Reflections.

How quickly they change :(

 A few hours old

Four weeks later.



Here we are four weeks later. If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit sentimental, and every Sunday when I look at the clock I think "oh it's noon! This time four weeks ago I was waist deep in labor and had just had my epidural!"

As the weeks go by, I am amazed at how quickly Noah is changing. He will sit for a minute or so on his own when propped up, he can hold his own head up for several minutes, and he is awake for a good chunk of the day now... where did me tiny baby go? What a bittersweet feeling. There is nothing more satisfying than watching him grow, change, and progress. At the same time, I am not ready for my 7 pound newborn to be growing up yet.

Here in week four of our new lives, I am finally feeling normal. The traumas of his birth are now a distant memory and I find I know longer linger on the scary aspects of the weeks past.

While we were so fortunate that labor and delivery truly went amazingly smooth, just like anything else in life, it was not without trials.

The scariest moment of Noah's birth came when I started pushing. It was such a short period. I only pushed through one contraction before his head was emerging, so it took literally minutes for him to arrive, in fact I had to stop pushing for quite some time while the nurses prepared everything, and the doctor got ready because no one expected him to come so quickly. However, as soon as I started pushing the nurses noticed distress. After the first push I was immediately put on oxygen in hopes that it would keep his heart rate up.

With the oxygen being a success, our little miracle was born. In those first few minutes I shook with adrenaline as I heard the doctors and nurses speak. My heart dropped when he was born and the nurses were shocked to see the cord wrapped twice around his neck. To this day the thought makes me a little nauseous. I have heard babies be still born with the cord wrapped once, but for me.. twice was unheard of. Angels had been watching out for my son.

The nurses whisked him away to be cleaned off. I finally heard his sweet little cry for the first time, then I heard the nurse mention something about a cleft lip, then the doctor replied "He has a cleft lip?" and again the nausea... On further inspection his lip and palate where whole, but he does have a microform cleft. In other words, when he was just a small embryo he was developing a cleft lip. Amazingly as he continued to grow the cleft closed and healed itself, free surgery! He now has a simply charming birthmark on his lip where his amazing little body healed a potential birth defect, you go baby Noah!

So much potential for danger and we managed to skate through every flaming hoop unaffected. How truly blessed are we? Now four weeks later he is growing, changing, and bringing joy to his family everyday. Even his little head is in perfect condition now.

Speaking of his head, here is a nice little tidbit for moms to be...

Noah was born with nice big bump on his head. When he came home it was black and blue and HUGE, it was about the size of half a naval orange on top of his tiny head. It was soft and swollen, and did I mention it was quite large? I understand that squeezing through a tiny hole is pretty challenging, so I wasn't much concerned about it, until it was almost time for his two week check up and it was still there as huge as ever.

Me being the morbid worrier I am, worried myself sick thinking it was like his brain poking through the little bony plates in his head (I get it from my mother, I swear!) So at his two week check I brought it to the doctors attention. Him being the good guy he is didn't laugh in my overly worried face like he should have, but very gently told me the medical term for what it was, and exactly what that meant and when it would go away... so for anyone wondering, this is exactly what he explained to me.

This squishy swollen orange sized bump is called a Hematoma (I believe there are a couple different types depending on where they are on the head) A Hematoma is when there is trauma to the head during birth. Generally it happens when the baby comes through the birth canal too quickly. There are membranes that cover the little bony plates in a newborns head. A Hematoma happens when those membranes are ruptured causing blood to pool over the plate lines. It could take several weeks for the blood to reabsorb and the hematoma to go away. In some cases the blood will calcify meaning the hematoma doesn't really go away, but in those cases, as the child grows the bump usually becomes less noticeable. Even though the hematoma is a nasty little injury that is pretty uncommon, it is pretty much harmless. The biggest worry for a child with a hematoma is jaundice. For some reason this injury raises the chance of a baby having problems with jaundice.

So if you or anyone you know experience this, you can confidently reassure them that the baby's brain is in proper position in his head, and not poking out where it shouldn't be. I'm still shaking my head at myself.

And now you know!!

One Month Later.

This month has been nothing but one huge learning experience. Everyone kept telling us what an adjustment parenthood would be, and how it would completely change our lives. While that's true, we both have agreed that it feels like we have had Noah forever. Even though it feels like he belongs here, that doesn't mean that life as new parents has been easy, here are our adventures of month one.

Adventure number 1- Spitting up.

Our first week home with baby was probably as close to bliss as life with a newborn can be. Besides the no sleep thing, life was going smoothly. After the first week is when the spitting up started. I mean not just the occasional little bit of spit up, but up to two ounces after every feeding. I have had half digested breast milk projectiled across my shirt and splash all over my neck, I call it my new mom perfume. Concern number one was that he is not getting enough nutrients. After I expressed my concerns about the situation to Noah's doctor at his two week check, we were told to bring him back in a week to monitor his weight gain because he was a few ounces short of where the doctor had wanted him to be. The next week he had gained almost 10 oz, which is a good sign that he is at least getting something. He is still only in the 10th percentile for weight, but the doctor was pleased with our efforts at fattening him up, so good news there. Yes the spitting up is ridiculously inconvenient, I'm doing at least two loads of laundry every day if not more, but the hardest part for me has been the fact that I can't candidly cuddle my baby whenever I feel like it. Holding my son now takes preparation and several burp rags and often frustration, and I feel like I am being robbed of precious moments with him.

Adventure number 2- Gas.

Unfortunately this is the main cause of our poor little guys spitting up, and many sleepless nights with a VERY fussy dude.

Dear gas... go to hell! Sincerely, Katie.

Adventure number 3- Doctors visits.

Seriously, this poor babe has had more doctors visits in the whole one month of his life than some people have in years.  It seems like every other day is some appointment. From regular check up's, extra weight checks, and already a visit to the ear doctor. First I have to say I love his GP. At first when we were looking into choosing a doctor for him I was adamant that it be a pediatrician because I felt like that would be the obvious best choice for a child, but my parents suggested their family doctor. After hearing their stories of how gifted he truly is, I gave in, and I must say that I'm glad I did, he's great at listening to my dumb worries and quieting my fears. The greatest appointment so far has been to the ear specialist. We were referred after Noah failed his hearing test in his left ear at birth. We spent an hour or so fighting a fussy baby trying to keep wires in his ears and electrodes on his head, that was fun, and after all was said and done, we were relieved to find out that he has perfect hearing in both ears and he probably simply had some amniotic fluid caught in his ear at birth that had caused him to fail the initial test.

Adventure number 4- Emotions.

I will be the first to admit that I am the most anxious, emotional, sorry excuse for a human and having a baby has magnified the shortcoming of mine to the extreme. The first week was the hardest with my hormones changing so drastically, I was an emotional hot mess. As time has gone by I have slowly evened out a bit more and feel better everyday, the unfortunate part is that a crying baby on top of pretty gnarly fatigue has made for a weepy Katie.

With all of that said here is some advice that I can share with anyone who needs it:

Take any minute for yourself that you can, it's probably literally a minute, but it aids in sanity.

USE YOUR RESOURCES! Seriously, if someone offers to help, accept it.

Don't try to be super mom, who cares if there are dishes in the sink, I drove myself crazy trying to do it all.

Take your time.

It takes at least an extra hour to get out of the house with a baby, give yourself the extra time.

Take extras everywhere you go, that means change of clothes, diapers, wipes, blankets, pacifiers... EVERYTHING!

Kiss those sweet cheeks every chance you get, they might not always let you, and maybe it's just me, but cuddles and kisses make me feel better.

Don't carry the load yourself, your man is a parent as much as you are, make him share the duty.


there's my limited wisdom, if anyone has an advice for me as a new mother, I SERIOUSLY appreciate it, let's exchange, especially any tips to help gas and spitting up!

Motherhood.

It's been a while since I blogged, mostly because I spend every waking second for three weeks trying to put myself in labor. In case any expecting mothers are curious, eggplant, pineapple, walking, bouncing, spicy food, or any other silly natural induction technique is absolute nonsense.

Noah Daniel Adams was born on May 13, Mother's Day, at 3:52 pm. He weighed 7 lbs 4 oz and was 21 inches long.

 He is our angel!

 His Hawaiian shirt, just like grandpa Jay's

 He has a full head of blond hair.

 He loves his binkie!

 Noah and Grandpa Jay

 Lewis loves to stare at him

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I was convinced that this little sweetheart was at LEAST 8 pounds. In the last few weeks of pregnancy I felt beyond enormous. I spent weeks trying every technique in the book to go into labor. It probably helped considering that at my last doctors appointment, which was the Tuesday before he was born, I was dilated to about a 3 and effaced around 70%, but this little guy just didn't want to come. In desperation I asked to have my membranes stripped, but since I was already showing signs of early labor and had been progressing on my own, the doctor decided that if I had not gone into labor by Sunday, he would just induce me. I was a little bummed, I was hoping to have the full experience and go into labor on my own, but in the end I would have my little man no matter what.

So Sunday rolled around with a still heavily pregnant Katie. At 7:00 in the morning we were hospital bound. I got all settled in, I was already dilated to a 4 by then. They started me in pit around 9:00 in the morning and by 10:00 I was dilated to 6 centimeters and SO ready for that fabulous epidural. Unfortunately I was third in line for the good stuff, and had the opportunity to labor naturally for a few hours, which in retrospect was probably a good experience for me, but at the time I was not enjoying it.

After about 15 minutes of pushing, our little man was here. I remember the beautiful moment that the doctor laid him on my stomach and I was finally able to touch his warm skin. I was shaking with adrenaline and trying not to sob with joy. They got him all cleaned up and finally handed him back to me. Jordan held my hand and we had our first moment as a real family, the greatest moment of my entire existence!


Now I must admit that I feel very sentimental about our life before Noah, and there are times that I wish I had savored a little more. I miss feeling him inside of me. His kicks and hiccups and being so close, I wish I had been less concerned with going into labor the last few weeks of my pregnancy, and I wish I had just enjoyed it. I now realize that my next pregnancy won't be the same. Everything was so magical. I was able to take my time, relax, and spend all of my time dreaming about my baby, and rubbing my belly, and most of all, just being with Jordan. The next time I'm pregnant I will be busy tending to Noah, which is okay, it will be it's own kind of magical I'm sure, but I do miss the special days of my pregnancy past.

Even though I miss our lazy days of being just a couple, parenthood suits Jordan and I. I knew I wanted to be a mother since well... for as long as I can remember, and Jordan has always wanted kids, but I definitely feel that I was the one pushing to have one now, Jordan just said sure because he wanted kids, and I wanted them now so why not. I worried often that maybe he was just doing it to make me happy, but as I see him with our son, I know how wrong I was.

I teased him just today about how I ruined him. When we met he was this super stud that played drums in a band, drove a sweet old Cadillac Deville, and didn't have a care in the world. Then he met me and I turned him into a dad. In all seriousness tho, he couldn't be a better father. I catch him just staring at Noah and telling him how handsome he is, and putting all of that blonde hair into a Mohawk.

When Jordan turned 18 he decided to try to find his birth mom. Not that he has ever been unhappy with his parents, he has just always felt this hole in his heart, and wondered about her. After failed attempts to find her he has been hurting. The day we brought the baby home he told me that that hole had now been filled. I cry thinking about how special it is for him to have someone that is his own blood (literally, since Noah has his blood type) and I am so happy that we get to be a family and that Noah is blessed enough to have so many people around him that love him as much as we do. Heavenly father must love us, to have blessed us so fully with our son.

Home Stretch!

If I had one word to describe the third trimester of pregnancy, it would be exhaustion! There are new symptoms everyday. I sleep less and less every night, I continue to get bigger when I'm certain my belly can't possibly stretch another millimeter, my hips ache every second and each step is stupidly painful, I ALWAYS have heartburn and there is NO relief, and so far the worst are my emotions. I have become this crazy ball of emotion, everything is a big deal. Traffic sets me off, I cry with even the most minor of frustrations, and I bawl when I'm happy.

The worst part about the every growing state of being miserable is that, whether it be to my mom or to my husband, if I complain at all, their reply to me is "hey, you wanted this." Like wanting a baby makes the pregnancy any more enjoyable. Don't get me wrong, I actually like being pregnant, but I like it because I know what the end result will be, and that makes it worth it, however, it does not make my enormous girth and aching EVERYTHING easy.

On the plus side, there are many more memorable, and in my opinion hilarious, things happening now. Just this morning I was in a rage because my purse fell off of the table spilling it's contents all over the floor, so I angrily squatted down picking everything up just to realize I was stuck in that position. Jordan came out of the bathroom wondering what all the fuss was about, finding me squatted down with a scowl on my face because I couldn't get up. It's funny now, of course. I also love being able to watch my son move, and I can already see that he has his own little personality. He is a listener and stops moving whenever I or Jordan are talking. He also has an attitude, if I rest my arm on my belly he will continually kick at it until I move it, I guess we know who runs the show here.

With all of the complaints I have had about the pain, and the suspended state of feeling awkward, I have come to realize that I truly will miss it when he's born. I love every little hiccup, and the sound of his heartbeat, and knowing that I can keep him safe. I just don't want to say that out loud and make him think that it's okay to take his time coming into this world. There are six weeks left until my due date and three weeks left until he's full term, so hopefully he comes before he's made it to a heart 10 lbs, I'm SO ready to meet this little guy.

Is there a cure?

Hello psychopathic, unpredictable, overly sensitive,  bipolar, emotional-ness! Welcome to the third trimester? I am on a never ending quest to find the cure for this. In the past... oh say... two weeks, I have become one of the crazies, someone please lock me up. I cry over EVERYTHING. This is not an exaggeration. Forgot my wallet?... time to cry. I'm hungry?... Bring on the tears. Feeling a little lonely? Waterworks. So in love with my baby? Sob all night long.

My poor husband tries so hard to be patient with me, I know he does. Even when he does get irritated with me, I know he has absolutely every reason to be losing patience, but what is my reaction? Break down into tears. I love being pregnant, and I am counting seconds until I meet my little dude, but man, can this little side affect please find a nice corner to die in?

Last weekend I was fortunate enough to FINALLY get a girls night out. I came home feeling so good because I am now officially a hermit who rarely leaves her house, and a night out with the ladies was beyond needed. I told my husband about our great time, and then... the tears came. Do I know why? Not really... because my hormones think it's funny maybe? It's a long running joke between brain chemicals or something. Really though, don't even get me started on what this baby is doing to my appetite... I'm a raging emotional animal with a sandwich in each hand!

That is simply a taste of my new personality. I am a complete madwoman! Is there a cure for this? I think I should video document these final months of pregnancy, that way, when my sweet baby boy is a snotty teenager telling me how nuts I am, I will have the proof to show that it was he who has done this to me! Sweet blackmail!

Third Trimester, and Fears.

As I enter my third trimester, I have unfortunately been experiencing some of the "woes" so often talked about. I am feeling more tired, heavy, and sore. My son seems to think it's funny to pinch my nerves and make my leg painfully give out while walking... glad he has a sense of humor. Honestly, all of that is a piece of cake, I can do anything to bring this baby into the world, the biggest struggle I've been having recently, is new fears arising that I never considered before.

Lets talk about them, shall we?

My most recent fear: The sex of the baby will be wrong.
Anyone else experience this? It sounds so silly, but I've lost a little bit of sleep over it. Not that I would love the baby any less if he were a girl. My problem is that I tend to get emotionally attached easily. When we first found out we were pregnant, my husband and I both felt very strongly that it was a girl. We didn't start buying like crazy or decorating or anything, just because we knew a feeling wasn't grounds enough to be certain. Despite our feelings, our 20 week U/S revealed we are having a little boy! HURRAY! However, I did mourn the loss of the image of our baby girl. This phase didn't last long, I quickly recovered and turned the ideas of hair bows, and pink zebra print into the reality of toy trucks, and adorable little suits. Now that we have thoroughly prepared for a boy, I have a big worry of going into labor and giving birth to a little girl. Again, let me reiterate, this wouldn't change my love for the child, it would just make the first few weeks of transition from one expectation to another more difficult.
How I cope: To ease these fears, I have scheduled a second ultrasound, and I have expressed these fears to my mom, who of course assures me that if Noah were to turn out to be Aurora, she would make sure that the unexpected baby girl didn't have to wear little boy clothes for the first six months of her life. Expressing the fear, nearly eradicated it. So ladies, don't harbor those fears.

Fear number two: The baby will be born with a horrible defect.
I'm pretty certain that this is a fear every mother experiences. The only true desire that we have for our newborns is that they are healthy, and strong. Naturally the idea that something either you have unknowingly done, or that happened out of your control to cause the baby physical or mental harm in the womb, weighs heavy on your mind.
How I cope: So a little story. When I was around 18 weeks or so, I was offered a blood test that is very safe, and can possibly detect some genetic problems in your baby that may cause problems. I wasn't certain whether I wanted this or not, considering it was optional and probably wouldn't be covered by my insurance. So to help my decision I asked the nurse if there were specific benefits to having the test done. All she said to me was, "If there is something wrong, will you love the baby less?" Without a second thought I answered no. She assured me that if the results of a blood test would not sway my love for my baby, then there was no extra benefit to having the test done. I share this because that has helped ease my fears about defects. Who cares, maybe it will bring new challenges, but he is still my son, and nothing can change that.

My biggest fear as of late: I am going to miss the time I have with just my husband and I.
This is a little hard for me to admit. It is an absolute selfish fear. To give some background, let me explain why I love my husband so much.

When Jordan and I met, I was 18 and he was 16. When we met, I wasn't looking for anyone special. I had been in a couple semi-serious relationships (as serious as they get for an 18 year old) and had been told by more than one boyfriend that he wanted to marry me. I wasn't in any rush at that age to actually  tie the knot, but when a guy said that to me, it meant some sort of commitment. That we would continue to date, live, get good jobs, and when we were both stable as people, we would get married and move in together. Unfortunately, those relationships turned out to be on-again-off-again, tumultuous relationships that ended poorly, and left me broken, with barely a shred of self worth left. So again, when I met Jordan, we were just kids, and I wan't expecting anything to come from it.

As a couple months went by, we both knew that we wanted to get married. There wasn't any big rush, considering how young we were, but what made Jordan different from the others, is that even though we knew the wedding would be quite some time away, he took his small income from working at Zumiez, and bought me the most beautiful diamond ring... I knew he meant what he said. We were engaged for a year and a half, and shortly after Jordan turned 18, we were married. Not just in some simple family ceremony, but we both got our acts together and made the decision to be married in the temple, and Jordan took me there.

At 18 years old, he was working every single night for his parents cleaning business, using every penny he made to make sure I had a nice place to live, beautiful clothes to wear, and always enough food to eat. Two and a half years later, he is still working his fingers to the bone every night, sometimes until 2 in the morning, so that we can live in a house of our own, and we can go where ever we want, and do whatever we want, when ever we want. I never want for anything, he treats me like a goddess, and I've never been more sure of how loved, and blessed I am. He is also a worthy priesthood holder, that is always diligent in attending his meeting, and making sure we always go to every church function, whether I wanted to or not.

I couldn't have asked for a better man, and what an amazing father he will be, but my fear is of losing what I am already so lucky to have. I live for our Saturday date nights, and our early morning cuddles, and being able to lay in bed at 2 in the afternoon to watch a movie. I am really going to miss our exclusive time together, because I know that when the baby comes, it will no longer be the Katie and Jordan show, and our special moments will be rare, and no longer daily. We won't be able to get in the car and go when we feel like it, or nap together at any given moment.

I feel very guilty about how sad I am for this loss, and have at times found myself saying... what was I thinking, why was I so ready to have a baby and give this up?
How I cope: It's really not so much as coping, as looking at it from a different perspective. We may not have the same routine, we will have a new one, that may be even more wonderful that the one we have. I know I want to be a mom, and I have a man that is an ideal father, so what am I worried about. Plus, my mom is only 30 seconds away, and if we need time together, I'm sure she wouldn't mind watching the baby for an hour. Life isn't over, it's getting better.

The Pregnancy Body Peace Pact

If there is only one pure truth I have learned about pregnancy, it's that it causes an amazing lack of comfort with your body. I talk often about watching my body balloon, becoming rotund, and feeling heavy. And while I talk easily and jokingly about it, here's the undeniable fact: your body is not your body anymore. Your body is now a house for your child and will take on a complete mind of its own.

Don't get me wrong, there is definite joy in watching your belly grow with that sure sign of precious life. It's even comical when my mom tells me to quit stealing basketballs, and when no matter what I eat, it ends up down the front of my gigantic stomach. Jordan and I even get a laugh that I have to bend completely over to see my feet, or I have to ask him what my belly button looks like.

Sadly, the other side of joy, is despair. I can tell you, that at times, I have had that emotion about my new figure as well. It's strange not being able to see under my belly anymore, and to feel my belly button stretching to new dimensions. The worst, of course, is to see those new purple stretch marks creeping up my side. I have had the creepy inner monologues while looking in the mirror. I keep telling myself "who cares, my husband loves me, and this is all for a purpose." But at the same time, my mind is screaming in disgust at what I have become.

The funny thing is, pregnancy is a BEAUTIFUL thing, and we are all our harshest critics. I also know that I am not the only woman that faces this dilemma. So for myself and to all the other struggling moms out there, or even just those who are getting used to a new body, I recommend committing yourself to a new body peace pact.

A body peace pact sounds like one of those stupid things you read about in seventeen magazine, and honestly... it really is kind of silly, but funny enough IT WORKS. All there is to it, is to be able to look at yourself and see the positive over the negative, and feel confident in your own skin. I tell myself this;

You are amazing, and your body looks this way because it's creating a miracle, and someday your son will look at the pictures of what looks like his mother smuggling a basketball under her t-shirt, and cherish them. This transformation will bring a special someone into this world who will change your life, and your husbands forever.


Sweet and simple, but if said honestly and often, it makes me feel a little better, and well... less vain, because lets face it, there's more to life than looking like barbie.