A Final Note to Baby Sully

Oh, Mr. Sullivan.  Our little bobcat.  The bulldozer.  The bubster.  Tonight is the last night of your infancy.  Your babyhood was such a flash.  It is like all 25 of your pounds has been sitting right on the accelerator pedal of life, driving us faster and more furiously through these 365 days than any ones in my memory.  And tomorrow you will wake up with your first year behind you.  Not so old at all, but the way you are gunning through life, I know that we aren't slowing down.

You are such a lively kid.  We wanted you for months before you came around and you haven't disappointed us.  You are the keystone of our family and it seems strange that we were ever 3.  You slipped in last fall and have made yourself indispensable.  Whether or not you are the last baby, you have completed this family in a way I didn't even imagine was possible.  What Violet started, you have taken and run away with.  From the sweet half smile that your have been flashing since you were a newborn to the new words you are forming (Mamamamama and buh-bye), you have told us in no uncertain terms that you are here to love life and we might as well come along with you.  So we will.  Following along beside you, high fiving and watching your fluffy, sea anemone hair toddle through the next year.  Love you, little guy.

FIVE

Dear Violet,

You are one hell of a human hour glass.  Cannot believe you turn 5 this weekend.  You are a lovely and loved child.

xoxoxo

The Measure of a Year

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I got the first confirmation that Sullivan was on his way.  A very faint pink line emerged in the window of a home pregnancy test on the morning of February 26th, 2012.  I would go on to pee on no fewer than a dozen tests over the next couple of weeks, always fearful that my elusive second line would fade away along with the hopes of having a second child.

Clearly, the line stuck and the baby was a keeper.  And how incredibly grateful we are for that and for little Sullivan.  Even after the first ultrasound just weeks after conception, the one where Shawn and I saw his little heartbeat for the very first time, I worried incessantly.    Each time I went to the bathroom, I worried that there would be blood and that the pregnancy would end.  I worried when I didn't show immediately.  Until I felt those first movements in May, I worried daily.  What an exhausting time that was.

And now, he is here.  Our little "Mystery Baby,"  the boy who surprised us by being a boy, turned 16 weeks old yesterday.  In those brief weeks, Sullivan has become such a part of the family.  I guess when a baby is so wanted, their place in the clan is being held and it makes it that much easier for them to slide right in.

Violet is a natural sister, it is astounding that she has only been doing it for 4 months.  The joy they take in each other is greater than anything I could have hoped for.  He reserves his biggest, gummiest grins for Violet and her off-key song and dance routines she creates for him.  And even on her crabbiest mornings, Sully can coax a softness out of Violet that is off-limits to me and Shawn.  Their relationship is so pure, it just makes me melt.  I know there will be whining and sibling squabbles in the future, but I am enjoying every moment of this magic they have together right now.

So the gift of Sullivan keeps on getting better.  I am savoring motherhood this time around in a way that I couldn't with Violet.  Laying in bed and nursing is never something I don't have the time for.  So what if there have been stacks of laundry waiting to be put away for 6 days?  I get to things when I get to them and don't feel too stressed about it in the meantime.  And Shawn and I are right on the same page, in sync with parenthood and with each other.  Eating dinner together as a family of four is the best part of the day.  Shawn and I share a beer, take turns holding Sully, buttering Violet's bread, and clearing the dishes.  Of course there are still less-than-perfect moments.  The times when we react too sharply to a knocked over glass of juice or run out of patience when it comes to an argument over tooth-brushing, but mostly we are doing a good job appreciating what we have.  That is the biggest gift that Sullivan brought with him. 

The Birth of Sullivan Ray

Back in autumn of 2008, when I'd been a mother for only a couple dozen weeks, I knew that mothering was my bread and butter--the thing I would work the hardest at at, be the best at, and enjoy more than anything else I'd ever done.

Loving Violet flipped a switch in my head, and there was no turning back.  I'd say 99% of mothers end up feeling this way--the remaining 1% leave their babies in dumpsters or in alleys.  I know it's not unique, this kind of life transformation, but it sure feels unique when it happens to you.  From the time Violet was only a few months old, I wanted a sibling for her, and another baby for myself; I wanted our family to grow.  And, because motherhood was my calling, I wanted to improve at it as I went forward.

Part of my quest to be the best Mama I could be began with my plans for a better birth for Baby Pierce #2.  Violet's birth was the best learning experience I've had in all of my life, even though it was NOT the birth experience I had hoped for.  I can see that now, through the lens of where I am 4.5 years later.  I could not see that immediately after she was born.  During the years that followed, all I saw was a big scar on my stomach that could have been avoided had I been better informed.  The particularly infuriating thing about the choices that lead me to a cesarean section was that these choices would haunt me for the rest of my childbearing years.  That scar on my uterus really limited my options for all subsequent births.  The OB that performed the c-section was clear about that.  But, by narrowing my choices, I was forced to make very well thought out, very well researched decisions this time around.  I don't know if I would have had the same outcome without the kind of planning that attempting a VBAC required from me.   And I know I wouldn't have learned as much.  So, that primary c-section did serve a purpose--two purposes, actually.  It made me a Mama to an angelic little girl and it taught me a lot about being my own best advocate.

Preparations

So after what seemed like an interminable wait to get pregnant (talk about a growth experience in life--wow), I got a positive pregnancy test on February 26th, 2012.  The preparation for a vbac had already begun before that test result, but as the weeks ticked by and I realized this pregnancy was going to stick, I kicked myself into high gear to find a health care provider who would support my choice.  Indianapolis's go-to natural birth ob-gyn retired from practice in February, the same month I finally got pregnant.  After the doc who delivered Violet had refused my request for a trial of labor with a future pregnancy, I had transferred to her care.  She shared an office with two other ob-gyns who both have decent reputations for being low-intervention, but I really wanted to do my own research and find the right provider rather than choosing hastily this time around.

So, the (frustrating, annoying, time-consuming) task of interviewing providers began.  If you haven't called a doctor's office lately requesting an appointment to just meet the doctor before becoming a patient, you may think I am exaggerating.  Doctors do not like to be interviewed.  Speaking to the office staff to try to set up such a meeting is like calling your mechanic to schedule your root canal.

Office Staff:  "So you want to schedule a new patient visit?  We'll need you to have your records faxed to our office prior to coming in."

Me:  "Well, I don't want to transfer my care yet, I would just like to meet with Dr. XYZ to see if he might be a good fit for me."

Office Staff:  "So, that's not a new patient visit.  I don't know how to code that."

Me:  "Okay.  Sorry.  Can I still make the appointment?"

Office Staff:  "Can you hold?"

And so it went.  With all four doctors.  And one hospital based midwifery practice.  The home birth midwife was much more used to being interviewed, but was still really hard to get an appointment with.  So through this process, I continued seeing Dr. Gallagher, the ob-gyn with the decent reputation who shared an office with my now retired natural-birth friendly ob. Around 30 weeks, I met with a midwife who was simply wonderful, but for a variety of reasons, mostly bureaucratic, I decided to remain in the care of Dr. Gallagher for this birth.

Equally as important was my quest to find a doula to guide me through the birth process.  I had read that women with a doula are at a much less likely to undergo a c-section than women who go it alone or rely solely on their partners for birth support.  My friend Haddie (who would have been my doula had she not up and moved to Florida) told me to interview at least 3 doulas to see who I best clicked with.  I'm so glad that she suggested this, because, while all 3 were excellent, the last doula I met with, Jenny, was a perfect fit for me.  I simply cannot imagine this birth without her there.  She worked so hard to try to help me have a good, safe, birth.  Jenny was instrumental in making sure I followed through with my desires.

By October, I had pretty much laid all the groundwork for a VBAC.  I spent my pregnancy with Violet buying baby clothes and thumbing through Pottery Barn Kids catalogues.  This pregnancy I purchased virtually nothing and spent my time reading Ina May Gaskin's Spiritual Midwifery.  I prepared for birth in a whole different way, determined to have ownership over the process this time.  That preparation was key, it turns out, because I was more than ready to throw in the towel on several occasions.

A Change of Plans

The end of October was the hardest.  I didn't know if I could still have the VBAC that I'd been trying to orchestrate for 9 months.  I didn't know if I even still wanted that VBAC.  But when I walked into my doctor's office for my 39 week appointment and the ultrasound revealed a breech baby, I felt like I had been coldcocked.  All along, there were a few situations that I knew would automatically disallow me a vaginal birth.   Breech presentation was one of those things.  So that Monday morning, Dr. Gallagher gave me my options, such as they were.  I could schedule a cesarean for the following morning, I could schedule for Wednesday-Halloween-morning, or I could schedule for that weekend.  I spoke to Shawn, and we decided Saturday, November 3rd would be best.  That allowed me to go all the way to my due date, which I wanted, and it gave Shawn time to wrap up loose ends at work in order to take time off. 

That week of Halloween was an emotional tug-of-war.  I felt simultaneously terrified about the impending surgery and somewhat relieved that the uncertainty of a natural birth was gone.  I would have to have an icky surgery on Saturday, sure, but by lunchtime, I'd be holding my new baby.  The only way out was if the baby could somehow miraculously turned and assumed a head-down position before Saturday.  After speaking with my doula Jenny, my friend Haddie, and a few others, I decided that, even if the chances were slim, I had to at least try to get the baby to turn before surrendering to a section.  I had worked too hard to prepare for a vaginal birth to sit around all week waiting to have a c-section without even trying to flip that baby.

So try I did.  I shined a flashlight on my belly.  I did yoga poses to help the baby rotate.  Violet and Shawn talked to my belly and encouraged Mystery Baby to put turn his head toward their voice .  Finally, on Friday, November 2nd, in a last ditch effort to avoid my appointment with a scalpel the following morning, I visited a chiropractor.  She performed "The Webster Method" on me to turn the baby and gave me homework to go home and spend as much time as possible on my hands and knees.  I stopped at Le Peep and enjoyed one granola blueberry pancake on my way home--figuring it was my last breakfast pre-baby--and then did my best to spend as much time on hands and knees as I could while I organized the new baby's room.  I was in a foul mood that day.  I hated that my lovely pregnancy was going to end with a c-section.

My mom spent the night at our house that night so she could be with Ms. Vi in the morning.  It was the worst night of sleep I can recall in recent memory (and that is saying quite a bit because as I write this I have a newborn).  I was awake worrying most of the night.  Shawn and I arrived at the hospital shortly after 6 am for surgery.  We were checked in and they put me in a triage bed to get me prepped.  I asked the nurse if I could still have a final ultrasound to make sure the baby was breech and had not turned.  She spent the next 20 minutes trying to track down an ultrasound tech to perform the scan. There must not be a surplus of them in the hospital on a Saturday morning because we wited so long I almost said forget about it.  A midwife walked through triage after we'd been waiting quite awhile and said she could do the ultrasound.  It took her all of 20 seconds from the time she turned the machine on to put the wand on my pelvis and declare the baby head down.

I was stunned!  I hadn't felt anything resembling a fetal somersault in the 5 days since the previous ultrasound.  Nonetheless, Shawn told me he had never seen me dress faster than I did that morning when I slipped out of my gown and back into my clothes!  I felt like a dead man walking as we left the hospital.  We had packed for a 3 day stay, so I'm sure we looked bizarre walking out loaded with bags, big sister gifts, pillows, and a still pregnant woman.  We stopped at the coffee shop in the lobby as we left.  Let me tell you, a cup of coffee has never tasted so good!  Despite being super-relieved to get out of surgery (at least for the time being), I couldn't shake the feeling that I had forfeited my baby when we left empty-handed.

When we got home, we had some explaining to do to my Mom and Violet.  I knew everyone else would understand, but I was worried that Violet would freak out when we walked back through the door with no baby.  She had been so very patient and now was so very excited to meet her new baby.  All day Friday, we had been telling her "Tomorrow is the day!" and now we had to circle back on that promise.  She took the news much better than expected.  After enjoying breakfast with my Mom, I took a nap and we made the baby-delay up to Violet by taking her to go see Wreck-It Ralph.  It was a rainy, cold, Saturday and I had never loved being pregnant so much!

Wow--just realized that is an awful big lead up.  Now, onto the actual birth of this kiddo!

Go (and go and go and go and go)Time!

The day after the missed c-section was Sunday, November 4th.   I took Violet to the mall to distract both of us and to walk, walk, walk the baby out.  While we were in Urban Outfitters, I felt what I now know was my water breaking.  It was such a slight trickle, however, that I just was not sure.  We came home, had dinner, and went about our normal Sunday night business.  Shawn had procured a sub for all of his classes for the week (since we were supposed to have a baby on Saturday) so he called his department head, cancelled the sub, and we all went back on baby-watch.  We went to bed that night as usual.  I woke up to pee multiple times that night (as usual).  However, after my 2:30 am pee trip,  the water that had been only leaking up until now broke with a gush.   I woke Shawn up to confirm that this was indeed, what was happening, and he agreed that, to the best of his limited knowledge, it seemed like my water had broken.

We were both very excited and going back to sleep was not possible.  I was having mild contractions and felt like I should give the doctor a call.  I spoke with Dr. Gallagher at 3:30 am.  She (in a very sleepy voice) told me to take a shower, eat some breakfast, and head into the hospital.  We pretty much did just that.  I texted my mom and my doula, showered and prepared to go to the hospital.  Though my contractions were still mild, I knew that my doc wanted to start antibiotics soon because I was positive for Group B Strep at 37 weeks.  I had done a lot of research on GBS and had decided that, though I wasn't excited about it, I would receive the antibiotics intravenously to attempt to prevent the transmissions of the bacteria to the baby.  Though it is usually harmless, IV antibiotics are hospital protocol and I didn't want to fight a battle over that point when I had so many other things to worry about.  After my mom arrived and before Violet woke up, Shawn and I left for the hospital for the 2nd time in two days to have the baby.

When we were parking the car in the garage at Methodist, I got a text from my doula.  She was warning me that being admitted to the hospital before being in active labor decreased my chances of a natural birth.  Though I knew this and had planned all along not to go to the hospital until labor was well underway, the breaking of my water had really thrown me for a loop.  On the one hand, labor had not really started yet.  I was contracting, but only mildly and the contractions all but stopped when I sat or lay down.  On the other hand, my water had broken and I knew that my doctor wanted me on antibiotics.  We faced a really tough decision, but, once again, my desire for best odds for a VBAC won out.  We headed home baby-less again.  My mom and Violet were again pretty surprised to see us!

I spent that morning walking all over the house, going up and down the stairs, and bouncing on the birth ball.  While I could work up a pretty decent contraction pattern in motion, it would fall apart if I rested.  Around 10am my doc called me wondering why I hadn't checked into the hospital yet.  I explained my apprehension about heading in before I was in active labor.  She understood, but still wanted me to get started on antibiotics sooner rather than later.  We agreed that I would come in sometime shortly after lunch.  It was a clear, brisk day.  Shawn and I put on our coats and went for a long walk around our neighborhood to try to jump start my contractions.  The things I most remember about that walk were the uncomfortable feeling of leaking amniotic fluid every dozen steps and the way every one's jackolanterns were starting to collapse.

After the walk, we headed to the hospital for the final time.  I was feeling like a fugitive for hiding out for so long and just wanted to comply with the doctor so she didn't hate me.  She was going to have to be my ally through this and I didn't want her pissed off at the beginning.  I also felt like our walk had helped and that my contractions might be going somewhere.  So we checked in around 1pm.  The hospital was much busier than it had been the morning just two days earlier when we'd checked in for the c-section.  After some confusion, the staff got me to a labor and delivery room around 2pm.  My contractions had slowed down quite a bit.

I was a bit dismayed that I had been assigned a male Labor and Delivery nurse.  He looked sort of like Santa and wasn't who I had pictured working with during this first stage of my birth experience.  He put my IV in and got me started on my first round of antibiotics.  After those were administered, Shawn and I left the room and started walking the halls.  Jenny arrived, we chatted, and she left to get some dinner while I tried to stay in motion.  Shawn and I walked the Labor and Delivery floor non-stop that evening.

At 8pm, the nurses shift changed and I got a break.  My murse (my bff Jen's term for a male nurse) went off shift and I got a new nurse.  Melissa--wonderful Melissa--had taken over my care.   I had actually been assigned another nurse that evening, but Melissa traded so that she could be with me because she has a passion for natural birth.  I really cannot say enough good things about Melissa and the role that she played in helping our baby get here.  There were lots of people who made my vbac possible, and she was pretty clutch.


My doc went off shift that night and her partner, Dr. L,  was in charge of my care.  Around the time the nurses shift changed, Dr. L had ordered me to start a pitocin drip to get a regular labor pattern established.  I had MAJOR reservations about using pitocin at all since it can lead to uterine rupture in women with a prior section.  I really hoped that, with time, my body would call game on and get busy contracting without help.  Wonderful Melissa helped me advocate for just that.  Since the doctor was managing my care remotely, Melissa relayed to her that I felt okay waiting to start pitocin, especially since I had been on IV antibiotics for several hours.  I asked to be allowed to wait until 3am to discuss Pitoicin again.  That gave me a full 24 hours from the time my waters had broken at home to get some good contractions going.

The next several hours were just plain exhausting.  We spent the night trying everything imaginable to bring on stronger more frequent contractions.  We walked, we bounced, we swayed.  The whole time, what I really wanted to do was rest.  We were approaching the 24 hour mark with no sleep, and I was really feeling it.  Each time I would sit down, the contractions would weaken considerably.  It really felt like a catch-22:  I knew I needed to rest to have energy for the rest of labor but the only thing that kept my labor going was constant movement.  So, around 2 am, after a discussion with Dr. L via speaker phone, and considering Jenny and Melissa's input, I agreed to start a pitocin drip in my IV.  A cervical check--the first I had since labor began-- revealed I was dilated 3 cms at that point and I knew I had a long way to go.  Melissa started the drip at the lowest possible setting--1, which I believe correlates to 1 milliunit per minute--with the hopes that I could get some sleep while the pitocin did the work of keeping my labor going.  It was a good idea, and I did rest a bit, but sleep just wasn't going to come that night.

By sunrise that morning, I was contracting stronger and more regularly and having contractions that were really all consuming.  By the time the nurses changed shift around 7am, it seemed like there would be a baby very soon.  Little did I know, I was just getting started on the real difficult part of labor.   My new nurse, Dawn, was accompanied by a trainee nurse, whose name I flat out cannot remember.  Both nurses were very supportive, but honestly, I don't remember much about them other than their presence.  That morning, as my contractions came harder and more frequently than I felt was possible, it was my doula Jenny who kept me afloat.  Her encouragement and advice were like a lifeline for me, and I think Shawn felt the same way.

My doctor, Dr. Gallagher, was back in charge of my care that morning, and she paid me a visit as she headed into the office.  The doctor checked my cervix to see if the pitocin and stronger contractions were helping me progress.  At that point, I was dilated to 7cms.  Dr. Gallagher also felt a part of the bag of waters--a bubble of sorts--that had gotten pushed under the baby's head.  She felt that if she further ruptured the fore bag, it would allow the baby's head to press more firmly into my pelvis and make my cervix dilate the rest of the way.  The process of rupturing was easy and the doctor was right, it did quickly intensify my labor.

By 10 am the contractions were extremely intense and coming one on top of another.  I was managing--just barely--but I was managing with the knowledge that I would be holding my baby very soon.  So when my doctor came in to check my cervix for progress mid-morning and found no change, I was crushed. The nurses upped my pitocin to 7 milliunits and I started to lose it.  I had been laboring for over 30 hours, hadn't slept a wink, and was experiencing overwhelming contractions with little break in between each one.  I asked for help of the narcotic variety.

Though I had really wanted a drug free birth, since I had agreed to the pitocin drip, I had been tethered to an IV.  I also had to have constant fetal monitoring which severely limited my mobility.  I can't say how my pain relief techniques might have changed had I been able to move around freely, but I can say that I was at the end of my rope by that point.  Nubain was the drug of choice to try to get me some rest between contractions.  It does nothing--NOTHING--to numb the pain of a contraction when you are in the midst of it, but did allow me to relax more quickly and completely between each one.  I clearly remember Jenny leaning over me in the dark of that hospital room during each contraction telling me it would be over soon and I would get a break.  As quickly as they come, they go away.  She stroked my hair and I got so comfortable between each contraction, I almost fell asleep.

But as the pitocin was increased to 8 and the nubain wore off, I knew I was at my breaking point.  The exhaustion combined with the intensity of the contractions had me spent.  I asked for an epidural.  Though it felt like a bit of a failing somehow, or if not a failing, at least a deviation from my original plan, that choice really may have been what preserved my chances at a vbac and allowed me to relax enough to go on.

The epidural was placed around 2 or 3 pm and it was the most wonderful brand of relief.  I am sure L & D nurses see it all the time, but I really felt like I was Jekyll and Hyde.  Where I had been moaning, crying, cursing, begging, and generally behaving horribly, when the epidural took, I was mild mannered, polite, even joking.  The epidural was a really good one.  Though the pain was gone, I could still feel the tightening of each contraction and had enough sensation and mobility to change positions.  After resting for awhile, my doula and nurses helped me get into several different positions to help the baby labor down.



I wish I could have slept during the afternoon, but I was still a bit on edge.  I knew that my doctor would be coming back to check my progress after her day at her office was over.  I also knew that if I wasn't dilated to 10cms, it would be a c-section.  At that point I was flirting with 40 hours in labor and ending it all with a cesarean was just about the most heartbreaking thing I could think of.  So I closed my eyes and visualized my cervix opening and my baby descending.  I meditated on the kind of birth I wanted.  And I nervously watched the clock and waited for my doctor to arrive.

5 o'clock came and went.  6 o'clock rolled by signaling that I had missed my self-imposed deadline of giving birth before the polls closed on Election Day.  At 6:45, just before the 3rd nursing shift change I had the pleasure of witnessing in the hospital, Dr. Gallagher arrived.  She had been held up in surgery which had given me extra time to labor.  As I laid back so the doctor could check my cervix, I was keenly aware that the next ceiling I looked at could very well be that of an operating room.  I was petrified.

But, I wasn't headed an O.R. that night.  Dr. Gallagher pronounced me 10 cms and a plus one station.  It was pushing time!  I was so excited and relieved.  Jenny had been cautioning me throughout labor that I needed to reserve some energy for pushing, but honestly, that was the easy part.  I was so flipping glad that I was going to get a shot at pushing this baby out--something I hadn't gotten close to with Violet--that I got a huge rush of adrenaline that got me through.

I should really also give some credit to little Mystery Baby for allowing me to get to this point.  No matter what we threw at him, the little critter stayed calm and happy.  Even during my most intense contractions, there was virtually no change in the fetal heart rate monitor.  This baby was already dropping clues about his mellow demeanor.  

We started pushing around 7pm. I got a new nurse.  She was wonderful.  I have no clue what her name was.  The trainee nurse from the previous shift asked if she could stay.  Of course I said yes.  She had seen me at my worst--she might as well get to see the end of this ordeal!

 Since I could feel my contractions, the contraction monitor was removed and everyone just waited for me to tell them when I needed to push.  Shawn put on Old Crow Medicine Show (a Pierce family favorite) and the atmosphere in the room was pretty fun.  Though I needed some coaching on pushing at first, I got into the groove after awhile.  We tried pushing in a few positions, but what worked the best and made the most progress was modified side lying.  And I used a mirror.  I didn't know if I would want a mirror, but it was actually very helpful.  I couldn't imagine pushing without seeing my progress.

The pushing stage of labor seemed to go by quite quickly.  At first there was nothing.  Then there was hair.  Then there was nothing.  Then there was hair again.  More hair.  More hair.  Holy shit--there is a head!!  By that point, I had been pushing for 3 hours.  Really seemed like far less.  I knew the baby was almost out when the doctor called the NICU team and told them to get their shit in gear.  Since there had been meconium staining in the fluid, the NICU had to be there at birth.


The doctor told me to hold my last push--a very hard thing to do, by the way--so she could get ready.  I don't know if I held it long enough or not, but I had to get that baby out.  I gave a really big push and out came the head.  In an instant, the baby's shoulders and body were out and I heard Shawn exclaim with surprise, "It's a boy!" 

The NICU team took Sullivan for just a moment.  He cried almost instantly and--God LOVE my doctor!!--Dr. Gallagher demanded they bring him back from the isolette where they were dawdling around with him and give him back to me.  "Bring him to Mom!  Bring him to Mom!  Bring him to Mom!"  I was so glad she did that!  I got to hold Sullivan mere moments after his birth.  He peed all over me, in fact, when I was delivering the placenta.  Ahhh, the romance of childbirth!!

It really was romantic, though, and having my newborn laid on my chest all slimy and squinty-eyed was the ultimate rush.  Shawn and I were in awe and in love immediately.  Our son, our boy, my VBAC baby, this cool, calm character, was finally with us, safe and sound. 


Sullivan Ray Pierce
8lbs 10 oz
Born at 10:14 pm, November 6, 2012

October 28th

Sometimes I feel guilty for letting this blog sit for so long untouched, festering away, taking up space on the great Blogger cloud in the sky.  But, taking up space is what I am good at right now.  My blog is representing me well.

Week 38-39 of this pregnancy has been my least favorite.  I don't want to go into all of the details, but I will say that the discomfort that can come from thrombosed veins in ones most delicate of body parts is no laughing matter.  I know that childbirth is not for the faint of heart, but this situation has really tested me.

After taking the week off of work at my doctor's suggestion, I am feeling a lot better.  Shawn and my Madre have been taking good care of me and I have been able to stay off of my feet which has really improved my condition.  I go in for my 39 week appointment tomorrow and I will get to hear what my doctor is thinking.  I am hopeful that this will not affect my plans for delivery, but am definitely open to all options at this point.  This blood clotting business is something I am taking seriously.  Safe and healthy, that's my mantra.

I am still enjoying pregnancy despite it's unfortunate side effects.  My belly is super round and  this baby is taking up every square inch of it.  I love feeling the rolls and stretches even though they can be a bit much from time to time.  The injections that I give myself in the stomach do pose a bit of a challenge now, particularly if it is an active time of day or night for the baby.  Those kicks can easily knock my steady hand off balance while I am doing the injection.

The baby's gender has been easy to put on the back burner, but I am really starting to wonder about it now.  I am curious mostly for Violet.  Is she going to have a sister--something I've never experienced?  Or will she get a brother of her very own?  That we will know the answer in a matter of days is surreal.  These 39 weeks have simply been a blur. 


With so many unknowns for us in the coming weeks, I find myself revisiting the same daydream for comfort.  It is Thanksgiving morning.  Shawn, Violet, Baby and me pack up for the 1 mile drive to my Mom's where we will spend the day.  Thanksgiving is a relaxing day made up of parades, newborn snuggles, stuffing, football, nursing, laughing with my brothers and sisters-in-law, a glass of red wine, baby passing, pumpkin pie, more nursing, coffee, hugs from my mom, Violet on my lap, and all the things that make the unknowns so, so, worth it.

From the Beginning

Hard to believe that in a matter of weeks, we are going to be starting from scratch with a brand new tiny human being.  A little over a month away from my due date and I am still intermittantly shocked that this is going to happen.  Multiple children have always been a part of the plan for me and Shawn, but the time it took to get this new one to come aboard is still in the forefront of my mind.  I didn't ever really believe that we wouldn't have a second child, but I still have moments when I forget that we are on the brink of meeting that second.  This pregnancy has been ticking by quickly and despite my best efforts to savor it, I still don't think I've done enough.

 Since this might be our last baby--the jury is still out on that decision, but I realize now that it may not be ours to make--I am trying not to get distracted by the shortness of breath or the sore back that has crept up on me.  Instead, I want to focus on the wonderful feeling of togetherness being pregnant provides.  I want to remember the way it feels to have a baby come to life, rolling and dancing around in my belly, when I lay down at night.  I want to always be able to revisit the feeling of anticipation that is alive in our house.   From Shawn's extra hugs and flower deliveries to Violet's snuggly, face-buried-in-belly hugs "for the baby," we are all aware that this is an unprecedented time for our family.  It has just been us 3 Pierces for quite awhile, forever as far as Violet is concerned, it is fun to wonder how the fourth will fit in.

Perfectly Content

The jitters (read: terrible worries) that accompanied the first trimester of pregnancy have dissolved and I am enjoying every freaking second of it at 26 weeks.  I think I thought I was enjoying my pregnancy with Violet but now I realize I was so preoccupied with the questions surrounding parenthood I don't think I really did.  "'What is coming next?" was my mantra through that pregnancy and I couldn't stop looking ahead to be in the moment.  There were so many things I thought I needed.  I spent my 9 months gathering the stuff of pregnancy and had very little time to focus on the state of pregnancy.  I haven't bought a thing for this one yet, (I saved the useful stuff from last time and realized much of it was  not so important as I thought) and so my attention has been squarely on this new person and how we are growing together.

For so many other reasons, this time is different.  The biggest reason it is different is because of Violet.  Her very being has proven to me that trying to predict "What is coming next?" is futile.  Luck and love have gotten our family of 3 pretty far and I am trust that will continue to work for us.  I also can't get over how very little control I have over anything.  When we married, I thought I would get to design my family to fit my desires.  It turns out, I have as much say in that as I have over what Violet wears each day.  Which is to say, I can lay out an outfit, plead the benefits of the outfit, and then still end up seeing a Hello Kitty tutu skirt paired with rainbow leggings.  And it bothers me at first.  But as the day wears on, it bothers me less.  And who knows when a costume change might come, anyway?  No use in getting too upset.

I feel the same way about this baby.  I wanted this baby sooner.  There are a lot of reasons why a smaller space between kids would have been better.  I could have gotten back to a full time job sooner.   Just as Violet's need for me is lessening, I'll be starting over with a new person.  Having a newborn is going to be delicious, and selfishly, I love that I am going to get to savor it and not chase after a toddler.  So, financially it doesn't make the most sense.  Oh, well.   Logistically, 4 and a half years isn't perfect.  But it is growing on me.  Violet is so wee still, but so independent.  She is already in love with her new sibling and hearing her describe in all of her four-year-old glory how she will sleep with the baby, rock the baby, snuggle the baby, and give the baby all of her discarded toys is priceless.  The only slight "What is coming next?" type feelings I have surround introducing Violet to this new person.  I cannot describe how thrilled I am to watch them meet.  Better than Christmas.

Physically, I am feeling wonderful.  I thought the daily shot in the stomach to treat my clotting disorder would put a damper on this pregnancy.  I am such a pro at it now, it doesn't even phase me.  This second trimester is blissful.  Feeling the baby's movements is the most wonderful kind of togetherness I have experienced.  I know the coming months will bring some discomforts--and they should--being pregnant forever shouldn't be any woman's goal.  For the time being, I am going to continue enjoying this ridiculous good luck I've stumbled upon.

pierce addition

I've thought dozens of times about writing this post.  I dreamed of writing it two years ago, when Shawn and I first decided to start trying for another child.  I prepared to write it each time I found out I was pregnant before I found out I wasn't anymore.  I wondered if I'd ever write it when month after month went by with no signs of life.  And for the last 100 some days I tried to figure out when it would be the right time to write these words so publicly.

I am pregnant.

Since February 17th, I've thought about little else.  It still doesn't seem real, somehow.  I've been begging my body to behave and the baby's to grow right.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop, I've wondered if I would ever be able to relax. 

And then yesterday, quickening;  tiny, unmistakable movements beneath my belly button.  And I breathed deeply and felt that things just might work out.  I might even be able to enjoy this.  I'll never have the same naive comfort level that I possessed when I was pregnant with Violet, that has been broken during these years.  But I am cautiously aware of the miracle that I'm being allowed to participate in for a second time.  Seems like a waste to worry the whole thing away, especially since I know how hard it is to come by.

FOUR!!!

Our lovely girl is aging quickly.  I love taking the time to look back on how she's changed every year when I put this montage together.   It is really racing by...

To Whom it May Concern

Dear Second Pierce Child Who Refuses to Be Conceived,

I get it. You won't be rushed. Unlike your older sister, you aren't in any huge hurry to meet me and Shawn. So be it. We will (continue to) wait.

But just in case you're wondering about things around here, let me tell you, it's good. It's all good.

We aren't novices anymore, not like we were in 2008 when Violet came along. We get babies now. At least we did. Not trying to pressure you or anything, but we might actually be a bit rusty if you don't come pretty soon. I promise I'll remember enough that I won't fret over some imaginary baby schedule or worry about following advice from an article in Parents magazine, but I'd still like it if you'd try to get here soon. I don't think your Daddy has changed a diaper in over a year, so expect a brief re-acclimation period there.

Did I mention I'm only working part-time? That's a perk Violet didn't get until she turned 1, but you could have it from the get-go. And I think we can get the same awesome babysitter for you that we've had for your sister all these years. You'll call her Grammy and she'll be WILD for you!

We honestly don't have a preference on your gender. Penis? Vagina? Don't let that decision hold you up. Bring it. I think your sister would like you to be a girl, but that's only because all of her baby dolls are girls and she doesn't have a boy name picked out. If you're a girl, she'd like to name you Lucy. Should you decide you'd like a penis, we'll love you just the same. And Daddy would be excited to tip the gender balance of the house back in his direction.

Now, I cannot promise you much in the way of material things. We have a nice, comfortable, cleanish house. You'll get a room in the house when you're ready for it. You'll always have clothes and toys and a bike and I know that because I know your grandparents. You'll get fed regularly; nursed for as long as we both care to and a pretty good mix of healthy and yummy vittles after that. No, you can't drink soda.

Your Dad has really come into his own in the last 3+ years. He is relishing being the daddy and I know he will scoop you up and never look back. We promised to stay together forever and I can tell you neither of us has changed our minds about that nor will we. So that's one thing you won't have to worry about.

Will we embarrass you? For sure. Your Daddy probably won't make you cringe as much as I will, but I'm sure from time to time we'll both have you rolling your eyes. We already love your as-yet unmapped chromosomes so very much that we can cry just from longing for you. So, yeah. Get ready for it.

You have no idea about the host of people who are over here for you when you come. I already mentioned your grandparents--you'll have 3 waiting when you get here. There is also a whole host of aunts and uncles, a slew of cousins (such fun for you!), and more friends than you can count! And I know I keep talking about Violet, but, that's because she is quite possible going to be your biggest fan. Unlike you, she was quite eager to join our family and she's eager to get you here, too. I can't say for sure, but I think she'd even be willing to give up her coveted spot sleeping between me and your Dad for you when you get here. Don't hold me to that, however. I do know that you'll love her to pieces. If you manage to learn from her even a fraction of all the amazing things she has taught me, you'll be the envy of the playground.

Speaking of playgrounds, we go to them quite often. Picnics, too. And we like to swim and bike, camp and cook. We'll take you to the drive-in and dance with you in the kitchen. If you're into art, I'll make sure you always have plenty of paints and a blank canvas. Trips to the library, walks through the neighborhood, feeding the ducks, museum visits galore, classes and snow angels; we'll see to it you get to do all of that.

Daddy and I are doing what we need to be doing to bring you here. If it's the coffee you don't like, just say the word and I'll nix it. But I'll give you a really crappy middle name. Just kidding, of course. If being a twinkle in Daddy's eye is really so hard to give up, maybe it would help you to know that he's going to be taking well over 100,000 photos of you before you turn 3. Not so different from being a twinkle, really. Except unlike being just a twinkle, you'll get to experience real hugs from the 3 other Pierces currently waiting on you. You just can't get that as a twinkle.

So at the risk of going completely Mommy on you:

Get over here right this instant. And I mean it.

Love,

Your Terribly Impatient Future Mommy


Giving Due Credit: Stole the lovely idea to write to a pre-baby from this blog: http://v-double-u.blogspot.com/ It worked for her.

Relief from Worry

I had an ultrasound on Monday. That's the second one in two months, if you're counting. And it was the second decidedly un-fun ultrasound of my life. During my routine annual exam two weeks ago my doctor felt an abnormality while she was palpating my abdomen. She pressed down twice on my right side under my rib cage. "Hmmm, that's funny. I can feel your liver." She guided my hand to the area, had me breath in and let me feel it too.

To save space, I will just tell you that most people's livers are completely contained by the ribcage and only occasionally can a normal liver be felt under the costal margin (below the ribs). My liver function blood tests came back normal, but to be sure, I was ordered to have an ultrasound to rule out "tumors." Not my phrasing but the doctor's.

I won't rehash the entirety of my thought process from the last two weeks, but I can tell you I have picked out the one of my friends that I'd like Shawn to marry when he's ready to take another wife. She's adorable, likes country music, and most importantly would be a wonderful step-mother to Violet. I know she would love her as if she were her own and never make Violet feel like a step child even if she and Shawn went on to have more children together.

So, yeah. I've been pretty worried.

I love my fucking life.

Just as it is.



Violet's hair is getting so long.


She's never had a school picture taken.



Seeing the mall makes her excited.

Stories about the day she was born are some of her favorites.



She just dropped her first f-bomb. ("Come on fuckers!" as we waited in the car at preschool drop off line at her Catholic school. Eek.)



She likes Indian food. All of the people she draws are smiling. She is delightfully literal but starting to pick up on sarcasm. She calls hummus "thomas." There is a girl in her class who Violet is convinced is named Elf. When someone is sick she brings them a glass of water. She regularly tells me, "I love Daddy."

Having a shadow, a hint, an outside chance that something would come between me and being this kid's Mommy for a long, long, time is unacceptable.

My liver is not going to be that something. The ultrasound tech told me I have the most beautiful anatomy she's seen in a long time and the doctor confirmed her findings. All those parts seem to be in acceptable working order, thank heavens.

This whole thing has really reminded me that nothing is permanent. Even the things that should be givens, should be exempt from life's shitty rules, sometimes are not. Parents lose children. Kids lose parents. We are all working under the assumption that it won't be us, and that's probably for the best. But every now and then, it is worth it take a second and squeeze a bit tighter to that little hand, just because.

If You're Happy and You Know It

The first week of January has been, much to my surprise, wonderful. Not tolerable, not manageable, not even just okay; it has truly been a great week. Shocker.

In December, I started a new job working for a small non-profit that provides support groups for young people experiencing grief. This was my third week and I am starting to get over my newbie jitters and see how much I am really going to enjoy being involved with this organization. The mission is so important and the kids in the program are receiving a service that just isn't available anywhere else in our area. We serve kids from the age of 3 all the way through young adults and it seems that being with other kids who have lost a loved one is the best therapy for them. I am working part-time as the Volunteer Coordinator and so far I really feel that I made a great decision when I changed jobs.

I am not the only one who has made a change in 2012. On January 4th, Violet had her very first ever day of preschool. We visited several schools in December looking for the right one. In the end, both Violet and Shawn and I decided that we'd send her to the same school where both of her cousins already attend. It's a parochial school and is the parish where Violet was baptized. Though we aren't what you'd call active parishioners, we do feel connected to the community there and I think the grade school is one of the best choices in our area. Nonetheless, I was nervous.

Starting on New Years Day, Violet started abiding by her first real bedtime. Since preschool begins at 8am, we didn't want her to be a little basket case when her first 7am wake up call rolled around. I am amazed at how easily our night owl transitioned to a more reasonable bedtime. The night before her first morning of school, she fell asleep around 8:30. I was the one who tossed and turned. I kept dreaming that I had left her in a crowd by herself. No Freudian interpretation needed on that one.





Though Violet did have some jitters on that first morning as we walked in, she was braver than I ever would have imagined. She complained a few times that her tummy hurt--nerves no doubt--and I did stay with her for about 30 minutes while she warmed up to her new classroom. But by about 8:35, she was reluctantly coloring at a table and I sneaked out unnoticed. When Grammy and I picked her up at 12:30, she was all smiles. Her teacher said she did wonderfully and Day Two was even smoother.

The weather this past week has also been unseasonably warm and sunny. We've gotten to take Violet on several wagon rides and have spent more than our share of time outdoors for any Hoosiers in January. Cold, gray, days are usually all that Indiana has to offer those of us suffering from a holiday hangover but this year she actually managed to cheer us up with some blue skies and 50's. I know it won't last, but I am going to take it for now.

As Crafty as I Wanna Be

I am not a big crafter, so making gifts for anyone on my Christmas list was a big accomplishment. After several tries, I made this subway art poster for Shawn. It's a favorite Avett Brothers lyric and, obviously, our last name. It's a 12 x 18 print and looks pretty cool.

I also made 12 x 18 prints for my brothers and their wives. For their posters, I used their old addresses. It took a lot of playing with and no fewer than 3 failed attempts, but I think that all the posters turned out pretty well. And it was fun to give a personalized piece of art to people for Christmas. The printing was inexpensive at Meijer and using coupons, I was able to get fairly nice frames from Michaels.

If you want to make your own, I followed this tutorial from I Am Momma. I did use her printing method the first time but had limited success using the engineer's blueprint so I ended up printing a plain old poster and using a frame. It's a different look, but still nice, I think.

I'm Better, Really

Hormones can really upend your life. I am FINALLY feeling mostly back to normal after the longest miscarriage experience ever.

It wasn't until my acupuncturist told me that, in fact, bleeding for 21 days is NOT normal that I went back to the doctor. I am really trying my hardest to live in a let-things-take-their-course way, especially when it comes to my reproductive health. Sometimes, though, it's good to have someone give you a nudge in the right direction when things are a bit off balance.

After a call to my doc's office to fill them in on what had been going on, they wanted me to come in right away for an ultrasound. The last time I had an ultrasound, there was a gorgeous little girl dancing around on the screen. This one was way less fun.

If I hadn't been crying, I might have thought it was pretty cool to see my lady parts on TV like that. My uterus was empty, which was sad, but also very good. Any remaining tissue would have had to been removed surgically, through a D&C. The tech pointed out my uterine scar from my c-section (grrrr), and the remaining corpus luteum (egg casing) from the miscarriage still on my ovary. The corpus luteum should go away on its own without intervention.

I also had my blood drawn by the sweetest nurse ever, who I cried upon relentlessly. She even showed me out the back door when I told her I didn't want to walk out through the waiting room. Bless her.

The results of the blood test showed that my hcg (the pregnancy hormone) level was still elevated which is probably part of the reason why I still felt pretty far gone. With time, probably more time than I'd like to give it, that will zero out and I'll go back to being a normal (?) woman.

I am glad to have the worst of this shit behind me. There were several days during late November and early December when I thought I might have slipped into the realm of clinical depression. The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness was unlike anything I've experienced and I talked to Shawn twice about the possibility of needing some professional help. Very scary and, I do believe, a clinically real hormone driven phenomenon. Surely the loss of the pregnancy was the catalyst for my blues, but I think the fact that my hormones had been whacked out coupled with dealing with continued bleeding kept me spiraling downward.

I am excited/terrified to try again to conceive. I am finally feeling back to normal and I kind of just want to drink wine and coffee and not worry that it might be hindering my reproductive ability. But I also really, really want to be with a baby again. So, I dunno. I guess I will try to trust my body on this one. After all, it kind of screwed things up last time, so it owes me one.

Carrying On

Since my public has been hounding me to return to the blog, here I am. Sorry, Jen.

I have not felt like writing much for awhile. I started this space to chronicle Violet's life and my entry into motherhood. Lately, I haven't had much to say about motherhood.

And I haven't had much to say about motherhood because I'm infertile.

I really hate that word. I didn't want to read it anywhere let alone write in on the blog that was created to capture my life as a mother. And it still seems like the wrong word for me, because--hello--Violet.

But, look it up and you will see that, regardless of previous children, a couple is considered infertile after 12 months of unprotected, well-timed intercourse that does not result in a live birth.

We are wrapping up month 15.

The first 6 months were almost fun since I knew at any moment I'd see two lines on a test and we'd get ready to do this awesome parenthood trip again. And two lines did appear. Violet and I made a save the date card and she told her Daddy on June 7th that I "had a baby in my tummy."

Things got markedly less fun when I started bleeding in June shortly after the two lines appeared. I got the gift of my first miscarriage on June 9th, my 33rd birthday. And then I started to worry.

I got really serious about making this happen. I knew the 12 month mark was coming and I since I knew we weren't infertile--hello, Violet--I knew we'd have conceived by then.

But 12 months came and there was no baby. We went on to the next step and had some preliminary tests run because, as the nurse at my ob-gyn's office was nice enough to point out ON my birthday WHILE I was having a miscarriage, I am closer to 35 than I am to 25.

The tests were normal. My hormone levels, my thyroid, anything that could be measured through a blood test was normal. I asked Shawn to be tested, too, and, because he is a sweet man and because he also wants more kids he agreed. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the doctor described his results as "perfect."

With the affordable testing done and no infertility coverage on our insurance, I decided to forgo the more invasive and expensive testing and went the natural route instead. In October, I started seeing an acupuncturist and taking Chinese herbs to help my get pregnant. Three cycles is how long I'd give it, I decided, before going forward with more exhaustive Western medical testing. Along with the herbs and acupuncture, I did fertility yoga, cut out coffee, didn't drink, and generally lived each day as a meditation on getting pregnant.

The good news is, I became pregnant on the first cycle. The bad news is, this pregnancy also ended in miscarriage. With the exception of losing my Dad, this miscarriage has been the most emotionally taxing time of my life.

I thought I lost the pregnancy very early, grieved, then realized I was still pregnant. I prepared for the worst and hoped for the best--an exhausting state in which to live--for several days until it definitively ended. The blood work showed poor progesterone levels, but whether that was the cause of the miscarriage or one of its effects is unknown.

It's been 12 days since the miscarriage began and it still isn't over. I feel like I am supposed to have moved on from this already, but my body hasn't even done that yet.

I'd like to carry on, enjoy the holidays, enjoy being Violet's Mommy again. I am feeling intermittently better but, by and large, still kind of like a basketcase.

***The other sucky thing about secondary infertility is that the pain it causes feels somehow a result of greediness. I AM lucky, blessed, amazingly wowed everyday by the one daughter I have. If anything, Violet makes me hyper-aware of how incredibly precious the gift of motherhood is.

I know there are people out there, some dear friends and family, who have gone through this taxing journey of trying to conceive that are not lucky enough to end a shitty day with a snuggle from their kid. I am not trying to compare my pain with theirs--it all sucks. I do feel like I understand infertility in a whole new way in light of the last year and that can only make me a better, more compassionate person.

Lasterday

With a vocabulary that is growing by leaps and bounds, and pronunciation skills that are improving daily, Violet's speech is getting very adult. She uses a lot of conversational conventions, like, "Do you want to use my toothpaste, or no?" and "Can I have just a smidge of brownie?"

While time is still fairly abstract, she definitely grasps the difference between now and later. She asked me if she could get a bathrobe of her own, and since I believe that, like dinnertime, robetime is sacrosanct in the Pierce home, I told her yes. She then asked if she'd be getting the robe "now or someday?" Smart kid and patient, too! Don't you worry, Violet, Mommy's gonna get you a cozy robe of your very own!

There are some words and concepts that still evade her. Similar to the way a non-native speaker will find concepts from their native language that cannot be expressed in English, Violet is forced to create her own words where the ones we give her are lacking. One of my favorites is

lasterday: noun, a day longer ago that the immediate day prior. Not to be confused with yesterday, which actually means yesterday. Used to recall any memorable event from the last 14 months. e.g. Remember lasterday when we went to the apple orchard with Jack and Charlie?


I saw a guy at a festival we went to this weekend wearing a shirt that read, 'Carpe Manana.' Lasterday, or wasterday, as it is properly pronounced, is kind of in line with Carpe Manana. It's just a laid back idea of time. Much like the word y'all, I can see a use for lasterday in my vocabulary. But, also like y'all, it just sounds stupid coming out of my mouth.

balleotard: noun; the stretchy pink outfit worn by ballet girls. A blending of the words ballet and leotard. Duh.

Balleotards are a hot topic in my house right now. Violet wants to keep constant tabs on her balleotard; ideally she'd like to be wearing it. If she isn't wearing it, she wants to know the status of the costume. "Is my balleotard dirty or clean? Is it in the hamper or the washer? Is it dry YET?" She's napped in it, grocery shopped in it, lunched in it.

The current balleotard, which is wadded up on a dining room chair right now awaiting a stain stick, will be lucky to make it through the full 6 weeks of dance class. We may have to buy a second--I'm thinking black this time--if we decide to re-enroll for the second session. And enroll we likely will. Violet is in love with her class. She and Ruby are in class together and I can't get over how excited to participate Violet is. Having a friend makes a world of difference.




It seems like only lasterday that I was rescuing her from her scary swim teacher at the pool, and now she and her balleotard would run me over to get into the dance studio.

Say Cheese, Eat Cheese

The most awesome Mommy-Violet Days involve pretzles and cheese.

Summer Catch-Up

Just like last summer, I am finding these warmer months are not great for my blog. Unlike last summer, I have a killer excuse for not posting anything. This summer we have been incredibly busy tending our garden. We are practically farmers, I tell you! Seriously, we have been burdened blessed with multiple pounds of zucchini each week.



We have eaten grilled zucchini, zucchini fries, zucchini pancakes (yuck), sauteed zucchini, zucchini casserole (mild yuck), chocolate chip zucchini cookies (yum), and chocolate zucchini bread (big yum, Violet calls this brownies!). We have also given tons away and it just keeps coming. I almost didn't want to leave to go on vacation because I was worried about who would tend the garden.

Almost. But we did, and oh, what a great beach vacation it was! Violet was a big fan of both the beach and the ocean and despite a bit of rain, we mostly great weather.



As if a family vacation at the beach wasn't enough fun, we went down with our dear friends, Jen, Mark, and Avery. Violet had a blast playing with 5-year-old Avery, and Avery displayed extended patience with her tag-a-long toddler shadow!




For me, the week was reminicent of the old days when Jen and I were roommates. Life with spouses and young kids gets so busy, it was wonderful to have a week of co-habitating with my bestie. I am always a big fan of sleepovers, and this one was perfect. Also, it was a great time to get to know Jen's new husband Mark better. I do not for a second take for granted how rad it is to have a family with whom we get along so well!














When we returned, the countdown was on to the first day of school. Shawn and I tried to make the most of his last week before school began. He had a lot of prep work that needed to be done in his classroom, but we still managed to take a day trip to Bloomington. We had a delicious lunch and then walked around campus for a couple of hours. I love Bloomington so much and it was great to be able to share it with Violet.











We are going to try to suck the most possible fun out of the remaining weeks of summer. I don't feel nearly finished with cookouts, swimming pools, or bike rides!

Just Add Water

Though I am not a very religious person, I do believe that summer is a gift from beyond and to waste it is a sin. So, we've been swimming. A lot.



After a cool and rainy spring, summer roared in with 90 degree temps during the first week of June and our threesome (Daddy's on summer break--YAY!) rose to the challenge of staying cool. We've hit IndyPark spraygrounds, city pools, sprinkler parks, friend's backyard pools, and filled our own inflatable kiddie-pool more than once.






In fact, we have been so diligent about cooling off using whatever means neccessary, Violet can barely see a hose without stripping. Seriously, Shawn and I have turned our backs on her for .2 seconds and found her naked as a jaybird turning the spicket. I am delighted that she isn't afflicted with body consciousness yet, but a bit concerned that our neighbors might be put off by our clear lack of modesty.





The temperatures cooled off this week and we have been enjoying the kind of sun-drenched, humidity-free days that lead people to southern California. What did the Beach Boys say about the Midwest farmer's daughters?






Violet is even taking her first big-kid, i.e. not in a parent's arms, swim lessons. The class runs 8 sessions, M-Th, and is a BIG DEAL for our shy Violet. Since she hasn't been in any kind of daycare setting, this is little V's first experience going with an instructor and class without a primary caregiver. She did swimmingly the first day, cried on the second day (photos below), refused to go in on the third day, and has rocked it every day since. We have two more sessions and I am actually considering enrolling her for another 8. She is such a surprise to me!