Happy Anniversary!

Two years ago today, Eric and I tied the knot.  Needless to say, life has been a little different around our house these days, so I don't feel too guilty about not remembering our anniversary until yesterday or not buying a gift.  I am not sure how long I can use the "I birthed your child" card, but the statute of limitations surely hasn't expired after 9 days. But since I didn't even get a card for the occasion, this blog post will have to do.

Eric - two years ago today, you were finishing up a round of golf and getting ready to put on a nice new shirt and tie.  Today, when you change your clothes midday, it is because Brady spit-up on the first one.  Life has changed, but no doubt it is for the better.  You've been a great husband these past few years, but more importantly, you've shown this past week what a great dad you will be.  Brady is lucky to have a dad like you to look up to and I couldn't ask for a better partner to grow old with.  Happy Anniversary.

Baby noises

Brady's got rhythm. 

Brady Talk: Roughin' it in the World

Guest columnist Brady will be filling in for me today:

I'm 5 days old today and my mom finally gave me a turn at the keyboard.  First of all, I know my mom thinks she had it rough during my delivery and I appreciate her effort, but being pushed out of your warm, dark, comfy home into a cold room with blinding lights while having some strange man stick a tube down your throat is no walk in the park.  After being evicted from my home, this man handed me to the nurses, who looked nice enough, but it was then I learned my first life lesson: looks can be deceiving.  I let all those nurses know what I thought of them by doing the only thing I could think to do...I peed on them.  And not just once, but three times...so they knew I meant business.  So, first good news of the day: my equipment was working. 

Speaking of nurses, I had my first doctor's visit yesterday.  They stripped me down like I was a prisoner at Sing Sing and put me on the scale.  I knew this was my first big test and I passed with flying colors.  The nurse was very impressed...not only did I gain all my weight back, but I surpassed it by a few ounces!  I give my mom some credit as she has been feeding me some good milk.  To celebrate, I went for my signature move and peed on the nurse. I think I should get some bonus points for 1) holding in the pee until after my weigh-in 2) saving my parents from having to change another diaper.  Everyone laughed, but I don't think the nurse liked it, because next time I saw her she was coming at me with a needle.  Seems that nobody can take a joke around here.  The shot didn't feel so good, but compared to the invasive snip-job they did a few days ago, it was nothing.  That first procedure was a bit traumatic and personal, so I won't go into details.



Me and mom in the doctor's office

Speaking of traumatic, Dad thought it would be fun to give me a sponge bath today.  I think sponge bath is a fancy name for Chinese torture chamber.  Mommy and I weren't so sure I needed a bath (it's not like I've been rolling in the dirt), but I am feeling pretty fresh right now.



Why does dad look so happy to torture me?

I've got to be honest, things these days really aren't as rough as I make them out to be.  Sometimes I don't think Mom and Dad know exactly what they are doing, but I give them a break most of the time because they try really hard.  I sleep most of the day and during my waking hours, people talk to me in funny voices and make a big deal about pretty much everything I do (which admittedly, is limited at this point in my life).  I am also a big fan of eating.   I have a limited menu but it makes decisions easy and it's always right there when I need it.  Other than that, I put most of my energy into looking cute.  And not to toot my own horn, but I think I'm pretty good at it.

 

Blogging is exhausting!



Brady's birth

Disclaimer: This is a blog post about labor and delivery. While I have omitted the graphic details, there will be talk about dilating, contracting, pushing, etc. If this offends you, proceed to the pictures. Mostly, this blog post is for my own personal reference to re-read before deciding to have any more children.

Friday morning I began having contractions.  I went on a nice long walk around 3pm with some girlfriends and the contractions became very regular and frequent (every 2 minute), although not painful at all.  They slowed down after the walk, and Eric and I decided to walk around the mall that evening and we had our last meal as a family of two.  We came home and I tried to go to bed, knowing this may be my last opportunity for a while.  That plan went out the window as my contractions became more frequent and uncomfortable and we decided to head to the hospital around 1 am.  The doctor checked me and when she did, my water broke.  The water contained meconium which basically means Brady took a poop inside of me.  I did the same thing to my mother, so I guess this is what they call karma.  Basically, when he came out, he would need to be taken immediately to be suctioned out to ensure he did not ingest the meconium.  I was rechecked at 7am and I had progressed from 2 to 3 cm.  The doctor assured me that I was progressing nicely and was completely effaced.  My dreams of a very quick delivery were quickly fading.  I had what I thought was a decent amount of pain within that first 5 hours, but it was nothing compared to what was to come.  I went in to the hospital resolute to have a natural delivery and there were many times throughout the process that I cursed myself for being so stubborn.  From 7-11 am, my pain level was 9.5 on a 10 point scale and from 11-1, it was a 17.  I know it hurt Eric to see me in so much pain and at one point (completely unprompted), he told me he would keep our room clean for a year.  I brought this up to him later and I think he was surprised that I remembered this in my delirious state.  Oh, I will remember.

At 10 am, the doctor said I was about 4-5 cm dialated and he would be pleased if I progressed a centimeter an hour from that point on.  He might be pleased, but I didn't share his feelings.  The thought of 5 more hours was unbearable and in the next two hours, my instincts told me I was progressing faster as there was just no way things could stay this bad for much longer.  The doctor came back in at 1 pm and checked me.  He said I had progressed very quickly to 10 cm and it was time to push.  I could have kissed him.  I pushed and pushed but once again, Brady did not want to cooperate and felt very content to stay where he was.  When I pushed on my back, Brady's heart rate dropped, so I began pushing on my side.  They gave me some oxygen to help Brady's heart rate.  I have participated in many intense sporting events in my days, but never have I worked so hard as I have in that two hour period.

Humorous side story: My doctor was fantastic and sat on my bed for about an hour of the pushing (rare for doctors who are known for "just catching").  His casual demeanor can not be understated, however.  In between contractions, he'd turn his head to watch the TV that was directly in front of my bed.  It is possible that Brady's first glimpse of TV was Lethal Weapon (not sure which number).  While I don't remember this conversation, apparently the doctor turned to Eric and said, "That actor always plays the bad guys in movies." I do remember them talking about Carolina Basketball...I did not tell them to shut up, not because I lacked the desire, just the physical capacity.

Back to Brady...he finally "turned the corner" and the doctor told me to stop pushing (easy for him to say) as a rush of people came into the room to prepare.  Everyone in the hospital heard me as I made the final pushes.  Brady finally arrived at 3:13 pm.  The feeling of relief was amazing but was tempered by the silence that followed.  The cord that was wrapped around Brady's neck was quickly cut, a tube was quickly put down his throat, and he was taken to the side room to be worked on.  We heard the nurses count out the seconds that he wasn't breathing and as 15 seconds turned into 60, we were worried.  Finally, after 90 seconds, Brady let out a beautiful wail and we let out sigh.



"Put me back where I came from!"

He was worked on for a while and before he was taken away to the special care unit, I was able to hold him for about 20 seconds.  It didn't take that long to fall in love.  He had a rough first couple hours and the doctors were concerned about his rapid breathing.  He turned the corner quickly though, and by about 6:30, he was cleared to be reunited with his proud parents.  The pain of the day was quickly forgotten as we spent the first of what will surely be many nights wondering how we got to be so lucky.

"Wasn't I worth it, mom?"

Yes, little buddy, you were.

Survival by the light of the iPad

We left the hospital yesterday afternoon and brought Brady to his new home. While the "nurse call" button will be sorely missed, it feels great to be home. Eric was especially pleased to say goodbye to his "bed" which was no more than a recliner. Although judging by his comatose state the first night, it didn't seem to be much of a sleeping hindrance.

Eric in his "bed"

Brady's entrance into the world was not without complications (more on that later), and Brady's first night home proved to be equally exciting. We dealt with the usual first-time parents questions: what does he wear, where does he sleep, why is he making that noise, can he breathe, etc. Added to that, about 1 am, while trying to get Brady to eat, our electricity went out. No storm to blame this on, just plain bad luck! Nursing in the dark was a little difficult for this new mom and I discovered that there are more uses for the iPad than blogging. It gives light! We managed to find a flashlight and struggled through a few feedings, diaper blowouts, and outfit changes. The power came back right about the time the sun was about to rise. While I can't claim to be well rested, we survived the night and in the days of a newborn, survival seems to be the goal!

First car ride

Home at last

The best things in life...

are definitely worth waiting for. Brady William Hoots entered this world at 3:13 pm on May 21st weighing in at 7 lbs, 20 inches long. He has a full head of hair and kissable full lips and couldn't be more perfect. The full story to come later, but right now Brady is sleeping on my chest and I have to get back to staring at this cute little miracle.

Hello world!

Meeting Grandma and Grandpa Hoots

1st family photo

The Hoots boys

Aunt Claire

Picture of happiness

Doomsday Baby?

You may have heard recent reports that Judgment Day is drawing near.   Led by Harold Camping, a group of Christians hold the belief that in two days, the day of Rapture will be upon the world.  This will begin with an earthquake, which I believe is scheduled to hit at 6pm and at that time, 200 million who are saved will be taken to heaven while the rest of the world sticks around on earth for 5 months waiting for the end of the world (October 21st).  Harold screwed up once, predicting the end of the world back in 1994, but apparently at the ripe age of 89, he's had enough time to hone his calulation skills and his followers have given him another chance to redeem himself (no pun intended).

I was really hoping to enter Doomsday not being pregnant.  I always envisioned during my ascension to heaven, I'd be donning a beautiful white dress that hugged my nice slim figure, not wearing my husband's white undershirt and boxer shorts, which is ususally my outfit at 6pm on any given day.

The upcoming events have given me pause for reflection about the similarities between trying to predict the end of time and trying to predict the birth of a child.  There is a reason Doomsday and Due Date sound awfully similar and their greatest similarity is that neither can be predicted.  There is some beauty and reason in that, but it frustrates both Christians and pregnant people who just want to know!  There is a good chance that on May 22, I will still be on this earth and I will still be pregnant.  I am coming to terms with accepting both.

Yes, I'm still here

This has become my standard response to my well-intentioned co-workers' inquiries as I show up for work each morning.  Rolling into work this Monday morning seemed especially brutal as another full week of all work and no baby seemed to be a real possibility.  Physically, I feel great and I am happy that I can continue working.  Mentally, my state isn't quite as stable (although not suprisingly, better than my husband's).  Before I was pregnant and even while I was pregnant, I would hear about people who were a week or so late and to me, a week didn't seem like a very long time.  Once my due date hit, time slowed and a week seems longer just 7 days.  It's 604,800 seconds.  Eric says having this late baby is like waking up on December 25th and then having someone tell you that Christmas has been moved back to January.

Young Eric after being informed that Christmas had been moved back.

While a delayed Christmas is indeed depressing, it is better than a cancelled Christmas!  We went to the doctor Friday afternoon and again this morning and we are counting our blessings that everything is looking good and healthy with Baby Hoots.  We have more pictures of Baby Hoots in utero than we know what to do with and we're looking forward to using a real camera to snap a few pics. Full moon tomorrow, so maybe that'll be the day!

Freaky Friday

What do the Olsen Twins, Fidel Castro, and Harry Truman all have in common?

BabyHoots???

All these upstanding citizens (ok, maybe only 1 out of 4 deserve this moniker) were born on Friday the 13^th!  While the potential for Baby Hoots to be born on this unlucky day is quickly waning, Eric suggested the name be changed to Freddy or Jason if the event does occur today.

Speaking of unlucky babies, I saw a special on the TODAY show yesterday morning about the growing number of babies whose identities are stolen at birth.  They don’t find out about it until later in life when they’re applying for a credit card or a loan.  If Baby Hoots does turn out to be unlucky 13, we’ll be running a credit check on him before his first diaper change.

Happy Mother's Day!

While I was hoping to join this special group of women in time to celebrate the holiday, it looks like Baby Hoots doesn't want to share his birthday with a bunch of ladies. Hopefully, sometime this week, he will make an appearance!

While we wait, I thought I'd share some pictures of where he'll be staying when he gets here.  His grandma came in a few months ago and painted the room gray.

My very talented friend, Colleen, then came and painted some beautiful artwork on the walls.

Since everything else in our life seems to revolve around the Tar Heels, I didn't want the nursery to look like Rameses had come in to decorate.  I did throw Eric a bone, though, and we found a way to incorporate a little basketball in the nursery.  I love how this guy turned out.

A gift from Aunt Ada and Uncle Brad

Nursery is ready, parents are ready!

Happy Mother's Day to my mom, Eric's mom, and all the moms out there!

Patience...

is a virtue not yet learned in The Hoots household.  If simply asking "when is the baby going to come?" somehow sped along the birth process, our child would already be taking his first steps and reciting his ABC's.   Unfortunately, asking "when is the baby going to come?" only serves to annoy the mother-to-be and I suspect, it might actually prompt Baby Hoots to get just a little more comfortable where he is...just to put Pops in his place and make sure he knows who is going to boss around here.

While the unaswerable question remains, we can always guess!  My early prediction was that May 14th would be baby's birthday and I'm sticking with that.  Eric's window of opportunity is quickly closing with his May 3rd prediction upon us.  There is still a chance for a Cinco de Mayo baby (Jose Hoots has a nice ring) or perhaps a nice Mother's Day gift this Sunday, May 8th.  Someone informed me that the next full moon was May 17th, and according to Google (whose reliability can't be questioned), women are more likely to go into labor (and false labor) during a full moon.  Hopefully, he won't wait for the astronomical signs to align and maybe he'll be one of the 5% of babies that are born on their due date (again, thank you Google).  Whenever he decides to come, we will be ready!  Patience may be lacking in our household, but excitement is not!