Thankful

Tonight I'm feeling a bit inspired (and a bit intimidated) by this over-achiever's recent boost of motivation in getting her blog all caught up. Ok, so maybe "over-achiever" is a small overstatement given the fact that she just posted her Christmas pictures this week. From 2009. Slacker...

I was originally going to steal her idea and outline a few of the events that I've missed from this past year. But once I started looking through my pictures, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of thankfulness for all those faces smiling out from those pictures at me. With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I think it's as good a time as any to remind myself of all the things I have to be thankful for.

I'm thankful for my husband, who pours all that he is into taking care of us and providing for us and protecting us and being present and available to all of us. Who treats me with respect and makes it his goal to make me feel beautiful and appreciated.

I'm thankful for Caleb, who is the most caring, compassionate, respectful, and intelligent kid I've ever met. I'm thankful that he knows and loves the Lord, and is getting baptized this Sunday. I'm thankful for the way he has always made me feel welcome in his world.

I'm thankful for Jacob, who really and truly "walks to the beat of his own drum". I'm thankful for his seemingly endless creativity, his hysterical sense of humor, and his constant desire to be set apart, different and unique. I'm thankful for the smile that he has on his face at any given time, and his talent for bringing the same thing to my face.

I'm thankful for Levi, who has turned my world upside-down, and convinced me that it's infinitely better that way. I'm thankful that he is healthy, happy, and truly joyful. I'm thankful for his smiles and giggles and deep belly laughs that he shares with me so generously.

I'm thankful for my ever-growing family of nieces and nephews and cousins-a-plenty. I'm thankful for my mom, who always answers her phone and always has time for me. I'm thankful for the opportunity to work with Pa this last year, and all the extra time I got to spend with him. I'm thankful for Jason's mom, and her willingness to always make herself available to us. I'm thankful for each one of my siblings, and for the amazing blessing of getting to raise our children together.


I'm thankful for my loving Father who lets me live my life among all these incredible people. I'm thankful for the days they teach me and the days they challenge me. I'm thankful for the ways they've each helped to shape me into who I am.

I'm thankful for the unique glimpses I get to see of my Father in each one of them.

I'm thankful for pictures, and for the reminder to slow down and reflect on all that I have in my family.

The Birth Story Part II: Time Flies By

Is 4 months too ridiculous a time frame to post a birth story? Oh well, I'm gonna break the rules cuz I'm a big slacker and I'm not afraid to say so. Or maybe I'll just alter the post date on this one so that when I look back on it years from now, I'll be impressed with my prompt documentation skills.

Thus, I now bring you the thrilling conclusion to The Birth Story Part I: Waiting.

After checking onto the hospital and getting all settled in, the nurse came in and gave us a brief overview of their expected timeline:

9:00pm - Arrive and check-in at the hospital (CHECK, got that)

10:00pm - Settle into the room that will be the staging area for our baby boy's grand debut (CHECK)

11:00pm - Administer the miso pill to prepare the way for pitocin in the morning (is it wrong to refer to the miso pill as the John the Baptist of labor induction?)

11:30pm - Fall into a deep and restful sleep in order to be at my best 8 hours later for true labor

6:00am-8:00am - Begin pitocin and get this show on the road

??? - HAVE A BABY!


Here is a brief overview of Levi's self-authored timeline:

8:00pm - Jason and I snapped one last belly shot before heading to the hospital



9:05pm - Arrive and check-in at the hospital (yes, we were late to our own baby's birth... but hey, he was 11 days late himself, so in my book 5 minutes is hardly worth mentioning)

10:00pm - Settle into the room that will be the staging area for our baby boy's grand debut. Currently 3 cm dilated.

10:05pm - The nurse tells us that my contractions are coming steady and regular according to the monitors they've just hooked up, so the doctor would like to keep monitoring me and hold off on the miso pill for a while, just in case I'm already in natural labor. I inform the nurse that these are the same contractions I've been having for several weeks, but we agree to wait and monitor.

11:00pm - Still monitoring. Still 3 cm.

12:00am - Still monitoring. Still 3 cm.



1:00am - Still 3 cm. The doctor decides to go ahead and start the miso pill.

3:00am - Contractions become WAY more intense almost instantly.

3:30am - We buzz the nurse to ask if it's too early for an epidural.

4:00am - Epidural is administered and I am happy. Now 5 1/2 cm dilated.



5:00am - The contractions suddenly feel different, and I really really want to push. Buzz the nurse.

5:15am - The nurse looks up from her exam with a slightly surprised look and announces that I am 9 1/2 cm and it may be wise to buzz the doctor.

6:00am - All necessary parties are finally present and I am 10 cm. Woohoo!

6:00-8:10am - Push, push, push. (We had to skip about every other contraction due to the baby's heart beat dropping a bit too low for comfort while pushing)

July 9th, 2010; 8:10am - HAVE A BABY!

Levi Daniel Fosdick arrived all on his own before we even had the chance to start pitocin. I have no idea if the miso pill played into it, or if he was just ready to come on out. He was 6 lbs. 9 oz. and 20 inches long. He was pink and healthy and alert, and SO STINKIN' CUTE (in my opinion).

My Son, Ricky Bobby

Ok, so I know I said that the next post to come was going to be Part II of this post, but I just came across these pictures on my camera and felt inspired to get them posted...

Everytime I watch Levi poke himself in his eye, flail about uncontrollably, or pull his treasured pacifier out of his mouth while glaring at his hands as if he's ticked that they're working against him, I can't help but think how frustrating it may be to have no control over one's own limbs. I also can't help but think of this scene from Talladega Nights...

The Birth Story Part I: Waiting

It's fairly obviously that I've let my blog fall to the wayside these past few months, but it certainly hasn't been for a lack of exciting news. While there are many different happenings and stories and whims that I could and should have been writing about, the bulk of it all can really be summed up in one picture:

I can hardly believe a whole month has passed since Levi came into this world and changed everything that I knew. I've spent the past month falling more and more in love with him every day, and learning bit by bit how to fill this new role of mine. Time as flown by, leaving me frantically grasping at each little moment in hopes of hanging on and savoring it all just a little bit longer. In the midst of it all, I realize I haven't even stopped to write down the details of Levi's birth, or the days leading up to it.

Given that it's been a whole month, I realize that most of the people that read this blog have already heard all the details. However, I still see a need in writing it down here so that when I do get around to scrapbooking the thousands of pictures I have filling up my memory card, I might actually remember a bit or two.

SO, with that said, let's venture back to June 29, 2010. I woke up to my due date with high hopes of having a little baby boy. I had been contracting for several weeks, I had nested until I could nest no more, I had begun my maternity leave, and I was ready. I showed up at my 40-week appointment, certain that the doctor would take one look at my contractions and insist that I rush to the hospital to have this baby. Much to my dismay, the doctor instead told me that I was only 2 cm dilated and showed no indications of imminent labor. He performed that awful procedure so delicately named "stripping the membranes" (the 3rd time I had had this done that month), and sent me on my merry way.

I was a bit disappointed at the lack of news, but optimistic that this baby would make his appearance any day.

Then the next day came and went.

And the next.

And the next.

Seven contraction-filled days passed with no baby, and before I knew it I found myself at my 41-week appointment. The doctor took a look around and declared enthusiastically that I was now 2 1/2 cm dialated.

Are you kidding me!?!? Another full week of constant contractions and all I could muster was 1/2 cm!?!?! I tried to feign that glowing, pregnant lady demeanor of joy while the doctor performed that fantastic little procedure for a 4th time. Just to make sure all was good and well, they then hooked me up to the monitors for a while before sending me home. The monitors revealed what I had known for several weeks: I was having very regular contractions, some of them significant in strength. The doctor assured us that he had high hopes I would go into labor naturally within a day or so, but also scheduled an induction for that following Friday just in case.

My contractions continued to get stronger throughout that day, and were a steady 6 minutes apart by evening. After a few hours of that, we called our afterhours nurse to check-in. She encouraged us to go ahead and head to the hospital with our bags packed. Excited beyond belief, we happily took her advice and rushed out the door.

Once at the hospital, we checked into the triage area and got all hooked up to the monitors again. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Things were not progessing. At all. Just the same old boring contractions. Finally, our nurse came in and told us that they would need to send me home. She gave me a prescription of pain medicine and Ambien to help me sleep through the contractions and sent us on our way. To say we were disappointed would be an understatement. The drive home felt much longer than the drive there had.

So another day passed and still no baby, which brought us to Thursday, July 8th. This was my 10th day overdue, and the day we were scheduled to check-in for our induction. The original plan was to check-in on Thursday night, get settled and get some rest, and start the induction Friday morning. However, Levi had a plan of his own that didn't quite follow suit...

Next post to come- The Birth Story Part II: Time Flies By

The End is Near

With each passing day, I get closer and closer to the beginning of my maternity leave from my work. Due to some recent changes at my work, there's a small chance that I won't even have to return at the end of my maternity leave, or if I do, it will most likely only be for a few short weeks or months.

What does this mean for me?

Oh, more than I could possibly put into words. After 4 straight years in call center customer service (for a credit card company, nonetheless), I'm feeling slightly beat up. I think it's safe to say that there is no insult imaginable that I have not been on the receiving end of. I have mastered the art of deciphering drunken, dyslexic 16-digit card numbers through heavy accents of virtually every nationality. I have been called incompetent, useless, dim-witted, and a myriad of other such names that I don't care to put into writing.

I've been mistaken for an automated voice recording at least once a day for four years...

Me: Thank you for calling unidentified credit card company, my name is Molly, may I please have your card number?

Caller: beep-beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep-beep-beep-beeeeeep

Me: Thank you for calling unidentified credit card company, my name is Molly and I am a human being, may I please verbally have your card number?

I have been threatened with litigation more times than I can count (not just against my company, oftentimes the callers specify that they intend to sue me and only me). I have been threatened with physical harm. I have been threatened with completely unknown consequences. Just a couple nights ago I had a woman hang up on me after the following closing:

Me: Thank you for calling unidentified credit card company, is there anything else I can do for you tonight?
Caller: Yes, I want my new card overnighted to me and with the same number as my old card. You have 24 hours. Goodbye. --click--

....

(She didn't give me a chance to explain that we don't overnight cards, nor would her new card share the same number. However, 48 hours have now passed and no ill fate has befallen me. That I know of.)

Many people keep telling me that I shouldn't get too excited about leaving the working world behind. I've been warned that after a few nights being up at 2am with a screaming baby, I may actually miss the simple life of the call center.

I gotta say, I'm not buying it. As it is now, I'm up at 2am most nights with screaming adults. As long as my screaming baby isn't screaming obscenities at me through a well-worn headset at 2am, I think I'll be pretty content.

-----------------------------

On a side note, this is not to say that all people who call into our center are complete jerks. I talk to my fair share of very polite and considerate people every day. Most days they are all that keeps me going through the bad ones. So to anyone out there reading this, I urge you to be nice to your customer service representatives. They appreciate a kind word here and there more than you know.

Eggstravaganza

There's a long standing tradition among Jason's family to turn Easter egg dying into an all day extravaganza. I am in no way exaggerating here. They get about five times as many eggs as the normal family would (a dozen a person might suffice...), spend about an hour making up every possible shade and hue of dye imaginable, and then proceed to spend hour upon hour dying each individual egg with the utmost care and creativity. I had the honor of experiencing this with Jason's dad (known as The King among Easter egg enthusiasts everywhere) for the first time last Easter. I have to admit, the title was well deserved. This was Jason's first Easter since his dad passed away late last year, so we of course wanted to honor him by carrying on the tradition. Here's some of our favorites...

SpongeBob

Made just for Baby

Ogre

Dinosaur Egg

Fire Egg

Iron Man

Plain Old Easter Egg

The Hulk (by Jacob)

When asked why Hulk had a big white circle on his chest, Jacob very matter-of-factly replied "Because, everyone knows Hulk's nipples don't turn green."

Duh...

If you weren't aware of that, perhaps you need to read up on your gamma radiation-induced mutation side effects.

Hormonal Dreaming

I've heard all about how your dreams can get a little more vivid, a little more frequent, and a little more weird when pregnant. I've definitely noticed this over the past several months, at least to some degree.

In some instances, the dreams that I have make perfect sense for a pregnant woman. For example, take the dream I had a few months ago... I dreamt that I went into labor and ended up having the baby before Jason could make it to the hospital. When he did finally get there, for some reason there were suddenly 4 babies in my room and I was panicking over the fact that I couldn't remember which one was ours and didn't know what to tell him.

Or there was the time I dreamt that I gave birth in a half-hospital, half-zoo facility. And after delivery, the nurse brought me a koala bear to snuggle with rather than a baby. The weirdest part about that one was that I didn't find it weird at all at the time. I loved my koala bear just as he was. How's that for good mothering?

Then there was the dream where I was meeting my baby for the first time when he was a year old. The reason being, I had asked my sister to Meghan to "watch him for a bit while a ran some errands" after the hospital. Must have been some extreme errands. When I came to get him, Meghan tried to tell me that I had named him Macon (rhymes with "bacon"), even though I was convinced she had secretly done this herself as a twisted way of naming him after herself.

Just a few nights ago, I dreamt that I was at a baby shower. First of all, this baby shower included a few people from my current work, but other than that it was all people that I haven't seen or even thought of in years (you know, why wouldn't I invite my elementary school, male, band instructor to my baby shower??). The really stressful part though was when one of my co-workers gave me a hockey stick as a gift, and I couldn't think of a tactful way to tell her that I had no need for a hockey stick at a time like this.

All of these dreams I completely understand. Weird though they may be, it makes sense why such things would be weighing on my mind and finding their way into my sub-conscious whilst I slumber. The dream I had last night, however, I'm still struggling to understand.

I dreamt Tom Hanks died. In a boating accident. Now, I should mention that I generally don't have very strong feelings for Tom Hanks one way or the other. Sure, he's an excellent actor and I enjoy most his movies, but his and my relationship pretty much ends there. In this dream, I was terribly distraught over the loss. Stranger still, I had taken it upon myself to plan a memorial service for him, complete with sappy slideshow and all. And this wasn't one of those dreams that just goes away when you way up. Upon waking, I still felt like I was in mourning. It took me the better part of an hour to convince myself that Tom Hanks is not in fact dead. And even if he were, the chances of me being in charge of his funeral arrangements are pretty slim. Possible, yes...but slim.

Just to ease my feelings of stress a little bit, I figured I better take all preparations and throw this little ditty together. Just in case they come calling for me when that fateful day comes...

(Ok, so the real reason is that I'm feeling particularly drained today, and the thought of sitting on my couch with my laptop doing this is way more appealing than vacuuming.)

Outnumbered, But At Least My Shoes Are Clean

Every now and then something happens to remind me of the fact that I stand alone amidst a bunch of boys. This past weekend, for example, served as a very muddy reminder.

We decided to venture out for a bike ride, despite the fact that we were still surrounded by melting snow and soggy conditions. For us, bike rides are never just bike rides. They're more like many brief little bike spurts divided by long stops on the side of the trail to explore.

I'm going to let these few pictures tell the story of our latest outing:

Boy #1: Hey! Can we stop and see that lake?

Me: It looks really muddy...















Boy #2: Hey! Let's stop and see that lake!

Me: I don't know guys, it really is muddy.

Boy #3: We're men, we can handle a little bit of mud!



















Me: (Suddenly painfully aware of the fact that we just had our carpet shampooed last week) Ok, but let's stop and see it from over here in the nice dry grass.

Boy #1: (It feels suspiciously like no one is hearing me) Hey that looks like quicksand! I bet I can go further than you!

Boy #2: Sweet! Quicksand!















The rest of the story doesn't really require any dialog...

Since I wouldn't let Caleb put his muddy socks in my Camel Pak, he came up with this idea. I was impressed with his resourcefulness. I'll give him that...

Spring has Sprung

I've said it before, but it's worth saying again. I LOVE Colorado. With the first day of Spring upon us this weekend, we found ourselves with a typical Colorado snowstorm followed by a gorgeous day of sunshine. We decided to take advantage of it and try out our new sleds.

Meghan, if you're watching this and wondering if I stole this video idea from you, the answer is yes. The only difference really is that we saddled up donkeys instead of horses.

Fathoming the Unfathomable

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." -Psalm 139:13-16

I've heard this verse countless times before, but never has it struck such a chord with me as it does now. I happened upon it a few months ago and just haven't been able to let it out of my mind since. I love to think about what this verse means for the baby that God is growing inside of me day after day.

From my meager little perspective, it's so easy to feel impatient and anxious and eager and fearful all at the same time when I think about the day I finally get to meet the little boy I'm carrying. It's so easy to lose perspective and think of things on a day by day timeline; one week the baby is growing his heart, the next he is hiccuping as he learns how to use his brand new lungs. Six months ago he wasn't in there at all; today he makes his presence known with plenty of little kicks and jabs throughout the day.

It's hard to explain just how I feel when I step back and realize the weight of these words in Psalms. The fact that God already took joy in this baby's little heart and new lungs, even six months ago when I carried no one inside of me. The fact that God was smiling with each little kick and jab, even before I knew what was in store for us. The fact that God already knows everything about this boy -- his joys, his passions, his strengths, his pain, his weaknesses -- even though I still sit here wondering simply what he will look like -- the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair, the expressions of his face.

It's overwhelming and it's freeing at the same time. It reminds me that this is not just my baby God is trusting to my care. This is the life of one of His children, and He's given Jason and I the unspeakable gift of watching over him and loving him as ours. This is a human being that God has always had in His heart, since long before I set foot in this world. It reminds me that God has every day of this baby's life in His hands, and has all along.

I have no idea how anyone could approach the task of having a child without knowing God. I, for one, could never rest easy in the knowledge that this baby's life was dependent on only my strength and performance as a mother. No, I am much happier taking comfort in the fact that his life is, and always has been, in the hands of a perfect Father.

Pregnancy Brain...or Lack Thereof

A few weeks ago I was asked if I've yet felt the effects of "pregnancy brain". I thought on the question for a few seconds, and then replied "No, I don't think so. Does that really exist?"

However, once the thought was in my head, I started to catch myself doing and saying some of the most ridiculous things. Now, I don't know how much of this can truly be blamed on pregnancy brain, but I've decided I'm going to soak these last few hormonal months up for all they're worth and go with the theory.

The other day Jason and I were at the grocery store. One of the only things I was there for was chicken noodle soup, but as is always the case, the trip quickly snowballed into a full-blown, overflowing cart kind of trip. I distinctly remember standing in the soup aisle at one point, and I distinctly remember scanning the labels with my keen eyesight, and I distinctly remember grabbing 3 cans of chicken noodle soup and placing them in my cart. Remember this scene, it will leave you just as boggled as it left me only a few short hours later.

First though, I must describe another picture to you. In this particular scene, Jason and I are standing in the frozen food aisle, and we've left our cart only a few glass doors down from us. At one point, Jason hands me 2 boxes of creamed spinach and asks that I put them in our cart. I distinctly remember walking to our cart, I distinctly remember rearranging a few things (namely, an 8-pack of Yoplait yogurt), and I distinctly remember fitting our frozen creamed spinach snugly into place.

Now if you will, please fast-forward about an hour to when we are just getting home and unloading our groceries.

Peculiarity #1: As I am stocking my 3 cans of chicken noodle soup into the pantry, I notice that they are not in fact chicken noodle soup. In my hand I am holding 3 cans of french onion soup. Which, I might add, is about the most different looking kind of soup one can find from chicken noodle soup (see below). I have never in my life bought french onion soup. I am bewildered.

Peculiarity #2: We are missing our creamed spinach. At first, we assume that maybe they were overlooked in the bagging process. It happens. But after checking the receipt, we determine that we were never even charged for creamed spinach. The mystery thickens as we realize the creamed spinach has somehow vanished from our cart somewhere between the frozen food aisle and the checkout line. Jason asks me if I'm sure I put it in the cart, to which I quite defensively reply "Yes, I distinctly remember moving the yogurt over to make room for the spinach!"

There's a brief awkward pause where I can only assume he is deciding whether or not to spare me my dignity. Then he replies, "Uh, what yogurt? We didn't buy any yogurt." Apparently he decided against the dignity thing. I'm about to argue back when I realize that he is absolutely correct. We did not buy any yogurt on this trip. I am further bewildered.

This leaves me with 3 theories to mull over:

Theory #1: The french onion soup dispenser is right next to the chicken noodle soup dispenser, and I mistakenly grabbed the wrong one. I have no defense for the spinach thing on this theory, but there's no need as it was quickly debunked anyway. After telling my mother the story of the soup, she pointed out that the two soups are no where near each other in her local store. I took a look at my own store the next time I was in, and she is correct. They are on almost opposite ends of the soup section.

Theory #2: Ok, so I mistakenly put the darn spinach in another person's cart. So sue me. It happens...they should really make those grocery carts all different colors or something. However, in this theory, the correct owner of the cart that I am not-so-subtly digging through and rearranging to my own liking is so deeply offended by my misunderstanding of socially acceptable grocery store practices that she decides to beat me at my own game. She sees my 3 cans of chicken noodle soup, clearly the prize of my trip thus far as they are perched honorably in the top kiddie-seat part of my own cart, and decides to swap it out with something random. Say, french onion soup.

Theory #3: Pregnancy brain truly exists, and I have fallen victim.

I'm still teetering between theories 2 and 3. Whatever the reason may be, I certainly hope that some family somewhere is enjoying our creamed spinach as much as we had hoped to.

It's A...

I know it's beyond cliche to say that we would have been happy no matter what, so long as the baby is healthy... so go ahead, call me cliche.

This whole pregnancy both Jason and I have switched back and forth on the whole boy/girl thing. In fact, not just during this pregnancy, more like my whole life. For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to have a little boy. Maybe it's because I was always a bit of a tomboy myself. Maybe it's because I never had any desire to do my own hair, much less carry the responsibility of another person's long haired scalp on my shoulders. Maybe it's because I find any excuse to avoid wearing a dress, and didn't want to be a hypocrite while dressing up my little girl in only the pinkest, girliest, frilliest outfits available.

Then my nieces came along. One after another. Five in a matter of only a few years in fact. All of the sudden I was shocked to find myself wanting a little girl. I could handle long hair, princess dresses, and nail painting. In fact, all those things sounded amazing.

Jason was more or less in the same boat. While he watches Caleb and Jacob getting older and older, he of course misses all joys of a baby boy. But he also wants to know the joys of having a daughter. Watching "Remember the Titans" is enough to make him long for a little girl (he's sure she'd be just like the daughter in that movie), but then a stroll down the toy aisle at Target changes his mind right back to boy.

One night early on in this pregnancy, I remember sitting in the car with Caleb and Jacob while we waited for Jason in the store. One of their favorite songs came on the radio, and they proceeded to sing along in unison. Except instead of singing, they were just belting out the tune in various pitches of mock flatulence and other bodily functions. While proud of their ability to "sing" in key, I found myself completely certain in that moment that I wanted a little girl.

That state of mind continued until about January. All of the sudden, and seemingly out of nowhere, I completely changed my mind. Sure, a girl would be great, but I really wanted a boy. No explanation, no particular reason, just a change of heart. Not only that, but I was also suddenly certain that's what we were having.

SO... our appointment to find out was this last Tuesday. I went in with an "open mind", saying to myself that I could be wrong, but secretly thinking there was no possible way I was wrong. And the verdict is...

Can you handle the suspense???

It's a Boy!

Our Symphony of Flatulence is eagerly awaiting it's new addition of a soprano section come June or July.

Help Needed

I notice that true bloggers often utilize this amazing blogging tool to either seek or post answers to life's most pressing questions. I often see posts out there addressing issues such as or "how can I make the best hot chocolate in the world?", or "how does one get melted crayon out of freshly laundered clothes?", or "what's a good plan of action when taking two car-sick prone little girls to the zoo?".

However, despite all my best searching, I can't seem to find the answer to a very urgent question that has plaqued me for the past several days. So here goes... if anyone out there has an answer for me, please don't hesitate to share.

How does one keep their dried-out contacts from popping out of their eyes when they forget to blink for too long while playing Guitar Hero?