Perfect in my Mind

Perfect in my Mind

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Ezra | 2 Months

I guess since Ezra will officially be 3 months in five days, it is only fitting that I write about his 2nd month.

Milestones:  Ezra really started noticing his hands during his second month.  He loves to put his fists in his mouth.  I believe Ezra's "ideal situation" involves him being naked, on my bed, with the fan turned on, and both fists in his mouth.  In fact, we may never need to purchase Ezra toys.  His hands are his best buds.  Ezra also started drooling a lot this month.  When I walk around the house holding him facing out, I usually get a few puddles of saliva on my foot.  It's a situation.

Sleeping:  Okay, so I don't want to be braggy . . . . but my baby is a total rockstar when it comes to sleeping.  Around 7 weeks, Ezra started sleeping through the night.  I know, I know.  We're blessed.

Best Moment:  Bah!  So many to choose from.  I'm going to cheat and list two . . .

1.  Ezra's baby blessing.  My family drove over from Colorado to be here and James' family came up from St. George.  Ezra was blessed to be a "beacon of happiness" and counseled to emulate the best qualities of his parents.  After the blessing, the whole group of us went to Ihop and had a fun breakfast together. ( I, unfortunately, was a ding bat and didn't bring my camera.  So . . . just paint yourself a nice mental picture of that.)

2.  Grandma Michele comes to visit!  My mom stayed with us for a week after Ezra's blessing, and it was SO FUN to have her here.  It (literally) was the best week of my life.  Ezra loved having his grandma bicycle his legs and having her sing him silly songs.  We wish she could just move in with us!

Worst Moment:  Hmmmm.  I had mastitis around week 5 and was kind of a wreck.  I know this whole thing really isn't about me, but I can't really think of anything too worthy of "worst moment" for Ezra.  There were a few really fussy days where Ezra rebelled against sleeping during the day, but other than that he was a little dream!

Eating:  Ezra ate about every 2-3 hours during day and then sometimes would wake up once during the night.  At his 2 month doctor's appointment, Ezra weighted 11.55 pounds and was about 25 inches long.  The boy is  t a l l .

Here are some pictures of my little peanut taken between his 1st month birthday and 2nd month birthday.

My mom bought these little shoes for Ezra the day we found out his gender. 

His fist or wrist is always in his mouth.  

Cutest little pumpkin I ever saw!

Totally eating a piece of cake in Ezra's honor.  I mean, he'll get it vicariously, right?  Happy 2 months, baby boy!

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Ezra | 6 Weeks Old

As of yesterday, Ezra is 6 weeks old.

A part of me is getting a little emo thinking about it and, while I realize that is pretty pathetic, I can't believe that my little newborn is growing and changing so fast!  Watching a 7 lb nugget turn into a nearly 10 lb nugget in a matter of weeks is astounding.  My dad put it best when he said, "It's like watching a blob turn into a person."  (Not that we ever thought you were a blob, Ezra.)  Everyday my baby is gaining a little more personality, and learning more about his surroundings.  

Milestones:  Ezra has been holding up his own head since he emerged from the womb, but he is getting a little better at controlling his head movements every day!  He has started responding to James' and my voice, and sometimes even makes eye contact with us.  Ezra has started to smile, and the desire I have to get him to smile at me has pretty much consumed my life.  My mom voice has gotten out of control, but it is a price I am willing to pay to see that gummy, open mouthed grin. I guess a milestone that I will really not ever forget is the time Ezra projectile pooped on me, and then proceeded to tinkle all over my pants.  I guess I am a legit mom now!

Sleep:  We had heard that newborns sleep somewhere between 16-20 hours a day.  James and I feel a better representation of Ezra's daytime sleep schedule would be between 9 and 15 minutes a day.  That's not completely right either, though.  Some days he'll take a nap or two at a couple hours each, and other days he'll take maybe one good nap and a few 20 minute sleep sessions.  Ezra usually wakes up about every 2-3 hours during the night to eat, but once he made it to 4 hours! 

Best Moment:  It's really hard to pick a "best" moment, but the night we brought Ezra home from the hospital was probably my favorite memory of this month.  It was so fun to see my family go crazy over him, and it felt so good to be in our home after being in the hospital.  Entering our house as a family of three was an incredible feeling.  And we ate KFC that night, so . . . 

Worst Moment:  When we took Ezra into get his 3 day check up, we were told that he had a sacral dimple (aka a little hole above his bum hole).  Our doctor had us get an ultrasound of the area to make sure that it wasn't connected to his spine, but told us that it was probably benign.  Well, when Ezra was 9 days old I received a phone call from the doctor's office letting me know that the dimple was connected to his spine and that we would need to go to Primary Children's Medical Center to see a specialist in case it was Spina Bifida.  Seeing as I am the kind of person who instantly thinks of the worst case scenario, I assumed that my baby would be crippled for life.  That morning was pretty rough.  (A few weeks later we had him checked, and he is fine!)

Eating:  For awhile I felt like Ezra was eating pretty much all day . . . and he was!  Haha.  Nursing is a more than full time job, but it is so worth it to me.  (Usually.)  It is amazing to know that every ounce he gains is an ounce I give him.  

I put Ezra in the first outfit James and I purchased for him today, and he looked so cute that James and I just had to snap a few (read:  100) pictures of him.  Here are some of my favorites:

Since I am a picture obsessed mama, here are some more of my favorites from the rest of the time he's been home:

Ezra has very expressive eye brows . . . he makes this "grumpy" face frequently.  Especially if I am doing something lame like kissing his cheek, or talking to someone other than him.  We think it's pretty funny.

Ezra thought his first bath was pretty weird, but now he's got the hang of it and it's his favorite thing in the world!  (Minus milk.)

The cutest outfit Ezra wears is probably his birthday suit. 

This baby has definitely stolen my heart.  (Not that you're reading this, but:) I love you baby boy!

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Ezra's Birth Story

Throughout my entire pregnancy, I was sure my baby would come early.  My mother had me two weeks prior to my due date, and James' mom delivered him one week before he was expected.  Naturally, I thought baby T. would come well before his estimated due date of August 4th.  When I asked my doctor at my 38 week appointment how much longer he thought I had and he responded "I wouldn't be surprised if it was this week", I just knew that meant my baby would be coming that night.  After the appointment, James and I rushed home and I began scrubbing my house from top to bottom.  Once the house was suitable for a brand new baby, I packed my suitcase, took a shower and went to sleep--just knowing that I would soon start having contractions and would probably wake up during the night asking James to drive me to the hospital.

I woke up the next day severely disappointed.  I was not in pain from contractions.  In fact, I hadn't felt this good physically in weeks!  For the next two weeks I followed the same bedtime ritual as the night of my 38 week appointment.  Scrub the house.  Re-pack the suitcase.  Shower.  Tell James "tonight's the night!" . . . wake up baby-less.  I was a fool to think I could predict baby T.'s arrival.  An absolute fool!

Two nights before my "41 week" mark of pregnancy, I woke up with severe lower back pain.  It was so bad that I couldn't go back to sleep.  I noticed that the pain would be really bad for about a minute, stop for a few minutes and then come back.  Apparently, this is what a contraction feels like.  I started timing the contractions, and discovered that I was having 1 minute contractions every 4 minutes.  I showered, got dressed, and woke up James to take me to Labor and Delivery.  Once we got to Labor and Delivery, they put us in a cold room and hooked me up to a torture device.  I believe it's formal name is "Non-stress test", but I will tell you right now . . . this test had me stressed.  After a few hours of lying perfectly still while having insane contractions, and being periodically checked for dilation, I was sent home.  My body wasn't ready to have the baby.

I puttered miserably around James' parents house from around 7am to 2pm, waiting for my contractions to get worse.  My doctor said to come in later in the day to get re-checked, but I wanted to wait until I couldn't stand the pain any longer.  I wanted to make sure that the next time I went into Labor and Delivery, I would walk out with a baby.  When I went to get re-checked, pretty much nothing had changed.  My doctor gave me two options:  1) I could go back home and keep laboring there, or 2) I could get checked in to the hospital, have my water broken, and get induced.  At this point I couldn't possibly imagine going home again, and my doctor agreed that given my state of misery it was probably time to speed up the process.  James and I were elated.  We were finally going to have this baby!

James and I got checked into our hospital room and started watching Seinfeld to distract me from my labor pains.  The doctor came in and broke my water (which doesn't feel nearly as weird as I thought it would) and soon after that they started the pitocin.  I tip my hat to anyone who has given a natural birth while on pitocin, because that stuff is a wench.  Instead of having a 4 minute break between contractions, I had a 1 second break . . . maybe.  It was intense contraction upon intense contraction.  I have never felt pain like that.  I don't think I could have even comprehended pain like that without experiencing it. Not even Jerry Seinfeld could distract me from this pain.  And that is saying something.

I got an epidural about an hour after the pitocin.  I think the anesthesiologist might have been an angel.  I felt better after that epidural than I had since my second trimester.  The pitocin started speeding things up, and before I knew it, I was at an 8.  Suddenly, fear came over me.  I was really going to have a baby!  What if the baby didn't like me?  What if I didn't know how to be a mother?  What if I didn't like being a mother?  Would everything be okay?  Every time a nurse came in to check my progress, the fear intensified.  By the time I got to a "10", I was nervous enough to chew my hand off.

It was time to start pushing.

I'm not sure how long I spent actually pushing, but it felt like minutes.  Before I knew it, a loud cry filled the room.  This cry was the sweetest, most beautiful sound I had ever heard.  It wasn't a sad cry, or an angry cry . . . it was just "waaahhhh".  As soon as I heard this cry, my nervousness immediately wore off. I was in love.
(okay, maybe the cry was a little angry. ;) )

I had been warned that my baby would potentially look like E.T. upon arrival, and a little alien is exactly what I was expecting.  While I surely would have loved an alien baby, my perfectly human son was a pleasant surprise.

The nurse put our baby boy on my chest and tears filled my eyes. Big, bright eyes looked up at me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.  Tiny fingers wrapped around my pinky.  Soft, pink lips gently opened and closed.  I was born to raise this child.  Having him in my life was already the greatest gift God had given me, and it hadn't even been 5 minutes.

James and I decided early on in my pregnancy that we didn't want to name our child until we met him.  We had thought about names, and there were names we liked, but we didn't want to pick anything until we could see our baby and feel his spirit.  We tried out a few names while the baby nursed on my chest.  Was this baby a Harrison?  Could he be a Grant?  No . . . this baby was definitely an Ezra.  Our Ezra.  Our little helper.  Our sweet, sweet boy.

I had a few complications after giving birth to Ezra, so I didn't get to hold him again for a few hours.  He was sent to sleep in the nursery while I recovered.  When I woke up the next morning to feed him, I fell in love all over . . . and honestly, now that he's a nearly month old I've fallen more in love with him every day since.  While it has definitely been the hardest month of my life, it has also been the most wonderful month of my life.

I am so grateful for my sweet baby Ezra.

(preview of our newborn session by Debi Rae photography)

I could go on and on, but I will save that for my "1 month" post later this week.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Recently . . .

I am so behind on documenting my pregnancy that I think my fetus is second hand embarrassed for me.  I love reading other people's pregnancy posts complete with weekly bump shots, but I haven't really felt compelled to take many pictures yet.  Being tall has helped me hide the pregnancy weight pretty well.  Up until about a month ago my bump was non-existent.  These days I  look like I just ate a few too many cinnamon rolls over Conference weekend.  It's definitely gotten to the "I can't zip up my pants anymore phase" but I just find things to be . . . kind of uninteresting in that realm.  Or maybe super interesting if you are now thinking of cinnamon rolls.  Mmmmmm.

As of Saturday, I am 23 weeks pregnant.  23 weeks.  I know I'm still a lightweight in the pregnancy ring, but I feel like I have already learned so much over the past five and a half months!  For instance, I have pretty much learned not to be a psycho.  (Key words being "pretty much".  I did happen to have a mini-meltdown a few hours ago over wanting a milkshake but not having ice cream.)
I have gone from crying almost everyday about almost everything to crying maybe once or twice a week about something completely random and usually food related.  In terms of baby, I have been able to listen to a sweet little heartbeat using my fetal doppler.  It's so comforting to hear a steady heartbeat a know that my little love is doing well. I have an anterior placenta, so while I have felt a few flutters I'm not sure if I've felt a sure kick.  The doctor said strong kicks are coming soon, though!  When you're not sick and you're not bumpin' it's sometimes hard to "feel" pregnant, but I think that feeling is rapidly encroaching and I couldn't be more excited!  I know the gender of my little canteloupe, and I will share that on the blog soon!

I get asked a lot "Do you have any names picked out?" and I always feel kind of stupid saying "No" but I'm really telling the truth.  James and I have talked about it a good amount but neither of us feel super connected to any particular name right now.  I keep saying a certain name in my head, but I don't want to share it until it's "the one".  Which, knowing me, won't be until after the baby debuts.  This probably sounds kind of bad, but I'm not really sure I want advice on names?  Like, if I were to tell someone a name I like I would be super bummed out if I got a bad reaction to it.  Ya know?  I don't want opinions to ruin a name James and I think is perfect.  But, like I said . . . we're not even to that point yet.  We're calling the baby "Rumplestilkson" so far, so . . . we've got a bit of brainstorming to do still.

About a month ago I had my last ultrasound.  I can't believe that the next time I seem my baby we'll be face to face.  From our first ultra sound to our last ultrasound our baby turned from a dinosaur to rough sketch of an infant.  I can only imagine the changes that will take place in the next few months.

The other day I felt a sincere ache to hold my babe.  It was such a strange feeling, and I can't really describe it but my arms just felt like they were missing something.  I know every mother probably feels this way about her child, but I just get the feeling that I'm carrying someone very special.  It makes me tear up just to think about the beautiful life I'll get to bring into this world in 17 weeks.  Maybe less!  I can honestly say that I love being pregnant.  I wake up every day feeling like I've accomplished something great.  I've sustained a life.  Sure, there are days when I get insecure about my changing body, but the reality of this miracle makes any stupid little hardship seem so mild in comparison 

I feel like I should be doing things to prepare for my little chicken wing, but I don't know where to start!  We just barely moved into a new home so I now know where the nursery is going to be and have a bunch of wonderful things from my amazing sister in law, but I know I need to be buying more of these baby essentials.  Any tips on cribs, baby swings, changing tables, baby carriers, baby baths, and diapers would be super appreciated! Seriously.  I don't have a clue.

I can't think of anything else interesting to write right now, and to be completely honest I'm sure this is only interesting to maybe my mom?  But I guess it's high time I write something about this pregnancy because I couldn't be more thankful for it.   So many more posts I need to write.  Hopefully this week I'll put a dent in it!

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

How We Told Our Families . . .

Like I mentioned in my previous post, I found out that I was pregnant on November 26th.  As we were leaving the doctor's office, one of the nurse's said "So are you going to tell your families for Christmas?" At that point we'd only known we were parents for approximately two minutes, so we hadn't thought it over, but hey!  It sounded like a great idea. I hadn't ever really sent out Christmas cards because I am kind of a slacker when it comes to snail  mail but hopefully gathering addresses of all our cousins and grandparents wasn't a dead giveaway that something was up.  

I started looking to Pinterest for inspiration for a Christmas card because, as we may have discussed before, I am no designer.  I eventually found an idea that was perfect for what I wanted to do . . . but I have since lost the link.  My conscience just wanted me to throw it out there that the card I made in Photoshop was totally inspired by a card another couple posted on Pinterest.  

Anyway.  Here is what we sent out to our loved ones:

And then tucked in the back was our most recent ultrasound.

Kind of sneaky and cute, right?

Telling our parents was one of those experiences that I will never, ever forget.  I have never experienced so much joy or happy tears in my life!  This little babe will be the first grandchild and great-grandchild on my side of the family . . . so it was really exciting to be able to share the news with my parents and grandparents.  James' parents live just an hour south of us so it was amazing to be able to share the news with them that they'll have a new little life to snuggle and love on, too!  James' grandpa remarked that he's still not sure which one of us resembles the babe the most, but we're sure excited to find out in about six months!

Friday, February 1, 2013

The First Trimester is the Deepest.

When I walked into the doctor's office on November 26, I did not expect to walk out knowing I was a mother. In fact, just ten minutes before my appointment ended, my doctor was discussing a treatment plan for me that would require me waiting almost a year before I could carry a bundle of joy.  A knock at the door and a positive pregnancy test later, that prescription was no longer needed.  I was a mommy sitting next to a daddy.

I can't come close to describing how I elated I was upon hearing the good news.  It was the first time in my life that I cried for joy.  I wanted this more than anything.  

The months that have followed this wonderful news have not been easy.  But as I started to write about all of the sickness and physical difficulties, it seemed stupid to complain.  I have waited for this my entire life!  Many women wait for this for years.  In some ways, morning (all day) sickness has been a huge comfort to me.  My body is changing and adapting to the growing life inside.  I cannot think of a more worthy cause to dedicate myself to.

On the other hand, my husband has been super lucky in the sense that he has had the opportunity to live with a deranged psycho-path.  This is helping him become way cultured.  Allow me to elaborate:
  • I cry over everything. Like,  I cried watching Tommy Boy a few weeks ago.  Yeah.  Tommy Boy.

  • For about two months I hated pretty much everything.  (Everything and food are synonyms, right?)
  • I have become obsessed with washing my hands after touching anything.  Yesterday at Walmart James asked me if I could push the cart for a minute, and I cried a little.  So many germs, you guys!
  • Most of the things I eat revolve around the thought, "Will I be able to function if I throw this up and never want to eat this again."  After a very emotional situation involving frozen yogurt, I've got to be super picky.  
  • I've started using a belly band, even though my protuberance is nowhere near protruding.  It just makes me feel pregnant.
  • Half of the smells I smell remind me of pickles.  
  • James has resorted to keeping his potted meat collection in a drawer in his office, and he sneakily eats it when I'm in another room.  (Okay, maybe I'm turning him into a weirdo, too ;))
I could go on and on, but I'll spare you the ones that make me sound like I could be committed (for now).

In a little over a week we get to find out what the gender of this little baby . . . and I am SO excited!  I can't wait to start really preparing.  I can honestly say that I don't have a preference.  James and I will both be ecstatic either way.  

Happy Weekend!!!

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Re: Facebook

I have been getting quite a few questions regarding my Facebook account lately, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on the subject here.

Social Media.  Love it, right?

Not right.  Not all of the time, anyway.

I was 17 when I first got my Facebook account, and that was actually pretty hipster of me. 
This was back in the day when you needed a school e-mail to sign up, and you had to join a college or university network.  When I first signed up, I had ten "friends" and only four of them were real-life-hang-out friends.  Even with those ten "friends" I was instantly fascinated by the world of social networking and obsessed with checking in on my virtual friends and acquaintances. While I'm proud to say I never got into Farmville or Mob Wars,  I would get on Facebook multiple times a day, for hours at a time.  

The word "excessive" immediately came to mind as soon as I typed that last sentence.  At 17, with a buzzing social calendar and more than enough school assignments to keep me occupied I had no reason to seek out electronic companionship.  But I did.  

Almost six years have passed since my first login to Facebook.  At different points over the past six years I have experienced varying degrees of reliance on the social networking site.  Some days I could re-hash every status update of my nearly 500 friends while other days I wouldn't have a clue what was going on.  Some days I would look at the lives of my friends and "friends" and compare myself relentlessly.  Other days I would wonder if people were comparing themselves to me.

When I think about the kind of life I want for my baby, tears immediately come to my eyes.  It's crazy how much you can love something that is the size of a peach.  I think about what I had as a child, and I want the same for my sweet little babe.  I want him or her to grow up being confident.  And I want him or her to have a mommy who is present.  I feel like these two words cannot exist adequately in my life when  I dedicate so much time to social media.  So, about a week and a half ago I deleted my Facebook account.  This decision is not right for everyone, but for me (right now, at least) it is perfect. I might change my mind next week, or I might change my mind in ten years.  Who knows?  For right now, it is important to me to learn how to manage my time and insecurities better. 

If you're wondering if I deleted you from my "friends" list, I didn't.  I deleted me.  
If you're wondering if I don't like you anymore, and that's why we're not friends, you're wrong.  I am just taking a break.
If you are wondering if I am a weirdo for taking down my account, you're right.  But whatev.

What are your thoughts on Facebook?  Do you think I'm a wacko?

ETA:  I recently re-activated my account--but my break from Facebook helped me SO MUCH.  I feel like I use it so much more responsibly and have learned how to manage my time better.  Unplugging for a few months was a good experience for sure.