One year ago today.

One year ago today, we were on our way home from Florida. We drove over night and were exhausted when we got home. We took a nap and dropped off the rental car. Then we got ready for a little get together for my father-in-laws birthday.

One year ago today, I felt the cramps. I walked into the bathroom and saw the blood.

One year ago today, I didn't want to accept what was happening so I laid back down. I laid in bed for hours. The party went on. Nick kept on checking on me.

One year ago today, I broke down and bawled in his arms. My mom come upstairs to comfort me and I couldn't stop crying.

One year ago today, we drove to the hospital. We waited for what seemed like an eternity to get called into the back. They drew blood, ran a pelvic exam, and finally took me back to get an ultrasound.

One year ago today, I laid on the bed getting my ultrasound done and knew why they wouldn't let me see my baby on the screen. And I cried some more.

One year ago today, a doctor came in an said the words I will never forget, "well, it looks like you're not pregnant anymore."

One year ago today, my world was crushed.

Some days I'm okay. 

Some days I can't stop thinking of the baby I should be holding in my arms. The baby that would have been 5 months old right now. The baby that would have made Peyton an amazing big sister. The baby that I wasn't ready for at first, but that I wanted so bad it still hurts.

But today, I hurt.

Today, my heart aches.

Today, I wonder how much different my life would be if Baby B was here with us.

Today, I am not okay.

Today, I feel grief.

Today, I hold Peyton a little closer. I tell her I love her that much more. I cherish the moments I get to watch her grow and turn into an intelligent, witty, beautiful girl. 

Today, I pray for guidance.

But tomorrow I will stand up and be strong because I know God has a plan for me. I know he blessed me with the short amount of time I held Baby B inside me for a reason. And because I know God has a plan for me, I know I'll be okay. Maybe not today, but I will be okay.

Teaching Her Confidence

         I've said it before, and I'll saying it again, being a parent is the most absolutely terrifying thing I've ever done in my entire life. Just when you think you're stating to get a hang of things something else comes along to knock you off your feet and question every decision you've ever made.

         For instance, did you know your child can run a 102+ fever for no reason other than the fact that they have "allergies"? Because I didn't. Did you also know that your child can get a sinus infection that backs up and drains through their eyes? I'm talking legit BOOGERS seeping out of their eye sockets. It's a fun time.

         But that's not even the most terrifying thing. You want to know what it? The fact that you are almost solely responsible for setting up their self esteem and how they view themselves. I mean sure, there's going to be things in the future that have a great affect on how they view themselves, but those beginning years? That's all you.

         At first I constantly worried that I was going to do something to screw my kid up. For instance, Peyton absolutely adores having her toenails painted. We generally paint them once a week or so. And so I sat there wondering, is the fact that I paint my 21 month olds toenails going to make her too concerned with her vanity? And then there's the fact that we (and everyone else) call her adorable, cute, pretty, etc all the time. Because let's face it, she is. Then you see media messages like this:

and it makes question yourself even more. Am I bad parent for telling my daughter she's pretty? But what if I don't tell her? Will she think she's ugly?

         But then I got to thinking, Peyton also loves to read. Some nights she doesn't care about taking a stuffed animal to bed with her, she just wants to take a book. Then in the morning when she wakes up she'll calmly just sit up and start "reading". She just turned 21 months old (side note, I cannot wait for her to turn 2 so we can stop counting months) and she can already repeat the alphabet after us, knows majority of it by sight, can associates the letters with thing (A for Apple, D for Dada, etc) count to ten with some assistance (she refuses to say the number three, I have no idea why), she knows most of her colors, is learning new words everyday, and can already speak in some complete and coherent sentences. She knows emotions. If you look sad she'll come up to you, grab your face, and say, "you kay?" And let me tell you, if you are sad having her look at you with concern in her eyes sure does warm up your heart.

         I guess my whole point in this is that while I still am concerned about building her self esteem, I think so far we are doing a darn good job. She not only hears that she's beautiful on a daily basis, but that she's smart, sweet and funny too. I think the best thing we can do to set her up right is to make sure she knows that beauty shouldn't be the only thing that matters to her, while still making sure she knows she's beautiful.

         Making sure she knows that being intelligent isn't the only thing that defines her, but still telling her she's smart. Letting her feel confident in telling jokes with her friends, but making sure she knows that being a class clown isn't the most important thing in her life.

         So I'll continue to paint her nails. I'll continue to let her splash in puddles. I'll continue to let her play with both princess dolls and her daddy's wrestler figurines from when he was a kid.  I'll continue to let her fall asleep with both her baby doll and her favorite book.

         All I can do is pray that I'm doing something right, and that she continues to grow more and more confident each and every day and know that she is loved by so many kind and caring people.

I need God.

          Have you ever noticed that the people who are the happiest seem to be the closest to God?

          When I was a freshman and sophomore in high school I was so incredibly on fire for God. I'm talking I was excited to get up and go to church all day Sunday, after school on Wednesdays, and any time there was anything there on any other day in the week. We would talk about how some people would claim it was hard to go to church, and that idea just blew my mind. How could going to church and loving God be hard?!

          But then life happened. I went through some tough times. I won't go into what exactly happened, because honestly I'm not ready to share that part of my story yet, but I started skipping church every once in a while. Nothing big, just a Sunday here and there. Maybe I missed two Wednesday night bible studies in a row. But I was (am) still a Christian. And just because you don't go to church regularly doesn't make me any less of a Christian. At least that's where my mind set was.

          Let me be very clear in saying that I never stopped believing in God. I always knew he was there. I never once doubted that he sent his son to die for me so that I could live. It was just like this: you know when you talk to a couple who's gotten divorced, and they say they don't really know what happened. They just grew apart. That's how I felt. I was moving on in life, and God was always there, but I was trying to do things my way, on my time, instead of doing what I should have been: relying on him.

          Then I lost Baby B. And I was angry. I couldn't understand why God would give me this baby that I didn't want in the first place, only to take it away from me when I was finally excited about it. I couldn't understand why I had to lose my baby when there were women having abortions and throwing away their babies lives. It wasn't fair. And I was angry for a while. I tried telling myself, and every one around me, that I trusted God. That I knew he had a plan. But even a couple months ago, I didn't. I cursed God. I hated that he had chosen to put me through so much pain.

          The something happened. Losing Baby B made me take a pause. It made me realize that even though I never stopped believing in God, I had managed to place him on the back burner of my life, only pulling him forward when I thought it convenient. When I needed something. I had stopped praying every night. I had stopped giving thanks to him for all the blessings in my life. I had closed the line of communication on my side. Then it hit me, the sudden realization of how much I desperately needed to bring God back to being my first priority. Not only for me, but for my daughter.

          I honestly believe God works in mysterious ways. The other night after I had put Peyton to bed, I was watching House on Netflix (shh...don't tell my husband I was watching it without him...) but it was an episode where a nun ends up in the hospital and Dr. House does what he normally does whenever the topic of religion is discussed on the show, he immediately starts to discredit it. But in the episode, Chase is talking to the nun and she asks him what his favorite bible verse is, and he replies  1 Peter 1:7 (hang on! I'm gonna tell you what it says). And it just struck me in the heart. I realized that is exactly what God had done by blessing me with the 11 short weeks I was able to grow Baby B in my womb, and then calling him home to heaven. It was a way for God to shake me up, and test my faith and reel me back in to his eternal love and glory. So now I am making a conscious effort to get my heart back to where it should be. I'm praying every night. I'm thanking God for everything he has done in my life, the good and the bad. I've even noticed how just by reopening that line of communication, I am already starting to feel happier.

Progression.

Often time you can't see how far you've come unless you look back at where you've been.

           Photography is an ever changing and evolving art. Like anything that involves technology, you buy a brand new piece of equipment, and six months later they come out with a newer and better model. 

           I honestly don't remember when I really got into photography. Two weeks after my sweet sixteen, I bought what I thought was a "professional" camera. It was nothing too fancy, but it was a step up from the little point-and-shoot cameras I had in the past. I started just taking pictures of my pets, random objects, and of course selfies with my boyfriend.

           Then my brother-in-law joined a band and they needed pictured to go on a poster for a concert. So I ended up snapping a few shots, and realizing they weren't half bad. That's when I started really thinking I could turn this hobby into something serious. I stuck with my "professional" camera until my second semester of college. With my little Nikon L100 I actually did a few shoots. Nothing big, just a few sessions for friends here and there. And of course, they were all for free.

Oct. 2012 vs Sept. 20

           I dove head first into an industry that I had no idea about it's inner workings. There's a lot of misconceptions when it comes to photography, and I had about every single one of them. I imagined I would spend majority of my time shooting, with a little bit of editing here and there, and the clients would just pour in.

           Boy was I wrong.

           Rather than explaining separately, I mad these two handy dandy pie charts! (I would like to point out the fact that in my mind I said that in the tune that Steve from Blue's Clues pulls out his notebook...)

           Much to my surprise, and let's be honest, my disappointment, very little of my "working" time is spent actually doing the shoot. For a full session, I typically spend from 45 minutes to and hour actually taking photographs at the session. Then comes the fun part. 

           I have a system, and not all photographers work this way, but it works for me. I move the photos from my camera and onto my computer and manually flag every picture I think I might want to edit. After I've gone through the entire session, I go through all the flagged photos. I pick my favorites from each pose, and I edit those.

           An average I spend anywhere from 4-8 hours editing pictures.

           Then I still have to spend time marketing, communicating with clients, reading other photographers blogs and watching numerous YouTube tutorials so I can better my art.

           And while I do all this I have to entertain a toddler. So while I spend 4-8 hours actually editing, in reality it can take me up to two full weeks to finish a session.

Jan. 2012 vs Nov 2013

           There is a heck of a lot of self doubt when it comes to being a photographer. Am I doing this right? Will the client like this pose? Will someone think I'm trying to copy another photographers style? Is this pose too cliche? 

           One of the hardest things, in my opinion, about being a photographer is developing your own style. When you look at another photographers work, it is immediately apparent what their style. It's exponentially harder to see your own. I used to constantly worry whether or not I would ever develop my own style. I felt like I was always striving to be like someone else. I wonder look at pictures I had done and seriously wonder if there was anything distinctive about them that made people know that they were mine. 

           It wasn't wasn't until the last few weeks that I realized yes, I do have my own style. I was so excited after I had posted pictures from a recent shoot and my client had used one of the photos from her session as her profile picture. The picture didn't have a watermark on it, but my best friend shot me a text saying, "so you know its a good thing when u see a picture without a watermark on it but you say that looks like carolyns pictures.....well thats what I said when I saw [clients name]'s picture."

           That single message had me ecstatically happy because it meant that I had finally made a distinguishable style for myself.

July 2012 vs Sept 2013

           Being an introvert and a photographer is an exceedingly difficult combination. My session dialog goes a lot like this: "if you wanted to you guys could maybe sit here..." "ummmm, would you possibly like to try standing like this?" "if you wanted, you could maybe kiss..." "you can just stand however you're comfortable..."

           Because of my introvertness (is that even a word?), I want to publicly thank whoever came up the concept of Pinterest. Because it has allowed my to gather inspiration from other photographers. And when I'm really in a bind at a session and can't think of how else I want to pose I am able to whip out my phone for a few seconds and be completely re-inspired. And if I can't think of how to explain to clients how I want them to pose, I can show them a picture.

           At the same time, I would like to publicly curse whoever came up with the concept of Pinterest. I love the fact that clients are able to get inspiration for their sessions from it because it helps me to see their personality. But I absolutely hate when clients decide they must have a specific pose. Because when I'm forced to replicate another photographers work, it is stifling that personal style I have worked so hard to develop. But alas, because I am a super introvert, unless I absolutely do not feel comfortable with a pose, I generally do it anyways because I can literally not say no. 

Aug 2011 vs Oct 2013

           Finally, I would like to state why I do not deliver clients all the images from their session using this beautiful example I found on Google:

I honestly cannot find this picture using the reverse look up, so I don't know who to credit for it.

But where did all my friends go?!

This crazy thing happens when you have a baby. You're friends start to disappear.

Before getting pregnant I had countless people I could call or text last minute and they would be right over to hang out. Now I have only a handful of good friends. It's not like I had a big falling out with any of them, it's just when you are about to bring a new life into the world, you suddenly have next to nothing in common with your old friends.

At first it was really hard to get used to the sense of loneliness I felt once my friends had dwindled to being able to count them on just a few fingers, but then I realized something: though I may not have as many friends as I used to, the quality of the friends I do have is absolutely amazing. The friends I do have are willing to drop almost anything they're doing if Nick, Peyton or I need something.

The first couple weeks after I had Peyton people were constantly in and out of our house. Everybody wanted to meet her. I was so grateful that I was surrounded by so much love. People would stop in just because they wanted to see how Peyton and I were doing. But this crazy thing happened once she turned about 2 months old: nobody came by. My phone went silent. The awe of the new baby had worn off. It's like when a kid gets a new puppy. The first couple days and weeks they are so excited because it's new, and it's cute. But then the reality starts to set in. I have to take care of this thing? You want me to clean it's poop? You can't make it be quiet?!

Okay, maybe that's a little too far. I never expected anyone to clean her poop. But I had "friends" who would call me and ask to hang out. Which was awesome because I needed adult contact. But they would act shocked when they realized that would mean my baby would have to come with me. It was like they expected me to just pawn my child off on someone else. Like she was a little toy I could just smile and take selfies with, then pass off to her grandparents and go about my business like before I had her. Let's face it, nobody really wants to be those people in the restaurant or movie theater with the screaming child.

But you want to know something amazing? My true friends didn't care. They understood that there might be times when I had to leave because baby was just too fussy. They understood that if we went to the movies with the baby, that there was a very good chance I would have to take her out into the lobby with me half way through the movie because she got restless. They understood that there is no way I could give them 100% of my attention when we were out to dinner because I had to focus on making sure my daughter didn't throw half her dinner on the floor or pick up the steak knife.

So to these friends, I say thank you. Thank you for playing a part in my daughter's life. Thank you for being an example to her of how true friendship should be. Thank you for being willing to trade in going out to see the latest Captain America movie to having a Frozen sing along night where we have to listen the song "Let It Go" on repeat because that's all that Peyton wants to listen to. Thank you for being patient when she want to "play" games with us, and actually ends up dumping our game board/cards on the floor. Thank you for loving her like she is a part of your family.

"What did you even do today?"

             I've been wanting to do this blog post for a while now, but I have had a teething toddler who popped two new teeth and is getting in another set molars so I've basically been wanting to throw myself off a bridge the last two weeks. Jk. Kind of.

             Before I get into this actual post, I want to start by saying how completely appalled I am by the way stay at home moms and working moms act towards each other. I mean seriously. I was looking up those little e-card things to add into this for a little humor, and some of them were just plain RUDE. I've been a stay at home mom for 95% of the time that Peyton has been alive. I worked a temporary part-time job for a total of 12 weeks over the summer then fall, but couldn't go back for the spring because of scheduling conflicts with Nick's job. (Basically I didn't want to be working solely to be able to afford the money it would cost to put Peyton in child care just so I could work). I'm not saying one is easier than the other. I feel blessed that we are in a situation where I am able to stay home and take care of the baby. And it is by no means easy (but I will be getting into that in a moment...). At the same time I don't believe it is right in any way shape or form for one mother to put down another mother because she chooses/has to work or stay home.  Being a parent is hard enough without having to worry about other parents judging you. But that's just my 2 cents.

some examples of the rudeness.

             There are some days when Nick will get home from work and ask me, "so babe what did you do today?" And I will just stare at him with a blank look on my face. I feel like I did a lot. I'm exhausted. But I honestly could not name off on single thing that I actually did during the day. It's like my mind just blanked. Completely. That's what being a stay at home mom is like.

             I like to joke with Nick and tell him "You either get an amazing mom, or a good wife. You can't have both in the same day." And he knows which one he gets the second he walks through the door. If he walks in and baby is laughing or quiet, chances are the house is a wreck. Because we probably had a dance party. Or played the drums with pots and pans. Or we finger painted/colored. Or we took a walk around the block. Or we just watched movies and are both still in our pajamas. The list goes on and on, because on these days I am an amazing mom.

             But if he comes home to a clean house, chances are that baby is crying and mommy will be rocking back and forth in the corner about to pull her hair out. That's how these last couple weeks with teething have been. I love her dearly, and I know it's not her fault that she's in pain and upset, but once you're 6 days in to teething were your child has screamed a minimum of 5 hours a day, on top of waking up every 45-90 minutes screaming every night, you understand the need for hashtags like "#mommyneedsadrank".

             I feel like people who aren't parents just assume that being a stay at home mom is easy. But believe me, it's not. And it's not that being a stay home is an excessively physically demanding job, but it is an extremely emotionally demanding one. I can go a week at a time without leaving the house. Besides little breaks when I have photo sessions (which have been sparing since the first of the year, so you kind people need to change that ;)), I am with the baby 24-7. If I want to go out, I essentially have to move mountains. First I have to make sure I have a car since my husband and I share one, or bum a ride. And then I have to make sure I remember to take the car seat out of the car if I have to catch a ride. And then if I want to go out without the baby, I have to find a baby sitter (and to be honest the thought of leaving her with somebody other than her grandparents gives me super bad anxiety). And yes, we do live with my in-laws currently who are genuinely more than happy to watch the baby whenever they can, I don't like pawning her off. But, I digress.

              The best way to keep a baby happy during the day, is for you to be happy (or at least pretend to be). If you're upset, baby can sense it and they will be upset too. This is where a lot of the emotional strain comes in.

             Then you constantly wonder if you're doing everything right. What should I make the baby for lunch? I could do hot dogs. But she's already had hot dogs twice this week. But if I actually cook cook then I'll have more dishes to clean... Is eating this many hot dogs going to make her sick?! I should really make sure she eats more fruits and vegetables. She eats at least one apple a day though, so that's okay, right? And I'm pretty sure she ate some green beans at dinner last night. I think. She's already had two sippys of juice today. Maybe I should give her some plain water. Or should I give her milk?! The doctor said she's only suppose to have two servings of milk a day, so if I give her some now I can't give her any at bed time. Oh god. I think her sippy of milk from last night is still in her crib! I hope she hasn't drank it! I would know if she had, right?! I hope she doesn't get sick! Which reminds me, I need to call the doctor and make an appointment about her rash... and so on and so on.

             I'm probably going to write a part two to this post eventually, but currently I am suffering from mommy and cannot remember what else I had intended to write in this...........

So The End.

(for now)

I seriously died laughing when I saw this lol.

Peyton's Story

Going Into Labor:

I need to start out by saying everybody’s labor is different. Labor is not in your power to control. From the minute I got pregnant I began to imagine what labor and giving birth would be like. I imagined my water would break, we would go to the hospital, I would be in pain for a few hours, but since I prepared myself mentally for it I wouldn't need any drugs because I'm a super mom and bada-bing bada-bang, I would pull my beautiful baby girl onto my chest and stare lovingly into her sweet eyes and say “happy birthday beautiful, I've waited so long to meet you and I already love you so much” while my Nick cut the cord. I have never been so wrong in my life.

Here’s how it actually went:

4 Days before giving birth (Tuesday):

I went to my regularly scheduled OB visit to have the doctor check on the baby. To my excitement, after he got done monitoring the baby he said, “Okay, so it looks like you are four days away from your due date, so would you like to go ahead and schedule an induction date?” What I thought was, would I like to schedule an induction date?! Of course! Can we schedule it for today? But what I said was, “Yeah, that’d be cool.” So Nick and I decided that we would schedule the induction for Friday morning since that was my actual due date, and that way he wouldn't miss too much work. So we left knowing that by that weekend we would finally be getting to meet our little Peanut.

1 Day before giving birth (Thursday):

I go into my OBs office to start the induction process. They decide to start me on a balloon catheter to get my cervix to start dilating before the start me on Pitocin. The device they put inside me basically looks like two water balloons attached to each other. They insert the catheter inside me (un-inflated) and the balloons are placed on both sides of my cervix to get it to dilate and efface. Everybody I talked to, including both my OB and other women who have had it before, told me I shouldn't feel a thing after they put it in. It was essentially like having a tampon in. The only part of it I would feel were the two tubes hanging out that they taped to my leg. But lucky me, the pressure from putting it in sent me into labor. I started getting contractions at 3 pm. They weren't that bad so we continued about our day. We even went out to dinner with my second mom/uncle (it's a long story) because it was her birthday. As we’re all leaving dinner about 7 pm, I begin to get extremely uncomfortable. So after we got home, I took a shower and tried to relax. About 8 pm, I called my OB and told him how uncomfortable I was. He told me to head to the hospital and that he would call ahead and have my room ready for me. All I could think was, this is it. I’m about to finally meet my little girl. We get to the hospital, and the nurse tells me that yes, I am in real labor, but for tonight they were going to give me a mild pain reliever and a sedative so I could get a little sleep and my body would be prepared for a big day. I slept for about 4 hours.

Friday, October 5^th. D(elivery) Day.

6 am    My OB comes into my room and says, “Congratulations! Today is the day!” I remember feeling so happy, because the pain wasn't too bad right then. That’s when they started me on Pitocin to speed up the process. 

8 am    One of the nurses comes in to take out the catheter and check my dilatation. I’m 100% effaced and 4.5 centimeters!

10 am  My OB comes in to break my water. That is the strangest feeling in the world. It feels like you are gushing pee. And it’s not just once. It’s for the next 45 minutes with every contraction. My mom had told me that when she was having both me and my brothers that she had all of us within 4 hours of them breaking her water. So I was super excited. It could be any time now! They let me bounce on the exercise ball, which believe it or not actually relieves a lot of the pain in the beginning stages. Everybody is taking bets on what time baby is going to get here.

11 am  I’m getting checked for dilation, nurses keep coming in and out. Visitors file in and out.

1 pm    My OB comes in and says his shift is over, but he’s going to stick around for a little while longer to try and be here when I deliver.

2 pm    The pain gets worse. I want an epidural, and I want it NOW.

3:30 pm The anesthesiologist, or as I liked to call him, the god with the happy juice, finally arrives. Most people say they were scared while they were getting the epidural and that it hurts really bad, but I honestly the only thing I remember is being scared of falling off the bed while they were doing it.

4 pm    I’m at 6 cm! And I feel no pain so life is good.

5 pm    My OB apologizes greatly, but says he by law he cannot spend any more time in the hospital so he has to leave. So he introduces me to my new doctor, who I've never meet before, Dr. Curtis. She is amazing.

6 pm    Hello 8 centimeters! It’s almost time!

7 pm    9 centimeters!

7:30 pm “GO GET THE DOCTOR I HAVE TO PUSH.” The doctor comes in, checks me, and says the words a woman in labor never wants to hear, “I’m sorry, you’re still only at 9 centimeters, you can’t push yet.”

8 pm    It’s time to push. In the room with me I have Nick, my mom, his mom, my guardian, and her girlfriend (she kind of got stuck in the room because they wouldn't let anybody leave after I started pushing), Dr. Curtis, and one nurse.

          I’m not going to include times from now on because I honestly don’t remember the time span of it happening. The doctor hooked me up to a heart monitor machine because my heart rate was too fast for her liking. Then they gave me an oxygen mask because my oxygen levels were dropping. Dr. Curtis then said something to the nurse, and she left and came back with two more nurses. 
          The baby starts to crown. They hooked a heart rate machine up to the baby by inserting a little needle under the layer of skin on her head. Slowly more and more nurses start to file in. The doctor begins to look worried. She yells at the nurses for talking to loud. Everybody starts to stream words of encouragement to me. “You’re doing so good!” “She’s almost here!” But I can tell by the way the doctor is looking and the nervousness of the nurses that something isn't quite right. 
          Everything you read about labor tells you that with your first baby your normally push for 30-45 minutes, and here I was with two straight hours of pushing under my belt already. My baby girl was stuck. After another half hour passes, my husband whispers in my ear, “you can do this”. I take one last deep breath, and with one last final push she is out. 
          At 10:21 pm, 7 lbs, and 21 inches my baby is finally here. I am in so much pain. I just felt myself rip open. But what makes it even worse is that I don’t get to pull my baby straight onto my chest like I had imagined almost every day since I found out I was pregnant. 
          She didn't cry. 
          Didn't make any sound at all.
          She was limp. 
          What felt like hours stretching by, I am later told by mom was only a span of about 2 minutes. The nurses cut the umbilical cord and take her to the corner of the room. The doctor presses on my stomach to get the after birth out and begins to stitch me up. But all I’m focused on is why is she not crying. Babies cry when they came out. It’s what they do. Finally, I hear her. It’s not a cry, but more of a squeak. But I’ll take it. 
          They wrap her up, bring her next to my bed "here's your baby girl. we have to take her to the NICU (Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit) now." 
          I’m lying in the bed as the doctor is finishing stitching me up (I think at the final count I had 7 or 8 stitches) and trying to comfort me. Nick and his brother go down to the NICU to check on her. But I can’t go. They tell me I have to pee before I’m allowed to leave the room. Something to do with the epidural and making sure my systems work okay. So while everyone is taking turns going to see my baby, I have to wait. And I cried. I cried so hard. My mom tried comforting me and telling me everything was going to be okay, but it didn't help. 
          I wanted my baby. I wanted more than pictures on a phone of my baby. The baby I had grown inside of me for 40 long weeks. The baby I had felt moving and kicking. The baby that would kick her daddy's hand when he would lay it on my stomach. The baby that bruised my ribs from kicking them so hard all the time. I wanted to hold her, and love her, and kiss her, and tell her she was beautiful.
          Finally I lie and tell the nurse I have to pee, so she takes me to the bathroom in my room, shows how to clean myself off with the squirt bottle (there is so much blood) and leaves. I fake peeing, and come out where they have a wheel chair ready for me to use to go see my daughter. Just then Nick comes in the room and says they’re bring her to me. That she is okay. I was finally going to meet my baby girl.

          After giving us some alone time with her, my mom, his mom and a nurse come into the room. The nurse shows us how to give her a bath, and then sits down and explains what happened. Baby girl had gotten stuck in my birth canal behind my pelvic bone. A baby’s heart rate is normally about 140-160, and decreases during pushing. Her heart rate had shot up to 210 while I was pushing, and was not going back down. They got her heart rate to stabilize in the NICU, and now she was doing just fine.

            At about 3 am, and after much argument, my husband finally convinces me to let them take my princess back to the nursery so I could get some sleep. They brought her back to me at 6 am to nurse, and we got to keep her with us after that.  
          At 3 pm they had to take her to do some test. While she was in the NICU, they transferred us to the “bonding” room. (Which I’m assuming got its name because of the fact that it was less than a quarter of the size of the labor and delivery room, and barely fit the hospital bed, two chairs and the baby’s bassinet in it.) Finally, a nurse came in, but without the baby. She told us that her bilirubin scores were too high, and we could visit her all we wanted, but she was going to have to stay in the NICU indefinitely.

          The next four days were full of so much love, frustration and so many tears. We couldn't take her home. She had to spend a lot of time under this lamp that was suppose to get her billirubin scores down. We got our hopes up so many times that we would be able to leave. We spent a total of 5 days in the hospital before we got to bring her home. I was discharged after day 3, but they let us stay in the hospital room. We were just told if they ended up needing the room we would have to leave.

          But now she is a perfectly healthy little princess with a big attitude. So despite having a rough entrance in the world, she's growing right on schedule! 

Family Pictures by: Kimberly Naugle Photography

You know you're a parent when...

You know you're a parent when...

1. Having chewed up gold fish spat into you mouth doesn't disgust you quite as much as it should.
2. The scariest thing you can hear as a parent is a crash, followed by a little voice saying "uh oh..."
3. You have the best intentions to clean or do something productive during nap time. But Netflix or napping yourself usually wins.
4. You have no need for wallpaper because you have a 2 ft artist who designs your walls for free!
5. You've come to the acceptance that if you want to enjoy that bowl of ice cream by yourself, you're going to have to do it in the bathroom. With the lights off. Not making a sound.
6. The laws of the universe no longer apply to your child. They can sleep through a marching band practicing right outside your window. But if somebody sneezes two houses down, they're up.
7. Baths only keep them clean for 30 minutes.
8. You go to enjoy a nice warm bubble bath, and instinctively throw in bath toys.
9. You could find a three course meal in the cracks of the couch because you child is apparently preparing to hibernate.
10. You freak out because your child wakes up with blood matted in their hair. Oh wait, that's just fig newton filling.
11. What you think really doesn't matter. If you say no, grandma and grandpa are just going to give it to them anyways.
12. A task like unloading the dishwasher, which takes a normal person 15 minutes, takes you three hours because you have to stop every 2 minutes because you child has suddenly decided that they need to practice their rock climbing skills. On the kitchen table. And into the batch of cupcakes.
13. You now believe hourly baths are necessary.
14. Smelling another beings butt is not just for dogs.
15. You realize why the other people in the restaurant are looking at you like you're crazy. It's because you're talking about poop. In public. Again. (Although in the interest of full disclosure, the "poop" discussion at nightly dinners started waaaaaay before Peyton in my family...)
16. Having a "clean house" is really just a fond memory.
17. The phrase "our house doesn't normally look like this!" Is a complete and utter lie. It always looks like this. We have children. They don't particularly like things being "clean".
18. All your fantasies are now about sleeping.
19. You are now a pro at doing everything one-handed.
20. You no longer sing Top 40 Hits. Instead, "I was a girl in the village doin' alright, then I became a princess overnight..." plays in your head.
21. You can name all the pups from Paw Patrol before you can name celebrities in a movie. (Ryder, Marshall, Rubble, Skye, Rocky and Zuma just in case you were wondering ;))
22. Phrases like "don't hit the dogs with drumsticks!" and "get that lightsaber out of the toilet!" (thanks Hannah for this one!) are suddenly completely rational statements.
23. You do more daily multi-tasking than all the CEO's of every major company combined.
24. You're still watching Nick Jr or Disney Channel even though the baby's been asleep for 30 minutes.
25. The words "personal space" no longer have any meaning to you.
26. You've seriously forgotten what it's like to eat a meal while it was still hot.
27. You've convinced yourself that pizza has all the food groups so it has to be at least somewhat healthy for your kid to eat.
28. Chicken nuggets and hot dogs now are their own food groups.
29. When somebody offers to baby sit your children you seriously consider using the baby-less time to nap rather than go on an actual date. Because if you just take a nap you don't have to shave your legs. Or wear pants.
30. But most importantly, you know when you're a parent when the sound of your child hurt breaks your heart into a thousand pieces.
31. When what you want in life suddenly because less important than what you want for your child.
32. When your needs take second place.
33. When the most beautiful noise you've ever heard is your child's laugh.
34. When you're okay with trading dolled up nights on the town for nights cuddled up in your pj's with a bowl of popcorn, watching the same Disney movie for the third time this week.
35. When you're at the end of your rope, and you don't know how you can possibly spend another day because your energy is spent. So you're down on your knees praying for a miracle, only to look over at your beautiful sleeping child and realize you already have one.

"Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord."

51%-49%

If you've ever been around Nick or I when any sort of decision has to be made, chances are you've with heard me say, "51-49! You have to choose!" or you've heard Nick say, "51-49, I say you have to choose!" It's really a matter of who can spit it out faster. Our little "joke" actually has to do with a very serious part of our marriage. What I'm about to say is not a very popular opinion in today's society. A lot of people, women in particular, do not agree with what I'm about to say.

Marriage should not be equal.

I wholeheartedly agree with this statement. Marriage is not made to be 50-50. I don't care if it is a gay or straight marriage. If you marriage is "equal" you are not going to be able to make any important decisions. Say your husband gets a new job opportunity, but for it you and your kids are going to have across the country away from all your family and friends to somewhere where you know absolutely nobody. He wants to go. You don't. If your marriage is 50-50, how do you decide?

Wedding Pictures by: Kimberly Naugle Photography

Ultimately, Nick is the decision maker in our home. If he says no, the answer is no. That is not to say that he controls me in any way shape or form. He does not have the right to tell me how to cut my hair, how to dress, what color to do my eye shadow, etc. He does not get to control all my movements during the day.

So what does he control? He has the final say in how we spend/save/invest our money. Right now I am fortunate enough to be a stay-at-home mom while he is out working his butt off to support us. He has the final say in how we parent our daughter and future children. Granted, I make most of the day-to-day decisions seeing as I am the one home with her, but he makes the final decisions about how we discipline her. And once she gets older and ready for go to school, he will have the final say in what activities she can/cannot do. 

Most importantly, he is the head of our family's spiritual welfare. He is the one who keeps us on track and walking the right path with God. (We are currently looking for a new church family if anyone would like to give us suggestions!).

Now majority of the time Nick does let me make most of the decisions. Like what we're going to have for dinner. What baby is going to wear. What movie we're going to see. All the little stuff. But all the major important stuff ultimately comes down to his decision. If daddy says no, it's not happening. And sometimes it's difficult and frustrating, but I have to trust that he's making the right decision for our family. I may not be able to see his reasoning in the moment, but I know eventually I will.

If you can't trust the man you're with to make the hard decisions that have to be made, you don't need to be with him. 

"You guys are like so perfect!"

"You guys are like so perfect!"

Wedding pictures by: Kimberly Naugle Photography

 

I have been told countless times that Nick and I are perfect together. I don't know why, but it has always rubbed me wrong when people use that word: perfect. It's like they're setting a standard for our relationship that it is impossible for us to live up to. But then I got to thinking, why do they think we're so perfect. The answer is pretty simple. 

1. We have never been in a "fight".

We have argued, yes. We have been in disagreements, yes. And we have sometimes hurt each others feelings, yes. But we have never been in a fight. We have never called each other names. We have never, not even once, yelled at each other. When we disagree, because let's be honest, every couple does now and again, we take a few minutes apart. We go into separate rooms and we calm down. I personally play a game on my phone to distract myself. As far as to what he does, I honestly couldn't tell you. But once we're both calm we talk. We work through it together. 

He is an extremely kind and patient man. I, on the other hand, have a short temper sometimes. And more often than not I have a fast tongue that speaks before my mind can tell it not to. There have been times when we've been in a disagreement and I have said something that I shouldn't have. Something that if the roles were reversed, and he would have said it to me I probably would have been infuriated and yelled back. But he never once has. And he has super thick skin too. So he knows how to handle my fast tongue.

There has only been one time in our entire relationship I can recall saying something that actually hurt his feelings. And the thing is I didn't even mean to. But the instant hurt I saw in his eyes instantly broke my heart. Which brings me two number two...

Engagment pictures by: Rye Photography

2. When you're wrong, apologize.

I am very prideful. "I'm sorry" are some of the hardest words for me to say. But when I'm wrong, I admit it. And so does he when he's wrong. It's amazing how saying "I'm sorry" when you're wrong instead of holding on to your pride can turn what would have otherwise been a blowout, into a small argument filled with plenty of makeup.........cuddles ;).

Maternity Pictures by: Kimberly Naugle Photography

3. Arguments are private. Not for Facebook. 

Have you ever seen Nick are I post anything bad about he other on Facebook? No. Why? Because are a private matter and not for you Aunt Sue, second cousin twice removed and mama to read. The only person I have ever said a bad word about Nick to is my best friend. If you have problems, that's okay. But not everybody needs to know about them. If you need to blow off stem to one friend, that's one thing. But if you find yourself bad mouthing your significant other, maybe you should be rethinking your relationship.

Plus, nobody else really cares about your problems. Have you ever noticed that when someone is trashing their significant other, all their "friends" are like "yeah (s)he totally sucks. I don't even know why you're with them. they're so dumb and stupid" and yet when you make up their tune changes to, "omg I know you guys would make up! you guys are like totally made for each other"?

That's why you should never take public opinion about your arguments. People like drama. They will feed into you until you're convinced that the other person is the worst person in the world. If you're going to vent to somebody, make sure it's somebody you can trust. When I vent to my best friend she will let me blow off steam and say why I'm upset, but if I'm in the wrong, she makes sure I know that as well. She tried to get me to see things from his point of view.

Family Pictures by: Kimberly Naugle Photography

We are in no way a perfect couple, but we do have a pretty good relationship. I love him with all my heart. I believe, as cliche as it sounds, that we were made for each other. He knows me better than I know myself. I am so grateful I found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with at such a young age.

The lose of a child.

June 28, 2013

I peed on the stick and waited a torturous minute and a half for it to read "pregnant". I sent my husband a one worded text: "F**K". And then I cried. I was not happy. I was not excited. What I was was terrified. I already had a baby. My baby wasn't even 9 months old yet. That meant my children were going to be less than 18 months apart. How was I going to take of two children that young? How were we going to afford it?

We told our parents and they were very supportive. Heck, even they were excited. I still was not. I honestly did not want this baby. I was not ready for it.

After a few days went by I started to get a little excited myself. I loved being pregnant. Not so much the throwing up every time I ate part, but the growing a human being part. The little kicks and elbowing. The rolling from side to side. I couldn't wait to feel those little movements.

July 9, 2013

We were getting ready to spend a week in Florida visiting some family with our good friend Truman and my brother-in-law, Daniel. Nick wanted to wait until we got back to make the big announcement. I didn't. I mean, I had just found my excitement for this baby, which we call "Baby B", and I wanted to tell the world. So the night before we left out I posted this as my profile picture.

Everybody was so happy for us! We got a lot of, "wow, your family sure is growing fast!" But needless to say, we were getting used to the idea of having two babies.

The Sunshine State

We made it to Florida! And we had a blast. We saw my brothers, dad and grandparents. We spent a lot of time at the beach! We didn't do Disney this trip, but did go to Sea World and spend our anniversary at Busch Gardens.

But on the second day of vacation I started spotting. I freaked out. But every one I asked told me as long as I wasn't cramping, it was normal. And that's what everything online said too. So I wasn't as worried. I told the OBGYN and set up an appointment for as soon as I got home. I continued spotting throughout the rest of the trip, but never cramped so I thought everything was okay.

July 18, 2013

We started the 13 hour drive home at 10 pm on the 17th because it is a heck of a lot easier to take a road trip when your 9 month old is asleep rather than awake. We got home in the morning and took a little nap before taking the rental car back around 3 pm. We got home and that's when I started to not feel so great. It was my father-in-laws birthday so we were setting up for a little party. Nick noticed I wasn't feeling so great so he told me to just lay go lay down. Then I started cramping. And a little part of me knew what was happening, though I didn't want to accept it. I won't get too graphic, but I went to the bathroom and I saw the amount of blood, I knew without a doubt. So I called Nick upstairs and he held me while I cried. We knew I needed to go to the hospital, but I told him I didn't want to tell anybody until after they had sung to my father-in-law and he got his cake. So Nick went back downstairs and I stayed in bed. My mom and his mom could tell something was wrong, so he told them and my mom came upstairs with me. After they were done singing we left to go to the hospital.

We spent 6 long hours in the emergency room. I won't go into the details because honestly they're pretty boring. But when the doctor came in, this is exactly what he said: "well, it looks like you're not pregnant anymore. I'll get the nurse to get your discharge papers." And that was it. I sat there shocked. This doctor just came in and crashed my world around, and didn't even seem to care. Like it was a toy I lost, not a baby. Not my baby. My child. The way he said it so nonchalantly just ripped my heart apart. But we got our things together and we left, leaving a piece behind that we would never ever be able to get back.

We didn't tell people right away. I couldn't tell people. I couldn't talk about it. It took all my strength to get out of bed in the morning. I felt empty. I felt lost. But most of all, I felt guilty. I felt like it was my fault that we had lost this baby. Maybe if I hadn't been so upset when I found out I was pregnant I wouldn't have miscarried. Maybe if I had wanted this baby more I wouldn't have miscarried. Maybe if I hadn't told my husband out loud that I wasn't ready I wouldn't have miscarried. The amount of guilt I felt, and honestly still feel occasionally, is unimaginable. My rational side knows that it is in no way my fault, but that doesn't change the way I felt or feel. 

I went through some really dark times. It was all I could do to pull myself together in the mornings to take care of Peyton. It was like everybody was super supportive for a week or two, but then it felt like every one in the world had moved on and was expecting me to do the same. But I couldn't just move on. I had lost a huge part of myself, and the guilt was eating away at me more and more every day. Some days Peyton was the only thing getting me through the day, other days holding her made me burst into tears. I know she's the reason I was able to get through that time. 

Even now there are still days when I am on the edge of tears. I still miss Baby B more than anything. I can't help myself from thinking about him. I felt in my heart that the baby was a boy, but I will never know if that was true or not. Hundreds of questions are constantly running through my mind. Was it really a boy? What would (s)he have looked like? Would (s)he have had red or blonde hair? Would (s)he have Nick's blue eyes?

Right now I just have to trust that God has a plan for everything. I have to trust that he gave me Baby B for that short amount of time for a reason. I have deepened two friendships because of my loss of Baby B. I have been able to comfort some friends that have gone through the same loss. I have rekindled an old friendship that I thought have been lost forever, but know we talk almost every day. I hope that even though this isn't the most well written story, that it may be able to help someone else going through a loss. If nobody ever reads this, that's fine too. Just writing it out and sharing my story has helped me to heal just a little bit more. One day I'll be able to think about Baby B without wanting to cry, and this has put me one step closer. I never want to forget Baby B, I just want to be able to think about him/her without the sting of guilt slicing through my heart.

"An angel in the book of life wrote down my baby's birth. And whispered as she closed the book, too beautiful for Earth."