And oh snap, if this baby was anything like the first, I just might die before she turned 1. BUT, just like my labor, just like my easy 4 minute delivery, my beautiful baby girl was EASY. Blissful really... The quietest, sweetest, sleepiest, most peaceful baby there ever was.

3 days old...

1 year

2 years old

And here she is, 3 years later...

A snarky, opinionated, beautiful little drama queen. And I wouldn't want it any other way... most days. :) Happy birthday to my Lumpty Shake-a-boo.

I've found my calling in life...

It's true. Some people spend most of their lives trying to figure out what they really want to spend the rest of it doing and by the time they figure it out, they've neared the end of it. Not to brag or anything, but at the raw age of 28, I've totally figured it out. I was born to sculpt edible materials. Fondant & I go way back... We first met at Spencer's 1st birthday when I created an M&M cake for him.

We took a small break for a couple of years. We reunited when Tony requested a 1up cake for his birthday.

Feeling pretty confident in our relationship I made Spencer a Bumblebee (the transformer, not the insect) for his 3rd birthday.

I mad this Elmo cake for Tatum's 2nd birthday.

And now that Tatum is turning 3, I've felt some crazy urge to push our relationship further... It's like I'm in competition with my previous cakes. I know. I feel like I've lost my mind... but here it is... The Tangled tower.

I took some creative liberties, as any artist should, and altered some of it to my liking. I started a week early, on Saturday and moulded the rice treats (as Buddy prefers to call them). Sunday I carved them until they resembled something close to what I wanted the finished product to be.

Monday I conquered the top of the tower then continued on with the base on Tuesday.

I took a break on Wednesday and baked the actual cake on Thursday.

This morning, the day of my baby girl's birth, I decorated the cake and put the finished touches on the tower. And welp... Here it is... You be the judge.

The rock path in the back...

The other side...

Movin' on up...

It's official, I have my own website! I have been trying to sell my wares on Etsy for almost 2 years now... And after much thought and a bit of anxiety, I decided to go out on my own. My reasoning: Etsy charges a fee per listing, takes a cut and then paypal takes yet another percentage. AND if your listing doesn't sell within 3 months it expires and you have to pay the charge to relist. So... not much fun.

So here I am... Got me a name, got me a website, got me some goods.

It's called The Paisley Underground and I'm selling all sorts of funky accessories. It all started when my poor little bald Tatey was born and I wanted soft headbands for her noggin that wouldn't leave marks.

I soon realized I too wanted to rock the headband look and so I started making fabric rosette headbands.

Last November I decided to teach myself to crochet, and that lead to all sorts of funky head adornments, hats,

headwraps, crazy button headbands...

And my latest creation... seriously latest, as of 2 days ago, I started making these dainty little petal flower bobby pins.

Cool enough for mama to rock, but wee enough for my sweet baby girl Lu.

Tell your mama, tell your friends. You can check it all out at: http:www.thepaisleyunderground.com.

Good things come to those who pray...

I dont' think I've ever gone to bed hoping & praying that my baby would wake up and want to nurse all night... But I totally did last night. Before bed she nursed at 4:30, 7:30 and then again at 8:30. She finally went to sleep around 10:30, and woke to nurse at 11:00pm, 2am, & 5am. Praise God.

So here we are... Playing the waiting game. The nurse & the med student that came in this morning both agree that she's ready to go home. Just waiting on our team of doctors to come in, evaluate her, and sign the paperwork... Which as the nurse says, could take all afternoon, but hopefully it will happen sooner rather than later and we can head home!

I even made her a going home hat seeing as it snowed last night and it was not near as cold when we first came to the hospital on Wednesday the 16th!

Touchdown...

All day I've felt like I'm the quarterback and Lucy is the wide receiver and I've thrown this amazing pass her way and all she has to do to win the game is catch it.

She's been refusing to eat, bottle or boob for a week now. So this morning at 10am she received yet another feeding through the tube in her nose. Soon after she seemed really irritable and we decided to give her Tylenol through her feeding tube. I wanted to do it that way because they Tylenol here tastes like poo and I didn't want her to associate anything nasty with her mouth. As the nurse pushed it through, it leaked all over the place. You see, there was this teensy hole in her tube. The nurse who put it in had taped it up to avoid having to replace it resulting in more unnecessary pain for Lu.

So our current nurse decided there was no way the tube could withstand another feeding without completely busting. So she pulled the sucker out. Soon after the docs came in and we discussed our plan for the day. We decided to leave the tube out and give Lucy a 12 hour window to make up her mind on eating. If she didn't have a decent amount of liquids, via boob, bottle, or otherwise, they would replace the feeding tube. No pressure.

So at 1 I gave it another shot. Still rejected. No boob, no bottle. Every time I would try she would arch her back and scream at me. The lactation consultant came in to observe and she was baffled, as was the doctor who came to check on our progress. We decided to try "real food." At 4:30, after attempting to feed Lu ice cream, a popsicle, carrots, peaches, & rice cereal and her being completely disgusted by it, I thought I'd give the boob one last shot.

I laid Lu down next to me ready to be disappointed. I laid there and to my surprise she turned her body and latched on. I stopped breathing. I didn't move. Tony didn't move. I laid there with a smile on my insides for 5 solid minutes. You can't even begin to imagine the joy I felt at that moment.

She continued to thrive the rest of the evening... 7:30, 5 more minutes of nursing. And then to my total surprise she was hungry again at 8:30!

We just spoke to the nurse and she thinks if Lucy continues to eat throughout the night and has some good solid diapers in the morning, after we see the doctors, we will most likely be able to go home. I am beyond excited. I just praying that she'll continue to eat so we can all go home. I am so grateful for all of your kind words of encouragement today. I really needed it. And I think Lucy needed it too. ;)

Hump day...

Lu is officially off oxygen, they even took the tube off her face! She is no longer hooked up to monitors that were watching her blood oxygen saturation, breaths per minute, & heart rate. The nurse took out her IV this morning! So no more taped head. :)

The only toob (I keep writing toob instead of tube because I have boob on the mind) left is the one that feeds her. She is being an awful stinkerton (as we say in our house) and refusing the boob as well as the bottle. It is officially the ONLY thing keeping us from going home. If she would only eat. I am praising Jesus for healing her lungs but at the same time am feeling completely rejected by Lucy.

But it's Wednesday, and since it's Hump Day I'm really hoping she'll get over it and we can go home and see our other babies whom I miss like crazy!

A Good Day...

From the moment she woke up at 7:30am Lucy has been a different baby. She's all smiles, so talkative and has been playing with her toes and trying to chew on every wire that she's hooked up to.

The doctors decided to stop feeding her through her tube to try and encourage her to nurse or take a bottle. All day, every 3 hours I've offered and she's given me the shaft. I have to say, it's extremely discouraging when every time I offer, I am rejected. Then I'll pump and offer a bottle and she'll just scream at it. So when she doesn't take the milk orally, they give it to her through the tube in her nose.

She's doing so well other than the eating issue though. So well that we're being moved downstairs to the general population! If only she would eat... Doctors say it's the only thing still keeping us here. So I keep praying that one of these times she'll decide she loves me again.

I just HAD to make her a new headband seeing as her IV kinked in the middle of the night and they had to cut her fashionable hospital grade one off.