Beginnings

Today: A Study in Contrast

2013-04-16T01:35:00.000-05:00

There are so many senseless, horrible, devastating things that happen in the world. Tragedies are a dime a dozen these days. Sometimes they are private and mourned deeply by a few, sometimes they are broadcast on every channel and watched obsessively by grief stricken masses.

Today, two bombs went off near the finish line of the Boston marathon, killing at least two--one an eight year old child--and wounding over 100 more.

Senseless. Horrible.

Today, a young father died of complications from a relatively routine surgery, leaving his wife and five young children.

Devastating. Tragic.

Today, Kate let me put pigtails in her hair for the first time. When Jay got home, we walked to the park in what felt like gale-force winds and gently pushed a nervous Kate in the swing. Later, I carried her up to bed, sang her a lullaby, and blew her kisses. She copied the motion and smiled so big her pacifier almost fell out of her mouth.

Life seems so surreal sometimes. I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, a nice house, a steady income, a loving family, supportive friends, a happy life. Things are so good right now that I have sporadic moments of consuming anxiety where horrible scenarios flash through my mind involving car crashes, cancer, injury, loss.

I just have to steel myself, take a deep breath, and hold onto this moment. This moment--right now--when I have so much. And I kiss my husband and squeeze my soft baby until she squirms. And I cry when I hear about bombings and blood clots and babies who die before they're born because I know that it could just as well have been me in those situations, that it just as well might be me in the future, because you never really think it will be you or your family, but the fact of the matter is that it is someone and someone's family, and we're all just a bunch of someones and we all take our turn at this giant roulette wheel.

And there is a God up there, but sometimes I think He sits there shaking His head along with the rest of us at the crazy things that happen in this world. I don't think God starts the ball rolling on any of these tragedies, but ours is a God of "in spite ofs" and "neverthelesses" and we have His promise that He's there with us in the stony pit of our grief and in the sunlit valley of our peace. He's there for the good and the bad, the whole roller coaster.

He wept today with those experiencing heart-wrenching loss. He smiled with me today as my little family braved the wind and as I blew kisses to a sleepy baby.

I don't know how that's possible, to celebrate and to mourn with equal sincerity at the same time, but God manages it, and I wonder if, sitting in my peaceful home and looking out at the heartbreak of others through the window of my computer screen, I experienced the smallest part of that today.

Goodbye to Aunt Wees

2013-04-12T00:29:00.001-05:00

Kate's Aunt Wees was called to serve in the California San Bernardino mission. She left for the MTC on February 6th.

On February 4th, she drove down to Vegas to spend the afternoon with us.

Kate was so excited. Aunt Wees is basically one of her favorite people ever.

In case you couldn't tell.

We miss Aunt Wees, but we're so proud of her. Kate will be walking and talking before we see her next, but I have a feeling these 18 months are going to fly by.

Kate was so proud of herself when she figured out her finger fit perfectly in her little nostrils. She was on a nose-picking kick for a few weeks.

Funny story about these pictures--Lisa had wanted copies of them ASAP, and I was so proud of myself because I ordered them and picked them up just a couple days after I got her letter requesting them. We were headed to the cabin the next day, so I dropped them off with my dad so that they could get them to Lisa as quickly as possible (you know, since they actually mail things and I don't). So you can imagine my horror when I came back on Sunday to find the stack of pictures on the counter. I just assumed that missionary daughter's happiness trumps all. Silly, silly me. I forgot about the parental obsession exception:

Missionary daughter + only granddaughter = fodder for the shrine.

Mom said, "Oh. I thought you brought the pictures for us." And I said, "Well, tell me which one you want and I'll print it off for you." And she said, "Um, I want all of them. For the shrine. It's Lisa AND Kate." As if that explained it all.

*Face palm*

We love you, Wees!

Christmas!

2013-03-08T12:18:00.000-06:00

Waiting at the bottom of the stairs with Grandma. None of us kids are allowed to go upstairs to the tree until we're all gathered together, at which point, in the old days, Dad would stand at the top of the stairs with a video camera and torture us with things like, "Looks like Santa's been here, guys. Too bad you have to wait till Mom's out of the shower before you come up." And then we'd finally process up the stairs in single file from youngest to oldest and excitedly turn the corner and see the piles of presents radiating from the base of the tree.

Santa usually leaves a present or two unwrapped for each person (You can see Aunt Weese's mission luggage in the foreground). Kate loved this caterpillar toy from Grandma and Grandpa.

Happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

Kate was just as into tasting the presents as she was into playing with them.

Wrapping paper and bows + the present inside = double the fun.

While opening this present from Grandma Fae, Kate was so excited. She had this open-mouthed look of wonder as she peered into the box. She loves her new books!

I didn't take any specific pictures of them, but I made a few of Kate's presents this year. I like the idea of homemade gifts, and while I'm far from creative or crafty, I wanted to give my child some things I had invested some of my time and some of myself into. I made her some fabric balls and a ring-stacking toy.

Kate got this puzzle from Santa. She loves tasting the animals and pulling them out of the puzzle. Eventually she'll get the hang of putting them back in their places.

She was so precious in her pajamas.

It was so fun to spend Christmas with Kate! She is such a sweet, happy little thing. It is so weird to think back to last year when I was very pregnant and to think ahead to next year when Kate will be running around and talking.

Happy first Christmas, Kate. Here's to many more.

Valentine's Day

2013-03-04T12:06:00.000-06:00

Valentine's Day was pretty low-key for us this year. We celebrated on the 13th and had a delicious dinner. In years past we've made elaborate meals, but this year we kept things pretty simple: grilled salmon, grilled asparagus, Costco rolls, and a spinach strawberry salad. Served on our beautiful china with a tablecloth, candles, and the star lilies Jay got me, it was a gorgeous spread.

Absolutely delicious!

And what was our little ragamuffin Valentine doing?

Making messes, of course!

Every time she sees me get down on the floor with the camera, she scoots toward me as fast as she can.

Which generally means I don't get a lot of pictures before she's climbing up my legs.

I don't mind, though.

Past Valentine's Days: 2009, 2010, 2011 (Last year I was so pregnant we didn't do much for V-day...)

Kate: A Birth Story, Part V

2013-03-01T11:22:00.000-06:00

I'm telling my birth story this week. Part I here. Part II here. Part III here. Part IV here.

{Finally.}

After what felt like hours but was probably only 20 minutes, they handed over my baby, a striped hat on her head. I laid her on my chest, her warm skin against mine. I looked her over, saw her swollen little face and her long arms and legs. She looked huge to me--a fully formed little human that had been folded up inside of me. I couldn't believe I'd been sharing my body with such a large visitor.

Amy helped me with nursing my baby for the first time, and then all the nurses left and it was just me and Jay and our baby. We were exhausted (Jay was sick with a cold and feeling quite ill) and sat there in shock that our family was now three and that they left us unsupervised. We held her fragile form with awkward tenderness and looked at each other in amazement.

Other than my fever, the birth went better than I could have hoped: I went into labor on my own and was able to progress without the aid of pitocin until the end. I always knew I wanted an epidural, but I also wanted to experience some of the pain, and I was able to do that. I got an effective epidural that allowed me to rest but still allowed me to be an active participant in what my body was doing. I had a supportive midwife and a fantastic partner in Jay. The pushing was minimal and the birth was peaceful and complication-free. I am so grateful.

{First bath}

The next few days were a high--a "babymoon" of sorts. I was ridiculously proud of myself. I know it sounds silly, but I don't know how else to describe that feeling--it was a warm, all-encompassing sense of accomplishment that dulled the pains of my healing body.

On February 24th, 2012, in a beautiful and bloody sequence of events, Kathryn Fae made me a mother.

Kate: A Birth Story, Part IV

2013-02-28T12:10:00.000-06:00

I'm telling my birth story this week. Part I here. Part II here. Part III here.

Jay had been bugging me for a couple months to make a playlist of songs to listen to during labor, but I never got around to it. Mostly because I was unsure what type of music I'd be wanting--something upbeat to pump me up like Eye of the Tiger? Something cultured that I wouldn't be embarrassed of listening to in front of a doctor, like Albinoni's Adagio in G minor? Or something super emotional like Adele's Someone Like You or Journey's Open Arms? In the end, I never did make a playlist, but while the nurses were getting everything ready, he asked me what music I wanted to listen to. I wanted something calm and beautiful, so I asked Jay to turn on a Josh Groban mix.

{Our matching wristbands that proved Kate belonged to us}

One thing I'd been nervous about from the hospital tour we'd taken was the "spot lights" that were mounted in the ceiling, aimed right at the bed I'd be laboring on. Thankfully, Amy left those off, as well as most of the other lights in the room. It was cool and dark and filled with the dulcet tones of Josh Groban's voice. Amy got everything ready, and Jay stood at my side holding one of my legs. He brought me water and ice chips between my contractions to cool my feverish mouth.

I still felt sick and worried about pushing, but after that first push, adrenaline took over and I was in the zone--I was so focused on my body and what it was doing that I no longer felt the discomfort of illness. I watched my progress in a mirror (which I thought might be weird but mostly wasn't) and was as surprised as Jay to see that our baby had hair.

{Jay giving Kate her first bath}

I've heard some people have problems knowing how to push when they have an epidural, but that wasn't the case for me. I could feel the contractions in my pelvis (though not in my stomach) when the baby's head pushed down, so I knew when to push, and I instinctively knew what to do to push her out. I felt very in tune with my body. I remember thinking, "This is what my body was made for. This is what I was made to do."

I will never forget the way Jay looked at me as I labored to push our child into the world, his eyes soft and shining, his expression awed. I could clearly see how much he loved me, how much he appreciated my efforts, how much he was impressed by my strength. No one has ever looked at me like that before, like I was the most amazing person on earth.

{Brand new, sleepy Kate}

I started pushing at 10:45, and Kate was born at 11:05 in a burst of unbelievable pressure and a slippery slurping gush as her body followed.

I wasn't aware of much at that point, but I cried out at the strangeness of the feeling, the release and then the emptiness. I watched through half-lidded eyes as Amy yanked the black cord over my baby's head even before she was fully out of me. She quickly tied some things off and handed some scissors to Jay to cut the cord. "Hurry," she said.

I briefly saw my baby lying there beneath me; she was floppy and still. I didn't understand what was going on when they handed my new, slippery baby to the nurse to be cleaned up. I wanted to hold her close, to rub at the downy vernix with my fingertips, to share our moment of exhaustion and triumph, bruised and bloody.

{Ten toes}

As they rubbed her vigorously with a towel under a warming light, my baby let out a little mewl and started waving her arms. A split-second later, two people with wheelie carts burst into the room. "We're here for the baby. From NICU," one nurse said breathlessly.

What? I thought. NICU??

But the nurse holding my baby said, "Actually... I think she's okay."

They turned and left, still empty-handed, and my heart started beating again.

Apparently the cord had been wrapped twice--tightly--around Kate's neck. Amy had felt that something was slowing the baby's descent (I thought 20 minutes of pushing was pretty quick, but I guess Amy expected it to be shorter), but she thought the baby's hand was just up by her face. As soon as she saw the cord, she acted quickly. We never heard the nurses call for backup.

I sat on my bed as Amy pulled out the placenta (a second, smaller birth) and worked to clean me up. Despite a few small abrasions, I didn't end up needing stitches. I had to watch as they weighed my baby, took her temperature, measured her head. I wanted to yell at them, to tell them I wanted to hold her, that she was mine. Jay stood guardian, hovering and snapping pictures.

Kate: A Birth Story, Part III

2013-02-27T11:17:00.000-06:00

I'm telling my birth story this week. Part I here. Part II here.

The night nurse arrived, and she was wonderful. I was her only patient, and she gave me her complete attention. She woke me every 45 minutes or so to have me turn over. After about an hour of blissful sleep, I started feeling ill, overcome by an achy, feverish malaise, likely brought on by infection since my water had been broken so long. She took my temperature: 99.5. "If it gets above 100.4," she said, "we'll put you on antibiotics and Tylenol."

{Cleaned up}

I drifted back to sleep. My nurse, Johann, soon wondered if I was ready to push, and she called for Amy to come in and check me. I was at a seven. Since it had been two hours since the epidural and I'd only progressed one centimeter, Amy suggested pitocin to speed things along. I didn't care--I didn't care about anything at that point except sleep. Amy left, promising she'd return in another two hours.

I slept, my feeling of general illness increasing as time went on. Jay thought I was losing it because I asked my long-suffering nurse to take my temperature at least 30 times over the next couple hours. The highest it ever got was 99.9, but I felt so sick I could hardly stand it. She brought me Tylenol, and I slept more.

I was relieved to find that I could still move my legs. I didn't have the strength to lift them or to turn myself over, but I could clench and unclench my calf muscles (which I did almost compulsively) and move my legs and feet to shift my position. I didn't feel the pain anymore, and I didn't feel the paralysis I'd been so afraid of.

{My hospital "jewelry"}

At around 10:00, I could feel pressure low in my pelvis with each contraction. I knew the baby was probably close, but I didn't care--I felt ill and just wanted to sleep. I couldn't imagine trying to push a baby out while feeling so awful. Jay had started watching the monitors and was getting anxious because the baby's vitals weren't doing as well as they were previously. He didn't tell me this, but he started pushing for the midwife to come in. I was shaking uncontrollably and still felt achy and feverish. I could see worry in his eyes, but I was too exhausted to care about anyone but myself.

In my delirious state, despite my apathy, I kept hoping my baby would be born before midnight. Not because I wanted to be done, but because I wanted her birthday to be on the 24th. Call me crazy, but I come from a family of numbers nerds, and I've always liked even numbers the best: 2/24/12 sounded so much cooler to me than 2/25/12--especially since 2x12=24 and they're all divisible by two.

Amy came back at 10:30. "You're at a 10 and plus two," she said--the baby's head had already started to descend past the cervix. "It's time to push."

Kate: A Birth Story, Part II

2013-02-26T10:29:00.001-06:00

I'm telling my birth story this week. Read Part I here.

The next several hours are a blur. I remember walking over to the hospital, giving my entire health history to a nurse, getting a saline lock (ouch), putting on a hospital gown, and finally seeing Jay (they don't let husbands back during the health history in case they're abusive nut jobs).

{Calling Mom to give her the update shortly after being admitted}

One of the things I loved about working with Amy was that she allowed things to progress on their own and didn't preemptively put me on pitocin. As long as I wasn't taking any drugs, I didn't have to be hooked up to the IV pole and the baby only had to be monitored for 15 minutes every hour or so, so Jay and I spent some time walking the halls. I also used a birthing ball and the rocking chair in my room to help ease the pain. I found the rocking soothing as the contractions came with increasing intensity, locking my muscles from my chest to my knees.

{on the birthing ball}

Labor and delivery was really hopping that day, and due to a couple complicated births, we didn't see the nurse or the midwife for a few hours. When the nurses started making rounds again (we were only supposed to have one but ended up seeing three during the day shift), I started asking for Amy. I was in some pain, and I wanted to know if my labor had progressed enough that I could get an epidural.

When she finally came in around 4:30 pm, she talked me through my epidural fears (I'm not too afraid of needles; I am afraid of not feeling or being in control of my body) and checked my cervix. "You're dilated to a four," she said. "You're in active labor, and I think now would be a great time to get an epidural. I know a two to a four doesn't sound like a lot of progress, but it is, and the rest will go much faster." Relieved, I asked to get the ball rolling on the epidural. Since I wasn't connected to an IV and had been drinking my own water (and eating my own snacks, too, that I guiltily hid every time a nurse walked in even though the midwife was okay with it), I had to wait for the epidural until they pumped a liter or two of fluid in me through IV.

As I waited for the nurse, Jay tried to distract me with another round of Stone Age. After several turns, I became increasingly distracted and unable to focus. When Jay reminded me, yet again, that it was my turn, I snapped. "I can't focus on anything!" I said. "I can't even... can't even think! It's all I can do to get through these contractions!" I rolled onto my side, curled into the fetal position, and gripped the bedrail, my knuckles white and my breathing heavy. I don't know how long I lay like that; it felt like forever but was probably about 30 minutes.

{7 lbs 11 oz)

Finally (finally!) the nurse came in and hooked me up to the IV. Amy came back in around 20 minutes later and stopped short. "You don't have your epidural yet?" And just then, the anesthesiologist wheeled her cart into the room. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Amy said. I looked at the clock: it was 6:00--an hour and a half after I was supposed to get the IV.

I had been nervous about the epidural, but I was so worn out from pain and 16 hours of labor that I didn't really care anymore. Jay sat near the bed and held onto my foot as I buried my face in the nurse's shoulder while I got the injections. "Uncomfortable" is not a strong enough word to describe the experience--it was a different kind of pain than I'd ever felt before--an intense pressure radiating from my back to my hips. I breathed as deeply as I could and hung on, knowing it would be worth it.

{Asleep the next morning}

And it was. I would finally be able to sleep for the first time since 2:30 that morning. But first, Amy returned and checked me again, passing the anesthesiologist on her way in. "Six," she said, surprised. "You went from a four to a six in an hour and a half." She told me to get some rest, and I gratefully, finally, took a nap.

Kate: A Birth Story, Part I

2013-02-25T09:52:00.000-06:00

In honor of Kate's birth anniversary, I decided to post her "birth story." I wrote it months ago but debated whether I wanted to post it since it's intensely personal and somewhat graphic, but I decided to go for it because I love reading others'. If words like "placenta," "crowning," or "slimy" make you squeamish, I suggest you read this instead.

Since the finished product is ridiculously long, I've split it into five parts and will be posting them this week.

Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

{Holding sweet Kate for the first time}

At my first prenatal doctor appointment, my OB looked at my projected due date--February 26th--and said, "that's my 12th anniversary!" A few months later, she informed me that she and her husband were going to NYC for five days. Being the control freak that I am, I told her I was uncomfortable with the thought of seeing an on-call doctor I'd never met and asked if I could have the practice's midwives cover my call if my doctor was unavailable. Thankfully, the arrangements were made, and I was able to meet each of the four midwives and discuss my plans and concerns with them. They were all incredibly supportive. I think my doctor would have liked to induce me before she left town so she could deliver my baby, but I really wanted to go into labor on my own. As time went on, though, I became convinced that I was going to go past my due date, and I made plans with my doctor to be induced the Thursday or Friday after my due date if the baby hadn't come already.

Turns out I needn't have worried; Kate decided to make her debut on what was supposed to be my last day of work before maternity leave.

2/24/2012
I woke up at 2:30 AM fighting the urge to go to the bathroom. That pretty much typified my last month or so of pregnancy: I'd wake up between two and five AM a few times and try to ignore my protesting bladder and go back to sleep (if I get up, it's hard for me to fall asleep again). I usually gave in and got up at least once, but it didn't keep me from trying.

This time, though, I felt...wet. And as that registered, I became aware that I was still in the process of losing some fluid. I didn't know what was going on, but I "knew" my water hadn't broken because they said in birthing class that only 10-20% of women experience spontaneous rupturing of the amniotic sac before they go to the hospital. So I grumbled a bit but got up. Once I was in the bathroom, I was suddenly overcome with extreme nausea and some intestinal distress. I'd heard the body sometimes "cleanses" itself before labor begins, but I was still in denial, so I figured the nausea was secondary to anxiety--my brain thought I might be in labor, which freaked it out, hence nausea (sounds crazy, but stuff like that happens to me sometimes).

{Kate sleeping in her little bassinet}

After getting things mostly under control, I went back to bed. My nausea finally went away after an hour or so, but my contractions were strong enough and I felt crappy enough that I couldn't sleep. After about my fourth bathroom trip, Jay asked what was going on and I finally admitted (to him and to myself) that I might be in labor and that my water might have broken ("but probably not--it was probably just something else--I don't think it really did--but it might have.").

I've received advice from friends, doctors, and books that if labor begins in the middle of the night, you should try and go back to sleep because you have a long day ahead of you. To them, all I can say is "Ha." I lay in bed for about four more hours, but sleep eluded me. The fact that the contractions had wrapped around my middle and made my back ache may have had something to do with that. I finally climbed out of bed and took a shower and ate a couple pieces of toast. Jay loaded the car with our hospital bag and gathered the things we hadn't been able to pack in advance.

It was six o'clock in the morning, and my remaining nesting instincts kicked into gear. Since this baby was coming earlier than I'd expected, my house was not as clean as I wanted, and I started toward the kitchen. Jay, on the other hand, was not in a cleaning mood--he wanted to play a game while we waited. Somehow sensing, though, that it would look bad if he sat around while his laboring wife cleaned the house, he gamely started doing the dishes, insisted I stay on the couch, and we played a game (Stone Age) online while he scrubbed.

{Yes, I felt just as bloated and uncomfortable as I look. And, yes, I did wear those very clothes to the doctor's office and hospital. Nothing else fit.}

I called Amy, the on-call midwife, at around 7:30. At first, she told me to go to the hospital, but after reminding her I was one of their patients, she said since it didn't sound like I was in a lot of pain, I could just come see her once the clinic opened and she'd check me. Jay and I waited a couple hours (I trounced him at our game), and then headed to the doctor.

As we waited in the exam room (for at least 45 minutes), Jay read his book and I breathed through my intensifying contractions while trying to sleep on his shoulder. Amy came in, gloved up, and told me that based on what I'd told her, she didn't think my water had broken, but she'd check it out.

"Looks like I was wrong," she said. "Your water definitely broke, and you're dilated to a two. I think we should go ahead and admit you to the hospital. You're going to have this baby today."

Growing Up Christmas

2013-02-22T14:32:00.000-06:00

These pictures were taken on Christmas Eve. We had a lovely family gathering at my cousin Jana's house. I got a strange feeling seeing all my cousins' little kids running around--it made me flash back to not so long ago when it was us playing together and nearly trembling with excitement to see what the morning would bring. Sometimes it seems my life could be summarized by the Christmases I've lived. I wonder what it would be like to string them together and live them all in succession.

There was the year when I was just over one. I don't remember it, but my parents fondly relate how I proudly hung a dozen silk-wrapped ornaments all on the same low branch.

I remember a Christmas morning at my grandma's large house: her 12-foot Christmas tree covered in glowing lights, my mom's siblings sitting on long couches in robes, feeling like it took forever between my "turns" opening gifts in the sequence of youngest to oldest. Santa brought me a little shopping cart that year, and I pushed it around impatiently as my grandma meticulously collected the discarded wrappings in a large black sack.

We lived in a small house on Jarvis Avenue in San Jose, and we woke up one Christmas to a large plastic playhouse, complete with a blue slide, in our family room. I'm not sure if it was the same year, but I remember watching proudly as my sister opened the little gift I'd bought her at my school store: a pencil with a large red Clifford eraser on it.

One year, my little brother Steven, who lived in a chronic state of hypochondriasis, told us frequently even before December that he was going to be sick on Christmas. Sure enough, he was. That may have happened a couple years in a row. He hailed himself a prophet; the rest of us agreed, but of the self-fulfilling variety.

We rounded the corner into the living room and were confronted with a 7+ foot tall inflatable tyrannosaurus rex. Steven was thrilled, and my parents were pleased my dad's lightheadedness and spent lungs weren't for nothing.

I knelt in front of a modest Christmas tree one Christmas Eve on my mission and desperately prayed. I awoke the next morning filled with light and love, peace and hope--the best Christmas gift I've ever received.

Now that I've experienced 29 Christmases, it's hard to separate the swirl of memories into specific years. It's growing difficult to remember specifics at all. But replacing crisp-edged memories of that magical time in December is an overarching feeling of warmth, of love, of fun, and of family.

How much life can change in a year! Kate is so big with her little barrette, her two teeth, her jabbering, and her interest in toys.

But still, how much life stays the same--a string of Christmases filled with light.

Sickies Uncensored

2013-02-07T20:36:00.002-06:00

{I took some pictures to accompany this blog post. They are true to today. No attempt has been made to dress Kate up like a Gap model or hide her toy mess. Extra points if you can spot the Sharpie, the runny nose, the unsnapped shirt she's been wearing since yesterday, and the awesomely messy hair.}

We have the plague at our house. Yesterday afternoon Jay and I lay in bed with Kate rolling between us like a squirmy puppy, her inexplicable energy augmenting our exhaustion. Our trashcans, toilet bowls, and nightstands are filled with mountains of tissues. We wheeze, we sneeze. Noses flow, noses blow.

Why is it when I'm sick that I feel the most guilt? Guilt that my house is a mess. Guilt that my baby is rolling around on the floor, jabbering between hacking coughs, playing with a (capped, for now) permanent marker that I don't want to take from her because right now she's happy and I DON'T WANT TO MESS THAT UP. Guilt that I can't exercise (since when do I exercise?). Guilt that I don't want to cook. Guilt that, "oh, I should call that friend I've been meaning to help, but wait--I can't because now I'm sick and don't want to infect her kids."

Yesterday I forced myself to do dishes, fold laundry, go through papers, and finally crochet sitting in bed while watching The Bachelor (because OMG that Tierra is such a hot mess). Later, Jay watched Kate and made breadsticks (because he is that kind of man) while I went to Winco and bought almost everything on my list, plus some random items like Oreos and bubbles and three different kinds of tissues and about 500 things of Tillamook yogurt since it's on sale. I felt like Zombie Woman in the grocery store because I'd catch myself staring at things until I snapped out of it and wondered how long I'd been standing there: flaxseed in the bulk section. Pomelos in the produce section. A scary guy with a Playboy bunny tattooed on his face standing next to the pomelos.

I wouldn't have braved the grocery store at all except that poor Kate has been eating the same four things (oatmeal, cheerios, peas, sweet potatoes, and sometimes bits of our food) for every meal the past five days--the child NEEDED bananas. (MORE GUILT--this is why I went to the store.)

So now it's all worth it, because as I'm writing this, cozied up on the couch with my tissue box and wearing my baggiest, saggiest jeans with tube socks and an old white windbreaker (you're welcome for that mental image), Kate is stuffing her face with bananas and strawberries (okay, and Cheerios). I just fed her a bowlful of freshly pureed peas (she eats those much better than regular peas), and I feel like I'm doing right by my baby when I provide her with a variety of healthy foods.

{Kate scoots all the time now--she has the cutest little army crawl. As soon as I pulled out the camera, she was on her way over to me. She'll follow me around the downstairs when I'm out of her sight--I love it.}

Except now I'm wondering if maybe I should cut back on the fruit because as I'm writing this, Kate is pooping for the THIRD TIME TODAY. And it's only 12:30. Saints preserve us.

{And you wouldn't even know from looking at these pictures (other than the tell-tale snot) that she's sick, would you? Despite being a bit more whiny and fragile, she's really quite the cheerful sickie.}

Perfect Ten

2013-01-25T12:28:00.000-06:00

{Pictures taken mid-December at 9.5 months}

Kate at ten months

She's started clapping recently. Not because she knows what clapping means, but she seems to be pleased as punch she is coordinated enough to hit her hands together.
She still isn't crawling, but she's been scooting more and more. It is so cute how she half drags, half inches herself forward.

In church, a lady we'd never met who'd been sitting a couple rows behind us approached us after Sacrament meeting. "Your baby has the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that took me from having a bad morning to feeling like today is a good day." I'll admit, that comment took away some of the guilt I feel at church when I know Kate is distracting the people behind us.
Sometimes when I do something silly, she gives me a funny look until I do it again, and then she realizes it's a game. Usually she'll give me a pity smile.

Kate loves food. Loves it. She has this special, urgent noise she makes when she sees food. Her face gets serious, her arms start flapping, and she makes sure you know she wants it. Even though it happens multiple times daily, I still forget sometimes that I need to be careful about eating non-baby foods in front of her, like at Costco when I snag samples. Poor hungry Kate.
When I put food on her tray, her little hand shoots out, grabs it, and stuffs it in her mouth faster than you can believe. She eats with relish.

Lately, she doesn't often cry when she wakes up. Most of the time, she just rolls around in her pack 'n play (still don't have a crib!) talking to herself, kicking her legs, and holding her pacifier. When I open the door, she lights up and starts flapping in excitement. I love that little girl.
She giggles all the time now--she has the sweetest laugh. Her tummy and chubby thighs are ticklish, and other things strike her funny, too (like peekaboo and silly noises). If she laughs hard, she gets the hiccups.

Yes, Kate is eating the baby Jesus from the Fisher Price nativity set in the picture above. She thinks religion, as with most things, should be a full-body experience.
Kate, if I'm not careful, is quite the little vacuum cleaner. This gives me some motivation to keep my floors clean.

Now that she can feed herself some foods, Kate is a lot dirtier and her clothes are accumulating more stains. I need to start getting serious with the Oxiclean...
Kate's hair is starting to get long in front and around her ears. I think she's now past the point where I can glue bows on her head. I have to be careful with little hair clips, though, because she sometimes pulls them out of her hair and tries to eat them.

She babbles a lot. Lots of "mamama"s and "dadada"s in the mix; I'm excited for the day she realizes they actually mean something.
Kate loves to play with toys, but (as demonstrated in the previous post), she prefers "toys" that aren't hers. These may include other kids' toys or any objects she considers "off limits" or novel (like Mom's phone, the remote control, computer charging cords, shoes, etc.)

We love our sweet Kate!

Kate and Jeremy

2013-01-23T12:30:00.000-06:00

Jeremy and Kate are cousins. Kate loves Jeremy. She gets so excited when she sees him, and he makes her laugh harder than anyone else. Jeremy, for his part, is nice to play with Kate, even if he does get a bit bent out of shape when she touches his stuff. Neither of them know quite what to think about Jeremy's new baby sister, Morgan. Jeremy called her "Kate" for months.

Kate and I went over to play early in December. Here's a few snapshots of how things went down.

"Cool toys." .

"Kate, you have a phone and a giraffe. These are mine."

"Truck. Truck. Truck."

"The truck is mine. Here, you can play with this dog."

"Truck. Truck. Truck."

"What, you don't want the dog? Fine, I'll take it back."

"Hmm."

"Kate, the truck is mine. Mine, mine, mine."

"Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck."

"Look! It's baby Morgan."

"Nose."

"Sweet Morgan."

"Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck. Truck."

"I give up. Get this baby off me."

The Face

2013-01-21T13:25:00.000-06:00

Here is "the face" that Kate has been making consistently for the past couple months. She sticks out her lips, scrunches her little nose, and breathes rapidly--and loudly--through her nose. She usually does it when she wants something, and when she wants something it's usually food, so we see this face a lot at mealtimes.

It's become a game, now, to take turns making the face. Kate will noisily inhale and exhale for a few seconds, then grin. Or grunt, if she's wanting food. I swear this child's stomach is a bottomless pit.

Here's "the face" in action: (I'm filming, Jay's feeding)

The Face from mylifeintune on Vimeo.

Eight is Great; Nine is Fine

2013-01-19T16:34:00.000-06:00

{I had this whole post written months ago but never published it because I kept forgetting to find the paper with the doctor visit stats on it. Then I forgot about this post all together. So all this information was current as of late November when Kate was 8 and 9 months old.}

Kate's first 'mess' a few weeks ago. She's gotten to the point where she thinks 'real' objects are much more fun to play with than her own toys, so I'll often find her gravitating toward cords, wipes, shoes, or whatever else happens to be on the floor at the time.

Kate is a delight. It's amazing how well she communicates with us. Here are some Kate quirks from the last couple months or so:

She has two little teeth on the bottom.
It is so fun to watch her eat because she opens her mouth so wide she practically unhinges her jaw--she looks just like a little baby bird.
She is a champion roller and really gets around, but the past few days she's realized it's hard to get to things in front of her, so she's started to reach and shimmy and "swim" forward one painstaking inch at a time until she can reach what she wants. I'm convinced she'll be crawling by Christmas.

{At our neighborhood Halloween party in October}

We still don't have a high chair, so I just sit her on the floor and feed her.
She is a champion sitter.
She loves kids, especially little boys. In church, she pulls out all the stops to get attention from the boys sitting next to/behind us and starts flapping and squealing when they smile back at her.
She started doing this funny tongue thing a couple months ago, probably about the time she started teething (give it a few seconds to focus):

Kate doing the tongue thing, October 2012 from mylifeintune on Vimeo.

Kate has started to be more clingy lately when she's around lots of strangers. It's frustrating and kinda sweet at the same time.
She gets so excited when her dad gets home. Her little arms and legs start pumping, and she grins from ear to ear and starts "talking."
When I hold her and Jay's in the room, she's always trying to get his attention.

We still put her to sleep in her swing sometimes. When she gets mad in her bed, she rolls around frenetically. The swing helps her stay put and (usually) calms her, though she did find a way to twist in the restraint during this nap and get a little tummy time...
I am still the favorite. I expect this will change as soon as she's not nursing anymore.
Kids don't usually like me--well, at least, they don't usually love me--so it's been weird to have this little person who prefers me to anyone and anything else. It is a lot of responsibility, but it's very sweet.

I took Kate to a pumpkin patch before Halloween. She liked being outside but was more interested in the goings-on than in smiling at me.
She loves dancing with Mom and Dad in the living room.
Right now, Aunt Lisa appears to be her favorite, but the tides may change once Lisa leaves on her mission in a couple months!
Her favorite "word" is "bah," and she also mixes in a few d, p, m, and g sounds.
She has mastered the arching back and stiff-as-a-board techniques and employs them often if we try and put her somewhere she doesn't want to be.

Kate has started putting her arms out and reaching for us and her toys these past couple months. It's so cute to see someone put out their arms to her and have her reach back.
She is still so sweet-tempered. She gets cranky and impatient sometimes, but she's so good most of the time.
She's starting to get her pincer grasp down. She loves to touch everything.
She has started doing this funny little face where she scrunches her nose and sticks out her lips and breathes really fast through her nose. We're not sure exactly what it means, but it sure is funny.
Now that she has her two little teeth, she likes to clench her gums together when she smiles. I miss her huge, open-mouth grins, but the way her eyes turn into squinty half-moons is so cute.

We've been a little delayed with her well checks what with the move, her broken leg, insurance changes, etc. Here are her stats at 8 months on 11/5/12:

Height: 26.5 inches, 50th percentile
Weight: 15 lbs 12 oz, 10-25th percentile
Head circumference: 44 cm, 75th percentile

She is growing up so fast. We're glad she's filling out a little bit and is now greater than fifth percentile for weight. Yay, Kate!

Welcome, 2013

2013-01-09T13:18:00.001-06:00

{Kate at 9 months in mid-december}

2012 was a big year for us. Here's a quick recap:

Kate was born. How beautiful and soul-stretching it is to be a mother!
I quit my job after working about two years as a speech pathologist.
Jay finished his residency and has a "real" job.
We celebrated our four year anniversary.
We loaded up our family, our stuff, and our cat in the biggest Penske truck you ever saw and moved 1300 miles, three states, and two time zones away. Let me tell you, Texas to Nevada is a pretty big change.
We moved from our one-bedroom apartment into a three-bedroom house! It is glorious.
We took several super fun cabin and Lake Powell trips, a Texas trip, a Colorado trip, and various Utah trips.
Kate broke her leg, inhabited a cast that was bigger than she was, and mended it again.
Kate had her first Halloween!
We had a wonderful Christmas season.
We spent lots of time with lots of family and friends.

Here's to another fantastic year! (Though please don't let this one be quite so eventful--I'm getting burned out on big changes...)

{Since one of my goals this year is to do more with photography (nice and specific, right?), I'm entering the I Heart Faces challenge this month.}

Meeting Santa

2012-12-22T01:57:00.001-06:00

Slouching Jay, festive Lindsay, and elfin Kate at our ward Christmas party.

I set Kate on Santa's lap, and I wish I had gotten a picture of this part, but she craned her neck to look up at his face for a second, then faced forward and let out an awesome, panicked cry.

Not the best first impression, Kate, but I'm pretty sure Santa will bring you presents anyway. Good thing you're so cute.

Three Things

2012-12-19T18:39:00.001-06:00

1. Our sparkly Christmas tree

2. Kate's tooth

3. Kate's other tooth

(Yes, I still bathe her in the sink and will probably continue to do so until she's five.)

Twelve on 12.12.12

2012-12-13T01:02:00.000-06:00

{All pictures taken a couple weeks ago at my parents' house.}

{Note the vestiges of stuffing around Kate's mouth--she and Grandpa bonded over food.}

1. Time is so fluid and elastic. At this point in my life, I feel like there just aren't enough hours in a day--seems like before I know it, Jay's home and it's time to sleep and I wonder what on earth I did all day. It's actually a bit unnerving.

2. As previously discussed, I'm not much of a kid person. Kids, especially in herds, make me crazy. And gross me out. (One on one, they're usually okay. And if you're my friend, I probably like your kid. And if I treated your kid in therapy, I probably liked him/her most of the time.) I'll admit there are days when Kate makes me crazy and grosses me out, but I love her desperately. And that is a huge relief to someone who had a lifelong fear that she wouldn't like her own children.

{"Mmmm... Stuffing," thinks Kate. "Mmmm... Chocolate Crinkles," thinks Lindsay, eyeing Lisa's efforts}

3. I feel like I'm a crazy emotional yo-yo recently: MUST CONTROL EVERYTHING-----let it go-----MUST CONTROL EVERYTHING---let it go-----

4. I am actually a bit sad that there won't be a "Thirteen on 13.13.13" post to write next year--I'm a numbers nerd and I love stuff like that. (Here's 10.10.10 and 11.11.11)

5. One year ago, I was very pregnant (and looked like this). It is amazing how much my life has changed in the last year.

6. A year ago I was working full-time, we lived in Texas, we had a one-bedroom apartment, Jay was still in the middle of his residency, we had no kids. Crazy.

{Kate's first Christmas tree experience. She started scooting forward this day for the first time. She loves reaching for ornaments!}

7. I love the perks of Las Vegas, but I still miss my Texas life. A lot, some days. Turns out that, much as we love her, Kate cramps our social life. And while it may not be completely fair or accurate to lay all of the blame on Kate, it's weird not hanging out with couple friends at least two nights a week. It's hard starting over again in the friend market. I feel like I'm back in the dating pool after a break-up.

8. I'm coming to the dawning realization that we probably won't ever have a super active social life again. I guess the next big thing is living vicariously through our children and crashing their slumber parties ("Who wants to see Kate's baby pictures??").

9. We live close to family in Las Vegas. Even though I miss friends, family is the best. And we're lucky to have family here that I would choose to be friends with even if they weren't family.

10. Kate and I went to a friend's house today. Kate rolled so her top half was out of my sight, and after a minute, I heard some indignant noises from her friend, Haddie. Turns out Kate somehow got her hands on Haddie's bottle and was chugging away. I had no idea Kate could take and hold her own bottle like that. She looked pretty pleased with herself. In other news, looks like she's (thankfully) not allergic to dairy...

11. I've been wearing my glasses the last few days because one of my eyes got infected last week. It frightens me how poor my vision is--it's impaired if anything is over a foot away from my eyes. With only the center circle of my vision in focus through my lenses and the periphery soft and blurred, I feel like an Instagram filter has been applied to my view, and not in a good way.

12. Still, though, I love to sit before the Christmas tree, eyes and vision au naturale, my flawed focusing creating beautiful bokeh: glowing, pointed orbs springing from the strings of lights and nestling among the branches.

{Kate loves Grandma}

Labor Day at Lake Powell

2012-11-06T10:40:00.000-06:00

My parents have a time share in a houseboat on Lake Powell. We joined most of my family and some cousins there over Labor Day weekend. The weather was perfect and the lake was beautiful. We had a blast.

Cute Kate. She did not like her sunglasses, the sand, the sunscreen, or the cold water, so this was the only time we dressed her up and tried taking her for a swim.

We had lots of surfing/boating/jet skiing fun. Here's Steve in the water.

My cousins brought their crazy husbands. Above is Stacia up on Ricky's shoulders.

Since that went so well, Ricky and Luke decided to try it. They didn't give up easily, but it didn't happen. I guess the surf board and physics decided 400 lbs and a wonky center of gravity was a no-go.

David (left) and Ricky (right) cliff jump. Check out Ricky's sweet suicidal swan dive.

We had some pretty crazy weather while we were there, but for the most part, we had beautiful blue skies with puffy white clouds.

On our way to Lake Powell, there was the most beautiful double rainbow arcing across the entire sky. This rainbow occurred a couple days later; we admired it from our houseboat.

We had a fantastic time! Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Hey There, Little Red Riding Hood

2012-10-31T17:57:00.000-05:00

At the risk of setting a dangerous precedent, I decided to make Kate's costume this year. I've never made anything by myself from a pattern before, but with some encouragement (thanks, Kiyomi!), I decided to give it a shot.

I used this pattern and tutorial. Since Kate is so small, I printed out the child size pattern at 70% and added two inches to the bottom of the cape to give it a little more length (in case she wants to "dress up" with it in the next year or two). I probably could have gotten away with buying 3/4 or 1 yard of fabric, but you don't know what you don't know, so I have a bunch of extra red fleece. Maybe I'll make her a Santa costume next year?

Jay made fun of me when he saw these pictures because of the pumpkins. "You're using PROPS now?" he said.

It's possible that I have, in the past, poked fun at some photography trends (naked babies in weird crocheted cocoons, anyone?), but the pumpkins were just setting the mood. Festively.

Besides, Kate was super entertained by them. She still can't crawl, but she a champion sit-and-reach-er. And she likes to touch everything.

She also likes to taste everything. How was it, Kate?

Not super good, huh?

I know I'm super biased, but when I tried the unfinished cape on Kate to make sure it fit, I could hardly stand it. The words "cute," "cutest," and "adorable" may have been used. Or overused.

Happy Halloween!

Snuggling with Socks

2012-10-30T11:35:00.000-05:00

One night, Jay and I were trying to get some cleaning done. Kate was a little higher maintenance while in her cast, but we put her on our bed with a couple toys and sneaked out (no need to worry about Kate rolling off the bed in that cast!). After a couple minutes of fussing, she started making her tired noises. We didn't go back in the bedroom for awhile because we knew as soon as she saw us, she'd start crying again. When I finally dared peek in, this is what I saw. We had put away some laundry that had been on the bed, but we must have left a few unmatched socks behind. Kate had apparently gathered the (clean) socks within her reach and piled them on top of herself, snuggled in, and gone to sleep.

Jay's comment was that she must not be my daughter because I cannot stand the feel of socks of any kind.

Sweet little baby.

Kate's Cast

2012-10-27T20:47:00.000-05:00

Kate a little while after her fall on 9/15--there wasn't any swelling that would indicate a fracture, but you can see her little bruised knee. I snuggled with her on the bed, and as long as she was close to me and her leg was still, she was calm. What a sweet little baby.

The Cast. Called a spica cast, it covered her entire left leg, wrapped around her middle just past her ribs, and went halfway down her right leg. The bar is for convenience in lifting and manipulating her. There was a (too small) opening under that (enormous) diaper. The whole ensemble weighed about ten pounds, practically doubling Kate's weight. Because the cast went up so high, she couldn't sit up or bend at the waist, so we couldn't (safely) put her in her car seat.

So we were pretty much home bound, Kate and I. Lucky for me, Kate is a champ. She was her normal smiley, chipper, pleasant self within a couple of days.

I did get cabin fever sometimes, but we were blessed with wonderful friends and family who were incredibly helpful and supportive. I got at least one call or text a day asking if I needed anything from the store, I had people bring over lunch or dinner, lend us movies, watch Kate so Jay and I could get things done, drop by to visit, invite us to places in walking distance, even send flowers (thanks, Katie!). I was very overwhelmed and very thankful. Thanks also to my mom and sister who each came out to stay for a night so Jay and I could do the things we needed to. Thanks to Jay's Aunt Marlene who watched Kate and brought a beanbag she'd purchased on behalf of Jay's Aunt Linda so Kate didn't have to lie flat all the time.

It was a difficult time--especially that first week--and I felt incredibly blessed and cared for. Thanks to all of you for your thoughts and prayers.

The cast was only on for a day shy of three weeks, but it felt like so much longer.When the cast did come off, it took a couple days to remember how to lift and hold my baby. She is so light and portable now. Before the cast, she was just learning to sit up and was rolling all over the place; she regained her sitting skills pretty quickly, but she's only just now (three weeks later) starting to roll like she used to. Thankfully, she's had no pain. It took a few days to get her "standing muscles" back, but now she's great.

If I were a cool mom, or maybe if Kate had the cast on longer, I would have had all her fans sign it and taken all kinds of rad-looking pictures. In the end, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I think it was just too hard for me--too sad--to try and turn it into something fun. I did force myself to take a few pictures, and I tried to make the best of the situation.

But when the day finally came to remove her cast, I was thrilled and nervous at the same time. Kate screamed and hyperventilated and shook in terror as the tech sawed through her cast, then cracked it open. I lifted my suddenly light and tiny baby out of her shell and held her to me, her legs curled against my chest.

The tech held up the two halves of Kate's cast, luridly pink with its cottony interior and bits of moleskin still clinging to it. "Would you like to keep this?" she asked.

"Absolutely not," I said.

Grammar Geek Tutorial: Peek, Peak, Pique

2012-09-26T13:12:00.000-05:00

Dang homophones. They sound the same, aren't always spelled the same, and always mean different things. I've seen this particular set mixed up every-which-way, when, in fact, they have completely different (not even close!) meanings.

Peek: to look at something stealthily. I took a peek in that box. Eek! There was a mouse!

Peak: the top or pinnacle of something. We hiked to the peak. Or, He was at the peak of his fitness.

Pique: (verb) to arouse interest. My curiosity was piqued.

The most common offender tends to be seeing peak when peek is meant (as in take a peak). Whenever I see this, I visualize someone offering me peaks of stiffly whipped cream or handing over the deed to a mountain. You can avoid this error by remembering if you take a peek, you might say Eek! (Get that? The "Eek" is the last three letters of "peek"? ...Okay, it's dorky, but sometimes dorky works.)

Though it is possible for your curiosity to peak (as in, reach the highest levels it ever has), it's generally more common that your curiosity is piqued (as in, something arouses your interest).

To showcase your new knowledge, you can try to slip this sentence in somewhere:
My interest was piqued after taking a peek at that peak.

Awesome.

Cleaning Poop out of a Spica Cast and Other Fun Things We've Been Up To

2012-09-18T14:19:00.000-05:00

I feel the need to preface this post by saying there are many things I'm thankful for and that Kate is going to be fine, but I'm still adjusting and it's hard. Jay and I talked last night about how eventually we're going to be able to joke about this, but right now it's just too raw. I need a little writing catharsis, so here it is.

Kate broke her leg on Saturday. We were up at my parents' cabin for a family get-together/my birthday (it's always all about me), and Jay and Sara and John and I decided to go for a walk up the road. Jay carried Kate up on his shoulders, a frequent vantage point for her. We hadn't gone far when we turned down a side road. It had been washed out a bit, and the footing was uneven. I started sliding a little and almost called out to Jay, who was walking ahead of me, to tell him to take Kate down, but I hesitated, and in that split second my tall husband who never falls and is always so careful with Kate lost his footing and fell. At some point in his descent, Kate flew off his shoulders and landed a couple feet away from him.

She started screaming and I came apart. It was like a scene from my nightmares. I know I'm a head-case, but so many times during my day with her I imagine all the horrible things that could happen if I tripped going down the stairs or if she fell off the counter or a myriad of other, unlikely, terrible things--and here one had happened. I didn't even go to her--I couldn't--and I stood there crying with my hands over my face. I am so ashamed, but I needed someone else to assess the damage first, to tell me she was okay. I couldn't face the possibility that she wasn't.

After a moment, I took her from Jay and held her tightly to my shoulder as we walked the short distance back. Her screams stopped and she had a soft, moaning, pained cry. We went inside and took off her kitty pajamas, and other than a few small scrapes, she looked okay. John said he'd seen her fall and she hit her hip first, and she didn't appear to have any head injuries. I tried to get her comfortable and nursed her, bringing comfort to us both.

As the hours passed, it became apparent that her left leg was still paining her. She was fine if it was dangling or held perfectly still--she would even smile or giggle at my brother--but any time it moved she let out a startled cry of pain. I thought about taking her to the ER, but we called a good family friend who is an excellent pediatrician, and he said it was unlikely her bone was broken and that after we got back to my parents' house he'd come over and check her out.

Jay told me to go ahead with the rest of my family to Les Mis, and he'd go home with my dad to take care of Kate and wait for Dr. Nygaard to come over. I was torn because I didn't want to leave my baby, but Jay assured me they'd be fine, so I swallowed my maternal guilt and left.

The play was fantastic and so fun, but about 20 minutes till the end I started feeling increasingly anxious. I almost left to call Jay but stuck it out. When it was over, I got a text from my dad saying that Marty had found a place on Kate's leg that was still tender, so they decided to get an x-ray just in case. He told Jay infants' bones are relatively flexible and that it's rare for them to break, but the x-ray revealed a greenstick fracture on Kate's femur, just above her knee.

By the time I got to the hospital, Jay was trying to put Kate to sleep and waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to put her in a cast. I picked up my sweet little baby and held her carefully, letting her leg dangle. She smiled at my mom and made happy little baby noises. I laid her on the bed in the hospital room and snuggled up next to her. Jay turned off the lights and Kate finally fell asleep for a few minutes.

When the nurse came to bring us to the OR, he wheeled the bed with Kate and I on it through the hospital. As we waited outside the OR and talked to the nurses and anesthesiologist, Kate lay next to me, placidly looking around. The nurses kept commenting how amazed they were at how calm she was. That's my baby, I thought. The best baby in the world.

Jay and I waited for two hours while they put the cast on. It was nerve-wracking. We'd been told it would only take 30-45 minutes, but a nurse came out halfway through to say the cast hadn't formed properly the first time, so they had to cut it off and do it again. Kate was under anesthesia, which scared me to death, but I'm grateful she was because it was such a long and painful process.

When I finally went in and saw my baby, she was so small lying on that big bed. She was crying, and her entire lower body was covered in a huge cast. I was shocked--I had no idea it would be so large. It's called a spica cast, and it goes from the bottom of her ribs down both legs, to the tips of her toes on her left leg and to her knee on her right. A wooden dowel was casted between her legs as a handle to help move her.

It was 3:00 AM, I was exhausted, in shock, and heartbroken at the scene before me. Completely without shame, I broke down. It was too much. I couldn't take it. After a few minutes, I held Kate--still attached to tubes and wires and cords--and nursed her awkwardly. The nurses gave her a dose of Lortab after I was done feeding her, and Jay held her while they took out the IV in her tiny hand.

Whether it was from the anesthesia, exhaustion, pain, or Lortab I don't know, but Kate took that moment to vomit everything in her tiny body all over Jay. She's never done that before, and it scared me to death. I begged the nurses to monitor her for a few more minutes because she looked almost catatonic. She was okay, just exhausted.

I talked to the surgeon and got instructions from the nurses while we waited for the radiology team to come take a final x-ray (portable x-ray machines = so cool and convenient). The biggest challenge came when we tried putting her in her car seat--since the cast comes up so high, she can't bend at the waist at all. As her car seat is L-shaped, this is a problem. The nurses helped us pile blankets and pads in the seat until we could set Kate on the top. The buckles aren't long enough to restrain her, so we put a seat belt over the top of her and drove carefully to my parents' house. It was 5 AM by the time we got to bed.

I've cried a lot these past few days, but at this point I think the cast is much harder on me than it is on Kate. She has a harder time sleeping because she can't move around (she always rolls while she sleeps and usually ends up on her stomach), and sometimes she gets frustrated, but for the most part she's back to her normal, smiley self. I've looked up pictures of other spica casts online, and Kate's is huge and bulky in comparison. I'm sure there are several reasons for this, but it does make things difficult.

This wasn't what I was planning on posting about--I meant to give a brief explanation of what happened and then talk about some of the challenges of working around this crazy cast--but I feel better after getting all this out of me and onto the page. To write about it was to relive it, but I'm more at peace with things now.

Kate is mostly pain-free now and is a little trooper. We're so grateful for Dr. Nygaard and his help--he rode to the hospital with Jay and Kate and gave them the royal treatment and stayed until Kate was all set up with the orthopedic surgeon. Thank you, thank you, Marty. Since we don't have a car seat that can accommodate her, I will be home-bound except when Jay is home to watch her. She'll be in the cast for 3-4 weeks--not so long, really. Babies' bones heal incredibly quickly, and she will heal completely. Jay and I are still dealing with guilt and heartache--Jay, especially, feels terrible. Sometimes, though, accidents just happen. We're learning new coping strategies hourly.

I can't bring myself to take pictures of her yet--it is still too new--but I will soon. I know that she won't remember this time of pain and immobility. I know we'll learn patience through this trial. Jay said the other night that he loves her even more now despite and because of her complete dependence on us and because she has shown such sweetness and strength of spirit. It is a funny paradox. We are very blessed.