Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
have I mentioned our awesome new backyard? or how they come in caked with sand everyday and I don't even care? Sophie uses her outside time to ponder cold fusion and look dreamily into space
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
everything we own. except all the stuff that didn't fit
I am now living the good life. it says so right there. I was unaware it was a destination
hotel breakfast, mmmmm bland. Izzy asked to drink the syrupthis has no funny caption
clearly the movie is riveting
no road trip would be complete without everyone falling asleep
what my house looks like right now. And maybe forever
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Friday, July 24, 2009
Mt Werner 10/12/07
Thursday, July 23, 2009
For my kids it will be Simonne. There are not many 18 year olds that you could trust to handle three kids under three not only competently, but calmly. She will cook dinner, change diapers, play witht he kids, fix bottles; everything with a smile on her face. She can get our kids to go to bed without their favorite toys (because we forgot to mention how important they were), with the doors open (whereas we sometimes have to lock it so they'll stay put) and without their fans (soothing white noise - gotta love it). And my kids adore her. My kids actually tell me to go out so that she can come over to play. Izzy quite often asks me if "Mone" can come over, and says I need to go run errands. This past weekend they were actually calling her mommy. I personally, having spent a good amount of time with her on my own, feel almost like she is a little sister. There are many things that I will not miss about Steamboat, and many things that I look forward to about Omaha. But the absence of Simonne will be felt deeply in our family, and I can only hope to find another babysitter half as caring and wonderful as she is.
We'll miss you, Simonne!!!
This entry was supposed to be sentimental and moving and leave you teary eyed at our wonderful fortune to have met this beautiful girl. However, I have been incapacitated by blind rage that after almost two weeks and an ungodly amount of money my computer is STILL NOT FIXED. Apparently, when you pay to have a new hard drive put in and you files transferred over that means "please remove any capability my computer has to access the internet wirelessly." I could seriously kill someone right now - and I am about thisclose to driving over to those offices (when they open - at 10AM lazy ass) and heaving my computer at someone's head. So I apologize that this entry was not more meaningful or better written. And I apologize to Simonne for not doing her fabulosity as a person and a babysitter justice.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Jack was my first planned pregnancy and I took it very seriously. I bought the ovulation predictor sticks and all that good stuff, and voila! success on the first try (please don't hate me). Planning a pregnancy and knowing about it from day 1, was a very different experience from not finding it out until 9 weeks, and it made the overall pregnancy seem to last about 5 years longer, despite the fact that Jack was born at 38 weeks and so actually the pregnancy was shorter. Very little remarkable happened during my pregnancy - in fact my only concern was weight gain. I started out this pregnancy 20 lbs heavier than I had with Izzy (cake!!!), so I was determined to limit my weight gain so as to minimize what I had to take off afterwards. Amazingly enough I succeeded in this endeavor, and my top weight for each pregnancy was the same.
Jack was also my first experience with going into labor. One morning, after making my umpteenth nightly trip to the restroom I found myself unable to go back to sleep because of repeated contractions. They weren't painful or particularly strong, and at first I thought they were just Braxton Hicks. But they didn't stop, and they got increasingly uncomfortable, so I figured I was going into labor. But they were also 10 minutes apart, and it was 5am, so while I knew I would never get back to sleep, I also didn't want to wake my husband up. I figured it would be a wonderful time to tranfer all of our pictures from the camera onto the computer so that it would be ready for all the photos of the new baby. Totally logical.
An hour later, I was lifting myself off the chair and gritting my teeth with each contraction, and I finally figured it was time to call the doctor, who I knew was going to Denver that day. I still didn't wake Brett up, but he heard me on the phone leaving a message, and came out to see what was going on. As I told him everything that was happening (and returned to my pictures), he noticed that my contractions were now 3 minutes apart, and oh so tactfully suggested that perhaps we should be on our way to the hospital.
I called my Dad to tell him, and then debated who we should call to come over to be with Izzy while she slept. I was very distraught about not wanting to wake anyone up so early. Brett was not as worried, and managed to phone a friend's wife. Meanwhile, I was crying because I couldn't stand up long enough to put my pants on and I was never going to be able to apply my makeup before we left for the hospital. Actually getting to the hospital didn't concern me as much as not looking terrible when I got there. Go figure.
We finally left the house about 6:30 am, and the drive to the hospital was probably one of the worst of my whole life. And I have ridden in the trunk of my own car (voluntarily). My husband's passenger seat wouldn't recline because the backseat was flipped down, and being so upright was excruciating, so we tried adjusting it forward (bending over a 9 month pregnant belly to do that while in labor is F. U. N) to give it some room only to find that it was actually broken. Then when I was moving the seat back again, my husband accelerated just enough to slam the seat all the way back. It was like the worst roller coaster ever.
When we got to the hospital, a very nice man saw me lumbering my way in (why we went to the front door rather than the emergency room I still don't know), and ran to get me a wheelchair. Brett raced me down the hall and into the maternity ward, where he proceeded to ask the nurse if we would be staying. I guess he wasn't sure if I was far enough along to actually have the baby (we know people who have gone too early and were sent home), but the nurse looked at him like he was completely insane that he could even consider taking me home at 8 cm dilated in full blown labor. I knew he was just nervous and excited, but it was still pretty funny to see the look she gave him.
During this labor I was not at all cool and collected. Basically, my experience with not getting the epidural the first time created in me a panic to make sure I got it ASAP this time. Plus, these contractions actually HURT as opposed to the gentle squeezes I experienced with Izzy. So basically I was a screaming banshee demanding an anesthesiologist with every breath until she finally arrived. It was the same woman, and she did a magnificent job of getting everything in and running in no time. I think she may have dosed me extra because she remembered me calling her asking why the first one didn't work (I wasn't complaining, just curious if that was how it was supposed to be).
I immediately reverted into lovely old me, and apologized to the nurses while laying back and relaxing. In fact, I was probably way more lovely than usual since the immediate lack of pain is so startling and wonderful. It was like a delightful day at the beach, that epidural, and I don't know why anyone would choose any other way to live. I'd take one now if I could.
Meanwhile, my doctor (whom I never actually spoke to that I can remember), was frantically trying to make his way back from Denver (he didn't arrive until an hour after Jack was born and he was so upset to have missed it). Which meant I got a new doctor in the delivery room, although we had met when he performed my ultrasounds so it wasn't a total stranger. And then it was time to push. This delivery was so much different from Isabelle - I was in zero pain, and the nurse would just watch the monitor with one hand on my stomach and tell me when I was contracting so I could push. I distinctly remember that there were these long breaks in between pushing, during which the doctor and nurses and my husband were all just standing around staring at me. I felt like I should have been telling jokes during the breaks or something, but unfortunately had not prepared material. It was very awkward and surreal - even more so than being in a room full of people with your goods on display usually is.
But it didn't last very long - I think I gave three good pushes and at 8:31am, he was out. And promptly plopped right on my chest to be spastically rubbed off. They did not do this with Izzy, and I was totally not expecting it with Jack, so I was sort of heaving a sigh of relief and preparing to lay back a little when all of a sudden there is a red wrinkly baby right in my face, and several arms and towels as well. It was somewhat surprising, but also of course wonderful to see my handsome little guy. Even if he was covered in goo.
And he was different immediately. The first night he would cry unless I held him, so I slept with him in my arms the whole night. He was smaller (and my second- the path had been cleared so to speak) so my recovery was pretty much immediate - I could walk better the next day than I could after 3 weeks with Izzy. And it was just so amazing to have two kids. I am an only child, as well as an only grandchild on my father's side, so Jack was the first boy born into the Lawrence family in 46 years which was pretty cool. And Isabelle just loved her little brother right away - I would often come back into the room to find that she had dragged him out of his bouncy seat by the ankles. It was so sweet to see them together, and it was about at this point that my lifelong dream of having 3 kids started turning into, well, maybe 4 would be better. I think the kickass epidural helped with that too.
Jack, the way he looked pretty much for the first month: asleep
Continued tomorrow in Part 3 - Sophie
Monday, July 20, 2009
So, this wouldn't really be a mom blog without stories about bringing your children into the world, right? And seeing as I'm not one to flaunt convention (aside from the whole pregnant out of wedlock, shotgun wedding thing, haha), I figure I might as well post a few tidbits about my deliveries. However, most women have tales that are delightful touching stories that simultaneously make you cry and wet your pants laughing. Me, not so much. Cause I'm the gal you hate to hear about who has fast, easy deliveries with no real horrific elements. No schadenfreude here, folks. And unfortunately, nothing really funny happened either, so no luck there. But don't worry, I'll make it up to you by posting some embarassing photos later, so you can feel better about that 90 hours you spent in labor, because at least no one has seen you look like THAT.
Isabelle I carried for 41 weeks. The worst part of my pregnancy was when I hit the 24 week mark and promptly swelled up like a water balloon. Like, literally in one day. My doctor basically refused to believe me that it was all water, and he would very gently remind me that I had already gained the recommended 30 lbs despite having 16 weeks to go and the baby still only being like a pound. Fortunately, I got me "I told you so" moment a week after the birth when, having already lost 25 lbs, I went to see him and he was all shocked, and "look at you!" (btw, I know I typed 'me' up there instead of my, but I like it. I sound Irish).
I guess I should probably start off Izzy's story be reminding readers that she was a surprise. I am still not really sure what prompted me to take the pregnancy test because I was dead sure there was no way I was pregnant, but I did and, oh. So a 7 year on-off relationship suddenly got a whole lot on (and legally binding), and away we went. I had a very easy pregnancy, during which I worked (wow, working - seems like so long ago) and choreographed for an annual dance performance in town. I actually even performed in the show two weeks before my due date, skipping across the stage with flowers painted all over my belly. My only real issue was the above mentioned water rentention. My feet swelled up enough that my only shoe options were my Ugg boots, or a pair of bright red crocs my aunt gave me when I went to see her in Dallas at Christmas and swelled up EVEN MORE due to the heat and humidity, which I wore all the time despite getting snow through the holes because they were easier to put on than the boots. I also had a very strange month (the 8th) where my feet smelled absolutely awful. It was terrible - I would come in to work and change my boots for shoes, and the whole little office would stink. So embarassing, but fortunately it lasted only a month. Showed up one day, lasted four weeks and was gone, quick as that, and I didn't get it with my other pregnancies. Nothing so freakish as pregnancy.
Anyway, by 41 weeks I was done being pregnant. Any of you out there who have made it to that point can understand I'm sure. I was pretty much walking around telling people that they could HAVE the baby if only the would remove it from my body. I got no takers, but I'm sure when they see Izzy now they are kicking themselves for that decision. So because I was late, and my doctor was not a hack, he scheduled some tests to make sure that the baby was doing okay. I had an ultrasound to check fluid levels (shockingly it wasn't all in my ankles) and then I had to go in to the hospital for a fetal movement test.
Unbeknownst to everyone else, I had determined that if they were going to make me come to the hospital I wasn't leaving without a baby. And fortunately Isabelle decided to cooperate and not really move much during the test, which lead to my doc deciding to induce. Bring on the pitocin!! So just after noon, I got my IV set up, got another one in the other arm because the nurse wasn't sure she could mix the pitocin with the antibiotic I needed for GBS, and contractions began. Painless, wonderful contractions. And because I didn't want everyone at the hospital to think I was a wimp, and they weren't hurting, I didn't ask for an epidural yet, even though I had every intention of getting one. It was my first baby, I thought maybe they would gradually start hurting and then I could ask before they progressed too far. Meanwhile, my doctor left because no matter how often I told him about the super quick deliveries in my family he was convinced it would be at least 12 hours before I delivered.
About 5pm, I happened no glance at the clock and notice that my contractions were coming 1 minute apart. They still didn't hurt in the slightest, but I thought "wow, that seems fast, maybe I should get my epidural now." And it's a good thing I did, because when they made me go to the bathroom first I got hit by a mack truck. We quite abruptly moved from a 0 on the pain scale to an 8. But the anesthesiologist came in and very quickly got me all set up with the initial numbing shot and the shunt and the pain melted away. Then she had to leave for a few minutes. My doctor returned to check on me, which primarily consisted of looking at me and smiling, and then said he was going home for dinner. Good to know he had his priorities in order.
While we were talking the numbing shot wore off, and the fact that the anesthesiologist had left before actually hooking up my epidural began to become evident. So with my doctor gone, and the nurse out enjoying her dinner, I set about enduring the pain as stoically as I could. I lay there, tears streaming down my face, as my husband helplessly looked on. He kept asking if he should get the nurse, but I didn't want to bother her and "hey, it's supposed to hurt." I'm not quite sure what my reasoning was here, seeing as I was oh, you know, HAVING A BABY, but didn't think I should disturb the nurses. I guess my plan was to quietly deliver it myself? Considering I'm such a whiner normally, I am surprisingly averse to intruding on people when in actual need.
Fortunately my husband didn't listen, and went to get the nurse because I was in so much pain. And fortunately the nurse (the ever wonderful JoAnne) thought to actually check on my progress physically (compared to future births, I was felt up shockingly few times this first time) and announced that the baby was crowning and after a quick call to the doc I started pushing.
This was about 6pm.
I think my doctor made it back about 6:30, and frankly I was surprised that JoAnne didn't deliver the baby herself. It was horribly painful, especially when they rudely stopped me in the middle and asked if I wanted to reach down and feel her head. My reply was and understandably terse "trust me, I CAN feel it," but thankfully it was quick, and at 6:59 Isabelle entered the world all chubby and pink and not at all squashed like I expected. Honestly, my first thought was something along the lines of "she doesn't look a gross as I was expecting."
My second thought was "stop tugging on that umbilical cord buddy," and when I heard my doctor remark to the nurse that it could be another 20 minutes til the afterbirth came out, during which he was seemingly going to give it gentle tugs, I thought "the hell you are" and pushed it out. Bet you really wanted to know that! So then I got the stitches and the various pokings and proddings that just sent jolts of electricity up my spine. It wasn't even really pain, but just like exposed nerves were being brushed up against, and was most unpleasant. But eventually I got to put my legs down, and hold my perfect baby, and it was all good.
Afterwards there was quite the recovery to be made. The first day I would pee all over the floor everytime the nurse helped me to the restroom, and I finally learned that not only could I not control my bladder, but I couldn't even FEEL it, so I had to remind myself that since all I was doing was sitting in bed glugging water, I should probably go to the bathroom every hour. It also took me at least a week to walk around decently, and I still couldn't stand for very long periods of time until it had been a month. but what can you expect when you pass a kid with a 16 inch head?
And of course, none of that really mattered. I had a wonderful baby girl to snuggle and just stare at for hours, and while I didn't know it yet, I had just found my calling.
ignore the triple chins - it's all from scrunching my neck down, I swear
our little strawberry - 5 days old