Please Don't Call Child Services

I've been working really hard over the past few weeks on Matthew's baby book. I'd really like him to have something when he's older to know what life was really like when he was a baby especially if, God forbid, something should happen to Jonathan or I. The book had a few pages set aside for us to make prints of his hands and feet, and I finally got the special ink the mail (I don't know if you really NEED special ink, but I wasn't taking any chances so I paid an arm and a leg for baby-safe ink designed especially for making hand/foot prints).

Anyways, Jonathan was home this afternoon so, after a feeding and diaper change (Matthew, not Jonathan), I enlisted his help to get this done. Jonathan held him while I pressed the ink pads against his feet and then his hands. Wiggle worm that he is, it didn't take long before Jonathan AND MJ were COVERED in ink. Even when we tried to wipe the ink off, he continued to wiggle, getting ink all over ME. We gave up. Bath-time.

When we put in him in the tub, I was finally able to REALLY assess the damage and, well. . . take a look for yourself. . .

I swear we really were trying to take his hand and foot prints. We didn't just roll him in ink, despite how things look.

But we at least got the prints, right? Wrong.

If you went purely by these prints, you'd think my son had alien hands and is missing a toe on one foot. Sorry, Matthew. I hope the rest of the book makes up for this epic fail.

Splish, Splash, MJ's Taking a Bath

After what seemed like forever, MJ's umbilical stump FINALLY fell off (yes, he's my child and I love him, but that thing totally grossed me out), and Jonathan and I decided it was time to give him his first real bath. I was prepared for screaming and crying and generally making a scene so I took a preemptive Advil but--SURPRISE--MJ took it like a champ! He was definitely in sensory overload, but he just gave us concerned looks--no cries. This kid ROCKS!

Preparing the bath. Notice the "what's going on, guys?" look.

First dose of water produced a few gasps and another "what in the WORLD?!" look.

He seemed to actually enjoy the soap. Or the event was so traumatizing that he couldn't even manage a cry; he just sucked on his fingers and pretended he was somewhere else.

All done and snuggling with mom. Jonathan loves the look he's giving me in this picture.

Of course, Oskar supervised the entire process.

OKB kisses.

More OKB kisses. (At this point, I think he was just trying to lick the lotion off MJ's fingers.)

Jonathan gets a kick out of brushing Matthew's hair. His favorite is the old man comb-over.

We also had to try a faux-hawk.

So now we have a fresh and clean little boy with fantastic hair. That's a good day in my book. :)

A Few of Our Favorite Pics. . .

While my sister was here last week, she took some photos of Matthew for us (one of the advantages of having a sister who's a photographer!) We'd like to share a few of our favorites here:

LOVE this one! Not only can you see his big beautiful eyes, he's wearing my favorite outfit: the wiener dog onesie made by my good friend and former neighbor, Margie. Love it!

A little smile! Yes, it's probably just gas, but it's still cute!

Precious little baby feet. . .

This one was totally my sister's idea; she was dying to use one of her newborn props. I think it's totally cute, but Jonathan thinks it's girly.

I swear Oskar really does love Matty. He just hates getting his picture taken. As sad as it is, this is the best one we could get out of him. He went and hid under the bed after this was taken.

My little boy smiled for his mommy. ;)

I think this is one of the most beautiful pictures I've ever seen.

Our little family ( minus the grumpy wiener dog.)

If you want to see more or even order some, visit our share site. If you like what you see and are interested in seeing more of my sister's work and/or hiring her to take some of YOUR pictures, visit her website here. (See, Erin? Check out this free advertising!)

Red Rock Canyon

My sister and her son came to Las Vegas to visit for a few days and see Matthew. It was so nice having some help with the feedings and changings . . . and it was so nice to have an excuse to leave Matty with his Daddy and go out and explore Nevada! With temperatures hovering around 110 and Matty needing to eat every 3 hours, it's impossible to get out and do too much. And anyone who knows me knows I can only stand sitting around the house for so long before I go stir crazy. In addition, I'm getting pretty antsy knowing that I'm not pregnant anymore but I STILL can't go work out. The only exercise I'm cleared to do is walk and, although I walk Oskar twice a day, it's pretty boring walking around our sub-division over and over. ("Look, Oskar! It's a house! Look, Oskar. . . it's ANOTHER house!") So when my sister said that she really wanted to get out of the city and see some of the Nevada desert, I jumped at the chance. Since I'd already been up to Mt. Charleston, I suggested we head out to Red Rock Canyon, which is only a short 20 minute drive away. So after giving Jonathan 4 pages of instructions (okay, so I didn't actually write everything down. . . but there was at least a 20 minute lecture), I left Baby Matthew for the first time and headed out into the desert with my sister and Gabe.

Red Rock Canyon. . .

It was killing me not to just go off hiking through this scenery. But I followed the doctor's orders and took it easy by just stopping to pose for pictures.

I will always be a Midwestern girl at heart, but the desert landscape is growing on me. It is pretty breath-taking in its own way. . .

Okay, so we did do a LITTLE bit of hiking up into the mountains, but we didn't get far. We hoped to get far enough up the mountain to see some of the rock etchings left by ancient Native Americans, but Gabe swore he was going to pass out from the heat. So we turned back.

It was a beautiful afternoon expedition and a welcome break from the demands of mommyhood, but I was relieved to get back and hold Matthew again. (Jonathan did just fine, as I knew he would. . . but HE needed a break by the time I got back.) I'm excited to go back when the weather's cooler, Matthew's a little older, and I have the doctor's permission to hike until my heart's content. :)

Introducing. . . Matthew James Wright!

If you follow my blog, you know that my due date is August 26. Well, God and Baby W. apparently had other plans. Matthew James Wright was born August 1 at 0640. He weighed in at 6 lbs, 4 oz and was 19.5 inches long.

And here's the story of how it happened. . .

Beginning around the middle of last week, I started feeling a little funny. I was extremely exhausted and just not feeling well. Not feeling sick, just not feeling well. On our Thursday night walk with Oskar, I told Jonathan I had a feeling that Baby W.'s arrival was just around the corner. My guess was within the next two weeks. On Friday, we had our household goods delivered (FINALLY!), and we spent the next two days unpacking and arranging our house. I tried to take it easy, but anyone who has ever PCS'd knows how much work there is to do, and I just could not sit by and make my husband do everything by himself. By the time Sunday rolled around, I was physically drained. I actually slept until almost 10:30 that morning (quite a feat considering Baby W. normally starts punching my bladder and demanding food around 7:30 every day). The day was supposed to be a lazy one; a bit of cleaning, a bit of laundry, and a lot of catching up on rest. I had plans to clean the whole house (I may be pregnant, but I'm still OCD-clean) but was exhausted after completing only the upstairs portion. Jonathan went to the store to get a few groceries, and I settled down on the couch to relax for a bit.

When he returned, we decided burgers on the grill would be on the menu tonight, so Jonathan went to work preparing his patties. Once finished, he put them in the fridge to let them marinate for a bit and settled down on the couch with me to watch the Cubs vs. Cardinals game. All of the sudden, I felt a pop and a gush. It was like I was peeing my pants and couldn't stop. I jumped up. "I think my water just broke!" I yelled. I ran to the bathroom, holding my crotch, hoping I didn't drip anything on the floor (especially urine, for which Jonathan would have made fun of me mercilessly). When I got to the bathroom, I discovered it definitely was NOT urine and yelled for Jonathan to call the hospital. He turned into Superman. Within minutes, he had changed clothes, packed a bag for me, taken Oskar out to go potty, and had me in the car on the way to the hospital.

I wasn't having any contractions; in fact, I wasn't having kind of pain or discomfort at all. I was so worried I was going to show up and be told I had just peed my pants. By the time we got to the hospital, I was back-tracking my story. "Well, I think my water broke. I don't know. Maybe not." The ER sent me up to Labor and Delivery, where I met a wonderful nurse named Chloe who started running some tests on me to determine if my water actually broke. 4 hours and 3 tests later, it was confirmed that my water did indeed break. We had to wait for the doctor to come before beginning the induction process, so Jonathan went home to take Oskar for a walk and get me some food (no burgers on the grill for me tonight; he came back with Del Taco, the only thing open at 2300). Once Dr. Barnes showed up, we decided that because I wasn't having any contractions at all, I should first be given medicine to soften my cervix and make it "ripen" (doctor's words, not mine--totally gross) for induction. I was only given half a dose of the medicine just to make sure it didn't adversely affect Baby W. They told me it would take about 4 hours to take effect; they would check on me at 0330 and then begin the induction process. They estimated that I would probably actually give birth Monday night. My body had other plans.

Jonathan and I settled in to try and get some sleep; after all, it seemed like labor was going to be a LONG process, and I was already exhausted. However, about an hour after the "ripening" medicine, I began to have contractions. Each one seemed more painful than the last, and they seemed to be rapidly getting closer and closer together. I didn't understand it. This wasn't the way labor happened in movies. On screen, they were always timing the contractions (10 minutes apart! 8 minutes apart!), and it took awhile before they got so close together. I tried to grin and bear the pain for awhile, but I finally had to call Chloe in my room. Two doses of morphine later, and I was still in pain, but the doctor was adamant about not checking me until 0330. When that time finally came, I was writhing in agony and the doctor was in shock: I was already 6 cm. She paged frantically for the anesthesiologist to start my epidural but, in true military fashion, there were loads of queep and extraneous paperwork to be done before he could administer anything (although I had already filled out the necessary paperwork the week before, he "couldn't find" my signed copies). By time HE was finally ready, I was vomiting, crying, and pleading for something, anything, to make the pain stop. . . and was then told that it was too late for the epidural. It was time to push.

However, because I was in such extreme pain, I couldn't un-tense my muscles long enough to push. I was given a local anesthetic and an oxygen mask to help relax me, and away we went. Unfortunately, the anesthetic only lasted an hour; I had to push for two. After it wore off, however, the pain was so intense that the only thing I could to ease it WAS push. But my body was wearing out. I was more exhausted than I'd ever been in my entire life. As Jonathan put it, it was like I was doing crunches and holding it for 10 seconds 3 times every minute for two hours. The doctor kept telling me that Baby W. was almost there, almost there! But after two hours of hearing that, I stopped believing her. Baby W. was not coming out. He was just going to live with the top of his head sticking out of my lady parts for the rest of his life. This was never going to end. I was deliriously tired at that point, but I distinctly remember looking at Jonathan's face as he stood beside me, watching me push (gasp! he actually looked!), and I knew by the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing: this kid is NOT coming out. In desperation, I demanded that Baby W. GET OUT RIGHT NOW! Yes, I really did say that out-loud to my unborn child. Great start to mothering, huh? And then, just like that, he was there.

It's standard procedure to keep pre-term babies at the hospital for 48 hours. So I sent Jonathan home for some much-needed sleep (and to check on Oskar) while I tried to figure this whole "mommy" thing out.

So it was YOU who made me vomit every day for the first 15 weeks, gave me HORRIBLE heart-burn every night for the last 15 weeks, forced me to get up every hour to go pee, AND caused me to experience the most excruciating pain I've ever felt in my life? Ahh, well. . . you're worth it. ;)

Proud papa. . .

As you can see, he's pretty much perfect.

After almost 70 hours total in the hospital, I was so ready to GO HOME! The doctors and the nurses were all wonderful, but I missed Oskar and I was so ready to have my family complete again. And honestly, I just hate hospitals. After what seemed like forever, we finally had discharge paperwork, and we were free to go.

All in all, it was the most painful, horrible, and yet amazing experience of my life. However, I am not one of those women who has immediately forgotten the "painful" and "horrible" parts of it and says "Let's do that AGAIN!" as soon as the umbilical cord is cut. I have a beautiful, perfect newborn son; a loving, caring husband; and an adorable, loyal wiener dog. My life is bliss. :)