Growing Pains....

Now that I'm over the hideous hump that accompanied the early days of nursing, I feel like I'm regaining a little bit of normalcy around my home. A new normal for me. Life with 2. I have to say that before my little "Sweet Tweet" (which is what I've taken to calling the babe because of the little bird-like faces she makes and the sound of her little "chirps") came into our lives, I really tried to make the most of my time with Kidd-O. Wanting to make sure that I soaked up every ounce of the good stuff that came with life with my firstborn, only to find out recently that there would never be enough time.

The arrival of this baby has only made it clear how fast time flies. How big my boy truly is compared to his baby sister. I was warned how Kidd-O would suddenly seem like a giant next to the baby, but I didn't truly believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. It was like my first baby had suddenly gained 150 extra pounds and might as well be enrolling in college. It has actually hit me like a ton of bricks. And while I'm holding this new one, gazing into her sweet eyes and caressing her dark hair I can't help but wonder if I did that enough with Kidd-O. Did I hold him enough? Kiss him enough? Cherish those tiny days to the fullest? I'm sure I did, but as I said earlier....there wouldn't ever be enough time to get my fill.

Me and Kidd-O

Now that I have seen how fast it goes, I am clinging to these early days with my girl. Yes, I'm exhausted. But, these days are numbered. My days may seem long now, but I have seen just how quickly they leave me ....taken like a thief in the night.

  I am so thankful to the Lord for all of the wonderful seasons of our lives. Each season filled with good things that can't be experienced during the other seasons. This is my sweetest season yet. I want to store up all the goodness that I can before a change comes. And a "change is gonna come."  A day will come when I walk through my home with no babies to rock, no toddlers to read to, no shoes to tie, a day when my girl doesn't sleep soundly in the crook of my arm, and a day when my boy won't dance uninhibitedly to Michael Jackson, waving to me, his biggest fan. 

 Fortunately, that day is not today....praise the Lord.

Go. Hug your babies. Turn off the TV. Put down laundry, your phone, your book. These are the days you'll long for someday. A day that will be here too darn soon. 

The Power of Prayer and the Lactating Mom....

 Breastfeeding. You'd think it would be a natural thing. And maybe it is for many people, but for a lot of women it's anything but. For six months I pumped milk for Kidd-O. I produced around 2 1/2 gallons of milk per week and I did that because nursing just wasn't in the cards for me for a number of reasons: poor latching, nipple confusion, and, frankly, I just wasn't willing to commit myself to it 100%  and that's what it takes--100%. Plus some. I knew after those six months of pumping was up and I had battled 3 bouts of infection, I was NOT going to pump again. I would either nurse or formula feed and that was that!

 I decided to write this post hoping that other women could relate to the same journey that I am currently on and that it might be an encouragement to them. And it is because of other women's stories and encouragement that I have gotten to the place that I am at today...that, and through the power of prayer. So here is my story and it's the honest to goodness truth.

Like everything else when it comes to pregnancy, babies and parenting, everyone has opinions and their 2 cents worth of advice to put in when it comes to nursing. A lot of women have told me that breastfeeding is the hardest thing you'll ever do, but it's the most rewarding thing if you can stick it out.They are right. It took only a day for me to realize that it was going to be difficult. I have learned that breastfeeding is NOT for the faint of heart.

I began praying about my decision to nurse since I got pregnant but it wasn't until I got home from the hospital that I was brought to my knees in prayer every other hour, with every single feeding. Lactation ladies will tell you that you're not supposed to feel any pain. I have decided that they are either big fat liars, or they have terrible memories from their past breast feeding experiences. Because for some women it hurts. Actually, "hurt" isn't even the right word to use here. It kills. It is the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life and if anyone other than my child was inflicting that pain upon me, I might just slap the fool out of them.
  With every passing hour for over 2 weeks, I dreaded feeding time. I literally would find anything to do that would help me avoid having to go through the pain of the baby latching on, not to mention having a letdown of milk into my already ginormous, freak show boobs. To make a long and truly gory story short, the last few weeks have been a cracked, bloody ,blistered, torn, engorged, shirt soaking MESS. I have cried in almost every corner of my house and to anyone who will listen. And you may be asking yourself why? Why would you put yourself thought that? And frankly, I've asked myself that a lot too!

The best answer I can give is that my girl is a GREAT eater! She has a perfect latch and is doing everything she's supposed to be doing, so I have feel I owe it to her to give it my best shot. I'm now entering my 4th week of nursing and I can see the light at the end. I no longer need to grip the arm of the couch and bite down on a pillow for fear of yelling expletives, and I'm no longer a human sprinkler who could feed anyone who walks by within a 3ft. radius.It is getting better.

I say ALL of this to say that I would NOT have made it 4 weeks if it weren't for the support of the women who have been through the same thing promising that it would get better, for my friends and family who have been encourager's and for the Lord's faithfulness and goodness in answering the prayers I have prayed in the shower, in my bed, in my kitchen, and with every single feeding. Never in a million years would I have thought that this situation would be what brought me closer to my Lord. And while I am still waiting on all the "rewards" and the warm fuzzy feelings that people say come with nursing, I am thankful for the experience because it has been a true testament to the power of prayer, trusting in the Lord and knowing that I can truly take any concern to Him. 

I hope that this post can be an encouragement to others who might be in the same boat and can serve as a reminder to me years from now of this time in my life. It does hurt, it will get better, God is good. Amen. Thanks for stopping by and I apologize to anyone who learned waaay more about me than they wanted to!

We Love Lucy: A BirthDay Story....

When I found out I was pregnant for a second time, my mind immediately went to the delivery room. It's one of those great inevitable's: A baby WILL come out, Lord willing. And because I had already been through that before, I knew what was coming. Some days I'd be overcome with excitement thinking about my baby's Birth Day and other times I'd be gripped with fear. Fear of the pain and fear of the unknown that comes with such a life changing event. But I knew two things for sure, when that day finally came, I knew I wanted to be fully in the moment, soaking it all in AND that I wanted a photographer there. If there is one thing that I have learned over the last 2 years in my journey with photography is that a picture truly is worth a thousand words...plus some. And for me, there is no greater way to tell a story than through pictures. I obsessed for 9 months about what I wanted these pictures to look like and I bugged the fool out of my sister-in-law (who was the chosen one) in the process. And when those pictures almost didn't happen the night of my delivery, I learned a valuable lesson that night in Delivery Room 308: You can plan and hope all you want, but sometimes the Lord has other plans.... And with that lesson, I will share with you Lucy's Birth Day story.

On the Thursday before our girl came into the world, I made my weekly visit to the doctor, who "stirred things up a bit" with a guarantee that I would be heading to the hospital within 12 hours. And he was right. Down to the minute. And for every passing hour after that appointment, I was cursing that doctor and myself for allowing him to do that. The contractions came quicker and stronger until we decided, exactly 12 hours later, that "The Time Had Come." We called the in-laws over to stay with Kidd-O and my husband and I made the trip to the hospital. He knew I was scared, so Mr. Clean just held my hand. We didn't speak. We just listened to the radio while The Lumineer's serenaded us down hwy 575.

For nearly 40 weeks I worried about the size of this baby. With my first weighing in at well over 9lbs, I was praying that this little girl would be a bit smaller making for an easier, faster labor and delivery. The doctors said she would be smaller, and everyone says that second births go much faster than the first. Well, the doctors were right about her size, but everyone else are liars! I never in a million years dreamed that I would labor for 11 hours....twice as long as with my first. And it didn't take long for me to realize that my "picture perfect" labor and delivery was going to be anything but.

Starting with the epidural. I gave my usual pep talk to the anesthesiologist, asking if she was alert enough to poke around my spine at 2 am and letting her know that this is the part that I get the most anxious about, so I was putting my full trust in her. She assured me that she was wide eyed and fully confident in her abilities... until she actually said the words "Oh Crap." I guess she missed the "bedside manner" day in med school. My nurse was so kind as she knew how freaked out I must have been and tried her hardest to deflect from that gross faux pas. It turns out that it was really no big deal (I'd hate to hear what she would say if it were) and she corrected her work. I'm extremely thankful for the gift of modern medicine, but I'm not sure I was so thankful that night. With the epidural "re-do" I actually got 2 doses of the medicine, which sent me into bouts of uncontrollable shaking, which brought on the nausea, which brought on needing the little blue blags that were hanging on the wall. Things didn't look so good for ol' Ashley. And all of a sudden I had a de'ja'vu moment from the last time when I'm tossing my cookies and my darling husband soundly sleeps right through it as my mom fetched ice and cool cloths for my forehead. 

Come 5 am, they sent someone to break my water and after 3 hours of waiting and no more progression at 8 am, they realized that my water didn't actually break. While I was pretty irritated, it actually turned out to be a blessing because my photographer sister-in-law was MIA and wasn't answering our phone calls when they came to break my water the first time...at all. And as it turns out, if my water had broken when they originally did it, she would have missed it and I wouldn't have the first picture. But the Lord is good, and she made it just in time for them to break my water....the second time. And I started pushing and hour later.

And it was at that point that I fell into a stream-of-consciousness. During that last hour, when the epidural has done as much as it can do, and the room starts to fill with various nurses who will be caring for me and the baby when she finally enters the world. Those 40 weeks...and 11 hours lead up to this moment. The moment when all the lights in the room go up, and it's showtime. They sent for the midwife, because delivery was just minutes away and at that point I became scared. Scared of the next 5 minutes and scared of the next chapter of my life. And that's when I asked to pray. And with my mom and husband holding my hands, my husband prayed for me, our baby, and our new life as 4. I was ready. Amen. 

The delivery was a dream. It made up for the horrible labor as it only took a couple of pushes until she just slid right out. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. She was beautiful. She looked just like her brother. And when I held her slippery little body, I praised the Lord for His goodness to us, showered her with tears of joy and wished my girl the happiest of birthdays, because on that cold January morning, it was nothing less than a happy day.

There are more details to this story, like not having a window in the delivery room, which bummed us ALL out, but I will let the slideshow fill in the blanks and tell the rest of the story. I am thankful that my sis-in-law made it and for taking such beautiful pictures that I will cherish forever. The sildeshow has 2 songs. The first one is the song that played during our quiet drive to the hospital and the second song I've pictured playing on this slideshow for months because it fits beautifully!  Thank you for stopping by!

Free picture slideshow generated with Smilebox

The Winner is.....

Comment # 11! Mele G.!!!! 

Congratulations Mele!