The ramblings of a stay at home Dad...

*Note-This post was written months before it was posted.  Since few things have changed (and they are particularly minor), here it is : )

Where to start...  It has been about 37 weeks since be I left working full time to stay home full time.  I would be lying if i didn't say that I was excited to leave a stressful job for a more cushy career as a "Mr. Mom".  See I started work at 15, and have worked full time since then (minus a few months unemployed).  There were even a few times I had multiple jobs at once.  Please don't mistake this for whining, I am just telling my story.  So I was pretty much burned out working.  My most recent job was a 50-60 hour a week salary position.  It had its good points, but more recently it was turning into a do-more-with-less kind of job, and I was doing a lot more, with a lot less, and without a pay increase for quite some time.  It was time for a change.  So I write this blog post 262 days later.  There are a few things I wish were different, but for the most part I am content with where I am at in my life.  I will outline a few things that are irritating for me, and a whole bunch of things that are blessings.
1.)  I didn't really want to start with a negative thing, but it is what is weighing on me at this moment.  I am asked the question at least once a week, some weeks its once a day, "So, when are you going back to work?"  I have to bite my tongue sometimes.  My wife and I made this decision for OUR family.  This decision may not be right for your family, but it was what we thought was best for OUR family.  Sometimes I would like to tell people to keep their medieval opinions on who should be the "breadwinner" to themselves.  I mean, I fought with this and still do some days; I came from a family where the dad worked, the mom stayed home, and that's just how its supposed to be!  But come on, this is 2014 - my wife has more education than I do, her benefits are better and cost less, she works less hours than I did, and she actually likes her job (most days).  Don't get me wrong-she would love to stay home as well, and we will hopefully be able to do that in the next couple of years.  Bottom line - you may think you are just asking a question, but your inflection tells me otherwise, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell me how you think I should be running my family!

2.) Okay, now that that is out there, let's get down to the good stuff!  We are blessed that one of us could stay home.  Truly.  Most families can't do it because of their own situations and bills and all the other crap life throws at them.  We basically break even with one salary.  That means that we can't buy new cars, boats, motorcycles, or go on 349302 vacations a year.  I had a very poor attitude this summer as one of my friends were bellyaching about their current job and how much money they had "lost" since they started there, and all the things they didn't have anymore.  Part of my poor attitude was that they have children, and all of the things they were missing had nothing to do with the children but with themselves.  I would cut off my left arm for my daughter if she needed it for something, and I just couldn't see why this person didn't feel the same way!  The other side of the poor attitude was that he switched jobs and very shortly had all of the things he was missing, and oodles more money (or so it sounds).  I was coveting those things, and I shouldn't have been.  I would love to have a new car, or heck, a second car!  But right now, we don't NEED anything else!  We have all we need!  I don't know any other time in my life that I have realized that, those are beautiful words!  All glory due to God here; we haven't always been as faithful as we should be, but He has blessed us anyway.

3.)  I now have time to do all of those fun things I have always wanted to do.... Like teach myself guitar?  Yeah right.  That was just one of the things that I thought I would have time for now that I am not working.  As any stay at home parent will tell you, there isn't time to do anything.  And most work away from home parents will wonder why you have just sat on the couch all day.  My wife is very gracious 99% of the time.  If she doesn't understand that I am busy all day with our daughter, at least she pretends to understand.  All of the time the dishes are done.  Some of the time the laundry is done.  Seldom the house is clean when she gets home.  Hardly ever do I have dinner cooked for her.  Oh well, here's to doing more with less right?  At least this time I enjoy it!  One of the things I am doing that I have wanted to do for some time is finish my degree.  Or, I should say, "a" degree.  I truly believe that some people should not go to college right out of high school.  I was one of those people- $17,000 in loans, failed out of two different colleges before I couldn't take it anymore.  So, 15 years later, I am taking classes again, but this time I LOVE it.  Maybe it is the life experience I have so far, maybe it is because I am only taking 2 classes online right now, but I can't stress enough how much I am enjoying it!  My degree is going to be in "independent studies", which is probably meaningless to any future employers, but I am doing this for me, and me alone, so who cares!

4.)  Being a stay at home parent is easy, right?  There are times that it is easy, there are times that I want to pull my hair out.  Mostly due to our 2 dogs that are still puppies at almost 2 years old.  Emerson (our daughter) is probably the most easy going baby I have ever met.  Very seldom is she fussy, very rarely does she not have a smile on her face.  She loves her mommy and daddy, and we love her.  Maybe my thoughts will change when she becomes a teenager, but in this moment, I can see an example of God's love for us in my love for Emerson.  There is nothing she could do to make me love her less.  I may be disappointed for a fleeting moment when she poops through her outfit, that I just changed her into because she peed through the last one, but just as I said, it's a fleeting moment.  All she has to do is look at me, and I forget all of that.  Speaking of diapers, we have changed approximately 2500 diapers.  That's crazy!  Most of my day is spent either feeding her, changing her, or putting her to sleep.  She has just started to play on her own, so I can put her in the pack-and-play and do my homework, or dishes, or use the bathroom.  That's something that used to be something that I could do whenever I wanted to, but now I almost have to plan my bathroom trips around feeding, changing, sleeping schedules.  I have almost wet my pants a few times so far! (She just falls asleep in my arms, and i just realize that i have to pee!)

5.)  Another pet peeve of mine (ours) is when someone tells us how to raise our child.  "She should be eating solids by now",  "She shouldnt be eating solids yet", "You need to burp her", "She smells wet", and on and on and on.  I will address the above mentioned items.  Two for one, solids.  When Emerson started watching us eat intently, that's when we knew she was ready for solids.  She eats some fruit we mill up ourselves, and she has just started eating more solid items.  She hasn't choked, and she hasn't lost weight since just after she came home.  She was in the 90+ percentile for height and weight at her last doctors appointment, so I think she is going to be just fine.  As strange as it sounds, our daughter can burp herself.  Just like you and I do, if she needs to, she sits forward, and burps! It's amazing!  As far as diaper changes go, if I changed her every time I thought she smelled wet, we would probably be somewhere at 5000 diapers!  We change her when we think its needed, and she is just fine!  It's amazing! (Hopefully you all can sense my smart assery in this paragraph!)


I want to take this time to publicly apologize to anyone that I may have openly chastised for how they raise their children.  Whether they were doing things correctly or not is just my opinion.  If there is anything I have learned in the last 8+ months, its that each child needs a different collection of teachings from their parents.  Some of us learn what to do from our parents' examples, some of us learn what not to do from our parents' examples. I learned how to live and interact with the rest of the crazy world from a mixture of the two.

My life path has, at times, gone a completely different direction than my sister's, or brother's, or even any direction I would have ever dreamed.  My journey has been an epic, true poetry. I started out as a child who probably would have been labeled with ADHD, but luckily our elementary school still had recess.  Throughout school, if I applied myself, I did well; if I didn't, I did poorly.  After college the first time, I worked at a series of minimum wage jobs, which taught me the importance of staying busy.  I thank my father for instilling in me a great work ethic. I thank Mark from Kinneys, and Mark from Burger King for teaching me how to use what my father taught me.  I was then given an opportunity to manage a Subway store for a friend; what an opportunity!  It certainly taught me what i didn't want to do with my life.  Making 100-150 subs in a matter of 2 hours will do things to your body and mind that not many things will!  The next job I had was my most recent.  I started out at White's Lumber in Pulaski in a sales position.  I was then told that I would design kitchens, which meant i had to teach myself a software design program.  There were 3 ways to get to the goal of a designed kitchen, all backwards to any other computer program I have ever used (thank you, Canada! lol), but eventually I got very efficient on it-even teaching some of the White's veterans of kitchen design a thing or two.  I then moved into the assistant manager role, and was groomed to take over the store when the manager retired.  There were many there that despised me, as I was the most recent hire and therefore they felt they were better suited for the job.  If it weren't for some of my former employers' teachings, I wouldn't be the go-getter I am, always striving to learn more and take on more responsibility.  I have always felt that if I wasn't learning more, and doing more, that I was in the wrong position.  I then became the manager.  Basically the highest rung on the ladder I could reach there.  Most days were good, but some days were bad.  My wife can attest that in the 4 years I was manager, there were many times I would come home and want to quit.  I can't tell you how many times I wanted to change my name.  Maybe it was that I hadn't trained my staff to be self-thinkers, or maybe it was just that they knew they could always rely on me to have the answers.  Either way, each day got more and more mentally exhausting.  My wife and I had talked for years about starting our own business, we had so many good ideas.  The day came that we found out we were pregnant.  So many things changed in an instant.  One of the nagging questions was what to do for child care.  We could send our baby to a sitters, but who do we trust to instill OUR values?  One of our family members could watch her, but would that be holding them back from their career?  A good friend offered (thank you, Alyssa), but I really felt that the timing was right for me to leave White's.  I was under great stress at work; I wasn't sure what my breaking point was, but it was close.  The thought of paying a third to half of my salary in child care, while still being as stressed out as I was, was slowly becoming unbearable. We prayed about it, and talked about it, and after a few months decided that I would at least take 12 weeks off after the baby was born.  I told my employer about 6 months in advance of our plans.  During that last 6 months, things got increasingly stressful at work, I spent more and more time at work and less and less time at home.  I really felt the right thing was for me to stay at home with the baby after she was born.  Shawna carried our insurance, she liked her job for the most part, and she made enough money for us to at least break even.  We discussed it for months. Coming from the family I do, I really felt that i should be the breadwinner and take care of my family.  I didn't know how to do that without going insane at my then-present job, and without a college degree (even with the experience I had), I wasn't sure where I could go and make the money we needed.  So, despite Shawna being a little resentful, even if it is subconscious, we decided that I would stay home.  I told my employer shortly after the baby was born, and he was very gracious.  it was a nerve wracking experience.  I respect the man very much, and felt he respected me, but I hate letting people down.  His response to me was, "If my wife was here, she would tell you that it is more important to spend time with your children when they are young than to do anything else".

Consistent Regret

You would think in 31 years of living I would get the drift that "things happen" in life...daily.  I do think I'm getting better in this arena, but I still tend to chastise myself more than I think any outsider would.  There is no doubt in my mind that I am my own worst enemy.  And so, with that being said, let's get up to speed.

I have 14 weeks left until I am a mother for a second baby girl.  Yes, that's a little over three months. No, I haven't written a post since my first little girl was about six months old.  Yes, that means it's been a year.  Moving on...

Life is busy.  Having a toddler to chase around the house has been the joy of my life.  It just seems like I'm fitting it around my other obligations.  I have certainly cut back on many of the activities that I used to be involved in, but the hours in the day never get longer, nor do I have the energy to keep up with them even if they did suddenly appear.  In a nutshell, here's what my life looks like:

1. I am 26 weeks pregnant.
2. I have a one and a half year old (in three days).
3. I have a stay-at-home husband who is miraculous in being a daddy, finishing a degree, and getting the great majority of the housework done.
4. We are trying to sell our house to build and expand onto property we've held for a long while.
5. Our house has recently undergone (more) repairs because of a leaking roof, that evolved into siding damage, yada yada.  Any owner of an older home knows the drill.  Twice the cost, four times the length of time to repair, and definitely four times the headache.
6. I work 35 hours a week teaching and tutoring in developmental reading and writing at the community college.  My job is grant funded and slated to end (officially) the end of September 2016.
7. I am (im)patiently seeking God's guidance for the next chapters of our lives as it seems that we are in a time of transition in so many areas in our family's life.

Stress and anxiety are bothersome words that seem to be synonymous with adulthood.  Parenthood brings its own flavor to these terms...but they've been there since I decided to start driving, work a job, go to college, etc.  Somehow, when the pressures of money sneak into your life, it's all down hill from there.  And, as I recently commented on Facebook after seeing a comment from three years ago, life often feels cyclical when it comes to worry.  I try to come up with plans, strategies, formulas, procedures, and organizational tools to help my brain release some of the anxiousness of all things life, but I'm reminded almost daily that it's not God's will for me to feel unsettled.  God's will is for me to lean into him.  The song I need comes on the radio morning commute after morning commute reminding me of who is really, truly in control.  My schematics will never match up to his.  I hear lyrics like, "I am for you; I'm not against you" and "We can trust our God; He knows what he's doing."  I could go on and on with the words of scripture that I hear through the radio, but it all boils down to one thing.  I need to recognize the amazing blessings that God has blessed me with, hand the wheel (back) over to him, and give myself a break.  I'm truly only human, but I'm fortunate to have a husband who seems a little bit super-human and a God who understands my little imperfect, forgetful, and simple brain.

Perfect Mama

I thought for sure that I would be that type of person who was keeping a journal to my child, writing every single day about the ups and downs I was experiencing on this journey of parenthood.  Instead, I'm a goon that is just trying to keep up with the once-a-month pictures.  In fact, for month seven I was so proud of remembering the morning of...only to find out that I was thinking it was the 28th and to discover that yesterday was, in fact, the 28th.  Will my daughter hate me forever because my pregnancy brain has apparently gone on an indefinite hiatus?  I'm sure she'll have her moments where I'll get the eye rolls or the "Don't bother me, Mom" stares...but I know that I don't hold a grudge against my parents for not recording every smile, belly laugh, crying fit, puddle of drool, (I think you get the picture).

What makes me feel guilty is knowing that I have been doing pretty poorly at recording some of the bigger moments.  Her first roll from back to belly, the first time she ate a bite of true food, the first time she swatted me across the face...  But just when I'm ready to question my ability to truly be a mom that shows any pride in her daughter, I realize I have good ol' Facebook...  With Facebook, I have almost a daily record of the growth of my little lady.  Friends, fellow church-goers, and acquaintances alike comment on how big she's gotten, how photogenic she is, and have frequently dubbed her, "The Facebook Queen."  While this title makes me think that I have perhaps suggested my child as better than everyone else's (ahem-she is beautiful AND smart like her mother), it also gives me a flicker of hope that I have something to share with her when she's a little older that, though it does not come in the traditional baby book, it nevertheless gives her a glimpse into how our lives circulated around her for the last seven months...and, God willing, until my dying breath.

And, so in honor of all of the items I have failed to mention in my lazy way of documenting Emerson's amazing journey thus far, I would like to share with you a list all about my little girl.

1) Emerson loves food.  Weighing in at 19 and a half pounds at our last well-child visit, Emerson is in the 95th percentile for her weight.  She is no longer drinking breast milk, but now is exclusively formula fed and eating many solid foods (which makes all of our lives so much easier after my return to work and round-the-clock pumping venture for the first five months of her life).  We have made pureed apples, peaches, pears, nectarines, green beans, summer squash/zucchini, banana, avocado, peas, carrots, blueberry, and sweet potato.  In addition to these homemade baby food items, we have given her rice cereal, oatmeal, strawberry, cherry, custard and yogurt.  Honestly, she could eat fruits and sweet items all day long.  When giving her a taste of a Clio's soft ice cream, she was so excited that she dove into the cone.  It comes naturally.  Both Travis and I have a sweet tooth ourselves.  While she's never spit anything out, the worst face was definitely warranted from the avocado.  She made me feel as if I had fed her something completely wrong, but, as always, I had something sweet to share to help with the blow of something green and slimy.

2) Emerson has graduated from co-sleeping with us into her crib...part-time.  She still wakes up in the night to eat, and although I have heard a million people tell me that letting her cry it out would help us get a full night's sleep, I hate the idea of a baby crying due to hunger (yes, she drinks anywhere from 4-10 ounces through the night) because I would like to sleep for the extra 20 minutes or so it takes to prep a bottle and snuggle her back to sleep.  Maybe with baby number two I will have learned my lesson, but we are all happy with this arrangement at the moment...and so for that, I will happily continue to wean her to sleep a full blissful night in her own bed.  Until then, I plan to continue rocking her to sleep, placing her into the crib beside our bed, and then feeding her a bottle while she lays next to me in our own bed when she awakes around 2 AM.

3) Emerson typically falls asleep in the evening with me around 8 PM, wakes up once or twice a night, and sleeps until between 6:30 and 7 AM.  On one occasion, she slept until 8:30 when we all didn't have to get up.  It was so nice!

(Update: Emerson has had a full official night's sleep without interruption.  RE: I actually have a day to document for her! 8/6/14 is the glorious day that will go down into the history books.  Unfortunately, it was a one-time deal...but number fifteen will explain this update). 

4) Emerson has come to love watching the puppies.  You'd think with their playful (but aggressive sounding) wrestling she'd get nervous.  Instead, she frequently giggles as they push each other around.  In fact, one of the first times she laughed aloud without being tickled or playing peek-a-boo was because she was giggling at Jewel running down the stairs.

5) If Emerson touches the dogs, she goes for their feet.  I don't know what it is about their paws, but she doesn't want to stroke their heads or their backs.  She wants to go for their toes...and the dogs are not too thrilled with it at this point.

6) Emerson is fully capable of sitting up on her own.  She can also roll both from back to belly and vice versa.  She just recently, probably within the last two weeks, has gotten to a point that she can sit up on her own.  She's recognizing the usefulness of putting her elbow on the floor to lift herself.  Despite her hefty size, she really is just a solid baby.  Her abs would rival many a fitness-guru, but she is modest in displaying anything other than a beautiful baby belly.  19 and a half pounds of pure baby innocence.  Who doesn't love those rolls?

7) Emerson's hair has lightened from a dark brown to the point that it looks blonde with low-lights of brown.  People joke that it appears we have taken her to have her hair dyed.  It's a bit of a mullet at this point in time too.  A little bit more partying in the back than in the front.  I could start feeding several starving children around the world if every time someone commented on her amount of hair I made a bit of a kick-back.  It very often is a topic of conversation when people haven't seen her for a while.

Less than one month old

7 months old

8) More people than I'd like have made comments reflecting they think Emerson is a boy.  Beyond the receptionist at the doctor's office that had only her name in front of her (yes, I realize Emerson is a traditionally male name), there have been people staring at her in a pink, frilly, polka-dotted outfit and commenting on how "handsome he is" or how "he's such a big guy".  I take it with a grain of salt.  After talking with other mothers, I realize that it's not worth worrying over.  It happens to everyone.

9) 6/15/14-First time sitting in the stroller without the infant car seat

10) 6/28/14-First time in the exer-saucer, jump around and spin around thing

11) 7/10/14-First Cleo's soft ice cream

  12) 7/31/14-First Pulaski Fireman's Day parade AND first time putting hair up into a ponytail

 

 

13) 8/3/14-First time Emerson had to cover her head because we had an unwelcome guest in our bedroom.  Hint: Mom and baby hid under the covers while dad swung around a badminton racquet at the flying, nighttime creature.  Baby slept through it.  Mom was sweating and panicky.  Dad was in Rambo mode.  I'm very sorry that I don't have pictures of this one.  In the event that I did get a picture, I'm sure we could win some kind of America's Funniest Photo contest!

13) 8/6/14-First time sleeping on belly

14) 8/9/14-First time holding the bottle "for real"

15) 8/10/14-First tooth poking up through her bottom gum

There is no way I can capture all of the "firsts" that are occurring at an exhausting rate with this little one.  Most of all, we are ecstatic that Emerson is a happy and healthy baby who brings joy into the lives of everyone around her.  Well, every human being, at the very least.  I don't know if her furry sisters would say that she's the highlight of their lives, but I'm sure they'll grow to love her as she continues to grow and flourish (and learns to stop grabbing their feet).  I can't ever believe that at one point Travis and I were not going to have children.  We would have robbed ourselves of the greatest blessing that God ever had in store for humanity...the ability to grow, love, and raise a child has been the highlight of my existence.  The Message version of the Bible even shows God's own feelings as a father, when they paraphrase the verse about Jesus' baptism from "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased" to "You are my Son, chosen and marked by my love, delight of my life.” (Matthew 3:17).  I love that!  Delight of my life...Emerson Paige, Mama will try harder to mark down every new thing you do, but please know that I delight in just being with you and marveling at the miracle that you are.  Dates are fun, but the memories that your Daddy and I make with you every day are far more important than what day you achieve each milestone.  You make us smile every day.  We love you, beautiful girl!

Oh, the Things I Have Learned

Two months have now gone by.  Everyone said, "Don't blink"; "They grow so fast"; "Enjoy it while she's little".  Every one of those comments is 100% accurate.  Where has the time gone?  So, in the past weeks, these are the gems of information I have gleaned about not only parenthood, but also the changes in my relationship with Travis.

Don't keep score.
Sometimes I fall asleep first at night.  Sometimes Travis falls asleep first.  If you start accounting for who has the most sleep, it is going to lead to a battle.  We've been blessed enough that both of us have been home since Emerson's birth, but a newborn is still tiring.  We both pitch in with housework, we both take turns with the baby, and every once in a while we follow the age old advice...leave the laundry, forget the dishes, and invite the dogs to nap with us while the baby sleeps.

There is sacrifice involved.
 This is probably the item that kept me waiting until 30 to have a child.  I liked the lack of responsibility that came with being childless.  I could go where I wanted, do what I wanted, and all when I wanted to do it.  Ironically, I feel that I am a rather responsible person, but I didn't want to heap a child on that pile.  Either way-what I realize now is that (despite the sacrifice), I am gaining so much from Emmie P.  She has taught me patience, but also a love that transcends other relationships.  It's different...  I look at her and think about how I carried her, bore her, and would do anything for her.

Finances will take a hit.
It goes beyond buying diapers and breastpump accessories.  Travis has decided to resign from his position.  He is currently in negotiations  about working on a part-time basis, but from here on out I will be the breadwinner because I carry the insurance.  We made the decision knowing that childcare is expensive, and knowing that we wanted to be the ones at home with our little one.  Had Emerson come before my job at JCC, I'm sure it would have worked differently.  I am sad about the fact that I have to return to work while Travis enjoys our baby at home.  I can't say it's culturally the popular thing to do.  However, through much discussion and prayer, we feel this is the right step.  I know he will have it tough too.  I won't envy him the days that she teethes and drool is constantly flowing while she is in pain.  But on those days that I come home to find out that she's taken her first step or said her first word, I am sure that my job will not pacify the jealousy.  My prayer will be that these big events occur while I'm at home...and that I'll take the time to pay attention.

Do not take any moment for granted.
There is definitely part of me that feels guilty for taking naps or sometimes even putting the baby down.  I now understand why mothers have a constant tug of war.  "Damned if you do and damned if you don't", as they say.  You get advice that you don't seek all while beating yourself up over everything you're doing anyway.  Reassurance from Travis has been the best thing for relaxing about these things.  Breastpumping every two hours?  He told me that it's not worth my sanity...wait three.  Take a nap.  Eat your dinner.  All of my needs and wants have come second place...but even more so Travis' desire to relieve me of my guilt has his needs and wants falling third.  (I guess this is where my second bold heading comes into play).

You'll recognize your blessings.
Most of all, I have learned to recognize my blessings.  My husband is amazing.  I have a sweet baby girl.  Lots of friends and other family who take an interest in our new addition.  Life is good and God has richly blessed us.  Two months and time marches on...and I'm so thankful.

A Whirlwind

       

Mother-(n.); A female parent.

How can so simple a word really encapsulate all that I have experienced in the last three weeks?  My world has changed so drastically, as everyone promised it would, that it's going to be difficult to capture the whirlwind of change that has occurred.

I suppose the whirlwind starts with the holiday season.  Christmas Eve (which is also my birthday), Christmas Day, and the hustle and bustle of putting away all of the decorations and presents afterward.  I usually wait with the tree undressing until after New Years, but with all of the pending activities, the day after Christmas was the doom of the tree.  Of course, this holiday season was all the usual, except I was very large, and what I heard more than seasons greetings was, "How are you feeling?" and "When are you due?" 

The 27th, a Friday night, I decided to take a shower after having a lazy day in sweats, watching TV, and napping.  While I was in the shower, I recognized that my stomach felt a little different.  I had never been able to identify a Braxton Hicks contraction, though everyone promised me that 'I would know'.  Well, I still didn't know.  I just felt different.  I asked Travis if he was ready to go that night if it was the day.  He said he'd prefer to go in the daylight, but we both knew that if the time came, it didn't matter.  Travis made the suggestion that I put a towel down in the bed just in case.  They say it's women's intuition, but Trav was on to something.  About 10 minutes after 10, I felt the gush in my dozy state.  I immediately told Travis, "I think my water just broke."  Trust me.  Nothing wakes you out of a dozy state like knowing that within a matter of hours you will be pushing a baby out of that same spot.  Travis shot out of bed and asked what we had to do.  I started shaking and went to sit on the toilet.  Hadn't I had over seven months to prepare for this moment?  I called the obstetricians' number and the switch board operator took a message.  Jody Hill, the midwife in the office whom I had never seen at the practice, was the one on call.  Great; now I get to have a woman deliver my first baby, and I've never met her.  She called me back, asked a couple of questions, and told me to put on a pad and call back in an hour to determine that it wasn't just me wetting my pants.  An hour passed.  Travis started the car four times in this hour with the automatic starter to clean it off.  He also started running around collecting the last minute items that we had set aside.  Maternity bras, Lanolin, chapstick, paperwork.  My favorite line in that hour was when he commented that he wished he had been more like the ant and less like the grasshopper.  : )  I was concerned that I'd be in pain at this time, but I really wasn't.  I was just anxious.  I started googling how to measure time between contractions...but how would I know to time something I couldn't feel?  

An hour passed...I called the line back with one completely soaked pad disposed and pad number two on.  I was worried that she would inform me that I should wait until contractions were so many minutes apart.  She asked where I lived...and with my answer she told me to come on in.  The roads were just slightly wet, but the weather was clear.  Another answer to prayer.  After hearing my own birth story of going by ambulance, the troopers telling my parents that the roads were still open but "good luck", and my grandparents having to smash their car doors into the snow in order to get out of the vehicle at the hospital, we were so happy for the nice weather.  On the way, we listened to Jesus Culture and sang our lungs out.  I began feeling the twinges of contractions and understood now how I could tell the difference between being at ease and feeling the bit of discomfort.  About six minutes apart...but not truly painful.  

I had thought that my run with the gushing had ended, until I stood up off the trashbag/towel we had placed on the leather car seat only to have fluid leaking down my legs.  I walked with Travis holding my arm from the parking garage into the emergency room entrance of the hospital.  The woman called up to the maternity floor to have someone escort us to the third floor.  She made small talk with us while we waited about being this visit being our first, predicted that I was having a girl, joked about the "Caution: Wet Floor" sign that I should carry behind me.  The girl showed up to take us upstairs, took one look at my pants, and asked if I was going to Labor and Delivery.  I figure that a pregnant woman with a little amniotic fluid down her leg is not the worst thing that has come into the emergency room.

We were taken to the nurse's desk upstairs where they looked for our paperwork.  Our nurse, Theresa, introduced herself and took us into the delivery room.  I took off my soaked pants and got into the awesome hospital gown, did a urine sample, and was put into bed with two monitors around my belly-one for the baby's heartbeat and one to see contractions.  My parents arrived at this point.  All was lighthearted.  They checked out my contractions and asked if I could feel them yet.  Then the midwife, Jody, came in.  She checked my dilation-3 or 4 centimeters and 90% effaced.  She asked what my birth plan was, and I quickly told her that I was not opposed to an epidural and that after the birth I wanted Emerson placed on my chest skin-to-skin.  She informed me that I was in the best possible situation, but that she wanted to wait on the epidural because if given too early it could slow contractions.  I agreed with what she said-after all, she had done this before.  

Contractions got worse.  I started shaking with each one, my body in a sort of shock.  As a child, I would always shake when I vomited.  The same fear was gripping my body now.  I lay in the bed, but discomfort was increasing every minute.  The nurse came in and I told her that I had some indigestion, would she bring me some Tums?  She returned with two chewy something for heartburn.  As soon as I got them down with some water, I started puking.  The first one was almost immediate, and I threw up in the towel next to my head.  My mother frantically searched cabinets for a little basin to throw up in.  They pushed the call button and the nurse showed up and pointed out the blue bags in a dispenser on the wall.  Let's just say that over the next couple of hours, both Travis and my mother pulled more of these blue bags out of this then I would have cared for.  With every contraction, I puked up water and the contents of my stomach...which eventually turned into bile because I had nothing left.  The contractions were wracking havoc on my body.  I tried to pray and sing a song in my mind while gripping the bedrail.  I had told Travis to try to sleep, which he did for a little bit.  I woke him up to use the bathroom; a huge ordeal now that I had an IV pole to tag along behind me.  

At this point, the night became hour after hour of a mixed together time of pain and trying to find relief. We walked the halls a bit while I was up and not sleeping.  My parents were now sitting in the waiting room with the lights off watching the television.  Sleep was not coming easily to any of us.  When we got back to the room, I stood for a while.  This seemed to help with contraction pain as my lower abdomen was no longer folded on itself.  The nurse came in and asked if I wanted to try an exercise ball.  As soon as I sat on it, I recognized that the pain was low enough in my abdomen that sitting on the ball made it worse.  I almost immediately stood back up off the ball and thanked the nurse for bringing it...but told her that I didn't need it.  I then lay back in the bed to try to get some sleep.  It was futile.  Contractions started coming more frequently and harder.  I continued to throw up, so I sat on the edge of the bed in an effort to make it easier with the vomit bags.  I would go from hot to cold, covering up then asking Travis for a cold washcloth.  He continued to rinse the washcloths and place them on the back of my neck.  I would also hold one to my forehead.  Over and over again.  In between, Travis would rub my back and ask if I needed anything.  He told me that he never wanted to put me in such pain again.  (Jumping ahead-Now that I've seen him with Emerson, I won't hold him to this statement).  I whimpered with a couple of contractions...trying to push myself off the bed to get in a position that provided a reprieve from the pain, but nothing worked.  I never screamed or cried.  It wasn't until after the fact that Travis reminded me through one especially tough contraction that I had quoted Bugs Bunny after he pretends to get shot my Yosemite Sam with an, "Agony.  Agony.  Oh, agony."  

I told the nurse on her next visit that I was about at the edge of the amount of pain I could handle.  She assured me that she would talk to the midwife, Jody, and ask her if we could do another check of my dilation.  They tried to limit the number of times they checked (thankfully) because they wanted to reduce the chance of infection.  One thing no one mentions is how painful getting your cervix checked is...especially when you are having contractions on top of it.  The nurse got the go-ahead and tried to wait in between the peaks.  There were no longer true valleys to the peaks-only plateaus above the baseline.  I told her to just go ahead and check.  She told me that, "I was a little tense.  Try to relax."  Easier said than done, sister.  I felt as if my back was arched off the bed as she shoved her arm up and inside.  When she was done, she told us that it was tough to tell because of my tension, but that she believed I was about eight centimeters.  We could tell the anesthesiologist and get the epidural.  Hallelujah!  The nurse told me that he would be right in.  

Half a decade later, a young Asian man entered with paperwork and a blue bundle on a cart.  He went through a bunch of paperwork asking about medical history, previous anesthetics, and a bazillion other items.  I was falling asleep between contractions at this point, so I was having trouble focusing on what he was saying between exhaustion and pain.  I guarantee that most women would have signed away many valuables at this point in order to get the relief of the epidural.  So, I signed a shaky signature and tried to sit still as he gave instructions.  He told me not to touch anything blue because it was sterile.  I wanted to tell him that the last thing I was planning to do was play with his confusing crap on the bed next to me, but I patiently heeded his advice.  He told me step by step about the local anesthetic, the very cold tape stuff he would put on, and how important it was to hold still.  Apparently, Travis was cracking up at the way that he spoke about each item and the emphasis he had about how I was to "Get ready for it."  I sat as still as I could through a contraction...and as I lay back down, my legs began to tingle as if waking up from being asleep.  They were heavy, but I could still feel them.  What I couldn't feel were the contractions.  Before the anesthesiologist even left the room I had started falling asleep.  May God bless that man.  

This was the point of the night that I actually rested.  It was probably only an hour or two, but my comfort level had increased a thousand-fold.  I stopped puking and relaxed.  But then I felt a pressure between my legs.  It was 7 AM and the nurses were changing shifts.  My new nurse, Terry, was someone I had known from a while back.  Her daughter was taken to the prom by the foreign exchange student that had stayed with us years ago.  We reacquainted ourselves with each other.  She asked if I was comfortable having her for my nurse.  I told her that as long as she was going to help me get the baby out, I was fine with it.  I told her about the pressure and the new amniotic fluid coming out.  She let me know that many girls think that they're ready to push, but that they rarely are...so I waited.  I felt more fluid and more pressure.  I told my mother and Travis that it was increased.  They told me to hit the call button...but I didn't want to jump the gun, so I waited some more.  Finally, Travis had it with my waiting and hit the button himself.  Jody came in and when I spread my legs, she remarked that she saw the baby's head.  She began to put a rubbery-looking gown on her front side, lowered the bed at the bottom, and put a "slip and slide" with a bag at the bottom underneath my lower extremities.  Apparently this was going to be messy ; )  A nurse came in and told her that the girl across the hall was also ready to push-to which Jody responded that she'd have to wait (and later found out that she wasn't truly ready).

I only pushed for 20 minutes, but it was the workout of a lifetime.  Jody had me on my back with knees to my chest, Terry holding my right leg and my mother holding the left.  Travis stood by my head.  She gave me a brief rundown of what pushing should look like-I was told to take in a deep breath, pull my chin to my chest, and push like I was taking a poop. She then told Terry that she was to keep an eye on Travis, who was uncertain about the whole thing...and then turned to Travis and told him that if he was to pass out, he was going to stay on the floor because she had more to worry about than him.  And we pushed.  I had told her that my goal was to get Emerson out in three pushes.  She laughed and said that it was a good goal, but not likely...adding that everything this evening had already gone better than expected, so I could give it a try.  After pushing on my back, she had me flip to my side...monitoring the baby's heartrate the entire time.  They gave me an oxygen mask and told me to breathe deeply to provide oxygen to Emerson.  I then was told to flip on all fours.  This was where I was for the majority of it.  She kept telling me that I was doing wonderfully.  Travis said he looked to see where I was at, only to find that he could barely see her head still.  I'm glad he didn't tell me this at the time.  I pushed and pushed.  I remember thinking that I was slightly embarassed that my butt was up in the air with several people's faces in it, plus I had a fear that I really would poop.  I'm happy to say, this didn't happen.  Suck in air, chin to chest, push.  Both Travis and my mom later reported that I probably did this for a total of 3 times and in 5 different reps...and I was told I could reach down and help deliver her.  I felt down on a gooey, warm blob and when I pulled, I could see her.  She wasn't covered in the cottage-cheesy stuff, but she was a little purple and bloody.  My mom was crying, Travis was crying, and I was misty-eyed.  They put her on my chest and began rubbing her down with towels.  She didn't cry, but they were concerned with the amount of liquid she had swallowed.  A nurse began sunctioning out her mouth repeatedly.  They then brought her over to the warming table and sunctioned her some more.  At about this point, I delivered the afterbirth quickly and with no complication.  Jody told Travis that he should definitely look away during this portion of the process.  I was in such great relief that I probably would've gotten off the table and done a jig except that my legs were still under the epidural's spell.  After doing a quick weigh-in at 7 lb and 7 ozs, they returned her to my chest where she lay until she started to breastfeed.  I knew from videos that babies did a crawl to their mother's nipple but to actually see it play out definitely made me recognize how beautifully and wonderfully we have been created by our Heavenly Father.  

A coworker had said on a couple of occasions that having a baby makes you believe in God.  She was absolutely right.  The creation inside of me for the past 9 months was amazing as well, but holding her now in my arms, with 10 perfect fingers and 10 perfect toes just sealed the deal.  After some more cuddling on my chest, she was again taken by the nurses for a bath and for vaccinations.  Terry helped me out of bed and immediately into the shower.  She stood just outside the curtain to make sure that I was not going to pass out due to the heat of the shower and the major loss of blood.  I felt like a million  bucks.  They readied our room and we were transferred from the delivery area to the maternity section.  

The nurses were in and out a bit to do vitals and make sure that all was okay, but for the most part, we were left alone with our new baby to try and get into the groove of parenthood.  There were many visitors too, of course.  Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins...all of whom remarked on how beautiful and perfect she was.  She slept through person after person holding her...a trait that she's kept until today.  Of course, no one is here in the middle of the night when she's awake : )  We were able to go home on the 30th...and I felt ready.  Because we had been with her so much on our own in the hospital, I didn't feel unprepared to take care of her at home.  Unlike the days of yesteryear where they were taken to a nursery, the nurses were rather hands-off when it came to changing her and such.  We had to let her go a few times for a few different reasons (heel-prick blood test, slightly cool and needed to be put under a heat lamp, jaundice check, hearing screening), but the rest of the time she was where she belonged-with us.  Travis must have said a thousand times how pretty she was.  He was already completely in love with this little creature...and I loved him so much more for how he showed it.

The three weeks that she has been with us have been a lot of trial and error.  Emerson has given us a new appreciation for sleep...and breastfeeding has been its own adventure of patience, steadfastness, and frustration.  Never have the two assets on the front of my body been such a focal point in my life.  We were awake for several hours for one night while Emerson cluster-fed, which apparently is common for newborns who are helping your body establish a supply of milk.  The next night, she would get so angry that she failed to latch...and this continued for hours.  I was in tears, feeling completely helpless that I could neither feed my baby nor get her to understand how to feed.  I asked Travis to get out the breast pump.  He washed the parts at four in the morning so that I could get a bit of milk for our little girl.  Thankfully, she took to the bottle fine as I had been using a nipple shield from the hospital to help her develop the amount of suck she needed.  But still, after several hours of clean diapers, I knew that we had to take new precautions-and we bought formula.  After reading several blogs, websites, and medical advice, everything said not to supplement.  What Travis said helped me get over my guilt and recognize that there was a bigger picture here-he reminded me that, "She needs to eat"...which is when the heart-wrenching decision was made.  I knew of other women who had struggled with breastfeeding, and I had thought the same thing...whether formula or breastmilk, they need to eat.  But now, with it being my own child, I was losing my mind about it all.  Exclusive breastfeeding is to help with IQ and reduce the risk of SIDS by half...not to mention to savings and ease.  The bottom line was this-Emerson was hungry and we needed food.

I try to focus on other parts of motherhood.  The softness of her skin and her overall scent give me a new appreciation for humanity.  Never have I been so intent on listening to someone breathing or listening for some sign of life.  I'm sure every new parent goes through the phase of waking up to every little noise, just to ensure that their baby is still alive and well.  Already, parenthood has taught me that I need to trust that the God of the universe is watching over and caring for us...because otherwise the worries of being a mom can be enveloping.  I hope that I can remember this beyond the third week of Emerson's life...when she is throwing temper tantrums at two, making her first friend, scraping her knees...and beyond.  Her story has just begun...and so has the new twist in our own lives...but I think we are so ready.  I don't know how I could do it without Travis.  He has been absolutely mind-blowingly amazing as a husband and father in the last three weeks-helping me keep my sanity whether up in the middle of the night with a hungry baby, listening to the drone of the pump hour after hour, listening to me whine about having a vacuum on my tender lady bits, or putting up with my amazingly whacky mood swings.  With several days of crying for little reason to, he would just hold me and ask if there was anything he could do.  I told him that just asking was the best thing he could do.  My motto has become "One day at a time."  It's the best I can do at this point.  What mother could function in any other capacity?  And why would you want to do anything else?  By recognizing today, I can soak up how blessed I am with Emerson's presence in my life for the moment and stop worrying about tomorrow.  I can hold her and kiss her to my heart's content right now.  She has clearly stolen my heart.  Motherhood is so much more than birthing a baby.  Motherhood is the most amazing life change that I have ever undergone...and my words are lacking in expressing the joy that has come to me.  Pictures may start to do justice. <3

                        

        

                                          

               

A Father's Love

Welcome to the world Emerson.... I had always hoped that someday I would have a child of my own.  For a few years we weren't sure about it, the world is not a pretty place (and seems to be going down the tubes more and more each day).  Once we made the decision that we would try this thing called parenthood, we thought specifically about adopting.  Again, the world sucks, and if, by adopting, we can help a child without parents, how wonderful would that be.  
Then about 2-3 years ago we decided that if we didn't have our own child, maybe we would be missing out on something.  We tried for what seemed like an eternity, (I do know that there are people who have tried for longer than we, but it just seems hopeless) and decided maybe to get dogs.  It wasn't long after that, that we found out we were pregnant with a little girl.  Fast forward to today, (fast forwarding since the rest of the experience is already on previous blog posts) Emerson is approximately 34 hours old, and our whole world... has... changed...

Friday night at about 10pm Shawna (who I thought was asleep on my shoulder) said to me "I think my water just broke".  My first response was to start the car.  Obviously that was the least of our worries at that time.  Shawna called the Midwife, she said to monitor the situation and call back in an hour.  I showered (not as selfish as it sounds, I knew it would be a few days until my next shower, and nobody would be happy with that), and then finished packing items that we may need.  I let the dogs out to play, as I knew that for a few days they would be mostly in their crates (thanks to Tracy and Traci for helping with the dogs).  We then called our parents, and I called my 2nd in command to let him know he was working in the morning.  I then made sure the car was started a few more times (the timer on the remote starter is 15 minutes) so it would be warm and cleaned off for our trek north.  Shawna called the midwife again @ 11:15 and told her what was going on with how things were progressing, she said to begin our trip in to the hospital.  We got to the hospital @ midnight and by the time we were settled it was shortly after 12:15am.  Sometime around 2, maybe later (forgive me I wasn't looking at the clock) the pain started.  I don't know how most men feel about this, but this was my hardest part of the whole thing.  I hate hate hate my wife being in pain.  I don't know if I could have handled it any longer than it was (of course she felt the same way).  I wish there was some way i could have eased it, other than cold wash cloths and getting new barf bags for her....

12/28/2013 at 8:48 our lives changed forever (as if the last 9 months it didn't at all).  Emerson weighed in at 7 pounds and 7 ounces.  Shawna was in labor for around 7 hours (hard pushing for 20 minutes or so).  Emerson was also 21 inches long.  For all you math people out there, 7+7+7 = 21, I thought that was pretty cool.  Throughout the last 35 hours I have been completely swept off my feet with this little one.  I knew I would love her, I wasn't worried about it at all, but I didn't think I had the capacity to love like this...  Which brings me to my next point, it deserves another blog post, but a paragraph will suffice.

I drove home today to shower and change, and check on the dogs.  I also needed something for the incredible headache I had - stupid me didn't drink nearly enough water.  I also had to use the *ahem* toilet.  Its amazing the link a man has with HIS toilet.  (I am sure Rob Petrocci would understand if no one else does)  Anyways, that being done, shower done, dogs taken care of, and laundry started (to be finished by my awesome sister), I headed back to the hospital.  I have to tell you right here and now, I have become a cryer.  I guess I always have been an emotional man, but since the water broke, so did the floodgates of my emotions.  As an aside to an aside, crying is a pretty awesome thing if you think about it from a creationist stand point.  Its totally the bodies way of releasing pressure built up by emotions it cant handle, our souls are capable of much more emotion than our body can handle.... So, back to the story....  As I drove back to the hospital, I was listening to Jesus Culture, and hearing Gods voice from a totally different point of view.  Sobbing, singing, I was a mess.  This is when I realized that the incredible love I have for our new child, a love I just can't explain, is the same love that God has for me.  Sure I have screwed up ALOT in my life, and will continue to.  And Emerson is going to do the same crap I did growing up, even if I tell her why it's not a good idea (probably in spite of it) - but that does not mean I will ever love her any less. (I know its easy to say that now, when she is only 35 hours and 30 minutes old, but bear with me).  And how much more does God love me, than I love Emerson?  I won't quote scripture, mostly because I haven't really memorized any (close your eyes Pastor Jon), but the experiences I have had in my life that have shown me Gods love never really explained that love until today.  The next song was the one that follows here (of course it was), Your Love Never Fails, by Jesus Culture:

  Nothing can separate
Even if I ran away
Your love never fails

I know I still make mistakes
But You have new mercies for me everyday
Your love never fails

Chorus:
You stay the same through the ages
Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night but joy comes in the morning

And when the oceans rage
I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that You love me
Your love never fails

Verse 2:
The wind is strong and the water's deep
But I'm not alone here in these open seas
Cause Your love never fails

The chasm is far too wide
I never thought I'd reach the other side
But Your love never fails

Bridge:
You make all things work together for my good

So, through the sobs, I was singing this and realizing that Gods love for us is so incredible, maybe only a new parent can understand it.... I don't know, but I am forever changed!  Its amazing to think of the lengths He has gone over the years to show us this love, and it comes to ME in the smallest, most helpless package.  Thank you God, help me to never forget your love for me.

So until next time, happiest-father-in-the-world out.

So close!!

It's December 18th.  13 days from the (presumed) D-Day.  The nursery is busting at the seams with seas of pinks and purples.  We have more bibs than most department stores stock.  Hooded towels, Johnson and Johnson deliciousness, onesies, blankets, books...  I think it's almost all in place.  And being that in less than two weeks (or somewhere in that time frame) we will start putting all of it to the test, I'm so grateful.  More than all of the tiny items in the nursery, I think the love and support that we've felt over the last several months is especially important to us.  Maybe it's through the showers and the gifts, but we definitely know that there are people just as excited about Emerson's arrival as we are! 

As my body winds into a very low gear with regular pings of twinges and pulls, it is all a reminder of the major, life-changing event that is about to come.  As I sat on the couch last night and began to cry out of hormonal angst, Travis simply held out his hand and took mine, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.  He asked me if I was okay.  He understands me more than I thought anyone could.  I am so grateful that I know he will adore our daughter the way he does me.  We are four very lucky girls in the Spencer household...even if two of the four of us are put in crates from time to time ; )

As just a glimpse of the love I get to experience every day, take a look at the beautiful photos captured by one of my best friends and photographer, Jessica Burt of Jovial Photography.

Merry Christmas!  May God bless you and your family as he has mine this special time of year!