Cross Your Fingers

The baby began to cry at 5:14 a.m. I maybe think he made the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. He was mostly asleep, but continuously whimpering. He’s grown three molars in the last two weeks and a fourth is evidently on its way. Rough. Finally I gave up on the belief that he was going back to sleep unassisted and entered the freezing morning air to get him a bottle of milk. Poor thing had pee all over him (that’s what a second 9 oz. of milk with a dose of Tylenol at 12 a.m. will do…). He was probably freezing. At any rate he was uncomfortable.

I changed him, then we rocked. I sang to calm him down. I tried to put him back in his crib to see if he could sleep some more. But that face. He was so sad. So we read and we rocked some more. As much as I wanted to go back to my bed, I enjoyed the moment. He cuddled up close to me (which never happens), tickled my arm and listened. That’s how our day began.

I did everything wrong in the moments of crisis last night, according to one expert or another. Honestly, the longer I’m a mother the more I tend to screw up. You’d think I’d get better. I find myself apologizing several times a day to Nixon, mainly for not knowing what I’m doing. Sorry I gave you the toy, then realized it was unsafe and took it away. Sorry I hit your head (for the 10^th time) getting out of the car. Sorry I didn’t notice you had four rocks in your mouth until you started to choke (he’s quick and has an obsession, don’t judge.). Sorry, baby. Sorry.

Somehow, though, after all the sucking I do, he’s still the happiest baby I’ve ever met. He is so cool. He’s social and loves to explore. He holds my hand and brings me a million books to read every day. He calls everything that’s round a ball and his favorite ball is a peach. He maybe eats too many of those “balls.”

I’m far from a parenting guru. Seriously, other people could probably do better, even with my own child (take that, Pinterest quotes). But Nixon gets me. And if a mom who tries super hard and prays super often counts for anything, he’s not that bad off. Cross your fingers. 

Happy Birthday, Nixon!

We invited family to a pool and pizza party to celebrate Nixon’s special day. Nixon enjoyed eating a slice of pizza, but didn’t know what to do with the oversized cupcake we gave him. I planned for the party honestly since he was born. A birthday is a day to celebrate life, and I was so excited that Nixon was healthy, well and happily turning one.

My favorite part of the day was all of the family who came – my sister and her three children came from Logan, another sister and her four children from Lehi, my parents, Tyler’s parents, Tyler’s brother’s family and sister. We had a really good time!

Stats: Nixon is 52 percentile for weight, 58^th percentile for height and 71^st percentile for head circumference. The doctor said he was socially smart. He smiled when the doctor walked in and crawled over to him to untie his shoe. Nixon’s not walking yet – I think he could, just isn’t feeling it yet. He’s doing great though. He's awesome!

Birth Story - Part 2

The pitocin was started for the induction and an epidural was placed. I was put on magnesium for the preeclampsia, which is so awful. So awful. Tyler sat on the couch and we honestly slept for most of the morning and afternoon. The doctor came to break my water at 1 p.m. At around 5 or 6 p.m. I told the nurse I was in quite a bit of pain and asked her if that was normal. We found out then that the epidural drip system hadn’t started, so I was dilated to a 7 and feeling the fullness. Not terrible, but not comfortable. The doctor called me tough. Not what I was going for.

Everything went pretty quickly after that. The magnesium makes it a little fuzzy. I labored on my left side to try to get the baby to turn. I had a goal to have him the 3^rd instead of the 4^th. I know I kept telling Tyler I think he broke my tailbone (and I think he did). At one point I told Tyler I was sure he was coming out. Tyler tried to calm me, but I was sure Tyler was going to have to catch him before any qualified person returned. When the nurse finally came back to check she couldn’t believe that I was right. He was! She said usually it takes someone three hours to do what had just happened in 30-45 minutes. It was time to push.

And I did – 45 minutes. Tyler was there, the doctor was there and two nurses were there in the corner cheering and counting. That helped. Everyone helped. Tyler said I kept apologizing to everyone. The nurses laughed at me. And then – 10:43 p.m. and Nixon was here! He was screaming! I was so scared. And relieved. He had to go to the nursery for some fluid. His face was purpleish and he had lots of hair. Everyone left me to help him. And I was not doing well.

I was worried about Nixon, and I was really, really sick. I kept throwing up and I was so dizzy. The magnesium had gotten to me. Ugh. They told me I had to move rooms. They got me into a wheelchair and then walked away. I remember yelling at them that I was passing out and then I did. And then I puked. They handed me a pair of socks for the baby. Bad timing. I thought they were jerks at that point. Now I know they were just very crowded. But still. Jerks.

In the new room I discovered I had to go back on magnesium for another day and they had to replace the catheter they had already removed. I remember a conversation with my doctor at 3 a.m. where I was so angry at him and begged him to take me off this awful medicine. They did reflex tests and nothing. I couldn’t think. I was limp and I couldn’t hold my baby. Worse, I still couldn’t feed him. We hadn’t bonded. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. Tyler was the only parent available to him. He did amazing, but that’s a tough spot to be. That was a very rough night for all of us.

Things got better. Everything got better. Day by day we learned. And now, we have Nixon. Quite literally the happiest baby on the block. He is so awesome. So smart. So cute. So funny. And right now he’s growling at me and hitting my hands. Looks like he’s up from his nap. Time to play!

Breathing

In. out. In. Out. I’m quite certain my very favorite sound in the world is the sound of my baby peacefully sleeping. I turn the monitor on high and just listen. And breath. When he wakes he moves constantly and everywhere. While so fun to watch, I love the calm. I love his breathing.

Nixon turns one tomorrow. He is not quite so little anymore. I look back, I see what we’ve become. He, an amazing child, me, a mother, Tyler, a father. We, a family.

The day before Nixon’s arrival, I was placed on bedrest. I had been to the hospital the night before with some pain under my ribs, and they were testing me for preeclampsia, but I wasn’t concerned. I had every intention of returning to work the following day. I had items on my “to do” list and was looking forward to walking around at the carnival below my building during lunch. I never made it back. I never sat in that chair, I never said goodbye to those people. I won’t lie and say that was easy. It was so hard. That life was gone so fast.

The evening before Nixon was born, we returned to the hospital where we learned the results of the tests. We were told I would be induced the following morning. Three weeks early. I began to cry. I was so very, very sad. I am a planner to the core, but I didn’t want to plan this. I wanted the rush, the water-breaking, speed to the hospital, wheelchair ride to the elevator rush. I also wanted a healthy baby and knew the closer to due date that better. I was scared.

We went home at 11. We finished packing our bags. We called our parents. We prayed. We slept in, took a shower, then Tyler made waffles. Our neighbor took a few pictures, then we drove slowly to the hospital singing, “Hey I just met you and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe!” – that song. With Tyler doing the actions from the YouTube video we’d just watched. I laughed. He always knows how to help.

We walked in, hand in hand. We picked up the phone and I said, “I’m here to have a baby today.” They beeped us in and we were on our way. 

Seven

I read a medical paper that said the average child has seven sicknesses before his/her first birthday. Nixon turns one next week, and his seventh is upon us. I guess he’s holding up to statistics.

So, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Nixon in the middle of the night. He’s just got a little cold, but when he lies down he starts to cough. Coughs make me so nervous. Last night I went into his room where he was sleeping peacefully, despite what I felt were terrible coughing attacks. I wanted to pick him up and hold him to make things easier, but I didn’t want to wake him. So I laid on the floor next to his crib, said a little prayer, and waited until the coughing seized. I wish I could fix it.

This baby. He is amazing. To me he seems huge. He learns so much every day. He doesn’t need my constant entertainment anymore (which makes me a little sad), instead I watch and follow as he moves throughout the house on an exploration mission day after day. He finds little things wherever he goes, then leaves a trail of Nixon. I can’t believe how much he knows. He can flush the toilet and unroll the toilet paper. He can drive his cars along the ground and put them in the garbage can. He stacks his blocks and throws his cheerios. He teases with rocks and hides and seeks.

Nixon walks around furniture, but doesn’t walk on his own yet. I think I’ve had my first lesson in not comparing my child to another’s. I keep trying to get him to walk like some of the other children his age, and after he noodle legs it and cries, I step back and remind myself: He’s exactly what he should be. He’s got his gifts, like his mega-watt smiles. He’s perfect. Yeah, he’s perfect.

Using My "Sweet" Voice

Naptimes are not the same around here lately. I’m frantically trying to work most days, either for my paid job or on my church calling. 

I am completely overwhelmed and intimidated by the calling to be the Primary President in my ward. It’s been just a few weeks now, and some things are going well but definitely not all things. Parents cause more drama then the children ever could – I had no idea! The prior president had been in Primary for eight years. Oh, and she was a Kindergarten teacher. Sheesh. Are you kidding me?!

I’m getting over my youthful fears of mean children. I’ve filled 10 callings so far, created a third Nursery and reorganized several classes. I have no idea what’s going on with Scouts or Activity Days. That will be next.

I’m not sure why they called me. I haven’t been to Primary since I was 11, and sometimes I have no idea what’s happening. I’m learning how to get children to be quiet when I speak. I’m learning how to listen to their stories. I am learning how to make big words into little words. I’m learning how sweet they are and how super smart they are. I am developing an intense desire to teach them and to protect them. But I am so unqualified.

Do I have a little child voice? Did I accidently say a bad word during Sharing Time? Am I kind enough? Do I use simple enough words? I have a lot to learn. 

New #1

Pretty much everything is new these days. I’ve experienced a whirlwind and had little time for much else.

How about we start with my new job?

My old company called and asked me to be hired as a consultant and plan the tours for their convention since I’m the one who has planned them the past two times. Most of my work is from home during naptimes, a few times a month I have to go in for a meeting. The tours will be three days in October and we’re expecting somewhere around 20,000 in those three days. It will be crazy and the logistics are insane.

The Good Things

All that thinking has been good for me. I’ll admit it is nice to think about something else once in a while besides sleep schedules, baby food, developmental activities and poop (who knew that could be on my mind so frequently?). I worked really hard for five years in my career, and it’s nice to be able to use those skills again. And to be paid!

The Negative Ones

But, it’s hard. When I leave I feel guilty – Me and Nixon are best friends, and I feel bad every time I’m gone. I’ve left him many times before without a problem, but for some reason going to work makes me feel selfish. My sister said it will make me a better mom to leave once in a while, and I think she’s right. It’s still a little hard. I also hate inconveniencing people with requests for babysitting, even though it’s not super often. All of my work clothes are too big, so every time I have to go to the office I spend 30 minutes trying to find something to wear (minor problem, I know).

So far it’s been worth it. This particular project will only be until October, then I’ll have some decisions to make.