Girl Power

Before I had Sage people would always ask what I was having-a boy or a girl.

I didn't know.

This seemed to invite people to give their opinion about which gender I should be wishing for and why. I didn't really mind this but it inevitably led to asking which gender I wanted and why.

I didn't know.

But I usually said the same thing every time. I was comfortable with boys and having a girl scared me. I am by no means a girly girl and all my attempts to become more so usually only last about a week before I give up and revert back to my slothful state of little to no makeup, pony tail and comfortable rather than fashionable clothes. So what would I do if I had a little girl who wanted to play pretty-pretty princess and cared about what she wore? Terrifying thoughts, I tell you, terrifying!!

Fast forward to May 27th.

It's a girl!!
Thank goodness for family and kind friends!

It started with Charlotte and her bag of girl clothes. Then Mom and Elise came. (Blogger had a little glitch here but the picture was too cute to leave out!)
Elise brought an entire suitcase full of girl clothes. A large, I mean seriously large, suitcase! Then I got a surprise package from my sister-in-law with even more cute outfits that I can't wait for Sage to grow in to. More friends gifted us with other darling outfits that will ensure that at least for the first 6 months Sage will not be mistaken for a baby boy. In fact, she will be totally stylin'!!
But you know, for a girl, clothes are not enough. Oh, no. They need accessories!!!

And so we went out and got the makings for headbands and clips: ribbon, bows, flowers, etc.
It's a good thing that Elise had some clue how to go about making them because I had spurned all previous opportunities to learn how to make little girl accessories, after all, I didn't think that the boys would wear them!

Grandma also had a brilliant idea for helping us differentiate between Ian's lovey rags and Sage's burp clothes, aka cloth diapers.
Mom works for the "ribbon lady" and has a plethora of scrap ribbon that we were able to put to good use. Now Ian always comes to me and shows me his rag and says "no wibbon" in his sweet little voice that you just can't get from reading this.

Thanks, ladies, for helping us get a jump start on our Girl Power! I feel a little more prepared for the future and should the time come (and face it, we all know it will) that I need more help in the girl power department I know where to come!

Things to remember

An alfresco dinner after a refreshing dip in the pool with your best bud.

"Pirate Daddy, Pirate Ian, Pirate Noah

Noah has loved 'camping' with Chris in the back yard. So much so it has become his favorite thing to pretend play. And recently it has spilled over to him sleeping on the floor. He even asks "Can I sleep on my good floor?" (We have always referred to their beds as their 'good beds' to encourage their desires to be in them:) It has also been cute to hear him grammatically substitute floor for bed. ie Can I take it to floor with me?

Ian seems to have a hard time saying taxi and continues to refer to it as 'axi.'

Ian's diaper rags are still his loveys and we worried about how he would feel if he had to share them with Sage. We didn't want to create opportunities for resentment. We thought that we would buy some new ones and dye them blue or pink depending on the gender and Ian would know that the colored ones were the baby's and the white ones were his. Grandma offered a different idea one day: sew ribbons onto the diaper rags. Since she has tons of beautiful ribbon scraps she brought some boy ribbon and girl ribbon. The rags turned out great and now Ian has a great time distinguishing between his rags and her rags. He will frequently bring me one his rags to see and saying "no wibbons, no wibbons!"

Ian's go-to words are "not working." He finds them useful in a number of situations. For instance, when he has eaten the 'beenana' down to the peel and needs the peel to be pulled down more. Or when he is eating a Popsicle and needs help to push the popsicle up out of the wrapper so he can eat it.

Happy Father's Day!!

My love and appreciation goes out to all the great, amazing fathers out there.

Especially mine, my brothers, my bils, and the father of my children!! I know that you would have been willing to climb into a crib to comfort a child but hopefully you are all smart enough not to!

Happy Father's Day!

Sage

Warning: There are a LOT of pictures in this post. And not much writing.
Photos by Elise.


Sage is just over a week old in most of these pictures.






















Did you enjoy the sweetness as much as I do?

It's a Girl!

Clara Sage Williamson

So, at 40 weeks + 3 days I was ready.

Sage, however, was not! When I heard her weight, 7 lbs, I knew why she wasn't ready and felt bad for grumping around about the baby not coming!
It might have been coincidence. Or maybe Sage just really wanted to meet her Grandpa Max. But on Thursday, when my parents were going to be stopping in for a day before going to my aunt's wedding, things got started-and finished!

About 4:00 in the afternoon I started having irregular contractions. I crossed my fingers that they were more than Braxton-Hicks contractions. We had some things to do to get ready for my parents visit and I was going to run to Walmart. Chris came home to help and I went off to do some walking and pick up a few essentials.

The contractions were still coming after that trip so I kept steaming ahead and swept and vacuumed and cleaned a bathroom. By the time they got here about 6:00 the contractions were much more regular and more painful. I started to let myself hope that it might actually happen that night!

And really, coincidence or providence, Mom and Dad were visiting when I had Noah 6 weeks early too. Other grandbabies have also enjoyed the unplanned for presence of Grandma and Grandpa when they were born. They are like a lucky charm or something! (Maybe I should rent them out to pregnant ladies who are ready to deliver!)

Chris took care of the boys and grilled dinner while Grandpa timed my contractions as I worked on the salad and fruit in the kitchen. Soon he was able to start telling me when I would be having another. It was back labor and as the pain got worse it was harder and harder to relax through the contractions.

By the time dinner started (incidentally we were supposed to be celebrating my birthday!) I was pretty sure that we would be leaving soon. In fact, I called the doctor and told her that I was going to come in.

I have to shake my head at health professionals who refuse to think that I have any reason to understand what is going on with my own body. I mean, really, I have had two kids before and might have a slightly better idea of how things would progress!

The doctor asked the usual questions about how close together and how long they were lasting. She wasn't terribly impressed. She also asked about dilation and effacement the last time I had been checked. Again, not impressed. Finally, she said that I didn't sound to bad off and to wait till I was really uncomfortable before coming in. I verbally agreed and hung up to say that we were going in right then anyway.

When we arrived at the hospital they took me to the pre-admittance room to check me before they would admit me. I was a little annoyed because I knew that this was really labor and that given my history I would progress quickly and I wanted an epidural. I did not want to be told later that I was too far along for it. Back labor gets the better of any thoughts I might have about doing things without medication. I can keep things relaxed in the beginning but I my abilities are quickly outpaced by the pain and its location.

The nurse checked me and I was at 5 centimeters. She called right over to tell them I was going to be staying. We got settled and I did get my epidural. None to soon, for me, really. By then I was about a 6 and moving along. The doctor came in and broke my water and said I was about an 8. Within about 1/2 an hour I told the nurse it was time to push. She wanted to check me and quickly agreed after the first trial push that it was time to call in the doctor.

With one push the baby was out-easy, peasy. And it was a GIRL!

I don't think I really knew what to think.

Maybe that my dream was real. Or, we don't have to pay for circumcision. I don't know. It was a little surreal to me at that point. One thing I did note, though, was that we had her before midnight. It was sweet serendipity.
The boys and Grandma and Grandpa came over the next morning. We had a little birthday celebration with cupcakes from my aborted birthday dinner and presents. They brought a present for Sage and she got each of her big brothers a gift as well.

They loved their gifts but still declined to do any actual holding.

They finally agreed to pictures.
And daddy, well, he is a proud papa.

And a trooper. He spent the night at the hospital and then went home early to take care of the boys. (We were very grateful for grandma and grandpa being able to stay with the boys that night.)

And a saint. He was, and remains, the "go-to" person for just about anything and everything. Me. The boys. Church callings. Work. We couldn't make any of it work without our daddy.
And Grandma. She has been here all week and I love her for it. She has been my sounding board as we deal with the whole 'insufficient milk production' issue, my companion in the middle of the night, babysitter so I can nap, cook, cleaning lady, etc. Priceless!

We have been taking an embarrassingly small number of pictures (grandpa escaped without a single picture! Shame on me!) since I knew that my sister was coming for the weekend and bringing her camera. We had a photo shoot this morning and got some adorable shots so stay posted for more sweetness to come!

Wait a Minute...

It is going UP?

THAT TICKER NUMBER IS GOING BACK UP!!!

I am Ready

I am ready to have this baby.

I am ready to find out if it is a boy or girl! (I finally finished the boy AND girl afghan!)
I am ready to not have greasy hair and skin. I am ready to be able to move without certain unmentionable parts hurting. I am ready to be able to feel my fingers all the time (but especially when I am trying to write something down, talk on the phone, or shave my legs) instead of just some of the time. I am ready to have enough blood in my head to keep me from feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I am ready to be able to wear something besides my flip-flops (not that I don't love them, cause I do, but I feel like a bad example at church!). I am ready to be able to turn over in bed without it being a long production of positioning everything just right to minimize any painful movements. I am ready to stay in my bed all night-no potty breaks (I know this is a pipe dream, at least for awhile, but you know what I mean)!

But more than those things, I am ready to be me again-the me I feel like I have almost forgotten I was! I am ready to have my emotions, hormones, and mental faculties back. I am ready to participate in conversations that I don't think about later and realize that I missed so much and the other person must think I am an idiot for not getting half of what they just said. I am ready to have some control over my emotional being and how it effects me. I am ready to have some recall of common words, phrases and recent history (my own!). I am ready to be me again.

I am ready to meet this little person who has been running out of room inside me. I am ready to know if the baby is going to be a crier, like Ian, or a sleeper, like Noah, or his/her own person all together. I am ready to know who the baby will look like. I am ready to know if we will share a birthday or if the baby will share a birthday with one of the uncles or have a birthday all to his/herself.

I am ready to have this baby.

How about you, baby, are you ready?