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.)