An older gal told me this in passing the other week while at a doctors visit, mentioning that I should cherish these days, as they all fly by.

It’s so true already. Tiny Beast is just over a month, and the past few weeks are mostly a blur, and it feels like so long ago that we had her. It also feels like it’s gone by in a flash.  For those of you who are new to the blog, you can read more about Tiny Beast’s arrival here.

The days are spent pumping, bottle and tube feeding her every 3 hours, about a half gallon of breast milk a day. The other hours are spent snuggling her ever-growing body in beams of sunlight or under antique quilts, and journaling our adventures in my tiny notebook. I don’t do as many crafts as I used to, instead, the time is spent doting over and gazing at her tiny features.  After nearly a decade of wanting her and planning for her, I am still amazed that she is here.

Her weight is increasing so well, and she is eating more and more by bottle-usually more than half her total feed.  We continue to try breastfeeding, and she gets better with each attempt. Sometimes she just screams at my chest, which doesn’t do either of us much good. It’s all just for the closeness, and when that doesn’t work, we grab a bottle of milk and snuggle together instead. Her tests continue to come back strong, indicating that she won’t have any side effects from the fluid on her lungs, or the cleft pallet. We’re still so, so lucky. The doctors are amazed at her development, and excited to see what else she can accomplish-she’s hitting milestones ahead of time, which feels good after the challenges the first week brought. We have a great team at two hospitals who want to see her be as healthy as possible.

We have had amazing support in friends and family, between meals being delivered and house keeping/gardening help, we’ve been able to relax. The cards, and calls have all been so welcomed and I can’t say enough how amazed I am for the amount of love this kid has. Thank you all, so much!  I suck at asking for help, and am way better at saying ‘thank you’. I know it takes a village, and I am grateful for an amazing village.

We’re still cooking up a storm, which feels good. The food blog will be updated this week with my gumbo and pot pie recipes.  We’re also getting out more, seeing friends and having people over. The normalcy feels good.

Of course, it’s not all cuteness and happy times. Tiny Beast can yell. In addition to that skill, she can also poop up a storm. I had no clue of the sheer volume of poo and noises that something so small can produce.

This whole experience has really forced by to evaluate who I am, and how I live, and all my attempts at planning anything have gone out the window. She’s making me a better person every moment, and I am so grateful for that. Even at 2 am, when she starts wailing, when I just laid back down after pumping and tube feeding her for the past hour.

We’re still learning about what works and what doesn’t, and I know that will be an ongoing activity, but for now, her laughs and smiles are all the motivation I need.  I leave you with a quick picture from her birthday. She was not amused.

All my best to you all, as you find your way through chaotic times 🙂
Raina

Dorothy said, “there’s no place like home”.

So many times in the last 6 days I wished that I could click my heels together and come home. I wanted to be away from the alarms, the noise, and to allow Isabella to know that people don’t normally smell like hand sanitizer.  I wanted my bed, and to have her in her crib. I wanted to eat food that didn’t have mayonnaise as a main ingredient.

The idea that we would be going home soon was so exciting and really helped to get us through. At each feeding, I talked to Isabella about our adventure plans, and told her about all the things we had for her at home. It’s amazing how small things like that can help you block out the challenging things.

Sunday, it looked like we would be able to go home early in the week, provided she passed her hearing test, her CO2 test and her carseat test. We also needed to have all of her equipment ordered and we needed to learn nasalgastric tube feeding and placement (say that three times fast!).  Monday, first thing, we started banging out the tests. Blood was taken, equipment ordered, ng tube placement was done on the fly as my little beast pulled her tube out. Nick ran into our Specialist in the cafeteria, who let us know that she had passed her blood work-she looked good!  The feeding equipment came, and we were taught how to use it (we had been learning all week from the nursing staff, which sure helped). Audiology came out, and ran the needed tests-she aced 4 out of 4 of them. It was looking good!

It was time for the car seat challenge. 90 minutes in the car seat you brought with out any dips in oxygen saturation or vitals. She had to be able to breathe smoothly, and well…fit.  I’m pretty sure Nick and I held our breath for the first minute. Our eyes bounced between Izzy, the monitor and the clock.  Every time a stat dipped, so did our hope of getting out of there.  Finally, the 90 minutes were up. She had passed and we didn’t need one more piece of equipment.

Close to 6 pm, we realized that the last piece of equipment, the oxymeter, hadn’t been delivered. We couldn’t leave before it came. The nurse had already tried calling the care coordinators, but they had left at 4. I opted to call the company directly. They asked when were to be discharged, as they didn’t want to send before then and I kindly let them know it was a few hours prior, and could they please bring the equipment so we could just get home?  In my head, I wanted to reach through the phone and shake the holy hell out of the guy, but this wasn’t his fault. 🙂

The equipment was delivered shortly after, and we started to pack. At 11:30 pm, almost one week after heading to the hospital, we were given our walking papers and allowed to go home. Walking through the entry way into the cranial-facial section was the most exciting thing ever! As we got closer to the exit, I wanted to start running. I knew we were good to leave, I just didn’t want anyone changing their minds…Leaving felt so amazing. Things were going to be normal again!!! This is our holy crap, we’re tired, but getting the hell out of the hospital picture!

We woke my mom up when we got home (she had been watching the critters for us), and she was so excited. We all were. Next was the task of setting everything up, and plotting how to surprise Nick’s folks. We slept soundly on an air mattress in her nursery, so happy to be home.

The next day brought plotting to surprise Nick’s family, especially his Dad, whose birthday it was.  We had so many people to coordinate and getting the dog home, that we decided to let Nick’s mom organize it. She was great, making sure everyone knew just what to do!  We were able to surprise him, and Izzy got to meet her Great Grandma, too.

The week has gone by, some days longer than others.  This blog has taken me multiple days to write, mostly done when pumping, since I can’t go anywhere for 30 minutes, every two hours.

Izzy continues to amaze us-sometimes with how much she can cry-man does that kid have lungs!  But she also amazes us in how focused she is and snuggly.  She is already close to 9 lbs, and has grown an inch-all within her first week here.  She’s such a little trooper!

It feels good to be home and to know that for at least 11 weeks, all I have to is pump, rest, and do everything I can to make her happy.  There isn’t much more that I need in this life 🙂

Here’s to your happiness and always coming home.  Below the picture is a quote that fits us well 🙂

In my head and before today, I wrote this blog over and over. It was this glowing story of how my baby girl came into this world and wrapped up with us driving home with a bundle of joy, perfectly swaddled, ready to whip up a nice meal.

Yeah…That didn’t happen.

It started with a 13 day delay in her arrival, which, if you’ve been reading my blog lately worked out quite well.

On January 17th, we went in for testing and a discussion of next steps to get Izzy out of me. She was perfectly content, with plenty of fluid cushioning her and she wasn’t in any distress. I joked she had made a fort, and probably set up a mini bar in there. Options were thrown around-the Foley Catheter, Misoprostol, Cervidil. There was talk of rupturing membranes and discussion of what we could do for next steps if these options didn’t work. We opted to sit on it.  I researched every method, asking other moms and eventually crying on the couch in overwhelm at the possible side effects of the medications. I just wanted her to come out on her own.

On Monday the 21st, we went back in. I had decided to start with a membrane scrape, following by a scheduled induction for the next evening using Cervidil, the least risky of the medications.  Plans were made to hit a local bar for one last night out, and to celebrate a friends birthday. Around 6 that night, I started to feel light contractions, chalking it up to cramping from the membrane scrape. We got home around 9, and I ended up calling it a pretty early night. I was tired and still feeling crampy.

I woke up at 7 the next day, and logged into work. Knowing that my labor was going to be induced 12 hours later, I opted to work a half day.  The cramping had continued, but wasn’t regular, just stronger. Somewhere around 10 I mentioned jokingly to Nick that I may be going into labor.  Around 1, the contractions became stronger and stronger, but were still pretty manageable. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with.

As the night went on, the contractions grew in regularly and increased in strength. I was in pain, but this was fine, as it was time to leave for the hospital. When we got there, I let them know I was there to be induced, but may not need to be, as I was probably in labor.  This got an odd look until I told the contractions were coming every 10-20 mins, and lasting about 1-2 minutes each.  We were admitted, and I found out one of my favorite midwives was the one on call.

I’ll pause here in the story to recap things I know now:
Natural labor hurts.
A lot.
That is all.

I labored in the bed for another 4 hours, trying to walk and not vomit, and then sitting as the pain was too bad. I rolled around in the bed, trying to use stupid visualization and deep breathing, and other natural pain management techniques. Nothing was stopping the pain. Nick was a rock, providing the only relief I could get-back and leg rubs and encouragement. It was time to move to the tub, to see if this would relieve the pain. It was at this point all of my modesty went out of the window. I didn’t care what stranger saw me naked, I just wanted that damn Jacuzzi tube. Nick, a nurse, my midwife, and my giant pregnant belly squeezed into the bathroom to see how well the tub worked.

It didn’t.

It was at this point I asked the question I had been dreading, “How soon is too soon to get an epidural?”. After 13 hours (I don’t count when it didn’t hurt bad enough to stop me), I was done. I wasn’t having fun, and I didn’t think I was going to have enough energy to push, let alone enjoy the birth of my baby. To make sure I was indeed making the right choice, we checked to see how dilated I was. 8-we push through. Anything below 5, we get the epidural going. I was a three. A measly three. A ‘you have 7 cm’s to go before you are ready to go’, three. Bah.

The epidural quickly went in, and the world was an amazing, beautiful, happy place. I could still feel my legs, and had movement, but couldn’t feel much pain. I could still feel the sensation of my contractions too. It was all going to be ok, and I wasn’t going to die an overly dramatic death.

9 hours later, the epidural started to wear off, but was quickly fixed for me by using the game show buzzer thing. It was time to push.

At 1:10 pm, under the watchful eye of the Space Needle, under a slate sky, Isabella Grace came into the world, not with a whimper, but a ferocious scream, announcing her presence to the world.  She was placed quickly on my chest, and looked up at me with strong, dark blue eyes. She was mine, and I was hers.  Nick cut her cord, and we gazed at her sweet tiny face lovingly.

All was right in the world, until it wasn’t.

It became clear she wasn’t breathing right. Her breathing was shallow, she had a wet and high pitched wheeze, and she wasn’t taking to breast.  People were called, and doctors pulled her away from me. I was told to push to deliver the placenta.  It wouldn’t come out, and I couldn’t concentrate. It was clear it was going to have to be removed by hand. I didn’t care, I strained to see my baby girl and to hear what was happening.  I could only catch bits of words, pallet, tongue, fluid. Then laughing, Nick was peed on twice. I thought, “It must be ok” but I wondered, “Why didn’t I have my baby?  When were they going to give her back?”.

More words, people, bodies buzzing about, alarms screaming that something was wrong with her tiny body. I just wanted my fucking baby. After all I had been through this year, this month, this week. I wanted to hold her.  I earned this, I deserved this. I needed this. More words. I was told I had torn during delivery, stitches went in, and I didn’t care. Things were flying by in a haze.

Finally, things slowed down. She had fluid in her lungs, and this was preventing her from breathing right. Her pallet wasn’t formed right, and she had a tongue tie. This was preventing her from nursing, and would prevent her from eating right away. She needed to go to the Special Care Unit. I was able to hold her again, but briefly. The med team trickled out, but stayed close, so we could have some privacy. After only a few minutes, she was quiet and she looked like she had stopped breathing, then the monitors starting going off. I jostled her to get to wake up, yelling for Nick to get the nurse, begging for her to wake up. The nurses ran in to take her away as she was waking up. I was terrified, and just like that she was gone.

I was wheeled up to see her a little while later. She was mostly alert, but tired. I was able to hold her for an hour, snuggling her tiny warm body. She was still gasping for air, but was stable.  Specialists continued to buzz around us and our family, assessing what could be done for her. It was decided that she would be transferred to NICU at Seattle Children’s Hospital where they would coordinate with the cranial-facial team.

I was brought back to my room and Nick and I just sat in shock. How could this have happened?  What did I do wrong?  I did everything right-I didn’t drink, I ate organic, I exercised, watched what I ate, and only ate fast food twice. All that to end up with a baby who couldn’t breathe. I was devastated and I only slept after the combination of hours of labor and crying made me pass out.

The next day, NICU came to pick her up via ambulance, bringing a plexiglass transport crib. It didn’t feel real. Izzy was crying so hard she was shaking. I was so grateful for one staff member-a mid 50’s, brick house of a man, with a giant chest and hands that looked like they could rip a tree out of the ground with a quick tug. He wore suspenders with chili peppers on them and had a soft voice, saying “if you hear alarms, you look at me. If I don’t look nervous, you don’t need to be. It’ll all be ok.”  It was the first time I thought that it may be alright. He proceeded to bend over Izzy, cupping her tiny body in his massive hands, cooing and patting her. She settled down, and with that, I did too. They took her away and I started to cry, and the hospital staff ran to comfort us. They loved Izzy already too. We would arrive at Children’s NICU a few hours later, unsure of what would happen.

The NICU is a quiet place, with the exception of the alarms, the machines, and the quiet buzz of the staff discussing the most recent updates of the tiny patients. Walking in, there was one baby crying-mine. All of the other babies were intubated or just couldn’t cry louder than a whimper. It was a relief. In looking at the posts from Facebook, I am reminded of the fear I felt that my child wasn’t going to be healthy, and the guilt I felt with each small win she had. The baby next to us was so tiny, and was hooked up to so many machines. He had also been there long enough that his parents had brought in toys, a mobile, and other comforts of home. The longer we were there, the more that stood out; kids who had been there, and didn’t have a chance of going home any time soon had their nurseries in the hospital. We felt transient, and I hoped that would be the case.

The next day, we were transferred out of the NICU and into the Cranial-Facial ward. This area was brighter, louder and with children whose issues far surpassed Izzy’s. We were met with intermittent screams of pain, and debilitating conditions and the feeling that this was the end of the line for some kids. Again, I considered myself so lucky-my child looked normal and was healthy. She couldn’t breathe perfectly in certain positions, and needed help eating. Some of these kids couldn’t breathe without assistance and were on their 4th or 5th surgeries. My heart broke for them, and again, I felt guilt for knowing my child was doing so well. She was three days old-already holding her head up, pushing herself up, breathing better and increasing her feeds. She was 3 days old.

The days would pass and every few hours would bring a new success. She would eventually breathe even better, and start taking a bottle, she would try to nurse on me and she would get to a healthy level of eating, a good amount of which would be by bottle. She would pass her hearing tests with flying colors, and her blood work would all come back normal. Quickly, word spread around about her, and specialists were coming left and right to see her and get us out of there.

When all was said and done, we were finally able to come home, 6 days later from when we left to bring her into the world.

No one expects that their child will be born with a condition, or require intensive care. I am humbled by everything I was exposed to. I am so, so grateful to the unconditional love and support of friends, family and the staff we met along the way. I have a renewed faith in one’s ability to push through hardships and to find the silver lining in the darkest of situations. Looking back, I have to ask Nick if some of this even happened, as it all seems like a bad dream. We talk about how a week flew by and drug on, all at the same time, and how lucky we truly are. He’s pointed out that there were some things in this blog that I minimized and how much worse some of the things were. All I know is that I am so, so happy to be home, and that she is ok. There’s nothing better in the world than that.

With that, I leave you with happiness, love, and quotes~

“I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I’ve bought a big bat. I’m all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!”  – Dr. Seuss

“The friend in my adversity I shall always cherish most. I can better trust those who helped to relieve the gloom of my dark hours than those who are so ready to enjoy with me the sunshine of my prosperity”. – Ulysses S. Grant

Best,
Raina, Nick and Isabella

Oh, baby.

This has been one silly week. Tiny Beast was due well over a week ago, and while I occasionally do curse her for being late, I have to say that it worked out pretty darn well.

Let me take you back just over one week ago, so you have the full picture. The weather: a normal Seattle rainy winter-cold, gloomy, torrential down pours, whispers that snow will be here. I’m outside with Kip when I hear a POP, and see my lights flicker. Living in Seattle, and experiencing crappy weather, and power outages, this isn’t too far out of the norm. Little did I know, that would be the sound of my electrical box giving up the ghost after putting up with rain falling through the wall for who knows how long.

The next day, I went into the nursery to get some organization in, and I noticed that the wall looked a little funny-like water had splashed on it. I raised up the giant picture I had on the wall, only to have it come flying off. That’s when I saw it…My wall was slightly damp and soft.

Son of a…

We scrambled to find a contractor, to figure out what had happened, and how we could fix it. Unfortunately, the first guy we brought over wasn’t of any help.  He didn’t think my idea of where the water was getting in was accurate, suggesting it was not coming from the power post (directly above the wet wall), but instead, going through the gutters and back up at an angle, through the eves and then down into the wall).  We called my neighbor, and saving grace contractor, who came over and confirmed what we knew-the roof was leaking into the house at the power post. Trips were made to the home improvement store for roof goop and the issue was sealed up. We started to run the dehumidifier to dry the nursery out.

Saturday came and with it the realization that the pop on Thursday had been the breaker for my hot water heater. We had no hot water and power wasn’t getting to the heater, no matter how many times I flipped the breaker on and off and cursed at it. I stopped playing with it when the breaker box sparked at me. It was clear I was in over my head.

Calls were made, and again my friend came out. We ended up replacing the water heater, doing tests….nothing. We couldn’t get any hot water. Days later, we gave up, and called the electrician who fixed a broken wire in less than an hour.

It had been quite the ordeal, but we’re happy to say that the electric box is all dried up and fixed, the wall is dried out, the new hot water tank is amazing, and never had I been so happy to take a hot shower as I was.

I am amazed and so impressed to have had so many people invite me over to shower, or to stay with them until the house crap was resolved. I am grateful for an awesome contractor friend who was willing to come over for days to try to fix everything, and for a local electrical company for being willing to squeeze me in hours after I called freaking out that I didn’t have hot water.

This baby has great timing, but now I am ready to have her come out!  The midwives think she is big-high 8’s, low 9’s. That’s pounds. We had a non-stress and fluid test to make sure she is doing well in there. She is super active, playing, with a strong, healthy heart beat. She has more than enough fluid to keep her safe.  I am pretty sure she has a fort in there.

We have more appointments coming-another non-stress test and fluid test this weekend, and if she still isn’t here by Tuesday, we start inducing. While I am sad that it looks like I will need medical assistance to get her here, I am just happy she is healthy, safe and happy. I’m starting to learn that with this kid, my plans go out the window, and I am at the mercy of what she wants to do.

In less than a week she’ll be here, and I’ll be able to hold my little (or not so little) Tiny Beast, and have three months off with her. I can’t wait. I am ready.

Here’s to finding your way through chaos, and finding your light and happiness in that. 🙂

Raina

Well, the due date came and went.

At first I was bummed, as one would expect. *I* show up to appointments on time, I would think my Tiny Beast would too.

Nope!

But it worked out for the best-I was able to get in one more date night, and relax, just to find out today that our roof is leaking…into one of the walls of our nursery.

Sigh.

Sometimes being late works out really well.

Today has been spent wondering if each contraction is really labor, and how to tell if my water really broke, while wrapping up things at work and coordinating house repair projects.

From the outside, this probably looks like the worst sitcom, ever.  It’ll all work out, it’ll all be ok, but it is a little silly.

Right now, I am listening to the sound of Nick on the roof, with tubes of roof goop working to seal up anything thing that could be leaking, and working to seal up the gutters. Aside from that, it’s the sound of the dehumidifier whirring away in the nursery, drying out the walls.

Again, it’ll all work out, and it’ll all be ok. Baby-wise, it’s a waiting game. House-wise, it’ll get done).

Funny enough, my creative use of tools is catching on!  Nick just asked for a long, skewer type tool, to which I offered…a knitting needle. Apparently, it IS the right tool for roof repair, as I suspected a while ago.

Here’s to limited chaos in your world and if you’re waiting for big things, may they pan out at the right time, and no earlier or later than you need!
Raina

Tonight I am sitting on the couch while the makings for lasagna sauce and enchiladas are cooking away on the stove.  The house smells awesome. I am sick, wrapped up in a robe and antique quilt, waiting for Tiny Beast to make her appearance.

Another year will soon come to a close, and like the past few years, there were amazing highs, and soul crushing lows.

2012 was definitely the year of good bye’s. It started with my mother living with me, and me calling the police to have my father committed again after getting a call from a friend that he was walking around the complex incoherent. It would continue, having him recommitted after threats of suicide, and awful panic attacks and delusions. We would go through periods of not talking, overcoming changes in providers, changes in medications, and pulling favors to keep him out of jail and in facilities that could keep him longer than a few days. Constant exhaustion, travelling down to Tacoma to help him, and fear every time the phone would ring lasted until the last call I got, in June, when I found out he had ended his life. Being his daughter was the hardest, but also the most rewarding job I have ever had. I miss him all the time, and there’s not a day that goes by that I still wonder if there was more than I could have done. He was, and always be, a proud Veteran and an inspiration.  He was a man who fell through the cracks, and suffered far longer than any of us thought that he would.

2012 also saw the passing of my fur baby Mia. We didn’t see it coming, and she was such a trooper, trying to make us happy even in her last moments. She was an amazing pup, and I am grateful for the time that we had.

It wasn’t all bad, of course!  There were great things as well.

I made the resolution to write more, and to just put myself out there. I start posting my blog to people who weren’t strangers. It was odd to put myself out there, but good to share my crafts, recipes and adventures with people.

My Mom moved into her own place, and started a life on her own as a single gal. I know that the changes weren’t easy on her. She handled it with courage and grace, and I am so proud of her.

In early 2012, Nick and I made the decision to start trying to conceive a tiny life of our own. It was scary and amazing, and after close to 4 months, we were able to announce to a very select few that we had hit the baby jack pot, and then started to share the news publicly in July, after we were sure that we’d be able to maintain the pregnancy after losing my Dad.  Here we are 9 months later, about to give birth to our Tiny Beast. I am still excited and scared for everything that she will bring and teach me.  She’s measuring around 7 lbs, and I have just over a week to go, in theory.

We travelled!  Our favorite trips were to Montana and Wyoming, where I scared the crap out of Nick by moving bison with my newly pregnant self, which resulted in my promising that I’ll be a little more careful. Which was followed up with me dragging Nick through a marsh, chasing elk for the perfect picture. We hiked, camped, and spent lazy days at the beach eating delicious fresh sea critters.

My bestie and I found that small breweries couldn’t handle the two of us getting pregnant at the same time, and we saw the closing of our favorite brewery. We powered through pregnancy and made it look awesome. I was and am glad to have had her to go through this process with someone.

We found new love in Kip, an abandoned fur baby, who has fit in perfectly with us. He makes us laugh every day, and I can’t wait to have Kip and the baby spend time together. I want every day that he has with us to be so fabulous that he forgets about the abusive past that he had.

Work was also good-I challenged myself to do more, to work harder, and learn more about the role. I took on new projects, and had more fun than I thought I would. I can’t wait to see what 2013 will bring for me, the programs I work with, and for the company.

I took on new culinary adventures, pickling, canning and jamming new treats. I braised, I roasted and I baked. I drank my way through multiple countries via wines and beers, and shared toasts with friends.

I am so grateful for amazing friends, the support they have provided, and for all of the good times I have had. I am also grateful for the hard times, as they made the good that much sweeter.

For 2013, my resolutions are to do as much good as I can for those in need, to teach Isabella about her world, and to be strong for her at all times. I want to continue be an amazing partner for Nick, and make sure he knows every day how lucky I am to have him in my life.  I want to strengthen my friendships, now that life is quieter on some fronts. I vow to eat bacon, and to continue my culinary adventures. I want to take on new art projects, and to get in more photography.  I’ll try to forgive myself over things I have no control over, and to be ok with the past. I’ll continue to blog and share my silly stories with you all.

Here’s to all of you, as you leave the last year, and welcome the new year ahead!  I leave you with this:

Best,
Raina

Unless you count a combination of a cuss word and another word. Because I sure do.

I now (in theory) have less than 3 weeks and the Braxton-Hicks have come to visit.  Tiny Beast is still head down, and we have another appointment in less than a week, and the following, until she gets here.

Oh, contractions. I appreciate that you are practice for the real thing. It’s like a light warm up before the race. Of course I totally forgot that, and started holding my breath and making faces like something smelly had just sat next to me on the couch. Which, by the way, is not a recommended look while at Babies R Us. Nick reminded me that this is a good time to start practicing my breathing, so that when the real stuff comes down, It’ll be second nature.

I started to make squidgy face at him, before I realized he was right (yet again).

So, the past few days have been spent practicing breathing.

Wait.

Not like normal breathing. I am pretty set on my skills doing that. I’m practicing that special, not quite hyperventilating, pregnant lady breathing that you learn in a class. Also, not to be done at Babies R Us. People tend to worry and think you’re going to drop a kid right there in the bedding aisle.

Aside from practicing my mad breathing skills, I have also apparently been nesting. Now, this isn’t the earlier cleaning and gutting of my house that was more Rambo-style. Oh no…this is ‘everything must be in its’ proper spot, or I will freak out, and you’ll have to do it all over again, if you’re the one screwed enough to get stuck helping me do stuff’ type cleaning.

For example: I made a quilt holder out of willow reeds, and placed tiny stuffed animals on it, so it looks like a happy little forest wonderland on the wall. From this hangs a banner I made from paper, fabric, letters and dried flowers. It’s really a pretty wall, but clearly overly thought out.

When it came time to put the quilt up (a beautiful antique, hand embroidered alphabet quilt), Nick had to do the honors, since I couldn’t get behind the crib or close enough to the wall without smooshing my ever-growing belly. Within seconds I realized that the quilt looked horrible, and had him take it down. Along with it, came the tiny forest creatures. Nick put them back up and started to hand me the quilt, only to see the look of “WTF” on my face. He spent the next few minutes trying to rearrange the critters to the exact specifications that I was trying to convey through what can be best described as vague and including interpretive dance.

Sigh. Again, I have an incredibly patient man. I may have also lost my mind.

Along with nesting comes cleaning. Yep. I have Charlies Soap for the diapers, Dreft for the clothes,  organic hippy cleaners for everything that the baby could touch. Clearly companies that make cleaners market to the pregnant freaks…and it works. So here’s how I envision me in the nesting phase:

Thank you Hyperbole and a Half for a meme that sums up everything that makes late-stage pregnancy crazy.

Thankfully, the nesting comes in waves, so I can still manage to be a normal human being most of the time. Meh. Less than 3 weeks, and I can transition into a new phase of sleep-deprived craziness. At least I’ll have company with Nick not sleeping either.

Here’s to cleaning all the things (in reasonable moderation)!
Raina

I don’t know if this is a sign that Nick and I are ready for maternity/paternity leave or what, but it made me chuckle and I had to share.

Nick came in to my office earlier today while I was finishing lunch to say, “Did you know screens come in different sizes?” He started to go on, but it was too darn funny to not stop him and remind him that this conversation was awfully familiar, as over a year ago, it was ME asking HIM this very same question (clearly the screen situation never got completely resolved, after a cat decided to chew his way through the screen. Again.)

Not to be deterred from getting in a laugh, I continued; “I remember having this very same conversation with you, and you said ‘yes, they do as windows come in different sizes’ and something about setting myself up for success! I even blogged about it!”.

This wasn’t as funny to him as it was to me, as he continued on, super unfazed by my wit, to say that McLendon’s has screen workshops and repair events, and that he still has no idea why I was using scissors to fix anything.

Touche.

Either way, it looks like all of the screens on the house will get repaired AND i had a chance to quote my own blog (located: here), even though my point totally fell flat.

I may just have an incredibly patient man.

So here’s to letting someone else play Bob Villa, even if they don’t appreciate your creative tool usage.

Raina

I posted this to Facebook, and then realized, not all of my readers know me in real life and are on my Facebook page. I’m somewhat political, more so around women’s rights, but definitively so around mental health care. A change is needed, and while gun reform is something that is needed as well, it feels…well…like a band-aid. Good to stop the bleeding, but not the cause of the injury. My heart bleeds for the families. It terrifies me to think I could bring my child to school and home from the morgue in the same day.

It terrifies me that shootings happen in schools far too often, but they are in poor, and usually non-white neighborhoods. It breaks my heart that mass genocide happens daily in other countries, as well. There is heartbreak and tragedy everywhere. Does that limit my hurt for the families in Connecticut? Of course not, it’s a reminder than we live in a cruel world and that more love and compassion are needed.

We don’t just a better band-aid, but a better way to prevent the injury itself.  Do I have the answers? No, but I have enough compassion to say something, to hold the ones I love and to not turn my back on those in need, near and far. To you, dear reader, may you go into the world, help who you are able, and hopefully leave your little corner of it a little better than when you came to it.

The post:

I’m probably going to piss someone off with the post that follows. If that’s you, I apologize in advance for how you view my thoughts. This is my stance, and you’re welcome to take it or leave it.
1. While I appreciate seeing the faces of the children who died in CT, real change doesn’t start with an empty action. We can remember tragedy in our heads and hearts, but taking real action requires more than posting a picture. CHANGE to the status of mental health care in America will guarantee less crimes like this. Supporting parents of severely mentally ill children and adults will help ensure that there is enough energy to go around and that all people get what they need to survive. Call your local government official. Vote for money to be place where it needs to be placed: Social Service.
2. For those of you who have this to say about why the tragedy happened-“This is what happens when you don’t let God in”, or “God doesn’t go where he isn’t welcomed” Imagine me pinching my nose and squinting my eyes. My last understanding is that God is all loving, and supportive. That feels like a dick-move and a crap agenda. Again, my two cents on this. My gut says to say “Shut Up”, but that’s your belief, so I’ll let it go.
3. Gun ownership. Now, most people don’t know, I am a gun owner. I believe in the right to ownership, but I believe in people having reasonable access, and a boat load of training. I also believe that if you own guns, you better damn well ensure that they don’t fall into the wrong hands. Lock it up, protect the key. Use common sense. As far as whether more guns in school would have prevented this: Please see issue #1. 

Cheers
Raina

Today was potentially my last day working from the office before Tiny Beast gets here. She’s been head down for a while, and I’m starting to dilate. In theory, I have less than 4 weeks, but this little bear has a mind of her own. At yesterdays appointment, the midwife suggested more rest, less hours, and working from home. There were other recommendations in there, like pick a day to stop working. She and Nick didn’t seem to keen on my answer, “My last day is when I go into labor”.

So here I am…

It’s odd thinking that she could come any time. It’s odd that I get to work from home full time. It’s just plain odd that I am no longer in control. I’m trying really hard to let that go, but as it turns out…I suck at that.  Here’s to trying.

A few weeks ago, I felt hiccups for the first time. From inside. That weren’t mine. It was the most amazing, yet weird experience yet. Movement, I get. Hiccups, just another experience. I do have to say that it makes me giggle now, feeling the tiny jolts that make my belly slightly expand rhythmically. It’s nice to know she’s doing well in there, and that she and I know what’s happening, but no one else does. I’ll admit I probably look nuts smiling down at my belly, trying not to laugh.

I also think…man, what are you doing in there that you get the hiccups so often? Who knows.

Outside of baby-ness, things are good. Nick is clocking close to 70 hours this week at work, and we’re trying to arrange a guys night for him, and dinner for our friends. Busy days!  We picked up a tree, which is sitting in it’s stand, undecorated. Meh-we’ll get to it tomorrow. Saturday, my Mom is coming up to help with some house stuff and to cook us a big dinner. We’re trying to hang out as much as possible, without me getting overwhelmed/annoyed. Moms are great, just in small doses. We may get in some photography and shopping.

Craft-wise, I have some photos I want to enter in some contests, and there’s the food blog that needs updating. I have a few sewing projects to complete this week and next, as well.

Other than that?  It’s put up my feet, relax, get in some dog park time and wait. Not a bad way to spend the winter. 🙂

What’s on tap for you all this December?

Here’s to the final weeks wrapping up!

Cheers,
Raina