A Mother's Love

The past few days have been a little rough around our house.  Monday around 9:30, Corbin suddenly got really fussy.  He took an early nap.  In the afternoon, he was up and down with fevers and moodiness.  I was crossing my fingers it was just his big bottom molars coming through.  Monday night he fell asleep early in my arms with a damp rag on his forehead, because he had another fever. 

Tuesday he woke up happy and fever-free.  Yay!  And then, after nap...  It was back to the fevers and unhappiness.  The clingy-ness and miserable-ness.  My poor little guy.  At one point, he had a temperature of 102.8.  I told Jeremy I just wanted my "naughty" Corbin back.  Funny what you want when the babies aren't being themselves.  Tuesday night was really rough.  He didn't sleep well, and he and I ended up in the recliner all night.  At about 2 in the morning, he woke up burning up!  I didn't take his temperature, but he was hot.  I could feel his body through his sleeper -- including his little feet through the footies.  I ended up getting him water, giving him ibuprofen, and stripping him down to a diaper.  His fever finally broke around 2:30 and he managed to go back to sleep about 3. 

This morning, I wasn't chancing it again.  He woke up fussy (but no fever -- he was probably just tired from a bad night sleep).  Even so, I called the nurse and she made an appointment for us to check his ears for infection.  And what do you know?  DOUBLE ear infection.  The poor boy.  He was so upset when the doctor checked his ears. 

The rest of the day was a story in and of itself.  And I should write it just to look back and laugh one day about the regurgitating toilet at CVS that was repulsive -- and I ended up not letting Lynnaea use it... we just went to my dad's, since he is close by.  Lynnaea talked about that disgusting toilet for the rest of the day.  Or so I can chuckle about when I went back to CVS after nap time to pick up the prescription, but since I was focused on how I almost tore my driver's side mirror off on our garage entrance while backing out, I actually forgot to close the garage door :/...  And only realized it once I was at CVS.  Yeah, it was a day full of adventures.

But the real reason I wanted to write was because, though Corbin is feeling so much better, the evenings are still the roughest part.  He spiked another fever (not as bad as the ones yesterday) and wanted me to hold him.  And I texted my mom about how he has a double ear infection and that it's been a rough few days.  And she responded with how sorry she is and how she has been there and knows exactly what we're going through.  And in that moment, I imagined my mom as a young mother with young children.  I imagined her holding me when I was sick and loving me.  And I realized how much she must have sacrificed.  How much work she must have done.  All of which went unrecognized at the time.  I get it now.  I wish I had gotten it then.  But, just like a quote I really liked (from a book I otherwise didn't) reads:  Some lessons can't be taught, only learned.  

I've learned what a mother's love can accomplish, endure, and do.  And I'm ever so grateful for my own mother, who set the example for me.  I miss her.

Just Like Mommy

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  motherhood is quite the teacher.

As my sweet Lynnaea grows, I am learning more and more how much of a "sponge" she really is.  She soaks up everything. 

Sometimes I am horrified when she does or says things that I recognize as something I do or say -- and which she has chosen to copy.  Like when she starts saying "I don't care."

I'm working on removing that phrase from my vocabulary.

But there are other times I watch her and see her do or say things that she got from me.  And it melts my heart, because she's so cute.  And gives me hope that not all the things I do which she copies are bad... ;).

One of those things is pictured below, twice...

This one was a couple weeks ago:

This one was this morning:

 In the first picture, she is "nursing" her flamingo while eating dinner.  In the second, she is "nursing" her bunny while reading...  The only thing that sticks out on her torso is her belly button, ergo she thinks that's where she nurses.  I have nursed at the dinner table and while reading...  And so, she copies me. 

It's a good reminder for me to watch what I say and do.  I want to be a good example for my sweet, precious girl.  I love her so much.  Even when puts her brother in girlie stuff ;)...

Poor Corbin!  This is just the beginning ;).

Out of the Mouths of Babes

As I've mentioned before, I am pretty sure I will learn a lot from my kids...

Particularly what I do that isn't the best.  Because Lynnaea mimics me.  A lot.

Her latest thing?  Well, let's just say when I get frustrated with Jeremy, I tend to say (in a somewhat whiney voice), "Jeremy!"

And let's just say Lynnaea has recently started saying the exact same thing in the exact same way when he is frustrating her...  I don't think she quite realizes that she is calling her daddy by his name though (she still calls him daddy at all other times).  I say this, because last Sunday in nursery, another little boy kept taking her puzzle pieces.  She turned to him and said, "Jeremy!"  In that same whiney tone.  So basically, I think she uses it as a word to express her frustration with someone.  Hahaha. 

Mostly I just wanted to record this for posterity's sake.  These are the stories it will be fun to tell her in the years ahead!

The other hilarious thing she did the other day was not so much mimicking what I say so much as what I do.  Though things are the same as they were with Lynnaea (in regards to nursing) and I don't produce enough milk to sustain Corbin's life by just breast-feeding (though I do produce more this time around), I am still nursing as much as I can.  Hoping to keep it going until at least the 6 month mark, as I did with Lynnaea.  Anyway, the other day she wanted to feed him his bottle, so I let her do that for a few minutes.  She said she was all done, so I took him back.  And then she said she wanted to feed him again and started lifting up her shirt...  She said she wanted to feed him out of her belly-button.  Which is the only thing on her torso that sticks out, so she thinks that will work.  She's also been known to walk around with one of the breast shields for the breast pump (one of our many extra ones) on her belly-button, because she saw me pumping when we first brought him home...  Oh she is a sweet one.

Just a picture of Corbin the other day.  He is usually happy on the changing table (as Lynnaea was when she was a baby).  There's just something about that place!

I was trying to catch Corbin's smile...  This is a sort-of smile.  And you can see at least one of his dimples (he has one in each cheek ;)).

It's been a while since Lynnaea and I took a selfie.  Sow e did that today.

And then we got Corbin in on the selfie-action.  He's a little unseasoned ;).

It's a Bittersweet Symphony -- Take 2

I haven't done a song title post in a while.  And this is one I've done before.  When my life was changing in a huge way.  You can read that here, if you feel so inclined.

The longer I live, the more I realize how true it is...  Life is full of bittersweet moments.  Last week I got to experience a new one. 

You see, my little girl has spent the last two years being rocked to sleep by yours truly.  A bad habit?  Yeah.  Turns out it was.  I thought I was doing a great job, because I would get her almost completely to sleep while rocking her and singing I am a Child of God.  Then I'd lay her in her bed and she'd roll over and go to sleep. 

...And then Corbin came along.  And this night-time routine was taking 30 to 45 minutes.  And then I'd lay her in the bed thinking she was asleep enough.  And she'd immediately open her eyes and start crying "rock rock!"  And so...  We had to sleep train our toddler in the weeks Jeremy was home from work.  That was a fun (sarcastic) and heart-breaking 4 days.  I don't like to listen to my babies cry.  The good news is it only took 4 days and it got less traumatic each day.  I would go in, rock her and sing the song through (all 4 verses) 1 time.  Then put her in bed and tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.  And this became our new routine. 

...Which lasted all of 2 weeks.  Then suddenly, last Sunday, it changed.  She didn't want me to carry her to her room.  She didn't want me to rock her.  She just wanted to climb into her bed on her own  and I could cover her.  She gives me kisses and hugs and tells me she loves me and night-night. 

She doesn't know that I cried for the first two nights after I left her room.

My little girl needs me less and less.  And I know it is good for her to grow up.  It is good for her to be able to go to sleep on her own (frankly, we've had less mid-night waking and no screaming in the middle of the night since she started going to sleep on her own).  But there is still that little piece of my mother heart that is broken.  Because rocking my Lynnaea and singing to her was my favorite part of the day.  It was precious time for just she and I.  And now it is gone.  We still read our stories together before she goes to bed, though, and she still sits on my lap at that time.  And I will cherish that for as long as I can.

Of course, then she also goes and does awesome toddler stuff like stick a little tiny elastic hair "pretty" (the kind I put in her hair) up her nostril so far I have to get a flashlight and tweezers to get it out...  Yeah, that's fun too.  We followed that up with a conversation of why we don't stick stuff up our noses.  I'm hoping she understood...

As for Corbin.  He is growing like a weed.  Seriously.  I had a friend ask me at church today, "He isn't even 3 months yet is he?"  She was commenting about how alert he is for his age.  I replied, "He isn't even two months yet."  He's just a big boy.  He is 6 weeks today.  He is smiling on purpose, and it's adorable.  He is awake more, and I'm trying really hard to create a routine for him.  Jeremy starts swing shift this week, so I'm going to try transitioning him to his little bedside crib in the hopes I can return to my own bed to sleep after more than 6 weeks of sleeping with him the recliner. 

Honestly, part of me doesn't want to give up having him sleep on me.  Each night in the recliner, as I look down at him asleep on my chest, I feel happiness and peace.  But I also feel like a walking zombie every 2 hours when he wakes up or gets restless -- and I think sometimes he is just restless but doesn't need to eat; but since he wakes me up, I automatically assume (in my sleep-deprived state) that he is hungry.  So I fix the bottle.  If he isn't sleeping on me, maybe I won't wake up when he's restless and only if/when he cries from hunger.  Because lately I've had to "wake him up" to eat after the bottle is ready.  So yes, it will be bittersweet for these moments to end too...  But I know more sleep will do me wonders.  I often wake up disoriented at first and trying to remember if we are in the recliner or not.  I don't really like that feeling. 

Anyway... Just a few pictures of recent adventures.  Like Northwest Trek and the Bug Museum.  And 5 of the grandkids all together ;).

Lynnaea feeding her baby brother.  She likes to help.  But she also likes to hold him for about 30 seconds max.  Then she says "all done."  and it's best if you're standing at the ready, because she pretty much wiggles out from under him in a flash...

I do love a side-ways picture.  Thanks blogger!  Anyway, you can see he's keeping his eyes open more.

Sweet kiddos!  They had fun playing that day.

Doing a new toddler activity I thought would be awesome:  making rainbow toast.  Basically you "paint" your bread with colored milk and then broil it.  I thought Lynnaea would love eating it.  she pretty much licked off the nutella and didn't want to eat the toast...  But she had fun with the painting part.

On the tram at Northwest Trek.  She loved seeing the animals.  It was kind of a rough day for the mommy....  But Lynnaea loved it, and I did it for her.

Corbin slept through pretty much all of the Northwest Trek...

And there she is with this lizard thing at the bug museum, which is just down the hill from our house.  Hadn't been before so we checked it out.  She loved talking to the lizards in the tanks.  She wanted to hold them all.  Clearly she is nothing like me...

Corbin, the last dinosaur ;)...  He was thrilled.

The Best-Laid Plans of Mice... and Preggo Ladies

Remember on Tuesday how I said I'd hopefully write more tomorrow?

Yeah, that didn't happen.  I've learned to throw in words that will excuse me ahead of time.  Like I always now say "I'll be there around 10ish..."  That way, when I'm the inevitable 15 minutes late, it's forgivable ;).

Anyway.  So I didn't get around to it yesterday.  Lynnaea woke up in the middle of the night Tuesday night with a stuffed up nose.  So yesterday's plans got side-lined majorly.  She ended up sleeping with me (with Jeremy on grave shift and a whole bed to myself, I've found very little motivation to lose sleep by trying to get her back to sleep in her room...  And yes, I'll be suffering the repercussions of said choice later, I know.  Because she has slept with me for at least 2 hours each night for the last 4...).

The good news is my placenta is high now and we are not looking at a scheduled c-section.  A last-minute c-section is always a possibility, of course.  But so far, we're looking like things will be without complications (and hoping that that's true too!).  They say Baby weighs about 5 pounds 4 ounces.  I'd be concerned about that number (given the fact that babies are known to gain 1 pound a week in the last 4 or so -- and that makes at least a 9 pound baby!), but I also know their numbers aren't all that accurate.  I have a friend who was told her baby was already 10 pounds around 35 weeks.  At birth he was 8 and change.  So there ya go.  We'll know when the baby's born if he/she is a large baby or not.  Truthfully, I'm hoping not.  I have to push Baby out, after all...  But by the time we do find out actual weight, it won't matter, as Baby will be out :).  Also, Baby is head-down.  So unless Baby decides to be a pill and turn around (which is probably more trouble than it's worth these days with not so much room in there...), we are good to go for non-breach!

So here's an ultrasound picture (not the greatest of quality, but that's okay).

And here's me at 33 weeks on Tuesday night (about 11 p.m.)

And here's a picture of Lynnaea in her new rocking chair.  This is a very special gift from her Aunt and Uncle in Eastern Washington.  And she loves it!  She got into it immediately and started rocking and saying "rock rock." 

Wow she's a cute kid.  But also a pill...  I just turned around to check on her (because she was being that suspicious amount of quiet) and she was literally right behind me, drawing on her bouncy horse in green ink.  And now guess who has been restricted from pen use?!  (This is after she closed herself in her room yesterday and colored all over her knees with black ink...).  Oh the mischievous little munchkin!

"Oh Barnacles!"

Okay, so I've never been a particularly huge fan of Spongebob Squarepants.  I mean, there has always been something disturbing to me about a cartoon in which Mr. Crab lives in Bikini Bottoms.  I'm just sayin'. 

But I've recently discovered how oh-so-appropriate that line from said cartoon: "Oh barnacles!" can be.  Unfortunately.

So Saturday was another beautiful day here in Western Washington.  Seriously gorgeous.  Sure, a little on the chilly side.  But beautiful and sunny.  Cloudless sky.  Jeremy was not scheduled to work the weekend, and I felt like we should get out and do something fun.  Something different.  And so we did.

We went to the store to buy a Discover Pass (required for parking in State Parks now -- but we figure this has it's benefits, since fewer people want to pay for said pass and therefore the beautiful park is not crowded).  We also got picnic stuff.  We stopped at Lowe's for Jeremy to grab some stuff.  And then we headed to the State Park. 

Lynnaea had a blast.  (Well, at least at first).  We started out playing at the playground area.  She threw little rocks, rode the teeter totter and her first big girl swing.  She went down the straight slide.  She even had the guts to climb the ladder for the slide by herself with neither me nor Jeremy nearby.  Which sort of gave me a heart attack and I made Jeremy go over and stand near her. 

This was her first time going up the ladder -- and it was a supervised climb.

Here she is reaching the top and getting ready to go down the slide (Jeremy climbed up behind her and got her seated for the slide).  I never did get a picture of her sliding down, because I was always waiting at the bottom.

Traipsing around in the gravel, which she also enjoyed throwing and putting in the swings ;).

It was nice in the sunshine, because it wasn't too chilly.

Here she is getting ready to put rocks in the swing.  We had to convince her to teeter-totter.

But once she'd tried it, she loved it!

Eventually we started hiking down the trail to the water.  We took our bag of picnic stuff with us.  She wasn't as sure about the uneven, unpaved road, so she liked holding hands.  Until she got braver.  Then she wanted to do it on her own.  Little miss independent.

Unfortunately I didn't take any other pictures.  But here's how the rest of the story went: 

We ate our lunch.  We wrapped my sweater around Lynnaea while we ate, since we were in the shade and it was colder there and she was an ice cube.  She hated being wrapped in my sweater (I'd left her jacket in the car like a dodo...).  But we made her tolerate it.  Then we went out on the dock.  We showed her the water.  The tide was out, so we went down under the dock on the beach and let her grab sand.  And then, after we'd been down there all of 3 minutes, she ran away from Jeremy, tripped, and landed on a barnacle.  And sliced the base of her right palm open. 

Oh my gosh.  Blood.  So. much. blood.  It was awful.  She cried worse than I've ever heard her cry.  I held her hand to my sweater (which by this point was back on me, since we were in the sunshine).  I didn't care how much blood got on it.  In fact, I didn't even think about that.  I wanted to get as much blood off her hand as possible so I could see the wound.  But the blood kept seeping out.  Jeremy took all the stuff and hauled buggy up to the van (a very steep incline which he practically ran up).  I took her to the little bathroom (that lacks soap) and washed her hand off as best as I could.  She really didn't like that, though.  But she had calmed down quite a bit by then and was just looking at it and touching it with her other hand.  Which I discouraged, as I was trying to minimize germs.  We got some toilet paper and I held it to her wound as much as she'd let me.  And that thing just kept on bleeding.  Jeremy pulled up and we loaded her up.  She started crying again, because I drove home and Jeremy sat in the back.  And, being that she was so exhausted and now traumatized, she wanted to sleep.  And she sucks her thumb.  On her right hand.  Which we couldn't allow her to do with it dripping blood everywhere.  So Jeremy wrapped her hand with his sweater and held it.  She finally fell asleep as we sang to her I am a Child of God.  She got about a 10 or 15 minute nap on the way home.  And then we had to wake her up when we got her inside so we could clean her wound. 

Oh so sad.  We washed with soap and water.  It had stopped bleeding during the drive, but started again while we doctored it.  However, we were able to get a better look at it, and it wasn't super deep.  Long-ish (especially on a toddler hand).  But not deep.  We dumped hydrogen peroxide on it -- and she just kept crying.  We put antibiotic ointment on it and a band-aid and paper tape wrapped around so she wouldn't mess with the band-aid.  She wasn't thrilled.  But we managed to get her into her pajamas and I just held her until she calmed down.  And then we gave her a million treats.  Is this parental guilt, or what? 

So far, so good.  We've been praying that there would be no infection.  We clean it and re-dress it every day.  It's looking not-so-bad, and I finally snapped a picture tonight after her bath.

"Oh barnacles" is right, Spongebob.  My baby's first major wound, and it was thanks to a barnacle.  Not my favorite first in the whole wide world.  But I guess this is a welcome to toddler-hood for me!

And just a note:  she has been the biggest trooper ever since.  She doesn't cry when we clean it and re-wrap it.  She watches intently and wants to touch it.  But she lets us do what we need to, and she doesn't cry.  I think she's amazing!

When the Day is Long...

So I decided to make this a song title post.  This post has been brewing in my head for a few days now.  It's all about perspective.  And perspectives change.  Particularly when something that was once merely a dream becomes a reality.  Like motherhood. 

I think I was once in la-la land.  From the outside, motherhood looked like a cake-walk.  And it was something I wanted so very much.  I had no idea -- none at all -- how much it would change me.  Motherhood is beautiful.  And I wouldn't trade it.  But it's also no cakewalk. 

Sometimes the days are long.  Very long.  Like today.

I finally fell asleep between 12:30 and 1 this morning (I'm going through some insomnia nights, which is crazy to me, because I'm an exhausted pregnant lady).  Jeremy's alarm went off at 4:30 and I am pretty sure I woke up.  I went back to sleep, though.  But woke again around 5:50 because I had to pee (another pregnant lady casualty ;)).  I slept about another hour.  Lynnaea woke up around 7:10.  And she was ready to get up.  None of this letting her chill in her crib for a bit longer while I try to doze for 15 or 20 extra minutes.  So I got up.  Got her her "milk milk" and retrieved her from her crib.  And she's always so happy in the morning.  She makes it worth it.  I decided what to do for breakfast (cream of wheat).  I cooked it.  We ate it.  I changed her diaper and her clothes.  I changed mine.  I brushed and flossed my teeth -- and brushed Lynnaea's.  I made a gooey pumpkin cake.  I started feeling sick and had to sit on the couch for a bit while I let my toddler watch Elmo.  Which she is totally cool with.  But sometimes I feel like a bad mom.  And I was just hoping I wasn't getting sick or something.  But maybe I just didn't have something filling enough in my stomach (cream of wheat) for the pre-natal vitamin?  Because it eventually passed, and I was fine.

She came down with yet another cold.  Blech.  So I knew we wouldn't be going to toddler story time today.  But still wanted to go check out new books at the library.  So we headed down to the library at 9:50.  Which means I had to convince my toddler she needed socks, shoes, and a coat on -- it's cold outside.  This takes time, believe me.  I load up all the books in a bag.  And the diaper bag.  I feel like the bag lady.  I remind Lynnaea to grab a spittie (these are essential accessories...), and we manage to get out the door.  I put the rent check out for the mail.  Lynnaea decides she doesn't want me to carry her down the stairs, but instead wants to go up the stairs and around the building to the car.  I relent, because I'm already heavy-laden with books and such.  And she's almost 30 pounds.  So we walk up the steps, down a couple steps, and around the building to the carport.  I load her into the car and get in myself.  And after letting the van warm up for a minute or so...  We're off!  We make it to the library a bit after 10.  We return all our (18) books from last week (plus 4 DVDs).  We get our holds off the hold shelf and look for some new ones.  I let my little girl wander around the kids section.  Yes, I'm that mom...  But there aren't many people there, and she's not being disruptive.  We get our books and check out and we're back in the van by 10:30, when story time usually starts for us.  Lynnaea was not wanting to leave... 

We get home, only this time, I carry Lynnaea and everything up the stairs.  I feel old and tired and fat and pregnant.  We check the mail.  We get in the house.  I unload.  Lynnaea wants a nap.  I want her to wait until after lunch...  We're still adjusting to the one-nap-a-day thing.  But I know if I let her nap early, she'll want to nap again later -- and then not go to sleep at night.  So I do what the "good mom" in me does in emergencies:  I put on a DVD.  Sigh.  (Mommy guilt is a real thing.)  Also, we eat a piece of the pumpkin cake.  Or maybe more than one...

Then it's time to start making lunch.  Cheese quesadillas.  We eat, and it's now a little after noon.  Lynnaea wants to watch another Elmo.  Mommy says no.  She's watched enough for now.  But how about we read some stories to help us get ready for nap-time?  So Lynnaea agrees, and we do.  We read 3 stories.  Including one of her current favorites:  Wow! Said the Owl.  And by the time we finish, it's about 12:40.  So I tell her it's nap-time.  I sing to her as I carry her to her room.  I put her in her crib and she rolls over and sucks her thumb.  I remember I'm supposed to be putting her down in the toddler bed for naps so she starts getting used to the toddler bed (we'll need the crib eventually for this baby).  Oh well, maybe I'll remember tomorrow.  I go lay in my bed and read for 15 minutes.  But I'm so tired.  I just want a nap.  So I roll over, but my baby has spent all those 15 minutes coughing.  And I feel bad for her.  So I go in to see if she can fall asleep while I hold her in an upright position.  But that ends up being a mistake.  Because now she won't go to sleep.  No. matter. what. I. try. 

In frustration -- knowing she needs a nap.  Knowing I do too...  I put her in the crib and let her cry.  I figure she'll eventually go to sleep.  She cries for 30 minutes.  I get no sleep.  I only feel guilt.  Because I've never done that to her before.  Not for 30 minutes.  I am a terrible mother.  Selfish.  I finally go in.  She's standing in her crib, tears streaming down her face.  And now I feel even worse.  We come out to the couch and I hold her.  I tell her I'm sorry.  I promise never to do that again.  And I mean it. 

It's 2:00.  It's anyone's guess if Jeremy will be home at 3 or 5.  But based on the last couple weeks, it'll probably be 5.  But hey, there's over-time, right?  Haha...  Sometimes it's not worth it.  I sit on the couch and play with my baby girl for a while.  I know I need to get started on dinner.  On figuring out what all dinner will be.  By 2:30, I think I've decided on scalloped potatoes.  They cook for 1 1/2 hours.  So I need to start those around 3:30 or so.  I need to cut the veggies for stir fry.  I need to wash the dishes.  But maybe Lynnaea and I should make a smoothie first.  So I consult with my little sous chef.  She agrees.  So we make one (with kale).  And we share it.  And then I put on another Elmo so I can do dishes and start on dinner.  Yep, I'm awesome today...

I get dinner going.  I'm sitting down for a few minutes to relax when I notice Lynnaea is doing her plank stance.  Which means she has to poop, but is holding it.  So I say, "are you pooping?"  She says, "Elmo potty?"  Which means she wants to sit on the potty and use the tablet.  I know this:  she will probably not go to the bathroom on the potty.  She has already succeeded in squashing the urge.  But she wants to use the tablet, and the only way she can is to sit on the potty.  I give in.  Because I don't want to discourage her desire to sit on the potty.  Sometimes she actually does end up going on the potty and we celebrate and make a big deal out of it.  And one day, she'll ask because she wants to go, not just to use the tablet.  So I'll hope for those days and give her the chance when she asks.  Even if I know it's just for tablet-time.  It's 4:50.  She has 10 minutes.  If she does go on the potty, she gets extra tablet time off the potty.  If she doesn't, then her time is up.  So I sit on the bathtub edge while she sits on the potty.  Jeremy comes home.  It's 5:00.  And time for me to finish up the rest of dinner. 

I get everything in the oven (30 minutes to cook) and I'm contemplating washing the dishes so I don't have a mountain to do after we eat.  I also remember I have thawed pumpkin in the fridge and was going to go ahead and make more pumpkin chocolate chip bread to freeze.  And I wanted to get the batter ready so I could pop them in when dinner was done (oven's already hot, right?).  But then I look at my toddler laying on the kitchen floor, sucking her thumb.  She is nearly asleep.  I can't stand to watch her sleep on the kitchen floor.  And, honestly?  I'd rather she didn't sleep at this point.  I know she's tired.  I know she didn't nap. But I still want her to go to bed at a decent time tonight.  I pick her up.  I tell her Daddy will be done with his shower soon, does she want to play with him?  She lays in my arms, sucking her thumb.  I hold her on the couch, and she falls asleep in my arms.  I let her.  Because she is my baby.  Jeremy comes out after his shower and I fill him in on the day.  I tell him how I feel like I've failed today as a mother.  It's been a hard day.  And I didn't even do anything really productive, unless you count making food.

I lay Lynnaea down on the bean bag chair and she continues to sleep.  I make a mess of my kitchen trying to make vegetables and pumpkin bread batter before everything is ready to eat.  The scalloped potatoes have overflowed (which I anticipated) and when I heat the oven up further for the bread, the drip pan -- which remains in the oven temporarily -- starts to smoke with all the potato stuff that overflowed.  And the smoke alarm goes off.  We manage to eat dinner somewhere between 5:45 and 6.  Lynnaea wakes up a bit before we get everything on the table.  Her nap was not long, and not where she normally naps (in her room).  She is disoriented, and wants only mommy.  So I hold her as I try to get everything on the table (and Jeremy tries to clear the smoke out of the house).

We eat dinner.  It's a pretty successful meal.  But the dishes are mountainous, and I want to start washing.  So I do.  I dread the potato dish and the drip pan (which I should have prepped better than I did...).  I get about 5 dishes washed when Lynnaea almost falls out of her chair at the table.  (She likes to stand in her chair and sometimes doesn't watch where she's walking...).  She's tired, so everything is melt-down worthy.  And mommy is the one she wants at these times.  So she starts fussing and runs into the kitchen to get me.  I pick her up and sit with her on the couch for a few minutes.  She sits snuggled at my side.  Really, she just wants to snuggle, which is rare for her.  Jeremy comes and sits on her other side and she decides she'll accept Daddy so Mommy can go back to washing dishes.  I get almost all the dishes done and take a break to get a shower.  When I am done with my shower, I hear Lynnaea banging on the bathroom door, "mama!"  I open it up and let her in.  She is so happy.  I take a break (or waste some time) and scroll through facebook.  Lynnaea wants to sit on my lap and "help."  I let her.  It's after 7, and getting close to time for her to get into her pajamas and have her night-time "milk milk" and have a new diaper.  So we move into that routine.  We have scriptures and prayer and sing a church song.  We brush her teeth.  I give her a small piece of floss too.  Because she's seen me and Jeremy floss, so she wants to as well.  She's content with 3 inches ;).  We pick out 3 stories to read.  But that becomes 4.  It's 8:30, and I put her to bed.  I sing to her as I carry her there.  I lay her down and cover her.  I come back out to finish the dishes.  The "hard ones."

I finish them.  Finally.  I pull the remaining of my Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies out.  I deserve them tonight.  My baby starts crying.  I go in for her.  She is standing in her crib.  I pick her up.  She has only been in there 15 minutes, but she is sweaty.  Her head is soaked.  And her forehead feels cold/clammy.  I realize she must have had a low-grade fever.  Still feeling like mother of the year over here -- I didn't even realize it.  Her fever has broken, I guess.  I feel bad.  I lower the heat in her room and bring her out to the living room to cool down (her room is the warmest in the house).  She wants to read more stories after I snuggle her for a bit.  And then she wants to play "throw the ball."  I agree to the stories -- not to the ball.  It's bed-time, after all.  By 9:00, I am able to take her back to her room.  But she says, "Rock rock."  This is how she asks for me to rock her.  She doesn't always want this anymore.  So when she asks, I do.  Because I've already seen that these moments are fleeting.  I lay her down after a few minutes.  I am able to come out and have my "me time."  Jeremy is in bed already. 

11:00, and I hear Jeremy cough and then I hear Lynnaea call out, "No!"  So I go in to check on her, expecting her to be awake.  She isn't.  She must be dreaming.  So I rub her back and sing softly to her.  I don't want her to have bad dreams.  She continues to sleep.  I have finished my book, so I decide to blog.  Even though it's late.  And even though I'm tired.  It's been a long day.  It's nearly midnight now, and I'm wrapping up.

Yes, motherhood is no cake-walk.  I have felt a wider range of emotions than I knew existed since becoming a mother.  I have felt guilt and not-good-enoughness (there is a word for this, but my tired brain can't grasp it right now) like never before.  But I have felt love like never before too.  And joy.

The other day, I was at Trader Joe's.  They have these little carts for kids to push around.  It's still a little too big for Lynnaea (she has to reach up to push it, and her eyes are looking underneath the handlebar), but I let her try pushing it.  She loved it.  And everyone in the store thought she was the cutest.  One older couple, as they smiled while watching her, turned to me and said, "They grow up fast."  They are not the first to tell me.  I shared with them a quote I read not too long ago.  It is a quote that has really stuck with me -- and probably will for the rest of my life.

The days are long, but the years are short.

They agreed.  It's always older people who tell me these things.  And they never say it in that "oh thank goodness these years pass quickly" type of way.  I hear in those statements what they don't say:  cherish every moment, even the hard ones, for they are gone so quickly and you will miss them terribly.

Yes, the days are long.  And pretty unglamorous.  I make a million mistakes.  I get frustrated.  But I wouldn't trade it for the world.  And the years are short.  The last couple of weeks, I've looked at Lynnaea, and I realize:  she is not a baby anymore.  She is growing up so fast.  She looks like a little girl.  Where have the last 2 years gone?

And so, I try to remember.  I try to remember the unspoken words:  cherish each moment, even the hard ones.  It's not always easy.  But I try.

Lynnaea today at exactly 1 year and 9 months.

Lynnaea one year ago at 9 months.

Me today at 25 weeks.

Thoughts on Blogging

So lately I have caught the reading bug... again.  I catch it from time to time ;).  And I want to do nothing but sit and read.  It's not even just because I have gotten into a really great book.  It's just that I want to read.  These days, that means I stay up far too late (because it's really the only time I get to read, after the little one goes to bed).  Anyway, this has not much to do with my post, except that I decided to finally write about some of my musings after reading this quote from John Adams (from the book John Adams by David McCullough -- a thoroughly enjoyable book, of which I am about 2/3 of the way done!): 

"whether they be old or young, rich or poor, high or low, wise or foolish, ignorant or learned, every individual is seen to be strongly actuated by a desire to be seen, heard, talked of, approved and respected."

Those words really ring true with me.  I've thought often about why blogging was (maybe still is?) so popular.  Why do I have 5 different blogs, with contemplations of starting a new one?  Why is facebook so wildly popular?  Why do I want to publish a book in my lifetime?

And, at least for me, I think a part of it is exactly what John Adams wrote many, many years ago in the late 1700s.  It is a desire to be noticed.

Now, I do not have the desire to be noticed such that I'd be willing to be notorious and do something awful.  I learned long ago (I hope ;)) that bad attention is not good attention!  But for some reason, I've always wanted to be somebody.  I've wanted my writing to impact lives.  I can remember something my 11th grade Physiology teacher wrote in my yearbook.  He wrote that he hoped to see my name in lights some day.  And at age 16, I hoped he would too.  And, though I sit here, 16 years later, I can't say I've seen that happen -- I mean, so few of us really do.  But I can't deny I've still hoped from time to time that I would make an impact on the world.  That I would 'be seen, heard, talked of, approved and respected' as a person. 

And maybe I can't speak for others and the reasons they blog or share stuff on facebook, etc.  I just know that, while it may not be my only reason, I have to be honest and admit that it's definitely a part of the reasons I blog and facebook and still dream of being published one day.  I have to admit that it's why I love the comments and likes and things of that nature that come through social media. 

Does this make me seem shallow?  Oh, I suppose it's possible.  But based on the quote by John Adams, I guess it also makes me pretty darn human.  And I've never claimed to be anything more than that ;)...

And here's a few pictures for your viewing pleasure :). 

This was the very first day she let me put her hair up and she didn't take it out immediately.  We've had one other successful day so far.  We're working on it ;).

So one of Lynnaea's fun pastimes is getting cans out of the can rack and putting them on the counter.  I have no idea why she likes doing this, but she does.  So here she is putting a can of chicken on the counter...

ANd here she is by the can rack -- which is in our room due to space constraints.  So she travels back and forth from our room to the kitchen with canned goods.  Giggling the whole way.  She's pretty determined too.  It's stinkin' cute.

Her other new thing stems from her automatic desire to hit mommy (me) when she's frustrated.  I'm assuming this must be a stage kids go through, because we don't hit in our household.  Like at all.  We don't spank Lynnaea, and we've never hit each other.  And yet, she has somehow determined that hitting mommy is a good response to frustration (when I'm the source of said frustration).  Anyway, we are having none of that, and she goes to time out for hitting.  But always, right after she hits me, I grab her arm (that just hit me) and sternly say "No ma'am, we do not hit Mommy."  And then she goes to time out.  After which, when time out is done, we talk about why she was in time out and why it is not okay to hit Mommy (or Daddy, though she's never tried with him).  Anyway, that's just the back story.  Earlier this week, she started running around the house saying "Don't hit Mommy."  Very emphasized, very clearly, and very well-spaced between words.  So it's like "Don't. Hit. Mommy." 

Yes, she's my little copy-cat.

Ah yes, potty time.  So she gets to use the tablet while she sits on the potty.  We're still at the stage of helping her understand that we go potty in the potty.  So we just pick a random time and sit her on the potty for 10 to 15 minutes.  We've had success a few times, but nothing consistent.  But anyway, Jeremy was trying to make a "table" for her to hold the tablet.  And we put a jacket on her if she's been in footie pajamas, since essentially, when she's in the footies, we have to take them off completely during potty time. And we don't want her to get too cold ;).  It's kind of cute.

I think this was right before book club.  She wanted to take a picture, because I'd just finished doing a pregnant belly picture.

I've started making green smoothies using my THRIVE ingredients, and I love it!  So does this little pretty girl.  She always asks for more and drinks it all up!  And I feel happy to oblige, when I know she's getting extra veggies :).

Sometimes it's tough being a toddler! 

So, we've been working on the transition to one nap a day.  But many days, her one nap is a garbage nap (read: no more than 45 minutes).  But she usually doesn't want to nap again until like 4 p.m. and by then, it's too late.  Because I want her to go to bed at a decent time so I can have some me time (for reading, as mentioned above ;)).  Probably sounds selfish, but most moms get it.  Anyway, she doesn't need to be up super late.  She's 1 1/2.  So anyway, I keep her up.  And usually it works out fine.  But the other night, while I wasn't looking, she plopped down on the bean bag chair and zonked out.  Poor kid.

So there ya go.  The randomness that is my life ;).

Today Was [Not] the Greatest

It's a song-title post!  Like the first in forever! (I love this Smashing Pumpkins song.  I remember watching it on MTV.)

The good news is that the day ended on a good note. 

The rest of the day... not the greatest day ever. 

It began at 6:40 when the munchkin woke up.  I tried to convince her she wanted to sleep longer with me in my bed.  She was having none of that.  So we got up. 

And she was uber-fussy.  And I was uber-grumpy.  She yelled at me because I wouldn't give her one of my pre-natal vitamins (the audacity, Mommy!).  Yep, she's entered the tantrum phase.  And so we've started showing her that the only place it's okay for her to throw tantrums is in her room.  We carry her in there, put her on her toddler bed (which she isn't currently sleeping in yet, but it's a good option for her when she's not really being punished and can therefore leave her room of her own choice) and tell her she is welcome to come out when she is ready to not be angry with us.  Then we pull the door to (not closed, so she can get out) and return to what we were doing.  She usually comes out within 30 seconds. And so far, her mood improves just as fast...

She also yelled at me because I insisted on holding the cup with the chocolate peanut butter banana smoothie we were sharing, even while she was drinking out of it.  Because I didn't want it spilled all over the place.  We again talked about where tantrums were appropriate.  (Not that we are super-excited to have her throw them... But we acknowledge that she has opinions and she is her own littler person with likes and dislikes and frustrations.  We believe she has the right to express herself, but there is an appropriate way and place for her to be in a bad mood...).

Of course, maybe I should have stayed in my bed all day since I was grumpy.  Too bad mommies don't have that option.  I'd have gladly taken it today!

Anyway, I did a lot of baking (prepping for the Christmas goodies give-away I do every year...).  Plus I had a friend coming over with her kiddos for dinner since her husband is away for work and she needed a mommy break -- and her kids love rough-housing with Jeremy.  Plus I was making enough to take to another friend who just had baby number 5 -- and the first one via c-section.  So, I was in the kitchen a lot, and Lynnaea didn't like that, because she kind of likes to be played with a lot. 

And I'll confess, I let her watch way too much TV today.  In the interest of her being happy and me getting stuff done.

And we did blow bubbles for a while -- which she thought was great.  Until she wanted to hold the bubble solution and I wouldn't let her.  Then she yelled at me again.  Repeat the "your bedroom" discussion. 

By the time Jeremy got home, I was just not in the happiest of moods.  I was exhausted and trying to finish everything.  My house looked like a disaster. 

And my thought:  This is why some women choose to work and send their kids to daycare! 

And then I felt guilty.  Because I have, for as long as I can remember, always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.  But some days are hard.  And, until you're in the thick of it, you don't realize there are really hard days.  Before you are a stay-at-home mom, you live in ignorant bliss of what that really means. 

So, I thought of my own mom a lot today, while I was being the complete antithesis of the kind of mom she has always been -- and the kind of mom I aspire to be:  patient always, loving always, generous and giving always.  Being that she is, in fact, human, I am sure my mom had her frustrations when she had two toddlers running around -- or even a toddler and an infant!  But I cannot recall a time where I ever felt like she regretted being home with me -- or wished I'd just go away. 

And so, today, as I had those thoughts...  I felt a heavy heart.  Shame.  Guilt. 

Because I love being home with my Lynnaea.  I love her so very much.  And at the end of the day, as I hold her while she starts to fall asleep, and I sing to her...  Or while I read her stories before we head to her bedroom, and she calmly and sweetly sits on my lap and barks at the appropriate spot in the doggie story (she says "woof!" every time I point to the dog in the book; so I point to the dog every time the story says "woof!" -- it works great, and we're reading together :)).  In those moments, I look back over the day and think, "What was so hard about today?  Why couldn't I just deal?" 

And the answer is, I don't know.  Jeremy says we just have our ups and downs... 

But even so...  I want to be better than this.  Lynnaea deserves better.  And so, though today definitely wasn't the greatest day of ever...  Tomorrow is a new day.  And I'll try again.  To be the mommy I want to be.  And the mommy my precious girl deserves.  True, mommy-hood is not all roses.  But it's a wonderful blessing.  And I honestly wouldn't trade it -- or being home with my daughter -- for anything.  Even if, for a split second, I think I might...

Motherhood Means Wearing Many Hats...

...like:

Play-mate...

Doctor...

Chef...

Protector...

Dentist...

Cheer-leader...

Story-teller (or reader)...

Snuggler...

Bather...

Dryer...

Encourager...

And many more.  These hats are donned daily.  And changed often. 

The best one is snuggler.  Well, maybe.  There's a lot of really awesome ones :).

Like these:

I wouldn't trade motherhood for anything.  Even on the hard days.  This little girl has changed me for the better.  And anytime I see her, I can't help but smile. 

Her newest accomplishments? 

Folding her arms for prayer (she does this as soon as she sees me put food on the table or attach her tray to her high chair.  It's beyond cute. 

Saying "baby".  And I think she's even starting to realize what it means.

Running up to the heater installed in the hallway wall (which doesn't work) and strumming her hands across the vent part whenever Jeremy gets home.  She plays him music.  And gets very excited about it.  It's a daily occurrence in our household right now -- one I'll miss when he starts swing shift in the next couple days.  We've dubbed it "strumming the banjo."  It actually makes Jeremy feel really good too.  She is just so excited to see him when he comes home from work.

She has perfected "no."  and when to use it.  Which, for her, is anytime she's asked a question.  "Do you want more pancake?"  "No."  "Is Mommy nice?"  "No."  Hmmm...

I'm sure there are more, but those are the ones I can think of right this second.  She is amazing, though.  And I love her more every day.

(We're still nervous about how she'll handle not being able to run around in the airplane for 4 hours...)

Fabulous (And Not So Fabulous) Firsts

So Lynnaea laughed for the first time on Wednesday.  It was the cutest thing!!  She spent about 2 minutes laughing and stopping -- while I played with her to get her to laugh :).  Blowing on her tummy, covering her face with an outfit and pulling it off and saying "boo!"  We haven't had anymore laughter since then, but I know this is just the beginning, just like with the smiling.  She did it once and then waited a couple days to do it more.  And now she smiles all the time.  So many fun things to look forward to!

She also has found her hands.  I noticed her staring at her fists on Sunday and intentionally bringing them to her mouth.  And since then, I've watched her be successful at grabbing her toys and bringing them to her mouth.  She has gotten really good at entertaining herself while I put her in her seat while I work on dinner or fold clothes. 

The not so great part of her finding her hands and sucking on them all the time?  The start of germies.  She has her first cold (unless it's nasty allergies...).  Oh my poor baby.  She started coughing yesterday, and as the day wore on, it was more often.  Then she woke up this morning with the congestion.  Her nose is still clear enough to breathe, but you can hear the congestion there too.  It's only a matter of time before it's clogged -- and won't that make for fun feedings?!?  Yuck.  Poor baby.  And I feel bad, because she probably got it from me somehow.  I'm the one who goes out into the world touching stuff and then I touch her stuff and her.  And while I don't intentionally touch stuff that is going to pass cold germs onto me and then onto my baby...  And while I try to wash my hands frequently...  It's amazing the way germs spread.  Maybe it was the credit card machine "pen" at the store....  Maybe it was the pen at the health department where I went to get her birth certificate....  Maybe it was the touch screen at the library self-checkout... 

All I know is that it may be some long days...  Welcome to mortality little Lynnaea.  There's some yucky stuff here amidst the fun stuff :(.  Poor baby girl.

The Pit of Despair

...Don't even think about trying to escape.

Quick!  Name that movie line!

Seriously, though...  That's where it's felt like I've been living for the past two and a half months, up until about a week ago.  It's why my blog has gone largely ignored (save for mostly picture posts for my dad).  I'm happy to say I think I've managed to claw my way out of that pit now.  And I know the strength to do so did not come from me.  I'm thankful for the blessings and strength that have come from Heavenly Father -- sometimes in the form of people who care about me, sometimes in just a boost of sheer willpower from within.  But they have come.  And I have learned.

Pregnancy was easy for me.  The beginning of motherhood... not so much.  I had a pretty healthy dose of post-partum depression.  Not the "I want to hurt myself or my baby" type.  Just the "I feel like a failure at everything" type.  I cried a lot.  I made huge mountains out of little molehills.  I cried a lot more.  I worried incessantly.  And cried some more.  (Okay, so I still haven't conquered the whole "worrying" thing... But that's always been a part of me).  I really came to dislike who I was.  And so I cried even more.

But here's what I've learned:

Motherhood is hard.  It's not for wimps.  And it leaves no room for selfishness.  It made me examine myself and who I am -- and who I want to be.  I realized quickly that I have been a person quite prone to selfishness.  And so, for the first two weeks of motherhood, I struggled immensely.  I realized my identity had changed.  I could no longer plan on just doing whatever I wanted to.  Because everything I did, and everywhere I would go, would include a little girl.  I lacked sleep, I was dealing with a lot of pain, and as I looked at pictures of me I have around the house, it was like I was looking at a stranger.  I couldn't remember being the person in those pictures anymore.  It felt like I was looking at someone else.  And I began to wonder why we wanted to have a baby.  Which, by the way, leads to an incredible amount of guilt (at least for me).  How could I feel those things about this precious spirit that we wanted so desperately and were so blessed to receive?  I felt ungrateful.  I felt like a horrible person.  And I felt like a miserable mother to a precious child who deserved so much more than me for a mother.  I frequently asked Heavenly Father what He had been thinking -- sending one of His sweet spirits to someone such as I.  I felt sorry for Lynnaea for having me as her mother.

But I loved her.  I love her.  She is amazing.  And though I still think she deserves better than me, I am so grateful she is mine.  And I'm thankful that Heavenly Father entrusted her to me (and Jeremy) to love and cherish.  And I want to be the mommy she deserves.  I want to be a good example to her, so she can grow up strong and confident and selfless.  I want her to be better than I was...  Better than I am.  And so I will work to be who I need to be for her. 

And call me stupid, but I was unprepared for how adding a child would impact our marriage.  I naively thought we would be unaffected.  Hahaha...  Wow.  After a year of marriage where everything was mostly blissful and stress-free, we entered the realm of parenthood.  And we had to learn to work together.  If you had asked me 3 months ago if Jeremy and I worked together well and compromised well, I'd have said, "Heck yeah!"  And you know, we do...  But it took a lot of effort the last couple of months for us to work together in raising Lynnaea.  Even at this early stage. Part of that is because I am a control freak.  I want things to be my way.  And, actually, Jeremy feels that way too.  And before, when we were married but still doing most things "our own way," it wasn't a big deal.  But parenthood is different.  We both have a vested interest (for lack of a better term) in raising Lynnaea.  She is a product of both of us.  And we both have opinions about what is best for her.  So we've learned how to communicate better.  And we're still learning.  And that was just the tension of dealing with working together to raise a child.  Added to that is the fact that our "us" time went from anytime we were both home to almost non-existent.  Babies are a lot of work and require a lot of attention and tending-to.  (That's a lot different now that Lynnaea has mastered night-time sleep, and she goes down for the night anywhere between 8 and 9).  So, whereas before, we didn't always make date-night a priority (because every night could be date night if we felt so inclined), I can now see why it needs to be a priority.  It is vital that we maintain our relationship and strengthen and nurture it -- and it's for Lynnaea's benefit as well as for our own.  Our marriage is the foundation of our family, so it needs to be nurtured and strong.  Thankfully we have a ton of friends and family who have volunteered to take our little munchkin for an evening so we can make sure to have our dates :).  Last Saturday we went to our favorite Mongolian Grill place while Lea and Chuck kept her.  Then we took yummy ice cream to Lea and Chuck's and enjoyed it with them as a "thank you" for watching our sweet girl.

And here's where my dad can say "I told you so."  When I would get on my soapbox about what he and my mom should do in regards to a few things as parents, he always told me "Just wait until you have kids."  You see, I used to think there was a clear and big fat line designating between hurting and harming.  And I don't mean physically here.  I mean those little things that you do because you want to help your kids; but sometimes you're really hurting them by holding them back or solving all their problems for them, thereby not allowing them to learn valuable problem-solving skills, etc.  For example:  homework.  If you give your kid all the answers, or "show" him how to do every single problem on the page by doing it for him...  Maybe you think you're helping.  But you aren't.  You're hurting his growth abilities.  That's an obvious example.  But there are a million others that maybe aren't so obvious.  I really thought I wouldn't be a bleeding heart.  But I was wrong.  Sunday evening was the end of a day where Lynnaea had only had one good nap all day -- and it had been that morning.  She was grouchy grumpy.  I knew she was tired, and usually I could get her to fall asleep by holding her to my chest, covering her with a blanket, and bouncing/walking her in the dark bedroom.  She wasn't having any of it.  She fussed and cried and cried and cried.  I started singing I Am A Child of God, which usually quiets her crying, and once she has stopped crying, she falls asleep on me.  Not that day.  So Jeremy came in the room and took over.  And he got her to fall asleep on him.  But the second he put her down, she woke up and cried.  Dinner was ready for us, and I knew there was going to be no silence from this little girl.  So I decided to try letting her cry it out -- though it really rips at my heart.  I told Jeremy I'd let her try it, and if she was still crying in 5 minutes, I'd go get her.  Well, she quieted down by then, so we started eating.  Within 5 more minutes, she was up crying again.  So I started the clock going again.  And so for 30 minutes she would quiet and then cry.  And you know what I was doing?  Sitting at the table, eating my dinner, crying.  Crying because I realized in that moment how hard it is to find that line sometimes.  Was I helping her or hurting her by letting her cry after trying everything I could?  Would it be helping her or hurting her to pick her up and try to get her to sleep again, even though I'd already tried it all?  That line seemed very, very fine to me in that moment.  And I thought about the future.  Will there come a day when Lynnaea comes to us for money to help her?  Should we give it to her?  And if we do, and she comes back again and again and again?  Is it helping her or hurting her to bail her out every time?  And it gripped my heart to realize that I will face these types of situations often as a mommy.  And so I cried.  Because with all my heart I want to keep her from all the pain and discomfort of the world.  But I can't.  And so I will know what it is to hurt because my baby hurts.  And I will have gained a deeper understanding and appreciation for my mom and dad, who have spent 32 years feelings those things for me.  And I know all I can do is do my best.  After 30 minutes of her crying off and on on Sunday, I went in and got her.  I walked around with her more, and she eventually fell asleep on me for about 30 minutes.  By that point it was about time for her night-time bottle, so I fed her and put her down when I couldn't get her to sleep on me again.  She fussed for maybe 5 minutes, and then she was asleep.  And that was the first night she slept through the night.

And now, as a result, I'm learning yet another lesson:  letting go vs. holding back.  You see, Lynnaea doesn't need me as much anymore.  Yes, she still needs me a lot.  But she used to require me for falling asleep.  And, though it was cutting into my sleep, and though I thought I was ready for her to be able to not need that, on many levels I cherished it.  And I was completely willing to continue doing that until she was 6 months old and I felt it was appropriate to work on the dreaded (for me) sleep training.  But she learned it on her own.  And so I am losing out on a lot of time of just holding her on me while she sleeps.  And so I'm glad that we had that time together when she still needed me.  And yeah, I suppose I could hold her back and try to make her dependent on me like that again.  But I don't think that would be right.  She sleeps better and longer when she puts herself to sleep, and that's good for her.  It would be wrong and selfish of me to stop that for my own desire to hold her close.  I need to let go when letting go is appropriate.  I need to allow her to gain independence at the right time.  I need to let her grow up, even though to do so is very hard in emotional ways.  The second night she slept through the night, I lay awake in bed remembering the little baby we brought home.  It wasn't so long ago, and yet it sort of feels like it was.  She needed me for everything.  And even though I made it a point to hold her when she wanted me to, I still feel like I took it for granted.  Because it was hard at times.  It was very, very exhausting.  But it was also short-lived in the grand scheme of things.  My baby is growing up, and as time goes on; she will need me less and less.  I talked to Jeremy about that.  I said to him, "How much do you need your mom these days?"  He acknowledged it was very little -- almost not at all.  And so I said, "But you see, Jeremy, you were once this little baby to your mom.  And you once needed her for everything.  And now you don't.  Don't you think she ever misses just a bit of that?"  He thought about it.  And I reminded him of when we were in the hospital.  The day Lynnaea was born, he knew his parents were coming to visit that night.  He called his mom and asked her if she could bring some food for him.  And when she came, she had brought a huge Costco-sized box of ritz crackers, some cheese, several cans of V-8, some nuts, and a container of home-made soup.  He laughed and said it looked like she was expecting him to be there for several days.  But in that gesture, I saw a mother's love.  Here was a mother whose son doesn't need her for much these days.  Hardly ever asks her for anything.  And so when he did, she went a bit overboard to take care of her "little boy."  I've seen that same love coming from my mom as she stops by unexpectedly, because she has the extra time and knows I wanted to get stuff done, but had a hard time when Lynnaea was so clingy.  She could have had that time to herself.  And who knows, maybe she got something for herself by hanging out with her little grand-daughter.  But I saw it as a mother's love.  And I realize that, one day, my sweet Lynnaea may be living states away and needing me very little.  And I'll have to let that happen.  I'll have to let go many times in her life as she grows and develops.  I will need to allow her to spread her wings and be who she is intended to become.  Even if it hurts a little to let go.

Yes, this journey of motherhood has been a hard one.  But they say nothing worth having comes easy.  And it is definitely worth having.  I have learned a lot already.  I have grown a lot already.  I have come to understand and know emotionally (and through experience) what I knew existed intellectually before -- and that is the unconditional love of a parent.  I was watching something the other day that had a character of a teenage boy who was mentally handicapped.  At the end of the show, all the teens were at a school dance, including this boy.  And this girl went over to him and asked him to dance.  And not because she was doing it as a prank or anything.  But because she wanted to do something nice.  And, though it was just a show, I sat there crying.  Because all I could think about was that boy's parents, and how he would be able to go home and tell his mom and dad that he had fun and that a girl danced with him.  And how that would mean the world to his mom.  Because his mom loves him, despite his disability.  And all she wants in the world is for her little boy to be happy. 

Well, another weekend has passed since I wrote all that!!!  And Lynnaea is now in her big girl crib in her own room.  It's just amazing how she's grown!  I love being her mommy.  She is precious and amazing.  And no matter how hard this journey has been and will be, it truly is a "never go back" moment.  I am forever changed.  And I love it :)!

 This was moments before she had a lovely poop that necessitated not only an outfit change, but also a washing for the chair cover...

 My little thumb sucker!!

 Before church yesterday.

 Waking up this morning.