Last June

Whenever I come across really fantastic pregnancy photos I get all nostalgic about being pregnant.  While I didn't actually "love it", like my sweet Grandma Jeanne said she had, I was so thankful to actually be pregnant, that I sort of loved it.  Lukewarm loving it, boiling hot gratitude.

I also spent most of my pregnancy dodging (or waddling) away from the camera.  Phil's sister even posted a (very cute) photo of me (reading storybooks to all the little cousins) taken two days before I had Sean, and I freaked out and sent her a remove-that-photo-yesterday message, rather indignant about having any pregnancy photos of me out there. Who was I kidding? I think I gained enough water weight to serve as a thirsty camel troops' Sahara canteen.

This is a photo of my dad and me, just before dinner at Nectar, last June, when I was at least seven months along. I think it was a brilliant plan of mine to take him out to dinner for Father's Day.  Pregnancy brought out that sort of brilliance in me.

That lukewarm love I had for being pregnant is warming-up with time.  I miss it.  It was amazing to look forward to birth, to long to know what your baby looked like, and to just marvel that you were actually growing a person.  Crazy.  Why don't we lay eggs?  or just "add water" to instant-baby mix?  Amazing.  

Buggy Time & a Violation

The buggy of my youth is coming in handy (my Grandma Jeanne bought it for my mom way back in '79).

Sean sleeps in it every night, and I can just wheel him into the en suite . . . so handy!  He loves being outside, either in the buggy or carried. I'm also really enjoying seeing him grow into cute outfits from family and friends.

Today he would not nap, so I resorted to a major violation--tummy nap.  And have been checking him constantly for breathing.  He can lift up his head, but still . . . 

One Month Old!

Our little guy is a whopping one month old, today!
Above the left and center photos are from August 20th--when he was just minutes from being 12 hours old.
This morning Phil was kind of enough to indulge me in a staged photo shoot: Sean's wearing his same "coming home from the hospital" outfit, and I'm less puffy and wearing lipstick.

Sean is getting chubby--his thighs, in particular, are amazing. Grandma Greta says his hair is lightening, and cheerfully conceded that we have a little Phil.

I caught a fish and it was THIIIIIS Big!

Storytelling in his sleep . . . or maybe soapbox preaching?

Sean with Mom & Dad

So we're pretty smitten with little Sean. Phil usually gets a chance to snuggle him after our busy boys are sleeping . . . and I've apparently turned into a complete hippy who even wears a Moby Wrap [drum roll] in public. One of those people. Sean loves it, and I love being able to "hold" him and still wrassle my wiley 3 year old. Sean's already passed his birth weight by, but still fits into those ridiculously small newborn diapers and onesies. Too cute!

I'm so happy. Part 3

Baby Sean surprised (and delighted) us by making his imminent entrance known even earlier than the early birth day for which I'd desired. Bryce, Deacon, and Kyle are each born in different months, but on the 23rd, 25th, and 24th days, respectively of their months. So the 22nd or 26th were my here's hoping dates; oh the poor people to whom I blabbered endlessly. Also, Sean's due date was my birthday (August 30th). So much number fun . . . if you like that kind of stuff; which I do! Once the epidural took effect it was like being in a peaceful dream. I knew it was still important for me to relax and be actively at peace, and I was flooded with happiness, knowing that my three sons were at home, sleeping, cared for by Grandpa Dan. My patient husband was also feeding me bite-sized pieces of the best two peaches I've ever eaten. I was so happy to have some girlfriends stop by and to get a card a from another that stopped by when I was sleeping. I was in an anticipation la-la land, and so happy Sean would be coming soon. I wanted the doctor to know that I was open to whatever means seemed best, and waxed on about how I had no qualms with the dreaded e-word--only to find out he wasn't a big fan . . . ha! My attentive nurse checked progress as I wanted (it turns out I'm a fan of knowing where things are at). 2cm, then an hour later around 10+ish 4cm (when my friends left they got to hear that good news . . . but thought, like me, that the baby would still be quite a while in arriving). Around 11+ish 5 cm, and then one hour later 9+cm! Amazing. And I'm going to go ahead and give a shout out to that epidural for making the addition of 4cm a complete surprise to me--I bid my time by forcing poor Phil to leave the tv on The Golden Girls while I dozed (maybe my subconscious had pity on him and progressed things along to spare him the horror). It was quite the night for laboring moms: 3 in Pullman, 3 in Moscow. Once we hit 10cm, I said that as long as the baby's vitals were good, I'd love to labor down, as I was afraid I might tire out with a long pushing session. Another lady obligingly birthed before me, so everyone was glad I was going second. (And here's a little plug for how amazing technology and teeny advancements make things: those hospital nausea bags, now how great would those be to have at home for the kids and car.) Sean was doing great, and by 1:46ish I was pushing. After a bit I put on an oxygen mask, and I loved having it help me focus my breathing, plus I am huge fan of white noise (fan in my room--even in the middle of winter, oh I love it). Sean was born at 2:53 am, with the last 20 minutes being more intense pushing. Amusingly the pushing was most intense for my husband, as I was actually comparing it to the workout sessions that Annie gave me at North Idaho Athletic Center last summer. After one particular set of pushes, Dr. Minudri, told me how great and effective those pushes had been. I took off my oxygen mask to tell him, that I'd been picturing Annie coaching me through lunges! (She's so good.) Phil said that it seemed like he could see the head for those last twenty minutes before it was through . . . I had no idea. When the head did pop, all three: nurse, doctor, husband said, "Lauren! Look, there's the head!" I opened my eyes (I usually closed them in between pushing) and peered, only to see my oxygen bag . . . oh it looked like I'd birthed a jellyfish, so funny. And the thing was, I had developed such a fondness for my new friend oxygen-mask that it didn't even occur to me to move it. Sean appeared in all his floppy-fish green-purple glory. He had a cone head to rival my baby-conehead. He looked huge and tiny all at once. I had told Acacia that I actually wanted to have him all dolled up before I held him--I didn't want to hold him for a bit and then have him taken away, I wanted to know all was well, once I held him so I could just snuggle down. This turned out to be good, since he needed more tlc. He presented face-up and his cord had been looped around his neck; although he cried it was pitiful, and then his heat needed some ampping up. Phil and Sean scooting off the nursery to receive all the incubator's benefits . . . and I got the good news that there was nary a tear. And then I was so glad that all my favorite people were actually out of the room as I was again thankful for the nausea bags. When my cute little bundle returned in Phil's arms, all was well, and I was (so I thought) looking so good and idealistic--in reality, my hair looked like a bride of Frankenstein wig. Sean was ready to get to know me, and I was excited to see who this little person looked like: survey says, we have no idea! We held him for a long time, and spent some guessing how much he weighed. Acacia explained to me how to bathe him, and how to do this and that. We were surprised when he only weighed 7 pounds and 14 ounces . . . he didn't look that big, but I had just been expected a massive toddler newborn. It was the most wonderful birth I could have imagined. Having complete trust in my husband, and our choice in doctor, and then just knowing the fantastic reputation the Gritman nurses have . . . well, we got there excited without anxiety. Knowing we're not all cookie-cutter people, and different options are good for different people has kept me from thinking that everyone should book Acacia and bribe her into being their labor nurse. I plan to pay millions for her next time! God is so good. We never thought we could get pregnant (and let me tell you, that is a hard conversation to broach with your boyfriend, "so we've been dating long enough but not too long that the time has come to tell you, that I probably can never conceive". Thankfully for me Phil took me). God's story of our children was wildly unconventional. We're thankful for Bryce, Deacon, Kyle, and now little Sean. And my goodness, it feels so good to not be pregnant. In the midst of the pushing, in between pushes, I did whip off my oxygen mask to beam at Phil, "I'm so happy!" It was the best.

Enjoy it. Part 2

During the pregnancy, and then later at the hospital tour, and even later at check in, we were asked a number of times what our birth plan was. Trying not to laugh we answered always with a smile as we'd say something along the lines of: "A healthy baby", "You guys are the experts, that's why we're here." "The plan is do whatever you tell us". Then I would always add: "But . . . I'd like to labor at home for a long while, almost until transition. I'd like to try not to have an epidural, but will get one if it looks like it's needed". (The truth was, we'd never heard anything negative about our hospital's birth center or nurses, and we'd chosen our ob for a reason . . . and as it happened he was on call for our birth--perfection.) So, those two things that I [thought that I] was holding so loosely in my hands were joyfully dropped from my palm within three hours of the water breaking. Wives all know that their husbands want to carry burdens for them and Phil had anticipated that watching me work through pain would be hard for him, as he was limited to just offering comfort and encouragement (he's really more of a "let me carry that suitcase for you" kind of guy verses a "let's each take handle" man). After returning to the labor bed from the bathroom, I planned on some jacuzzi time, and then realized that Phil's encouragement that, 'if I wanted one, I should have an epidural', was now becoming a very bright light to me. Knowing that he wouldn't think I was failing, if I got one made me consider it. Then I was decided: "You can turn off the bath" I grimaced to Phil, "I'm getting the epidural". He smiled that I had to enjoy it, guilt free. Enjoy it. Inside I felt like such a big-talking wimp. I sort of nodded to him, caught in the grips of another back to backer; thinking he was just saying that to be nice. The epidural people arrived, and I got situated on the side of the bed, ready to cat-arch my back and hold really still--wondering if I was going to sneeze and end up causing nerve damage and giving myself a permanent nervous tick. In the midst of the epidural pressure I lost grip, sobbing (Phil says I just cried) at the unexpected pressure. I was rescued from my sobs by Acacia as she coached me unendingly through my fear, that pressure, and continued contractions. She had lovely kind eyes, and I studied them as I focused on her face, trying to make all the pain productive and think open thoughts. A lot of the imagery I'd read about during my pregnancy described the mental picture of a flower opening; somehow I got the cartoon episode from the Magic School Bus: Plants a Seed stuck in my head, so with each contraction I'd been thinking "open" but visually watching Arnold and Ms. Frizzle in the garden--which of course cracked me up during those rest periods. The epidural was administered by a student anesthestitist, who was full of that perfect balance of friendliness and confidence that put me at ease. I could hear him discussing the procedure with his supervisor and thought to myself, Just get it done! You'll do great! Get a move on! The relief wasn't instantaneous, and I felt caught off guard when I was situated in bed another contraction came. But Acacia was right there with her eyes for me to laser in on, and her encouragement to be relaxed like butter--you know, one my favorite food groups so I knew all about it. As I had contractions and realized that the edge was gone, Phil reminded me to enjoy it (I think he knew the guilt was almost but not quite all gone). I've been at more than my share of home births, and know that it is fully possible to labor with control with just trust in your body and God's wonderful design. I had wanted one of those hospital births that is almost a home birth, and yet, here I was reclining on each side in turn, with monitors, and straps, and beeps, and needles, and a huge sense of being in control and even huger feelings of being at peace. Phil was right, it was good to enjoy it.

My Frogman Turtle Lips (that would be Sean, not Deacon)

I'm pretty sure that I actually gave birth to a half frog half turtle man. Sean has this amazing ability to resemble and imitate a snapping turtle, and then whenever I change his diaper I feel like I'm wiping down a little frog bottom.
Of course he's the cutest frogman turtle lips baby ever.

Oh the woes of a wet nurse. So this morning Deacon prayed over breakfast. I was out of the room, but was soon visited by a very amused husband. "Did you hear Deacon's prayer?" Phil asked grinning. "Deacon wanted to know what to pray for," Phil continued, "so I made some suggestions, 'you could pray for the food, for the baby, for mommy . . . .'" Well, apparently I've been wincing a lot. Because Deacon's prayer included, "God please make Mommy's nipples not hurt so much when she feeds the baby".

Just add a peanut!

Part 2 is elusive. I'm so awed by our little baby that it's actual difficult to channel the events of 60+ hours ago. It will come . . . but first . . . here is tonight's viewing of Top Shot. Made a little cuter by McMurray male #5.

Birthday Baby Shower

Phil's extended family rallies for family birthdays, and since Chrissy and I are expecting this Summer, they tossed us in with Kyle's 3rd birthday and Colton's 10th . . . so much fun! When we got home, we realized how crazily like Christmas it was: that cardboard thing is our new crib, and the other cardboard thing is a pack n' play. Kyle got heaps of toys . . . and as I made something (probably brownies) I cycled him through some new gifts, and caught photos of three items: the "latches board" thing from Aunt Becky is amazing--a total crowd pleaser, that you have to get for your busy toddler. Aunt Cathi gave him the LeapFrog fridge animal sounds game--he loves it. But my personal favorite is the peg n' hammer game (because as a kid --you'll soon understand what gem I was-- I had one; an unlucky playmate decided to join me at the pegs one playtime and I was having none of it. Apparently, even at two I was pretty mine vs. yours conscious, and quickly pegged him on the ol' noggin with the hammer. And, the next time our paths crossed I was "I'm sorrying" with the gift of a hard hat, so he knew it was safer to come play on my turf). We had super fun whirlwind, swimming, three-legged-race (Phil & I won), water balloon fighting, eating, gift-opening, chatting, day--and even managed to work in a vomiting highlight. Sunday or Monday we got the crib set up, with the baby's Nana blanket in a place of honor hanging over the back railing (the bright-stripey crocheted blanket--which you can behind Kyle's left side-- was my favorite gift for the little mister).

Accidental Belly Shot

Deacon cozied up to Kyle to share some Goldfish.  Super cute.  They took turns feeding each other, between playing high chair cars.

Kyle brought a slew of great clothes with him, but I cannot resist dressing him in Deacon's hand-me-downs; the fleece he's wearing was actually a Bryce hand-me-down.  Cutest stair-steps ever.

I totally (oh yes, totally) didn't even notice that I'd captured a little something-something else in this photo--but it cracked Phil up. I'm showing.  And don't the strangers like to let you know it.

It's a BOY!

A smiling one!

16 Weeks!

 

Two days before we hit 16 weeks we had another ultrasound. The boys are out of school for Spring Break and I wanted them to see the baby inside. Granddaddy came to chaperon them, and help them understand what they saw on the screen. The technician was great, and got one sequence of the baby from a vantage above the back of the head--from that viewpoint we could see arms moving back and forth. This image, though, was my favorite: the baby's face, and crossed legs and bits of the arms. As silly as it sounds (knowing the baby is about the size of an apple), this just looks like a baby to me.

Also three weeks til we find out: Phoebe or Phoebo!

12 weeks!

 

Our baby was super busy at the 12 week ultrasound this morning. Waving its arms, wiggling its legs, and pretty much doing full-body hiccups.
(The acutal photo is more clear, but my camera isn't cooperating.)

They showed me a model of what a baby's size--on average--is at 12 weeks. Amazing! I thinks it's espeically amazing that I can't feel the disco happening in my abdomen.

We are so thankful for this little lime.

And then there were FIVE McMurrays!

 

We're having a baby! Due on my birthday (August 30)! And we're crazy excited!
Most normal people would probably wait to shout it from the rooftops . . . but here we are: 8 weeks and 4 days along, shoutin' it!

Rejoice with us!
Pray with us!
Think pink! (with Lauren and Deacon)
Think blue! (with Phil and Bryce)


*Deacon is holding our "we cannot wait another second" ultrasound, done at 7 weeks, by CareNet. *Bryce is holding our "official" ultrasound from today (you know the one that non-paranoid people wait to get).