The Attitude of Toddlers

A toddler does not fall down 100 times and think "maybe walking isn't for me."

I saw this quote on Pinterest and knew it was the epitome of my intrepid son. Today as I tried to feed him dinner with the least amount of distractions possible, he reached his little arm across the table as far as it would go to grab the spoon. It was clearly several inches too far away, yet he never desisted and he never thought "maybe it's just too far beyond my reach". This action is repeated far and wide many many times throughout the day, and today I had quick moment of reflection.

It's so hard being a toddler. It's hard to communicate, it's hard to walk quickly, it's hard to carry things, grown-ups don't always want to play, and you hardly ever get your way. This in no way deters my Emmett from trying and trying and trying some more. He never thinks "I can't go as fast as my mom" or "I can't walk down the stairs" or "I can't reach my snacks" or "I can't possibly catch this cat." He can't do a lot of things, but he doesn't know it. He just keeps on trying with everything he's got to reach his goal, and never gives up, even when there's no hope.

Maybe this is just a personality trait of my particular toddler (he's dangerously stubborn) or maybe it's part of growing up and all babies are this way, but wouldn't it be something if all adults had the same bravery and single-mindedness towards their goals? What if I had never thought "chemistry is too hard, I'll take it next semester" 3 years in a row? What if I had never said "there is no way they'll consider my application, I'm just a college grad with no experience." Or even now, what if I stop thinking "I can't go to grad school and be a full-time mom" and just do it like Emmett would: with a can-do and no-fear-of-failure attitude?

I must go chase after my little hurricane now, but he's certainly given me a lot to think about, and a lot to live up to.

My favorite mom thing

Somebody asked "what is your favorite part about being a mom?" and I found it hard to give a simple, straight-forward answer. I know the answer, but it sort of deserves an entire essay devoted to it. Here goes:

Philip and I are first-time parents and we are as clueless as they come. If I'm being honest, I think P had racked up more minutes of kid experience just because in the short 3-ish years I've known him, he's never been shy about asking to hold or play with someones kid. Mom confession #1: the first time I ever held a baby for longer than 5 minutes was when Emmett was born and my nurse ushered everyone out of the room, and so he finally stopped getting passed around for pictures and was plopped onto my chest. That kind of tells you how little experience I had with babies. (I've never babysat in my life either) The word "novice" is an understatement.

That being said, we have a lot of "firsts" in our family. First diaper change, first bath, first throw up, first full-night sleep... that sort of stuff. P works oil field, so it's not uncommon for him to be out of town half the time. Thus far, we have been blessed in that his jobs have been local and we all get to be together when he comes home from work, so I usually shove Emmett into his arms as soon as he walks through the door. Most of the time I get about 20 minutes of freedom before I hear the words "hey babe, come look at this!" and of course I have to come running before I miss the big event. 

The big event is something different every time, and to regular people it will seem like completely useless, mundane stuff, but to a first time mom it is the highlight of every day. 

My favorite part about being a mom is how everything is such a big deal: Emmett smiling at something random, Emmett laughing, Emmett trying to sit up, Emmett rolling over, Emmett falling over because he sneezed, Emmett snoring, Emmett holding his bottle by himself, Emmett sitting on his own, Emmett correctly putting his pacifier into his mouth, Emmett's reaction to being on Venom (our dog)... everything is so NEW! I love how I get to share this every day with P and how it's such a high priority for us to witness every single "first" there could possibly be. Our reactions range from "awww" and a smile to "Oh-My-Gosh-Quick-Take-A-Picture-And-Send-It-To-Everyone!" but they're always a big deal. We interrupt TV shows, video games, dinner, phone calls, household chores, naps... I've even walked out mid-shower because I had to "babe, come look" at something. Our precious boy takes priority over everything in our life, and even if we make a million first-timers mistakes by the time he's old enough to read this, I hope we can make up for it with our love, devotion and enthusiasm at being able to raise him as our son..

4 Months Old: Paused mid-roll to eat his hand and sat there for 5 minutes

5 Months Old: First time wearing a 12-month outfit which fit perfectly

Open Letter To My Little Brother

Dear Christian,

Now that you're back from your mission, I need to take advantage and tell you all of the things I didn't know how to say before you left. I know you will soon embark on your next adventure because you are too full of life to stay anywhere for too long, and you won't be afraid to take risks and run wildly into whatever the future has in store for you.

On the day you were born, not only was I blessed with a best friend, but also with someone who added color, spice, and meaning to my life. As a new mother, I have spent countless hours rocking my baby at night, and even though everyone says he looks just like me, all I see is you. When Emmett was born, memories I didn't know I had rose to the surface, and even though I was only 4 years old when mom placed you in my arms, I remember what I felt because it is exactly what I feel as I hold my son. The overwhelming urge to protect, to care for, to nurture, and to be whatever you needed me to be was present even back then, and as a little girl I wanted to shield you from any danger that came your way. As an adult, not much has changed in that respect.

I don't know when the hell this happened, but you're grown up now. I thought you would be my baby brother forever, but you've just spent 2 years in remote African villages, you speak 5 languages, and you have touched the lives of countless people. At 21 years old you have had crazier life experiences than most of the people I know, and I could not be more proud of you for that. My "protection" is the last thing you need, so instead, I offer my full support.

I want you to be wild and reckless. I want to get a 2am phone call because you lost your wallet during your impromptu cross-country road trip and you're stuck on the side of the road somewhere in Nebraska fending off a badger. I want you to show up at my door on a random Thursday looking for a place to stash your motorcycle so mom won't know about it. I want to wake up one morning to find that you and three friends have snuck in through the side window and are sitting at my kitchen table eating all of my cereal. I want you to call me on the 31st of the month saying you don't have money for rent tomorrow. I want you to drop off a basked full of horned lizards telling me they're the remains of a biology project gone horribly wrong. Whatever it is you need, I'll be here with open arms or an open wallet or an open fridge, depending on what's appropriate at the time. Never be afraid to ask for help, and never be afraid that it's too much... that's what I'm here for. I promise you my lifelong loyalty, devotion, respect, encouragement, advice, and unconditional love.

Someday, you'll meet a girl. Someday soon, because you're too damn charismatic and likable for your own good. Girls have been attached to you from the moment you entered High School, and it's a wonder you survived girlfriendless for almost two years. Teenagers are supposed to be painfully awkward, but I guess nobody told you because you never were. You've returned no longer a teenager, and have got way too much swagger and you're not holding back, so girls beware.
I need you to know that it's different this time. You're not juts looking for a girlfriend, you're looking for someone who has the potential to be a lot more permanent than that. Like, eternity kind of permanent. Even though you've just spent 2 years teaching others about that eternity, it's going to be scary as hell when you think you've found your own. It's okay to be scared. Actually, I want you to be scared. I want you to be cautious, calculating, and to really ponder and pray about what you're doing when you think you've found her. Right this second, I feel like no girl out there is good enough for my baby brother, but I know that's not really true. I know that you're way too important for God not to have someone freaking special out there for you to find. Go get her, and I'll sit here and try really hard not to be envious of your time. And remember, don't look for perfect or else you'll never find her. Look past "perfect" and find the potential for eternal happiness instead.

Lastly, I want to say Thank You. Thank you for 21 years of redundant inside jokes. Thank you for sharing that particular sense of humor that I have only ever found in you. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for keeping my secrets and allowing me to keep yours. Thank you for changing the oil in my car. Thank you for that one time you tried to teach me how to drive stick and we failed. Thank you for being super enthusiastic about food. Thank you for wearing that dress shirt at my wedding, even though you said you looked like a goldfish. Thank you for those 3 hours of driving around town getting sidetracked Harold and Kumar style even though we were just going to buy strawberries. Thank you for 108 P-Day emails, no matter how boring they got towards the end. Thank you for letting me be Kirby every single time we played Super Smash Bros. Thank you for the high-pitched singing of "Hey, Soul Sister" during the time your voice was changing. Thank you for introducing me to Lindsey Sterling and The Piano Guys. Thank you for being my support system when I want to vent and not making a big deal about it. Thank you for getting kicked out of band in high school, because it makes such a good story. Thank you for being straight up honest and never sugarcoating things. Thank you because no matter how annoying I became, the worst thing I ever got out of you was a "Dammit Damaris." Thank you for teaching me that even the most unpleasant jobs, like cleaning out the chicken coop, are made bearable if you have someone doing it along with you. Thank you for teaching me how to properly smile at a camera by demonstrating how to "show your teeth". Thank you for hundreds of "awkward hugs" that really aren't awkward at all. Thank you because your favorite "letter" is "the squiggly next to the 1" (~) and that always makes me freaking smile like an idiot. Thank you for always making me use a butter knife on butter. Thank you for killing cockroaches for me. Thank you for serving a mission. Thank you for being humble, friendly, outgoing, and never taking life too seriously. Thank you for being the kind of person that I hope to mold my son around someday. Thank you for letting us choose you, and for choosing us to be your family.

Welcome home, lil buddy.
Love always,
-d.

Chris' (unfinished) Mission Pics Video

Chris Mission Pics Vid - Kizoa Online Movie Maker

Dear Momma Bears, I Totally Get It Now

I used to think that mother bears were ridiculous in not leaving the den (not even to eat!) during the 2 to 3 months right after their cubs were born, but now that baby Emmett is about to be 3 weeks old, I totally get it. Truth be told, if it weren't for his doctor appointments and my hubby's need to eat, I would still be momma-bear-ing it on the living room couch... too afraid to take my eyes off the precious, heavily asleep baby in his Rock N Play sitting a full 6 inches away from me.
Up until 3 days ago, my entire days and nights were spent on that couch waiting for Emmett to go to sleep, to wake up, to get hungry, or to need a diaper change. I think I only brushed my teeth about five times and showered twice... maybe. Let me put it out there, I am terrified at being a mom because I have NO IDEA what I'm doing, so naturally I freak out every time my son makes a sound, and I freak out even more when I need to leave his side to wolf down some food or to use the bathroom.
It's kind of taken me this long to figure out that 1) it's ok if Emmett cries for 15 seconds 2) if something is wrong, he'll let me know, and most importantly 3) babies are noisy sleepers. Camping out on the couch next to the Rock N Play for about 10 days straight made me a zombie from lack of sleep. I would jump up and prop myself on my elbow at the smallest sound of life coming from Emmett, and then just sit there staring at him for 30 minutes to make sure he was okay. Life got really hard without sleep, but 4 days ago in my delirious state I had a sudden, crazy, out-of-this-world idea: What if we start sleep training? What if Emmett sleeps in his crib and I sleep in my bed? Could that be possible???
It turns out that I majorly lucked out, because Emmett is an angel when it comes to sleep. I just might be the envy of all moms out there. Get this: my 3 week old son can sleep for a full 6 hours. Unfortunately, Emmett seems to be on dad's schedule, because at the moment he does his heavy 6-hour-stretch sleep during the day and his light feed-me-every-hour sleep at night. For the past 3 days we have been working on reversing the two... Babies don't produce melatonin until about 6 months, so he really has no idea when day or night is, so it's not his fault.
Let me tell you, moving him to his crib has been the most inspired mom thing I have done so far, because now I only wake up when he needs me to wake up (aka when he cries) instead of waking up after every moan, whimper, grunt, and sneeze. I think we are both better off: last night I only got up to feed him twice, and he is learning how to self-soothe from a young age.
This nightly separation has opened my eyes and pulled me from my momma-bear stupor. I'm finally okay with leaving his side for "extended" periods of time during the day... I actually did 2 loads of laundry yesterday, ya'll. What a big deal. Maybe tomorrow I'll get crazy and actually cook dinner. With like, real food and stuff. Lets see how that goes.

The Birth of Emmett Beckham

Emmett is 11 days old today and I have finally found some time to sit and write his birthing story. Actually, I didn't "find" time, but it just so happened that he is asleep in his bassinet right next to me, I just woke up from a 2-hour nap, the house is completely silent, and I am clear-headed enough to type. For the first 2 or 3 days after delivery I kept going over the details of Em's birth and wishing very badly that I could have someone to talk about it with and not sound crazy. It sounds like I went through a very traumatic event, but what I really wanted to do was internalize a few facts such as "wow, I really did give birth" and "the thing I was dreading for months is over" and "damn, that was the hardest thing I've ever done" and most importantly "it hurt a lot, it seemed impossible, but I did it anyway and I am proud of it."
I was not very aware of the timeline of events after my induction, and I am quickly forgetting some facts, so to help myself out, I will write the remainder of this post with bullets and hours and see if I can find some clarity. Here goes:

Wednesday November 25th, 2015 - Thursday November 26th, 2015

• 5:30 PM Arrived at the hospital and checked into the ER. Signed a bunch of papers, and then went into the waiting room because my room was not available yet. 
• 6:30 PM Room was ready, changed into those terrible hospital gowns and got strapped down with monitors on my belly. Emmett kept moving a lot, so they kept having to re-adjust the monitors tighter and tighter... it got very uncomfortable. 
• 8:00 PM Started on Cervidil; I still remember the application being more painful than the contractions because I was so swollen. Gosh dang it, that sucked. I was told to sleep as much as possible, but there was too much adrenaline in me, I think. I may have dozed off for about 2 hours during the night, but sleeping was difficult because they kept having to re-adjust those darned monitors and make me switch sides. I started having contractions but didn't feel them until much later. Longest night of my life, I was soooo uncomfortable. 
• 3:00 AM Cervidil came out and had to be re-inserted. It hurt as bad as the first time. Ugh. I think the second time around was done correctly because contractions really kicked up and I really started feeling them.
• 6:00 AM Started on Pitocin. I think I over-react to any drug I've ever taken, and this was not the exception. Just two hours later I had a fever, which caused Emmett's heartbeat to get very high, and I was having tetanic contractions. It's a good thing I didn't know what these were until now, because I would have been freaked out if I did... Tetanic contractions are contractions that come so frequently that they merge into one sustained contraction, which SUCKED because OUCH and because I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was very unaware of what was going on around me, but I remember having at least 3 nurses around my bed trying to fix things. Somewhere in there a nurse rubbed alcohol on my shoulder and informed she was giving me a shot to slow down the contractions. I hardly felt the sting because of the unending contraction and because someone was really tightening the monitors on my belly trying to get Emmett's heartbeat back on. 
• 7:45 AM Finally I was able to breathe and the crazy blur of confusion and pain and nurses slowed down to something I could process. The contractions came, but with breaks in between them. I was also given Tylenol for my fever. 
• 10:00 AM Contractions getting stronger and faster, in danger of becoming one never-ending contraction again. Nurse slowed down the Pitocin and informed me that an epidural was on it's way because it was still crazy painful every time they tried to check my cervix. I asked to use the bathroom before the epidural and felt such relief at finally being allowed to get off that damned bed. Contractions are sooo much more bearable when you're not laying down, I found out. 
• 10:20 AM My nurse talks me through the epidural process and freaks me out because she says it's painful and a really awkward pressure. 
• 10:30 AM Anesthesiologist arrives and starts getting everything ready. I look at anywhere but at whatever he's holding. I'm asked to sit up on the edge of the bed and hold a pillow to my belly. I bark at Philip to stop watching Hulu on his phone and come hold my hands. I feel the cold alcohol swab on my back and tense up waiting for the pain to come, while also breathing through a contraction. Needle #1; a sting slightly less painful than a bee sting. Very bearable compared to contraction pain. 20 second pause. Needle #2; super awkward pressure-pain while I wince and try to break Philip's fingers off. For some reason I imagined the needle was going to go a lot deeper than it did and the pain would be a lot worse. It was over a lot quicker than I thought it would be, and not nearly as bad as I feared. 
• 10:45 AM Everything below my belly button started feeling super warm like I just sat down in a bath, it was heavenly. I just sit in pure amazement at what modern medicine can achieve. After 20 minutes of bliss, I get a catheter inserted (didn't feel nice) and freak out because the nurse announces she has to check my cervix, so I brace for the pain. All hail the epidural gods, because it's finally not painful to have someone's hand go up in there. She announces that I am 4 centimeters dilated, and I am shocked to know that this is actually happening. I sleep for about 2 hours, I think.
• 12:00 PM-ish Dr. Nowitzky comes in and breaks my water, it felt so yucky to be sitting in a pool of water. She also announced that I was 7 centimeters dilated, and I am shocked at the progress. Everyone seems happy that this is moving along quickly. I am starting to feel the pain very strong again, so I ask to push what they call the "pain button" which gives me a quick dose of anesthesia through the epidural.  
• 2:30 PM I seem to be stuck at 9.5 centimeters, so my Pitocin is increased and they make me lay on my side with a sponge pillow thingy between my knees. SO. MUCH. PAIN. The "pain button" thing didn't work, so the anesthesiologist comes back to give me a shot of whatever magical substance he has. It kind of sort of works for a little while. 
• 3:00 PM I finally reach 10 centimeters and I'm ready to start pushing. Nurse informs me that it is not unusual for first time mothers to be pushing for at least an hour before the baby comes, and since I'm having a big baby that might well be the case. I spend the next hour and a half staring at the minute hand on the clock willing it to move faster. 
• 3:30 PM After 30 minutes of hard work, the nurse makes me lay on my side with the pillow between my knees to help Emmett come down a little more. She makes me switch sides every 5 minutes, and everything about this really sucks. It hurts to move and to breathe and to sit and to lay and to exist. Epidural is wearing off a lot. 
• 3:50 PM We start pushing again. I say we because it was like a team effort. My mom holding my left leg, Philip holding my right, and me just whining to both of them about not being able to do this anymore and for some reason talking to my contractions and begging them to stop. They didn't stop. I tried a lot harder during some pushes than others, but after what seemed like an eternity the nurse finally called my doctor and the delivery team into the room. 
• 4:25 PM LONGEST 5 MINUTES OF MY LIFE. It may have been less than five minutes, but I was crowning and felt like I would die if I didn't push right away. The delivery team was getting ready and I was ordered NOT to push until they told me to. The "ring of fire" is a real thing. A very real thing. 
• 4:29 PM A strong contraction came and I was FINALLY allowed to push. It only took about half the effort of a regular push, and I felt Emmett's head come out. 
• 4:30 PM A second push and the rest of him slides out a lot easier than his head, and he is placed on my stomach and my body is shaking so much that I'm scared to hold him. Emmett is crying his lungs out and I am amazed at how strong and big and beautiful he is. Someone hands Philip the scissors and he cuts the umbilical cord. Then I laugh because a nurse says that he looks like he's about to pass out (which he does). What a softie. 
• 4:33 PM They take Emmett to weigh and clean him. More shenanigans going on down there... my nurse presses hard on my abdomen to get the placenta out, and then the Dr. announces I have 4th degree tears and she has to sow me up in two places. I try really really hard not to imagine what it must look like down there, and distract myself by looking at Philip holding our perfect son. The epidural effects are almost all gone, so I do feel pain at getting sown up. 
• 4:45 PM Lots of people are working at cleaning things up, I'm working on not shaking so much, and Emmett is placed on my chest for skin-to-skin contact. My dad, who apparently had no sense of privacy on that particular day, walks into the room to see how I'm doing. I'm given some pain pills, the OK to drink water, and some saltine crackers. My mom takes terrible pictures... not of me holding my baby for the first time, but of me wolfing down crackers while holding my baby for the first time. Don't judge me guys, I was starving.
• 4:55 PM Asked the nurse if I could please, please eat half of a Baby Ruth that had been sitting on the table laughing at my suffering and hunger all day. She warned against it because it might make me nauseated... but I wolfed it down anyway and it didn't. Philip is busy calling a bunch of people with the news, and soon after I eat the candy bar I feel relaxed enough to close my eyes since my mom is holding Emmett. 

I dozed in and out of it for the next hour. I was about 75% aware of Philip's parents and Kaleb coming by and taking pictures, but I was too drowsy to say much more than "don't Facebook this yet." 

Soon, everyone was ushered outside and I was finally left alone with my baby in my arms for about 5 minutes. I looked down at him and we had our first conversation:

Me: Hello baby, I'm so glad to finally meet you.
Him: Hi.
Me: Did you just say hi to me?
Him: Yes.

Twenty hours of labor, and not until then did I give myself a chance to cry with my son before anyone came back in the room. 

The Prego Diaries: Week 30

I feel this EVERY DAY. Seriously.

Oh my gosh, I'm HUGE! And I only have 10 more weeks of being pregnant! These days are passing by very quickly and very slowly at the same time. I want the days to go by quicker because I want my body back: I want to be able to tie my shoelaces, paint my toenails, and get things out of the bottom drawer without feeling like I just completed a session of bikram yoga. But then I want the days to go by slower because I'm panicking about not having our nursery complete yet (it's silly to worry about this, I know) and also I keep having terrifying nightmares about labor.

That last part is not completely unjustified: baby Emmett is going to be a big baby. Just one week ago I went in for a sonogram and his weight was 3 pounds, 6 ounces. I just cannot forget those numbers. Dr. Nowitzky told me that he's supposed to weigh that much at 31 weeks, (not at 29) so he's at least 2 weeks bigger than what the average baby is! She asked how much I weighed at birth (barely cleared 7 pounds) and then chuckled and said "ha ha, no, this is NOT going to be a 7-pound baby".
It seems crazy, but I already feel bigger and this happened just one week ago. I wouldn't be surprised if he's grown at least another half pound in the past 7 days.

Baby Emmett feels ridiculously strong already. He squirms and kicks and punches whenever it's breakfast time, lunch time, dinner time, and occasionally midnight-snack time. I'm pretty much not allowed to feel hungry at any time of the day for fear of getting mauled from the inside.

I think back to my first trimester and just laugh and how disgusted I was by so many kinds of food; these days NOTHING food-related survives in my presence for very long, and much less gives me nausea. I just hope that I can work off this baby weight after Emmett is born, and that I find an effective form of weight loss. Now that I know how awful it feels to be this big, I think I will do anything in my power to reach my "skinny clothes" goal.