Our second miracle has finally arrived.

When Baby Bo's due date was decided to be August 19, 2012, I can honestly say I never gave credence to the idea of being pregnant the entire month of August. We "evicted" Spencer the day before his due date, and I just assumed Bo would come around that time as well.

I was wrong.

August 19 came and passed. As it did, we made an appointment with a nurse midwife, who later that week, said she would be willing to wait up to two more weeks, possibly even up until September 9 to induce. I felt pretty frustrated and discouraged. I was only dilated 1 cm and barely thinned out. Realistically, I knew that the end of the pregnancy was coming soon, but with all of the pain sitting, walking, standing, sleeping, doing stairs... basically ANYTHING that I had been enduring the previous couple of weeks, and nearly a month's worth of seemingly pointless contractions, it felt like we would never meet this baby!

I decided to continue on trying "home remedies" to prepare the body for and/or induce labor... evening primrose oil capsules, spicy food, walking, stairs, pressure points, baths, etc. Heck, I even let Jake bounce me around on a teeter totter, and I did 120 jumping jacks one night!

On August 31, we had a third appointment with the midwife. They wanted to do an AFI ultrasound (amniotic fluid index) and a non-stress test before the long holiday weekend. The appointment was set for ten in the morning, but they didn't call us back until 10:57. I was annoyed. The ultrasound took about four minutes, and the doctor came in saying everything looked fine, and making some stupid jokes about how I wanted to hold out until labor day. Ugh.

They sent us upstairs to my midwife, and Jake left to run a few quick errands while I did the NST. Everything seemed to be going well by my analysis, and it was obvious that I was having a few "light" contractions from time to time. The NST took quite a while. The midwife was waiting on the report from the doctor from the AFI and he was not getting it to her. She came to check on me a few times, once saying something like, "since you are do far overdue (almost two weeks past the 19th), we want to be very careful in things, or just get the baby out..." as she walked out the door. Confused and a little alarmed by the wording, I sent Jake a message telling him her words and how I wasn't sure what they meant exactly. A while later, the nurse finally came in and said the ultrasound showed baby was healthy, buty fluid was lower than they liked, and that meant they were going to induce me. She then said the midwife was going to call the hospital and schedule it, but they didn't know when precisely yet.

Oh, I forgot to mention that earlier that week, at our second appointment, they scheduled an induction for 6am on Wednesday, September 5, and I was then 2.5cm and starting to thin (yay for the teeter totter! Haha).

She then left and I text Jake, who showed up minutes later. He seemed a bit anxious, whereas I was just confused and tired of being in the NST room.

Finally, we were told that at 3pm that afternoon, we should arrive at the hospital for check-in, and that a different nurse-midwife would be delivering the baby.

We left in a state of shock. I didn't expect to be induced that day at all. After always waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I was certain that I would be pregnant until the following Wednesday. I had hoped to have the baby way before so that my sister, who spent the summer living with us, could be one of the first to meet him/her, and she also was planning to watch Spencer the first night we were in the hospital. Fortunately, she wasn't moving home until the next day.

We told our parents and siblings, packed our bags, and ate lunch, then the hospital called asking us to come in an hour earlier to get things started. So, off we went.

As luck would have it, though, they promptly checked me in, hade get ony gown, hookede up to the monitors again, and then... I waited for three hours while they figured out what was going on. It seemed to take forever. I laid/sat on the bed for almost two hours staring at this creepy freaking pigeon across from my window who sat there, statuesquely staring in my window, not moving. He actually recruited a friend to help creep me out, and they were both there until dark. I was relieved when my friend Sam showed up to keep me company and we walked a mile.

Finally, at 5:20pm, I met the nurse-midwife who would deliver the baby, Teri (who I loved!), and got the pitocin started. I felt like things were finally, officially, underway.

They were slow moving for a while yet, though. Jesse, make's twin, Sam's boyfriend, came, and then they brought us supper. Creepy birds kept staring. Jillian ce to visit. Jake tan home to put Spencer to bed and get his guitar around 10.

I sent him a text around 10:30 or so saying things were starting to get more painful. He got back to the hospital around 11. By this pint, my times are more approximate, but pretty accurate yet.  I was in some deal of pain now, but getting through it on my own. Within the next half hour, my water started leaking and the pain intensified greatly. I was checked and at 7cm. I told them I was thinking about pain relief but unsure yet.

Then, it felt like my hips were going to shatter. I wasn't having back labor like I did with Spencer, bit it was in my hips and lower abdomen. After talking with Jake, initially I decided that the next some sometime came to check on me, I would request an epidural. My plan had been that I would try to do without, but also that I didn't want to torture myself. Plus, it was late, and I was already exhausted.

The contractions then were steady and painful to the point I had tears. I "agreed" to let Jake get the nurse early and ask for the epidural. This was probably my saving grace and I am thankful he suggested that he would do that for me.

The epidural was administered at 12:25am. It wasn't a fun process. The contractions were every minute lasting minute and a half and having to sit up and hold still as the stuck things in my spine... yeah.  After all was done, the anaesthiologist said it would take around twenty minutes to reach full effect but each contraction would gradually be more bearable.

And... it was, for a little while. But then, around 1am, the pain returned... for transferred, to my back area. Each contraction brought on more pain and pressure. I felt like my insides were going to explode. I had incredible shakes and tears that I could not, for the life of me, fight back. I have never trembled so ferociously in my life. It really scared me, and I told Jake that.

He went and found a nurse who came in and checked me out. Said I was almost ready and that the shakes were a normal side effect. Wretched. As she left, I swore I could probably just have the baby then and there and kept telling Jake that it just needed to be over with NOW.

I felt like pushing, but held back because I was told I wasn't ready, and also, there were no doctors in the room.

Finally, at about 1:45 I was told I was ready to push. So, they helped me roll over and got everything ready, and the next 21 minutes were nothing short of the most painfully, horrific, torture-filled minutes of my life, pretty sure. I believe I told everyone a few times how it "hurt so much" and that I wasn't sure I could do it. Teri told me I could, of course, and was basically on the verge of being done. I had an excruciating leg cramp right before I delivered, and I screamed like I do not recall ever screaming before. I think it freaked Jake out a bit. And then...

Jake proudly announced "IT'S A BOY!"

Collin Liam was born at 2:11am, Saturday, September 1, 2012.

Teri handed him to me immediately and I snuggled him as they cleaned him off. He did not cry, not really. He made a little whimper that lasted maybe 5 seconds after delivery. He just stared at me peacefully. It was surreal, as Spencer screamed for around 40 minute when he entered the world. Truth be told, Collin did not cry for more than 8 collective minutes in the course of his first 24 hours after being born.

Teri, shortly after the birth, said something to the effect of "oh my gosh! I have NEVER seen this before!" It freaked me out, for sure, because she hadn't handed him to me so I couldn't see what was going on. She told us, "this little guy has some angels out there. He has a double knot in his cord."

Woah. Somehow, in utero, Collin had flipped around so much that he tied not one, but two knots in his umbilical cord, one right atop the other, and they were tight. She showed us. It was a bit terrifying, as she explained that could be fatal.she kept saying two knots is just crazy. Guess Collin really was a dancer, like his nickname, Bojangles.

After he was clean, I passed him off to Jake, who cuddled him a while longer. I just stared in awe, thinking how wonderful it is to have two sons. Two of Jake's boys. Two little buddies. I couldn't take my eyes off them as Teri stitched me up.

Collin weighed in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches tall.

Spencer calls Collin "baby." It's adorable. He looks for him in the basinette if he hasn't seen him in a while. He has tried to help feed him once, and he laughs hysterically if Collin has the hiccups.

We love having two little boys. It's going to be quite an adventure.

Nerves.

I remember, shortly before Spencer was born, getting a little anxious and nervous. As a first time mom, I didn't know what to expect.  I tried not to worry and dwell on it too much, seeing as how it wouldn't make a difference, and I think, overall, I kept myself pretty calm about the upcoming labor and delivery of our first born child.

On Sunday, I will be 37 weeks pregnant.  Spencer was born the day before his due date (as a result of induction).  If Bo follows suit, I have about three weeks left.  Of course, there's no real way to count on that, so I am trying to keep myself mentally prepared to become a mother again at any time now.

It's nerve-wracking.  Again.  Still.  It's the same, but it's different.  I think I might be more nervous this time, actually.  It doesn't make a ton of sense to me, but at the same time, here I am, day in and day out, thinking about what's coming up really soon.


Why am I nervous?  Well, I know that each and every birth is different, just like every pregnancy.  While I was induced with Spencer because he was assumed to be "large" at full term, he was 8 pounds 2 ounces at birth.  That's not... that large.  I haven't been great about taking photos this pregnancy, because Spencer keeps me pretty occupied, more than anything, but I managed to take a snap a photo last week at the mall.  Below, we have Spencer v. Bo.  It looks as if Bo is even bigger than Spencer.    I haven't gained much as far as poundage goes (I really didn't with Spencer either, both times, I lost, then started to gain it back, and was only a few pounds over pre-pregnancy weight with Spencer, right where I am now with Bo).  


Seeing that I appear larger this time makes me nervous.  Will it be harder this time?  Will Bo be bigger, really?  Or is it all just an illusion.  I don't want a cesarean if I can help it, which is why they induced last time.  Will I end up with one this time?


I know I shouldn't worry about it, because worrying really makes no difference, but I wonder anyway.


I had an epidural last time.  I am hoping to avoid one this time, for no reason other than the thought of injection in the spinal column is creepy.  I dealt with it last time, because once I was about 5cm dialated or so, I was having intense back labor.  Well, my placenta this time is right near my spine.  Does that mean I'll have intense back labor again?  If so, I'll probably give in and get an epidural. I know it's nothing to be ashamed of, but they still make me nervous, even if I had one last time.

And then there's the worry I had last time: Will Jake make it in time?  He works on the road again with this job.  Last time, we were lucky in that we scheduled to induce so he was there.  But, had I gone early, would he have been last time?  Will he be this time?  I am terrified to think that second labors often go more quickly, and if I didn't realize I was in labor right away, would it give him enough time to get to the hospital?  I can't imagine him missing the birth of our child.

Then, of course, there's post birth nerves: Will Spencer adjust?  Will he love or hate the new addition?  Will I be a good mom to two?  Sometimes I feel like a cruddy mom to just one!

I know in the end, it will all work out according to God's plan and I shouldn't worry as much as I do.  But, it sure does come naturally.

a memorable hug

Nearly a year ago, my "little" brother left Minnesota on a deployment tour to Kuwait. The deployment ceremony was in May of 2011, and since that time, I believe we had seen him for two other days in the past nearly a year. That's more than many military families can say, I know and for that I'm grateful.

But, let's just be honest, 11 months of "touring" is a long time. Surely, it is for the soldiers, and also their families. I know it's nothing I've knowingly experienced before. And while it was my brother who was off on a mission and not a spouse or a child, it was still a big difference, and a big deal to me. I mean, I see my family every month or so, at least, despite the fact that they live over 2 hours away. We're close. I try to see them as much as a I can. So, when I would visit, or they would visit, multiple times over the last 11 months, and Bryan wasn't around (except for our family gathering and then again for my son's 1st birthday party), it just felt... different.

I have known for a while now, a couple months, anyway, that sometime in April, he would be coming home. He's told me many times, as have my sisters, other brother, and parents. But, I was never certain of the date, because a specific date was never given to us.

So, when my dad called me a week ago, roughly, to tell me that the weekend coming up (this past one, now), Bryan would probably be flying into Minnesota, I was really excited! I didn't think I'd be seeing him right away, but just knowing he'd be on home soil was amazing. And then on Saturday, I saw my mom had said that she's be picking him up on Sunday sometime.

Sunday, as in YESTERDAY. She had figured sometime in the afternoon.

Yesterday morning, she sent me a text saying she was on her way to get him.

And... it just so happens, that was PERFECT.

I had forgotten Spencer's diaper bag, which also housed my wallet, at my aunt's house for Easter the weekend before. Despite a whirlwind busy weekend, chalk full of things to do, Jake told me the other night that we would go get it on Sunday. My sister got it from my aunt's house, so we were going to stop by my dad's and pick it up before heading back to Sioux Falls for the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert.

Seeing as that my mother was getting Bryan in the morning instead of afternoon... that meant we would see him!

So, yesterday, around 3pm, I received one of the most memorable, best hugs I've ever received. And it was from my "little" brother, who is 7.5 years younger than me and towers over me by inches.

I walked up to my dad's house, and he, along with my siblings and parents, walked out. And, still dressed in his uniform, he came up and gave me the tightest hug I've gotten in ages. Ah! I am smiling now just thinking about it.

It was surreal to see him again, being that I hadn't really expected it!

Of course, my father, being the photographer that he likes to be, had to get a picture of us together... so we got to hug again... which became kind of awkward when my dad realized his camera was frozen, and we were standing in the front yard hugging like goons and smiling at my dad... who was not actually taking pictures yet, but telling us "just a minute, hold on." Haha. Bryan started dancing with me, "to the Elton John song in his head," and when I busted a gut laughing and tried to get away, he told me "no, wait, it's only the first chorus!"

So, not only did I get a great first hug, a long, awkward, hilarious second hug, and dance, but another couple when my dad finally enlisted my help in "thawing" (haha) his camera so he took pictures, and you know, when we left again, too. Yup, it was pretty great.

Bryan, for the record, has an excellent sense of humor. One of my biggest fears, aside from losing him while he was overseas, was that he'd come back super serious, or completely changed, and it would feel like we didn't know him at all.

Fortunately, that is not the case. Gosh. When you get all 4 of my siblings and I (ah! I'm so glad this happened) together, sitting at a table, talking and joking around, I laugh harder than I do most anywhere else. With Bryan there, it was just absolutely... perfect.

Though we had to leave after an hour and a half to get back in time for the concert, it was well worth the extra 2.5 hours of travel time, just to see him, talk with him, and hug him a few times. And, we left knowing that it won't be months before we see him again.

Ah!

Mother Hands.

On most nights, when Spencer gives me the signals that he's getting ready for bed, I pick up his glass of milk, he follows me to the bedroom, I pick him up, kiss his forehead, say "I love you," lay him down, say "Goodnight, baby," and give him his milk. The music is usually on already, a lullaby CD of some sort (we have a few to choose from, now). Sometimes, I hum along.

If he's not quite into the idea of sleeping right away, I often stroke his forehead. Or, more often, I pat his back, or lightly rub it in a circular motion. If he's on his front, I softly pat his chest.

Because his crib is so tall (it has wheels on the bottom of it, it's an older style, and they don't come off), and I get nauseous standing and leaning over the side of it, I sit on a stool beside it, and I drape my arms over. While it generally starts cutting off the circulation in a matter of seconds, I tough it out as best I can so that my little boy will relax and drift off to sleep.

Tonight, as I sat there, patting and rubbing his back, I was watching my hands. And, out of nowhere, it hit me that I have "mother hands" now.

What does that mean, you ask?

Well, to me, it means that they are starting to resemble my mother's hands, my aunts' hands, or my grandmother's hands. They're no longer child-soft skin. I have small scars, nicks, a few small drier patches, and they're tan. They are starting to feel a little leathery.

Of course, this is probably due to the fact that I'm 2 years shy of thirty years old.

Does it bother me? Not a bit.

As I sit there, stroking his back, noticing that because of the lack of circulation to my hand, the veins on the back of my hand puff out a little more. My knuckles seem to have deep, distinguished wrinkles on them. I'm wearing a soft, brown sweater. My hands, to me, look like a mom's hands.

I sat there, imagining what it would have looked like 27 years ago, when I was Spencer's age, and my mother would be stroking my own back, or patting me to sleep. She was younger than I was when her first child (me) was born. But, I imagined the motions were the same. I imagined the Emotions were the same as well. Love. Patience. Kindess. Compassion. Peace.

And then, I imagined my grandmother, softly patting her children and grandchildren to sleep.

I saw myself in a long line-up of generations of mothers that raised their children before me, all caressing their beloved child as they drifted into peaceful sleep.

As Spencer's eyelids grew quite heavy and the last few flutters from open to close passed, I had an overwhelming feeling of perfection.

My hands are perfect, in their aging, scarred imperfection.

My hands are mother's hands.

10:17

I was born on October 17, 1983, to my parents, Richard and Anita. If I recall correctly, my mother went into labor the evening before, at the Lamberton movie theater. It was the last time she and my dad went to that movie theater. She told me once what movie they were seeing, but unfortunately, that information was saved in my old cell phone, and I just can't remember what it was.

I was born at about 10:41 in the morning, I think, and I weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces. I had dark brown hair, and lots of it (kind of like Spencer did). I was the first grandchild on my mother's side.

Today was my 28th birthday. Truth be told, I've always thought birthdays kind of a big deal. I mean, it's a day to remember your birth, the day you entered the world, and reflect on all that you've done or become.

I love my birthday. It's one of my favorite days of the year. I think I appreciate my parents more on my birthday than I do on Mother's Day or Father's Day, even.

It could be 'childish' to some, I guess, to think that a birthday is a big deal as an adult, but I don't care. I don't think my birthday is the only one that's a big deal. I think that for any of my family and friends. I mean, we celebrate our LIFE that day, specifically, although we can/should/do every other day too. But the birthday, well, it's more special, I think.

I woke up this morning not feeling well. I was tired, groggy, sick to my stomach, and had a headache. It was dark and dreary, and I wasn't really looking forward to leaving the house, knowing I might not even see my husband the remainder of the day, unless he somehow got done early and was home before I fell asleep. I tried not to be bummed out as I drove to work.

Luckily, I have a great friend that I work with daily who, right away in the morning when we got an ice cream birthday cake for later, made my birthday feel special. Even the children at work were excited to wish me a happy birthday and celebrate! That was fun. In the afternoon, Jillian put 28 crazy candles on the ice cream cake, they sang to me, I blew them out with one breath (yeah me! I haven't blown out birthday candles in years) and we shared the cake. That was fun, really.

After work, Jillian and I left to meet Robert at Buffalo Wild Wings (with Spencer and Grayson, of course) to further celebrate my birthday. I was thinking on the way there which wings I should order as take-out to bring home for Jake since he wouldn't be there to join us, and I thought it'd be a nice treat for him when he got home from work that night.

We were standing in the foyer area, waiting for our table, and all of a sudden, someone's face was right beside my own, behind me, sort of, and it freaked me out a bit. I turned around to see...

JAKE!

Yeah!

He surprised me!

I was super excited. I mean, I still am! He was home for my birthday supper! He surprised me! And, I didn't have to order him wings for later, because he was going to eat them with us for supper! YEAH!

Seriously, I'm still smiling about it.

And he was dressed all nice, too. In his dark blue jeans and black button-up shirt. I was wearing his hoodie and my baggy jeans. Haha. Like it matters, though, right?

So, Jake, Jillian, and Robert managed to make my birthday special, not only by treating me to supper and giving me some company so I didn't spend my birthday the way I told Jillian I was probably going to spend it when she asked that morning, fighting Spencer to sleep and watching a movie alone on the couch.

Robert, Jillian, and Grayson then came over to our place, where Jake had picked out a variety of my favorite desserts (cheesecake (which was actually from his step-mother, yum!), red velvet cupcakes, champagne cupcake, and tiramisu), and we enjoyed each other's company a while longer. Then, Jake gave me two birthday cards, one super-sweet one, and one that's funny and plays "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash. Spencer loves that one. He dances to it when we open it for the music.

Currently, Jake is serenading Spencer as he takes his nightly bath, and then I'm going to cuddle with him on the couch and watch a movie... together! It's so simple, but it feels perfect.

I also must thank my... 30+ family and friends who left wonderful messages for me on my Facebook timeline, sent me sweet/funny/thoughtful text messages, left me voicemails, or I was able to talk to on the phone. I know that those are simple gestures, but I really appreciate them and enjoy reading them. (Does that make me an attention-seeker? Hmm. I don't think so, but I hope it doesn't come off that way to others.) It's a blessing to know so many are thinking of me and wishing me wonderful things.

It's funny to me that 10 years ago, I was so excited about becoming a "legal adult" and turning 18. I truthfully like turning 28 better. At 28, I'm married to my best friend, and together, we have the son we'd always dreamed of.

I can't wait to see what comes next.

Here's to my birth, my present, and my future.

Oh, how the years go by.

This weekend, Jake, Spencer, Wendell, and I packed up and headed to Minnesota, to spend the weekend at Jake's mom's house.

This is an activity that (well, with the exception of with Spencer, and sort of Wendell) is quite familiar to me.

Last night, Jake and I were sitting on his mother's couch, with Spencer playing on the floor (Wendell was outside with Jeb, Mindy's dog), and I had a flashback of this photo:

That photo was taken in 2002. Where we were sitting last night, we were facing that couch.

It dawned on me that I have been visiting Mindy's house for TEN YEARS. That's a decade.

Jake and I met in the summer of 2001. He came to my house the very first time on August 31, 2001. I don't know why I remember that date, but I do.

As we sat there, me staring at this photo (in my mind, of course) of us on the couch across from us, I was hit with so many flashbacks of time spent in that living room. And then, I said to Jake something about me coming to visit and spend the night there for TEN YEARS.

I followed with something like, "and now, we're bringing her GRANDSON with. I never saw that coming!"

It's amazing how time flies. Really. I mean, I sit here now and muse about what the next ten years will hold, and it sounds like a really, really long time, but it's not, at all.

I believe Jake's youngest brother, Josh, was about 12 when I met him the first time. He was at home this weekend too, and when he would walk up the stairs from the basement, I'd have a flashback of him being so young. He was about the same age as my littlest sister is NOW. She was TWO when Jake met her. TWO. That's only a year older than Spencer is! Wow!

The past 10 years really flew by faster than I ever imagined that they would. (Of course, this past year was the quickest flying of them all, if I do say so myself.)

Today, we went on a lunch date, and visited "China" (that's what the name of the restaurant in Windom is, "China," which I think is really... absurd...), and then just drove around town together, passing by old friends' houses. We covered almost the entire town, actually, reminiscing about old times, things we'd done together with our joint friends, and things we'd done separately that stood out to us as strong memories. It sounds kind of "lame" I suppose, but it was really fun, I think. I was silently overwhelmed with the realization of how much time I spent in that town, and at his mother's house, over the last decade, and how many wonderful memories I have with so many friends from the area.

I also decided that I can't wait until Spencer is a few years older, and we can take him back there, and take him on that drive, pointing out important places from the early years of his father and my relationship, as well as our memories with some of his blood and honorary aunts and uncles. I can't wait for him to play at the parks I hung out at, or eat at the McDonald's where his father gave me my first hug (from him, of course) early one summer morning at McPrayer.

I then realized I'd been friends with his best friend for 11 years already. And I met some of my other close friends 15 years ago (they went to my school, but one of them is now married and lives in Windom), which seemed even more insane.

In the evening, one of the friends that I have had since I was a toddler came over to Mindy's and brought her husband and her infant daughter. The six of us sat in the grass talking and watching our babies play, and she said, "this is much different than what we're used to doing when we hang out, isn't it? But it's awesome!" Or something similar. It gave me goosebumps. It was a wonderful moment.

I don't feel that much older than when I started making all of these wonderful friendships and memories with people from Windom, though obviously, I am. That's the crazy part. I guess, some days I feel older, but for the most part, I still feel so... young. But I'm actually closer to 30 than to 20, and I finally have a child that we'd been trying for, for so long.

As I write this, I have "Here's to the Night," by Eve 6 in my head. I had the lyrics to that written on a favorite pair of jeans from the summer prior to my senior year, as well as "icons" I drew of things that reminded me of my friends from that summer. I wore the jeans, actually, for one of my senior photos. Almost all of the memories from that song, that summer, and those jeans, are tied up in Windom, and my mother-in-law's house.

To me, that's pretty stinkin' awesome.

This photo has some of my dearest friends from 2001-2002.

And there is no secret to the source of this much life...

Ah, the memories.

<-- Five years ago this afternoon, this is what was going on in my life.

I was so excited... and maybe a little nervous due to the fact that so many of our friends and family were staring at us as we publicly committed our lives to one another through God. We wrote our own vows, and I got a little choked up saying mine, but I did not break into tears, which I thought was an excellent accomplishment. When I cry, you can't understand what I am trying to say, really, so I had hoped I wouldn't start sobbing while trying to read my vows to my ne

w husband and he would be wondering "so, what did she just promise anyway?" Haha.

When it came time for the exchange of the rings, I think the magnitude of the moment hit me, and I tried so hard to put Jake's wedding ring on the ring finger of his right hand. He tried to stop me, which made me try harder to get the ring on the incorrect finger. Then, I realized what I was doing, and we all had a great little laugh. That's what the picture here is showing, us laughing as I place the ring, finally, on the correct finger. That is one of my fondest memories from the entire wedding ceremony. It's just... perfect.

I am still, fortunately, able to "play" the wedding day over and over in my mind as I please, and I pray that those memories never fade. We never received a video of our wedding, so I have never been able to actually watch the ceremony, but we were blessed with an audio CD recording from the church in which the ceremony was held. I have only listened to it a few times, because I feel like I can still remember it so well on my own.

It's been five years since Jake and I became husband and wife. I can't decide if it sounds like a short time or a long time.

I remember our first wedding anniversary (which we celebrated a few days early by this moment, because friends of ours were getting married the day before our actual anniversary and we were going to the lake the day of our anniversary) when I waited in my wedding dress, in the dark of our living room, with our first dance song queued up on the CD player with a note that said "press play." I sat, waiting, and waiting, for him to come through the double doors after his long day at work. I wanted to have our "first dance," again. I had planned that second first dance before we were even officially married. It was a wonderful surprise.

I remember thinking how big a deal the FIRST anniversary was. ONE YEAR! Wow! Consequently, each passing anniversary I have thought of as a bit more important, or monumental, anyway, leading up to today.. our FIFTH. I joke and call it our "golden anniversary," seeing as how we were married on August 5th (yes, I know the 50th is the official gold).

Five years is, in my opinion, the second big milestone for marriages. It's half a decade, which makes it sound like a long time, but it's only 5 years, too, a single digit number.

Regardless, I hold today with high esteem and great importance. It is a monumental day in our lives.

Unfortunately, this year, Jake is in Howard, SD, working a long day. He has been there since yesterday, not coming home due to DOT laws. So, I have not seen him since yesterday morning, and there's a good chance I won't see him until tomorrow morning, as he is usually home past 1am on this route day.

While I am sad that I cannot be "with" him physically to celebrate this wonderful day in our lives, I was blessed to have him call me and tell me he loved me. And, tomorrow, he does not work, so we have the entire day to be together. That's worth being thankful for, too.

So, to summarize, I can't believe that this milestone anniversary is already upon us. I am blessed beyond measure to have Jake as my husband, and to have started a family together (this is our first anniversary with Spencer celebrating with us!). We're already "growing old" together, which is something we looked forward to for many years.

I cannot wait to celebrate our 6th anniversary... and every anniversary after.

Jake, I love you. Thank you for choosing me.

First Mother's Day

This is going to be just a "daily recap" sort of blog. That's my forewarning.

I had an (overall) wonderful first official Mother's Day! (I say official because I was pregnant last year.)

I got up early because Spencer was screaming, afraid of the thunderstorm. By "got up" I mean I woke up, and didn't get out of bed until Jake's best friend, Brian, and his girlfriend, Cari, were about to leave and informed me that I had a gift to receive. (It was a humorous picture book- I Haz a Hotdog).

I took a nice long (7 minute!), hot, Mother's Day shower as a treat to myself, and then realized I wasn't going to make it to the 10am church service with Jake (who does lights) because I was still in a robe and Spencer wasn't close to being ready either, and Jake was "late" and had to run out the door. So, I cried on the couch for six minutes (roughly), realizing how I'm tired of going to church alone, and sitting alone, Sunday after Sunday (or the Sundays that Robert or Jillian don't sit by me), while Jake does lights for the service. Then, I felt guilty wanting him to be with me at church because he likes doing lights. So, I cried.

Went to the 11:30 service at church, and sat by myself, of course. I started crying halfway through the service, actually, again, and then shortly after, my hero of a husband came and sat by me for a little while as there was a break in the "lights necessity" of the service. That warmed my spirits up. Following the service, we socialized with a few people, and realized that Spencer was basically dressed as a miniature version of the worship/creative arts pastor. He had on a plaid button up (of the exact same patter and design, just different color), blue jeans, and chucks (sneakers). I don't think Hal shops for himself at Children's Place, but you'd almost think it with how they matched. Haha.

After church, Jake took Spencer and I out for sushi again! I LOVE sushi! Spencer, turns out, loves steamed rice with teriyaki sauce, as well as ice water from a straw (poured from the straw into his mouth).

Jake then surprised me with a nook color! YAY! I had just sent him a text the day prior saying something along the lines of "every time I come to B&N I want a nook more badly." He said, "save up your paychecks and get one."
What a sneak.

So, I was quite delighted with that surprise.

Came home to charge the nook, work on some household chores, change Spencer's diaper and clothes (I didn't, Jake did, which was kind of a bummer because under his plaid shirt he was wearing his "I <3 MOMMY" shirt (but then changed into "My Mommy Rocks")) because he had a little accident, and then Spencer and Jake took a nap while I... did not nap. I do not remember what I did.

Following nap time, we went to Starbucks to use their wi-fi to set up my nook, as well as learn how to use my new cell phone, an HTC Aria. Unicel (our current provider) is switching to AT&T sometime this decade (we've been waiting MONTHS for this to actually happen) and we got new free phones. I enjoyed two beverages, and then we came home.

Jake fed Spencer, gave him a bath, and put him to sleep. Then, we watched "Napoleon Dynamite," and I fell asleep two minutes or so before it was finished. Then, I went to bed (more or less, after getting up hearing Spencer cry, doing some dishes, putting away laundry, and having a sleep-deprived, exhausted cry (which is kind of embarassing to admit)).

Here's a photo of the three of us at Starbucks, taken with my new phone, on my very first Mother's Day.
I love my little family of three (and a half, if you count a beagle as half a person).

Pinch me. Am I dreaming?

For so long, I dreamt that one day I would be a mother. I always guarded my heart, though, afraid my body wouldn't cooperate and that dream would never come true.

I know this is a topic I've visited over and over again. It's like my blog becomes a revolving door of thought, at times, and I'm sure that it annoys some people.

But it's my blog.

I'm sharing this photo because I recently fell in love with it... again. I took it on March 7th (I believe) and thought it adorable, but up until last night, hadn't really sat and looked at it, letting his expression and the whimsical emotion melt my heart like it has. It is one of my favorite photos of him, to date.

Anyway... today, I was discussing with Jillian the possibility of more children in my future. While discussing that, we ventured into a discussion about insurance and fertility treatments. After SJ was born and I switched jobs, we also switched insurance, and up until today, there was some confusion as to what would be covered and when.

After a few phone calls, we established a couple of things. One- that any treatments at any point from here on should be covered by our insurance because, despite a letter we received in the mail, we have no pre-existing condition clause, and two- that I was "officially" diagnosed with PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian sydrome) back in October of 2009. While I had always assumed this to be the case, post-treatments, I did not know for sure, because no one came straight out and told me it was charted or diagnosed.

With this knowledge, I know that if and when Jake and I decide to actively pursue another addition to our family, medical interventions would be covered.

Not that I'm saying we're going to start trying to conceive again any time soon. It's just pure knowledge.

I digress.

After these discussions, I found myself holding Spencer on the couch as he slept, just staring at his perfect little features. Daily, I find myself pinpointing things that are "Jake" and those that are "Nicole," both in his features but also his personality. It's an on-going game I play. Truthfully, I hope one day it stops and I just realize that it's not his father nor I that I see, but rather, Spencer as a whole person. But for now, it's kind of fun.

As I sit and stare, playing my game, I find myself wanting a "reality check," because there's still a part of me that feels that I'm living in a dream. Realistically, I am, but it's one I'm sometimes finding myself afraid to "wake up from" and that it's not real. I let my sinner's heart get the best of me, thinking occasionally that there's no real way that God would have given me this miracle that I wanted, hoped for, and prayed about, for so long.

It's crazy to think that a little over a year ago, Spencer was nothing more than a longing. A year ago, he was inside of me. And today, he's beside me, babbling and smiling and loving on me like I'm the best thing in his world. It's just too good to be true! Yet, it is true.

I also find it mind-boggling to sit and think about his name. Spencer. We picked it. That's who he is. That's what he'll be called, forever (assuming he doesn't get all uppity and change it someday). We decided that. It's a powerful thing, a name.

I apologize if this is all haphazardly strewn together. Tonight, my thoughts (as usual) fly faster than my fingers can share them.

The Cake Lady's Granddaughter.

Tonight, Jillian and I were asked by her husband, Robert, to make a few big sheet cakes for Starbuck's birthday/anniversary and new logo launch celebration tomorrow.

Jillian did the baking and the preliminary frosting, and I did the design and piping- freehanded, of course.

It was a wonderful time, though, with two infants, it sure took a while!

It was really the first time I did an "extensive" decorating since I did with my grandmother, way back when, when she still had the full use of her hands to decorate cakes.

In high school, the cafeteria ladies once asked me "are you the cake lady's granddaughter?"

My grandmother was the cake lady in Lamberton. So, yes, yes I was.

And I still am.

Working on these cakes with Jillian really brought back a ton of fantastic memories. I used to help my grandma with children's cakes, wedding cakes, graduation cakes, you name it. My first cakes were children's cakes, the kind you filled in with the "star" tip like pointillism paintings. They were sore-hand-inducing fun!

Jillian and I were talking today about the possibility of taking cake decorating classes. Now, after reliving the fun I had with my grandmother so long ago, an art form she taught me that I have not forgotten, I really would like to.

Coronado.

My husband is an amazingly hard worker. He is great at what he does. He's so great at what he does, that he is in the highest bracket of sales, and won a four day, expenses-paid trip to Coronado, California. (Jake is a Schwan's Route Driver, by the way.)

It was REALLY hard to leave home, I will admit, but because I wanted to support Jake in his hard-earned achievement, and I really would (have) benefit(ed) from a vacation, I boarded the plane with him at 6:15am on Thursday of last week. I will admit, I cried the entire way to the airport, most of the first plane ride, and a good chunk of the second, and then at the hotel, and then cried myself to sleep. Yes, I was a fountain of tears.

But, overall, it was a great trip. Jake was amazing, supportive, and caring as I wept randomly throughout the four days. Though he admittedly didn't really understand how I was feeling or what I was going through, he tried, and he was not mad at me for being sad at times. At first, I was worried that he would be so sick of me being emotional that I undercut him and wouldn't even try to express in words what I was feeling, though by the end of Thursday night, I opened up, and it really helped.

Anyway, here's where we stayed:That's the Hotel del Coronado, apparently one of the oldest all wooden hotels in the country, or so said the Historical Marker plaque thing out front. Anyway, it was huge, gorgeous, and right on the beach, so I mean, who could complain about that?

On Thursday, after we arrived, they had Schwan's flip-flops and beach towels for us, as well as t-shirts, and random information that we picked up at the beach, and then had brunch on the beach. Totally cool. Jake and I then decided to nap in our hotel room (which had 2 queen-sized beds) before venturing out for the evening. We went on a walk down Orange Ave. and had sushi for supper at a joint called Yummy Sushi. It was pretty fantastic! That night, we went for a moon-lit walk on the beach and took in the sounds of the ocean.

On Friday, we had a Schwan's lunch in the garden area in the center of the hotel. It was delicious, and gorgeous outside. Following lunch, Jake and I went to the beach again for a quick visit, and saw a man there building a remarkable sandcastle. You can see his work at http://www.thesandcastleman.com. Following, we had a business meeting, and then a break before we boarded buses to the night-time sky-line cruise. We were aboard the Inspiration Hornblower for supper and the awards banquet.

On Saturday, we had the day free, so Jake and I went down Orange Ave. again and bought some souveniers for my mom and sisters who were staying at our place with Spencer and Wendell. We had ice cream at MooTime Creamery (much like a Coldstone), and lunch at Bistro d'Asia. We spent even more time at the beach, and watched the sunset over the Pacific. We wrote messages in the sand to photograph for my family and Spencer, and then we got ready for the celebration dinner that was held at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.

At MCAS Miramar, we were able to get up-close and personal with some of the military aircraft. Truthfully, I don't remember which they had on display but we were able to climb in and out of them and tour them. Jake could probably tell you more.

Then we had dinner inside the hangar, followed by some random entertainers. Then, the big surprise entertainment was revealed... Chicago! Yeah, the band, the one that plays trombone, flute, trumpet, drums, etc. The big-shots with all the hits. I was excited, and also kind of disturbed at the choice, but overall, it was pretty fun to see them live. Jake took video on his cell phone as we didn't remember to bring the camera to the event.

We didn't leave Coronado until the afternoon on Sunday, so Sunday morning we once more walked Orange Ave., and visited a park, then stopped for coffee at Starbucks, and brunch at Bruegger's Bagels. We visited the beach one last time, taking pictures of the massive waves and the sandcastle progress as it stood.

Sunday was a really long day, as we spent five or so hours in the San Diego and Denver airports (not a piece, luckily), plus the time on the flights. Spencer was asleep when we got home, but at 3am the next morning when he woke up screaming with extreme hunger, I still got a few big smiles from him amidst the tears.

It was so wonderful to see him fully awake on Monday. He smiled at everything I said or did for hours on end.

Man, I missed him.

But I was glad I went on the trip too. It really was wonderful to spend quality one-on-one time with my husband. I had, truthfully, forgotten what it was like. It was really strange to realize that. And, since I hadn't been away from Spencer for more than an hour while I was awake, it was really hard to leave for four days for the first time, but it was worth it, even if it was hard and I cried my heart out at least seven times.

You can see more pictures by clicking here.

Time stood still.

It's been 78.5 days since Spencer was born. Over the past few days, for some reason, I have been reflecting back to that day, over and over, and over again. It's like my mind is in some sort of time warp.

My mind, apparently, was in a time warp that day, too. I suppose that is to be expected.

As I have been sitting here recalling the day that my son was born, it's like I am watching a movie. Everything still seems so vivid and clear. I almost hear the nurses voices, or Jake's as he "bounced" around the room with excitement and anxiousness. I remember the visitors and doctor visits, the pain, the excitement.

It feels, to me, that the world stop spinning that day. I don't recall if I felt that the day was moving really slowly while I was in labor, but looking back now, I feel that it went by super quickly. I wasn't have strong contractions until 10:00 or so that morning, and he was born at 7:34pm. I only pushed for about an hour. I know the act of pushing felt long, but it really didn't feel like I had been pushing, taking a break, and doing it again for an hour straight. Time was really strange that day. I had no concept of it.

I was realizing I only know how I feel, or what I experienced that day, really. I mean, Jake was with me, and I saw his emotions and experienced things of that nature, but I don't really know what was going through his head or what he was feeling, or what he saw, remembered, etc. What did he do when he would leave the room? What conversation did he have with his brother, or mother, or father, or step-mother, or our friends, when he wasn't near me? I just don't know. I wish he'd tell me. I asked, and he sort of laughed.

And then I wonder... what was my mom's day like? What did my dad do that day? My siblings? My friends? Jake's family? I remember his step-mother talking to me on the phone the Saturday before, asking if I wanted them to wait to come visit until after we were home, and I said they could come whenever. Her original plan was to wait until Tuesday or Wednesday, after Spencer was born, but she and Jake's dad were there waiting while Spencer was being born. Obviously, there must have been some excitement and anxiousness in their lives... but what did they experience? What happened in their lives that day? Jake's mom and twin also visited before Spencer was born. And our friends, Robert, Jillian, and Grayson, were waiting there as he was being born too, to meet him.

I know the world didn't stop turning, time continued on, and all sorts of things happened, maybe even some of great importance, on November 1, 2010. But, it's so crazy to me to not be able to recall any of them, to feel like I was plucked out of the world into this seemingly alternate reality, where the only thing going on was the labor and birth of our son. To me, there was nothing else.

But I wonder... what else was there?

We love Mud Butts!

It's official. We have a favorite cloth diaper in our family, and it won with a unanimous vote (we count Spencer as agreeing with us, of course, since he can't really "talk back" yet (and hope he never does, but that's wishful thinking, I'm sure)). Jake exclaimed it to me from Spencer's room at 1:14 this morning, "It's official, the Mud Butts are my favorite!"

MUD BUTT CLOTH DIAPERS WIN!

Yeah, this post is about cloth diapers.

Mud Butt Cloth Diapers are made by a Work at Home Mom (WAHM) in Minnesota. Here's her website. Feel free to order some for us. Haha.

Anyway, here's why we love the diaper:

• You can design your own, it's custom! You pick the diaper color, and the snap color. FUN!

• You can order a pocket or an All-in-Two (AI2). We order the AI2. It's super cool. You can use it as a typical pocket diaper and stuff it with an insert, which is stellar, but the primo option is the snap-in inserts. When your baby wets, you can just yank that right out (well, gently, of course) and toss it in the laundry, and then snap a fresh, dry one in it's place. You can order the inserts separate too. We've been able to use ONE diaper up to 3 times (because we can use it with two snap-ins, and sometimes I stuff a pocket insert in there too, for the third time. It's rare, but I've done it).

• It's very absorbent. Due to the fact you can customize the stuffing so wonderfully, we've never had a leak problem and he's worn it overnight for up to 8 hours when we forgot to change him. Yeah, we're bad parents sometimes. But they were so absorbent that it didn't even bother his cute little tushy.

• They're really easy to wash, like most cloth diapers, of course. Toss them in the laundry and throw them in the washer, and wash and dry as usual!

• They're trim. His butt doesn't look totally bulky, even when they're snapped to the smallest settings, he doesn't get a fluffy rear. Fantastic!

• They're affordable!

• Customer service is EXCELLENT. Seriously. Probably one of the nicest sellers out there. I'm not saying that to suck up. I didn't know her at all before I purchased a diaper, and she was there to help me through technical difficulties with internet on my phone, answers questions about anything I come up with cloth diaper related, and has all sorts of tips. And she works hard and quickly, and your diapers come in a very timely fashion!

• Thigh savers. This is the only cloth diaper I have found that comes with extra snap-on circles for the inside snaps on the diaper. When your baby grows, the inside snaps can press into his/her thighs, and this prevents red marks and welts or what have you that other diapers can leave from the exposed snaps digging into baby's thigh. Genius!

I honestly can't think of a reason I don't love these diapers.

We have four brands that we're using now that we've purged out those I don't like as much: Fuzzi Bunz, Thirsties Duo, and Charlie Banana. I like them all too, but I love the Mud Butts the most!

(Even our doctor commented this morning how awesome these diapers were, they're SO cute!)

Fluffy White Stuff

Snow. It's cold. It's white. It's pretty. Today, it's fluffy and falling beautifully outside!

This photo, to the left, is one of my all-time favorites that I have ever taken. It was taken January 20, 2009, apparently. These snowflakes were on my windshield, and I couldn't resist capturing their perfection.

I love watching snow fall. It's completely serene and mesmerizing. It calms me and lulls. It entrances me. I just found myself staring out the window watching the precipitation dance as it fall to the ground, for 15 minutes. It whirls and waltzes with such grace that I could have watched it for much longer, had I not the urge to sit here and write about it instead.

I love that snow is so soft after it's first fallen, that you can pick up a handful, and blow it away like a wish, or like a dandelion that's gone to seed.

Last year, my sisters and I were so excited about a snowfall much similar to that of today, that we

bundled ourselves up to go play outside, taking pictures of ourselves throwing snow, playing in it, blowing it around, and making snowballs as perfectly round as we could. It's one of my fonder memories of us spending time together.

I also adore how calm and peaceful the world looks as snow settles upon the ground, the stair railings, and the trees. It's as if it's been kissed with the beauty of heaven. I know that sounds corny, but I feel it to be the truth. Before the plows have thrown muddy snow onto our yards, or animals leave their marks in the fluff, everything looks like it belongs on a postcard of some sort. I absolutely love that pristine white landscape!

The one thing I really dislike about snow is that it makes traveling quite treacherous at times, especially if it is proceeded by rain and ice, and accompanied by wind.

If I am allowed to be safe at home, I do not mind it nearly as much, because I know that my safety is not threatened. Though, I worry about my husband on wintry roads, because he travels for work. Really though, driving in snow really makes me nervous. If it's just a little snow, that's fine, but as soon as it accumulates, or slushes, or ices, I'd much rather just stay at home with a cup of coffee or hot chocolate and watch it falling out the window, much like I am, today!

After roads are safe for travel, however, I do enjoy a venture out into the snow dusted world, especially if I have my camera in hand!

So, all this babble, and no real point, other than the fact that I do adore the aesthetics of a lovely winter snowfall. I don't even mind the cold so much, so long as I'm not forced to be outside for long in one of the famous midwestern sub-zero windchills. But a merry little jaunt to the yard to throw a few snowballs, make a snowman, a snow angel, possibly a fort, or just throw some snow around taking pictures? That sounds like a delightful way to spend a winter day. I can't wait until Spencer is a little older and can enjoy the snowfall

with me.

(All of these photos were taken by me, except the one of me, which was taken by my sister, Samantha. You can see the ones I took that day (and some that she or Allison took) by clicking this link. Please, do not copy, save, paste... well, steal, these photos.)

We can hold our miracle in our hands.

This is the story of the day that Spencer Jacob joined the world, from his mommy's perspective. Perhaps Daddy will write one of his own sometime, you never know.

At our 39 week prenatal appointment, the doctor said she thought that we were measuring a little large, and asked us if we would be open to induction. The thought of a giant baby freaked me out, so of course, I said yes. She said they figured later in the following week, but would let me know.

Well, later that afternoon, I received a follow-up phonecall and was asked to choose either that Friday morning (the 29th) or Monday morning (November 1st). I told the nurse I'd call her back after speaking with my husband, who decided with me we would wait until Monday, so we had the weekend to prepare and rest a little before our lives changed so drastically.

The weekend went by super quickly, and after a night of little sleep, we drove to the hospital at 6:45am Monday morning. I was very calm, I think, partially due to the lack of sleep, I assume. Jake was all smiles as we registered and went into the room.

They broke my water just before 8:00am, and checked me. I was still only 2cm dilated, so we knew it would be quite a long morning. They let me wait until about 10:00am to see if the contractions would speed up and get more intense on their own before starting me on pitocin at about 10:45. The contractions prior to the IV were about every 4-5 minutes, but they were more "crampy" than painful, and that just wasn't going to cut it (but believe me, I wish I could have).

The pitocin kicked in slowly as they upped the dose incrementally every half hour from 1 unit to 7, at which time the contractions started becoming pretty intense. The nurses would ask me to rate them on a scale of 1-10, and it wasn't long before I went from "3" to "5 or 6" as I tried to breathe calmly and silently through them as they passed every 2 minutes. The nurses would look at me like I was kidding when I'd rate them, because I really wasn't making much for noise. I would sit there and breathe and I would bite the corner of my lip and try not to clench up as I stared off at the television screen in front of me. Jake's twin and his mother were there for this part, and they were very chatty with Jake, who could tell I was in some great deal of pain as I did not converse and instead just bit my lip. The nurse had estimated at this time, Spencer would be born between 10pm and 2am, most likely, if progress continued at the given pace.

They checked me again at about 2 or 3pm, I forget, and I was to 5 centimeters and almost 90% effaced (I think, this part is kind of blurry to me), and asked me if I wanted to switch positions from the bed to the ball or whirlpool. I got up and used the ball for a little bit, but I couldn't stay stable on it with my back hurting so badly, so after a short discussion in which I admitted the thought of having someone inject something into my spinal space really did freak me out quite a bit, I decided to get the epidural so I could at least relax and not have to be in intense pain all night long.

Getting the epidural was intimidating, but truthfully, getting the IV put in my hand earlier in the day was much worse. Perhaps that's because I was having back labor and contractions while the anaesthesiologist was doing his thing, who knows. It was successfully administered and I was instructed to lie on my side and not move, which wasn't completely possibly anyway because I was lacking most sensation in my abdomen, butt, and legs anyway. So, laid there, I did. This was pretty boring, for both Jake and I, because I couldn't even really get up to face him or move or anything. But, we both got a nap in!

That nap was a blessing in disguise, even though it wasn't totally quality as the automatic blood-pressure cuff went off every 30 minutes and woke me, as at 5:00pm or so when I woke up, Jake's father and step-mother were there, and I was comfortable enough to chat with them and such before my doctor came back to check me.

We were all in for a big shock when Dr. Schriever came in, checked me, and said, "guess how far along we are." I think I guessed 6, not sure. She said, "9 to 9.5." He was still up a little high though, so she suggested we labor down for a little longer while he tried to move, and also positioned me to try to get him to turn from his crooked-facing front position to facing downward. She said she was going to run home for supper quickly and be back for the delivery, which she figured wouldn't be nearly as late into the evening as we originally though, but possibly between 8 and 9, if he moved.

Then the surprise treat of my life came upon me... in which my epidural started wearing off, and I could feel everything. The contractions got very intense and I went from being able to be silent through them to clutching the bed, shaking, and crying, trying to breathe, and trying not to shake and cry. It wasn't working. They called another anaesthesiologist and asked him to come and up the epidural so I could be comfortable as we labored down, and he did, but it still only got worse. The contractions were almost constant, and I couldn't handle the pain any longer, so they said we could start pushing, and called the doctor to come back. This was about 6:30pm.

I was told that pushing could take a first time mother up to 3 or 4 hours, but they didn't think it would probably take me that long. I was completely effaced and dilated when they checked again, so they helped me roll to my back through the excrutiating contractions, and instructed me how to push.

Let me tell you, pushing is wretched. Especially when I could feel everything, except the progress I was making. They would have me push and I would "scream" (though not really a scream) and try to "curl up around him" inside of me like they instructed, but I tell you what, that's really hard! You have a long hard body inside your body and you're supposed to bend around it? Yeah right! But I tried, and told them it was hard, and it hurt, and trying to take a quick, deep breath between pushes was equally as hard and painful, but somehow I managed. I thank Jake for being there and being super calm and supportive and just telling me how good I was doing, and informing me that I was actually making him move down even if I couldn't tell necessarily.

The, however, they brought out the oxygen mask! No! That was wretched too. My mouth was so dry that licking my lips didn't help, and having ice chips in my mouth was making me gag and I'd spit them out on the floor anyway when a contraction would come. I kept trying to turn my head away from it, but Jake kept bringing it back to my face, which I know he needed to, but yeah. In between contractions I said "I wish I had chapstick!" Jake vanished, and thanks to my dear friend Jillian, I had chapstick and was more comfortable pushing.

When they could see the top of his head, Jake peeked, and I was told Spencer had a lot of dark hair! I was so excited! I had dark hair, as did Jake, and I hadn't been able to wrap my mind around the possibility that our baby could be born baldish. They asked if I wanted to see, and I quickly passed on the opportunity, but as we continued pushing, Jake watched intently, while somehow still being supportive and at my head, as his first-born son entered the world. He cut the chord, and I started sobbing immediately.

They took him away to the little station to clean him off, weigh him, and check his vitals, and as I looked over, I could think nothing else but, "He looks JUST like his daddy, he's even got his long skinny feet!" and "How did he fit inside of me!?" or "I can't believe I did this."

Unfortunately, I had a level 2 tear from the birth, so they had to stitch me back up as they checked him over, but finally brought him to me to hold. Jake was right there with a camera taking pictures as I tried to smile through my tears. Jake had huge tears in his eyes too as we gazed at this miniature being who was so mad at us for putting him through the trauma of making him be born.

He was taken back to the station where they monitored his oxygen, which was a little low at first, they figured becuase he still hadn't coughed up all the gunk in his lungs, and they finished stitching me up, though I lost a lot of blood and went into a slight shock I guess, as I began freezing and trembling uncontrollably. After they had the area cleaned up, they finally gave me a warming robe and some blankets. By then, Spencer was breathing better, and we were able to hold him again. I let Jake hold him, too, of course, because he hadn't gotten to, and I just watched as his eyes lit up and felt my heart melting and surging at the same time with such expounding love that I didn't know how I'd ever be able to handle it.

When all was cleaned up and ready, Jake's brother and his wife, Jake's dad and step-mom, and our dear friends, Robert, Jillian, and Spencer's new best friend, Grayson, all came in the room to meet him. It was absolutely wonderful.

I won't bore you with the rest of our hospital stay, but by the end of yesterday, Spencer met half of his aunts and uncles (roughly), and all of his grandparents, and was completely loved by each and every one of them. Jake and I, after everyone had left yesterday, just stood in the kitchen, embracing, in complete awe and wonder at the huge change that has occured this week, overjoyed with tears, and filled with more love than we ever thought possible.

After over 3 years of struggle and heartbreak, God finally let us meet the miracle that he blessed us with back in February. I have not felt this blessed since the day I married my husband.

I'm scared, excited, nervous, anxious, and anticipatory for each and every day to come.

Spencer Jacob, born Monday, November 1, 2010, at 7:34pm Central Standard Time. He weighed in at 8 pounds, 2 ounces, and is 20.25 inches tall.

He is perfection in our hearts.

Anything like her.

As my friends and family know, my maternal grandmother, Leora, and I were very close. I consider her to be one of my very best friends in this life, and was completely devastated with her passing in 2007.

My sisters tell me from time to time that they don't really remember much about grandma Leora, because they didn't have the experiences with her that I had. It always makes me sad to know that they didn't really know her like I did, and they were unable to spend as much time with her, growing up with her, learning from her, and having her help shape who they were as individuals. Yes, they had some time, but I really had the most.

This weekend, I received a manila envelop filled with old pictures, from my dad's sister, my aunt Jan. In it were various shots of my dad growing up, mostly as a baby or toddler, but there were also other family photos, including those of my dad's parents, grandpa Edwin and grandma Edna.

My dad's parents died when I was younger. I remember bits and pieces about my grandpa, like how he'd always have candy on him, because he was diabetic, and we'd get a piece. I feel very disheartened at times, knowing I don't remember much more than that. Sometimes, I wonder if that's even a memory, or something I made up in my mind from what others have said. He died in 1988.

When it comes to my grandma Edna, though, I can more than relate to my sisters. She died when I was just over 2, in 1986, just days before my first brother was born. Sadly, I remember nothing of my time with her. I know that she had time with me, but to me, there really was none.

I sit and wonder, as I look at the pictures of this tall, beautiful woman who helped give me life... Am I anything like her? Would she be proud of me? How did she shape who I am as an individual?

I know her through stories, but I haven't really heard that many of them. The one I remember most vividly is how she waited to pass on until my dad could be there, so he could say good-bye. What I have been told beyond that, I'm ashamed to say, I do not remember much of.

While I'm blessed to know that I'm much like my grandma Leora in many ways, I feel sad to know that I am unable to see the ways in which I may be like my grandma Edna. I know there are others out there who probably feel the same way about their family members influencing them, so I know I'm not alone. I also realize there are other who never met their grandparents, or even their parents, and I hope that there is someone out there who can help them discover them as well.

A Morning with My Mother

I couldn't sleep very well last night, so naturally, as it carried on into the morning, I rose out of bed pretty early (for a Saturday, at least), 8:23 a.m.

Not more than five minutes after, as I was leaving the bathroom, my cell phone started ringing. It was my mom.

I answered, of course, and she said, "I hope I didn't wake you up." I assured her she didn't, and then she told me the basis for this early morning phone call.

"I'm looking at your photos on some... website, where you're 'LadyEmeraldEyes,' and there is this one of snowflakes on your windshield, and it's AMAZING." She continued to rave about the beauty of this particular photograph, and then carry on with the rest of them, telling me that I'm an amazing photographer, along with other various compliments.

Of course, it brought a smile to my face. An unexpected, early-morning phone call from my mom in which the premise was to pay me high compliments? Who wouldn't smile?

Then, she mentioned how she is one of my biggest fans.

Now, my mom and I haven't always gotten along the best, it's true, though I love her dearly and cherish her as a treasure. We have been getting along for over a year now without stress, which is truly a joy.

But, I will be honest, sometimes I forget that she's such a big fan. I feel ashamed to say it, but I must admit it is true.

So, perhaps the best part of the hour-long phone call that began with compliments and continued on with various chatter covering a myriad of topics, was that after we said "I love you," and "talk to you later," I hung up the phone with a renewed sense that my mother is and always has been one of my biggest fans.

Now that I'm off the phone, I went to find the photo she was talking about, and I assumed she meant on flickr, but wouldn't you know, I can't find it there, so I don't know how she did. But, I did find it on my etsy site.

"Pretty Little Things." January 20, 2008. ©Nicole Worthley

It's been a while, but here I am, blogging again!

Hey ya'll!

After a week and a half of internet-less existence (as in, no fully functional computer at home), I'm back!

I had my 3 hour glucose test a week ago Tuesday, and I passed. This was the same day that Lindsay Lohan went to jail, which obviously makes the occasion all that more memorable.

I went in and ended up being there for almost five hours, actually. I got to watch people line up and stalk miss Lohan for quite some time, before and after her sentencing and transportation to jail. Not going to lie, I was amused. My favorite part: when someone threw glitter as she arrived at the courthouse. I found myself in a fit of giggles in the waiting room with people from across the room giving me the stink eye. I didn't care. I was on a sugar buzz!

I decided though, if I went to jail, I sure hope it would be as important to people as Lohan's jailing was. I mean, really. I want paparazzi, and someone sure as heck better be stalking me via helicopter cam. It's the only reason I can think of going to jail as worthwhile. Publicity! Woohoo! Luckily, I have quite a few friends who are camera savvy, so I'll just have to let them know.

Yeah right, like I could see myself being in jail.

Moving on. Spencer! He's doing well. He's getting big, or so it feels, and I'm 26 weeks 3 days today. I find my abdomen hurts randomly and I have cramps that hurt pretty badly sometimes (the doctor says it's Braxton Hicks contractions, so that's fun).

The other morning, Jake and I were in bed, with his arms around me, and we both felt Spencer kick and punch at the same time, on opposite sides of my abdomen. It was awesome, and kind of weird. That's when I realized how big he must be!

Jake says I'm getting pretty "pregnant" too. That's a nice way of saying my belly is big, I guess.

I had my sister take a few photos of me tonight, using an idea that came to me when Spencer wouldn't stop kicking one night as I tried to fall asleep. I'm actually sucking in my stomach for this one, but it's the only one the words were really clear. We're going to redo the photo shoot when it's not getting dark outside, and that will help.

Here's the clear one.

FYI: My resizing job sucks so it's kind of strange looking. Deal.

Last night, Jake decided to stack our DVD towers on top of each other and put the TV on top of both of them. It's now half a foot from the ceiling, give or take. Random info for you.

Alright, that's all I've got for now. I'm going to spend time with my wonderful sister.

Much love!

Sunday in the Sun.

Yesterday, my husband and I went to Garretson, South Dakota, to meet up with my dad, my sisters, and one of my brothers. Also in the mix were my dad's girlfriend, and my cousins Chris, Tarah, and Bradley. There were a couple of Chris's friends there too. And three dogs, Wendell (mine), Bruno, and Jax. The last two were much bigger than Wendell, but he loved them.

It was freaking hot. Almost intolerably so (although, not everyone agreed, and I was told it probably had a lot to do with the pregnancy thing) and humid.

My dad, who I am pretty sure I get my sense of humor from, at least in part, made a really lame joke about it. "Since we're all family here, I suppose we could call it relative humidity." Yeah, we all laughed. Haha. It was pretty clever.

Anyway, despite the ridiculous heat and my feeling "like dying" for most of the day, it was a lot of fun. We started at Split Rock park, and my dad grilled. People swam, and floated on the rafts, and we all sat around and bantered, as we usually do. It was a good time.

Allison, my sister, found a four leaf clover! Lucky lady!

Then, we made a quick swing by Devil's Gulch, where Jesse James jumped the gorge on a horse many, many years ago. I hadn't been there since I was little. I remember it being much cooler, but apparently people don't keep up with the upkeep anymore.

Then we met my cousins' father and went to Palisades state park. The boys climbed rocks (which is impressive, really), and we took some photos. A bunch of people went swimming, and Tarah, Samantha (my other sister) and I lounged under a tree, and laughed a lot.

It was a pretty good day!

A random journey through my Wednesday.

Generally speaking, Wednesdays aren't anything exciting. Ordinarily, they're marked as the half-way point of a work-week, which is good and bad, depending on how you look at it.

To me, Wednesdays are the beginning of my week. And by week, I mean pregnancy week. An hCG trigger marks the day that my week begins new, and that shot happened on a Wednesday back in February.

That means, today I am 11 weeks pregnant. Holy moly!

Beyond that, however, today was your typical day of random bouts of epic fail sprinkled with some wonderful moments.

This is going to be one of those "look what I did today" rambles, sorry to say.

This morning, I needed to mail a package to China. Now, wouldn't you know, I get halfway to the post office before realizing I forgot my purse, so I had to drive all the way back home to get it. And, of course, I got stuck behind a really slow driver who was 5 mph under the speed limit for over a mile through town. I get home, race and get my purse, and hope that there isn't a re-run for the way back to the post office.

Luckily, I get to the post office just across from where I work with a few minutes to spare. I go inside, ready to send my item... and... wouldn't you know it. I had forgotten that the ACTUAL post offices in Sioux Falls don't allow you to acquire postage! There are a few, but generally, they don't. At this point, I'm really stinkin' mad, after wasting so much of my time, but resort to having to go to Hy-Vee later. Yeah, you mail stuff from Hy-Vee or Lewis Drug. It's messed up.

Work, luckily, was not like my postal endeavor. In fact, I was super productive despite the cramping baby Horseradish/Gummi Bear was giving me all day. I finished a bunch of things I needed to get done, with time to spare, and had a really good day with the 5 children we had in the room. Despite getting out of work a little earlier than I had anticipated, it was a good day.

And then, I received a phone call from my wonderful Miss Best Friend, who is getting married in a little over a month! Despite the fact that I don't really like talking on the phone and often miss phone calls due to my phone being on silent, I really enjoy talking to her and hearing her voice. Lucky me, I get to see her this weekend for her bridal shower and bachelorette party back home!

And now, I'm home. After transferring photos to my desktop computer, which doesn't have internet, and then saving them to an external drive to copy them onto my laptop (where I am now) and then uploading this photo to facebook:

I am sitting on the couch, feeling ready to puke my brains out, and trying to decide what, if anything, would be a satisfying supper.

Now, granted, I am not really complaining about the puketastic sensations I am feeling, because truthfully, I am more than overjoyed to be able to experience them, just stating it how it is, as I usually do. I've been pretty fortunate in that I don't get to the point of "sickness" usually, I just often feel like it.

I have to work early in the morning, so I suppose I should end my babble, get some food, and get to bed.

Peace.